1946 SCHOOL DAYS BEGIN - ST.PETER CHANEL'S CONVENT SCHOOL BERALA N.S.W.

First Holy Communion Class 1947 - Yours Truly second from left front row
Brien Dryden on my left, Billy Cowan on my right, Cyril Spencer on his right
The great Father Con Donovan at the Centre - God Bless him.

After the short Bus trip,Mum dropped me off at the School and was quickly relieved of her parental responsibilities by a confident little bloke whose name was Cyril Spencer. He came up pleasantly and respectfully, and having sagely assessed the situation, said: "Don't worry lady, I'll look after him!" "Bye Mum!"and I was off into the new world
.
I had not gone to Kindergarten, and so commenced my Primary Schooling in First Class.This was something of a minor disadvantage, because I found that very many of the boys knew one another, whereas the only boy I knew was my best friend Brien Dryden who lived across the street.

The Church/School I have described earlier. It stood at the Western end of the large Parish site that had been accumulated running from the top of the hill on Kingsland Road in the East down to Regent Street(which led directly into Regents Park - all of these Royal word associations were entirely lost on me) Our Irish Parish Priest Father Con Donovan regularly reminded us of the great Archbishop of Brisbane James Duhig, an Irishman of course, who had built most of his churches on hilltop sites around Brisbane, that fabled city in exotic Queensland.So Father Donovan had also chosen a hilltop location for our future church.

This first morning at School was bewildering with hundreds of children ,boys and girls, swirling around and eagerly chattering. Then games started forming up and another boy, Brian Edwards from a more senior class,who appeared to be regarded as rather worldly wise, took me under his wing and we ended up joining a game called "Cocky Lorum"( I have been unable to find any Web references to it.) . It involved forming into two large groups of about thirty each, facing one another at a distance of about 25 metres, then someone would yell "Cocky Lorum"' and each group would charge toward and through the other. There was no ball involved as far as I can remember, and my opinion then was that it all seemed rather pointless.I am not sure if anyone got "out" or otherwise penalised - utterly pointless. If anyone could ever enlighten me about some detail I had missed, I would be very grateful.

I think it was on that first day some boy whose face or name I can't remember started some petty bit of bullying which was promptly terminated when Billy Cowan a stocky pleasant faced little bloke with curly hair intervened and warned the bully off. Amazing the things we remember.

We were in Sister Alan's Class. The School was staffed entirely by the Sisters of Saint Joseph founded by the recently canonised Saint Mary of the Cross MacKillop. Saint Mary would have been proud of them. The Principal ( we always said Head Nun) was Sister Austin ( which you will probably know is a contracted form of Augustine) who was Irish and always very kind to me over the years, I loved her lilting voice and the way she used to call me "Ant'ny".Sister Alan was really good with us littlies, kind and motherly, whilst steering us through the very basics and getting us used to Class discipline.Rewards for good performance consisted of Rubber Stamp impressions on one's exercise book, whether varying animals or, if your achievement was exceptional, the Map of Australia about 7inches by three inches with ink from a violet pad! ( I never got it ! Scarred for life? No.)

It was in Primary School that I noticed my strong interest in stationery. I have since then always been attracted by the rich texture and subtle colours of paper stocks as well as by all the paraphernalia of pen and ink, Fountain Pens ( no one ever tells you that their ink bladders wear out), Propelling Pencils, Biros - not to mention the humble lead pencil and its sharpener.

School Fees in First Class were Sixpence a Week ( 5 Cents), which Sister marked off in a special record book. A Year or so later Class fees went to one shilling ( 10cents) a week.

Discipline was mild in First Class with Boys sometimes being sent outside the Class for 5/10 minutes.In Third and Fourth Class there was talk of "the Strap"but I don't recall ever seeing it used.

As I moved through Primary School , I came to love the first days of each New Year for the experience of getting new Textbooks, often published by BROOKS BROTHERS (I think it was) Their emblem was a Shield with books & other schoolish  things on its four quartered front. I particularly remember in Second or Third Class a History Book, and as I quickly explored "it, my eye was caught by a painting of the First Fleet coming through the Sydney Heads. The ships were PURPLE! Enough to turn one off the British for keeps!

We always brought our lunch, Brien Dryden and I and with all the other children ate it sitting in , or around the "Shed", a fairly primitive sun shade in the middle of the Parish land. We often swapped lunches just for a change - I always ended up worse off. Apart from the Church/School, the only other buildings on the site were, up on Kingsland Road, the Convent -  an 1880s solid brick building with a colonial style front verandah, and the old wooden Parish Hall ( the former Church School) .It had long ago been moved up the Hill from Fourth Avenue where it had sat on land over the back fence from Grandma Dixon's house at 34 Third Avenue, Berala, as I mentioned earlier.



There were two ways home - the long way down Kingsland Road, right into Walters Road down the hill until the left hand turn into Second avenue and home. However, the SHORT way led across the street from the Convent and diagonally across vacant land resumed by the State Government for a State School that was never to be built, and then quickly onto Walters Road and down the hill etc. There was from time to time, a problem with a sharp faced runty  English bully a nasty piece of work we thought - though he just menaced, but never did anything. Often we took the "risk", but after a while we gave it away and found great advantages in visiting Ma Brearley's shop on Kingsland Road, to buy lollies, the occasional Sherbert (sucked from its paper package by means of a licorice straw. Favourite lollies were Musk Sticks - sickly- and grey Pastille sticks - aniseed flavour. But on hot days Ma B. was tops with her own "home made" ICE BLOCKS about 7 inches long and square in section, eaten from their long white paper bags. Life can be great!

Children's crazes for collecting cards were very strong before the War, and I had seen plenty of examples.Now they are back in fashion. But in those days I can't recall any. However we had great fun collecting Cigarette Packets which were carefully folded in on themselves to show the front off to advantage. Very many people smoked then - far more than now it seems, and there were few restrictions on smoking , except on trains which had certain designated Non-Smoking carriages.The Cigarette Packets were great pieces of Commercial design. My prized possessions were Players with a Naval theme, Garrick I think it was, which were bright green - actually, I thought they all looked pretty good. The craze never inclined me to smoking which I always thought was a disgusting habit .

I really did enjoy my time at the Convent School where I went through to the end of Fourth Class in 1949.

It was there in 1947 that I made my First Holy Communion with the rest of the Class. We were carefully and prayerfully prepared by the Sisters who were truly Faith - filled women. Then we were examined by Father Con Donovan and, having proved ourselves, made our First Confessions and a few days later, our First Holy Communion. There followed a Breakfast in the old Parish Hall catered by the Parish ladies , which for some reason brings to my mind brilliant red jelly!

Well, it was not the Breakfast, no. But from that day Our Lord had won my heart and mind and soul totally, and at 71 that dedication has never wavered. Sure, I have let Him down from time to time, but He has never let me down .He is always the first to offer His Hand. And I always know He is the Way and in the Catholic Church and in Holy Communion, I am one with Him. Way to go!( As our American cousins would say!)

Last detail - I almost forgot- our uniform was Navy Blue Shorts, White Shirt and a Black Boucle Tie with pairs of Gold Stripes horizontally across it. I could rabbit on about the other boys and their characteristics and nicknames for a bit, but is it fair to name "x" who was called ""taps"because he would burst into tears regularly and at the slightest provocation - I think not.

Next, I was to follow in my brother's footsteps and go to Marist Brothers'School Lidcombe. That would be in  1950 and I would be 10 years old.

CHILDHOOD 1947/48 THANK YOU IRELAND

My dear Mum & Dad on the right, but one of the heroes of this post is Father Cornelius "Con"Donovan a true son of Ireland and graduate of All Hallows Seminary.

Father Con Donovan was a big man by any measure.He was born in Araglen, County Cloyne on 2nd December, 1897. His education began at the National School, and he went on to Mt. Melleray College. In due course he graduated from the National University in Dublin in 1920 as a Bachelor of Arts.He was ordained Priest on 15th June, 1924 at All Hallows College the famed Seminary in Dublin. He very soon left for Australia, arriving on Melbourne Cup Day, 1924.He served as Assistant Priest in Camperdown, Bondi, Annandale, Mt.Carmel, Gosford, Broadway and Enfield. He was briefly Administrator of Lawson Parish and on 14th July, 1938 he was appointed Parish Priest of Berala by Archbishop Kelly to replace another Irishman Father Carmody who was terminally ill.

He had been instructed to build a Presbytery. Many years later he recalled "I was ordered to build a presbytery when I came here but, you see, the numbers of children wanting to come to school increased so much that we were forced to build a Parish School first." so, Father Donovan came to live for 12 years under the care of the McLean family in the Regents Park Hotel...."the most difficult time of my life"he later recalled whilst praising the McLean family.

On 28th January, 1940 the new Archbishop, Norman Gilroy blessed the foundation stone of the new Church/School on Regents Street, where I was to be schooled from 1946 to 1949 - 1st Class to 4th Class. The day is recorded as being extremely hot at over 40 Degrees Celsius.The new building was opened less than 5 months later on 9th June, 1940.The old wooden Church/School up on Kingsland Road, which had originally been sited in Fourth Avenue behind Grandma Dixon's house in Third Avenue, would become the Parish Hall. It was in this aged building that the First Communion Breakfast for my classmates and me was set up in 1947.

The Church/School was a great success. At the Eastern end was the Sacristy, Sanctuary Confessional and three rows of pews.Here Father Donovan said Holy Mass each morning and, on Friday evenings after school was finished, we kids had immense fun opening the huge folding doors between the classrooms and the final one to the Sanctuary. Then there was the best fun , racing the seats down the length of the building to turn the whole into a Church for Sunday Masses.

None of your wimpy 9.00am Post Conciliar Masses then - morning Mass, winter through to Summer was at 6.00 am.- up the hill I would go on First Fridays , always beaten by the old gents and ladies who in these pathetic times are "too frail"for Mass before 9.00 a.m. There were good numbers of us kids. And the Nuns were there en bloc - an example to everyone . And then there was dear Father Donovan.The vestments we have come to know as "Roman"were always perfect, the Maniple from time to time a minor problem.we had a Gong struck by the Altar Boy, rather than a Bell. However, there was a small silver bell kept in the Nun's pews in case the designated Altar Boy failed to appear for any reason.Then one of the Sisters could do the necessary without entering the Sanctuary -  it was rarely necessary.

Several memories are stirred by this account. One morning after the 6.00 a.m.Mass Father Donovan beckoned to me and asked if I would take the Mass Kit Box up to the Convent on Kingsland Road. "Yes Father was the keen reply". Father brought the Box with its sacred contents of Chalice , Paten etc. and passed it to me , impressing on me its sacred character. Off I went up the grassed acreage toward the Convent full of devout concentration - too much so it seems, for I tripped and the box fell to the ground. I picked myself up, and the Box , which had not opened, and - grateful for my good fortune, delivered it to the Sisters who cared for it until the following day. That was that - I thought.
About ten days later, from his great height , Father Donovan called to me " Antonny!" - "Good Morning Father" "Antonny, when you took the Mass Kit Box to the Convent , was there a problem?"A benign look down from his great height....""Ummmmm, Yes Father, I tripped and the box fell to the ground ......But it didn't open!!" "Don't worry, it caused a little dint in the Chalice , but I have had it repaired and its OK - I just wanted to know. Don't worry now!"And that was that!

On another occasion a mate and I went into the chapel which the Sanctuary end of the building became during the week to pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. Somehow our devotion must have lapsed, and his eyes lit onto the silver Bell used by the Nuns when the Altar Boy wasn't present.He dared me to ring it. Evidently I was more daring at 6/7 years of age than later, because I did and then swiftly returned to my kneeler in the pew. But the tinkle of the silver Bell did not go unheard. To our horror we heard the rustle of a Religious Habit and the jangle of Rosary Beads as one of the Nuns came swiftly along the Verandah

About a year later, after Mass one morning Father Donovan asked me to be an Altar Boy - my head was full of wild confusion  - I really was delighted to be asked and desperately wanted to be an Altar Boy. BUT I was painfully shy, and I found myself saying against my real wishes "No thank you Father ". Father Donovan was obviously perplexed and once more urged me to accept but my embarrassment only grew - I said "No thank you"again  - and that was that. There was no reason Father should understand my decision, Heaven knows I was so conflicted in my head I didn't understand!!The subject was never raised again, and I was free of the risk of embarrassing myself by making a fool of myself on the Altar.

Father Donovan was far from being eloquent, in fact in one to one discussion he was a little awkward as became obvious when he made his Parish visitation and called at our home. My Father was even more awkward in any difficult situation, and Father sought to get him back to attending Mass. No luck....that would not happen until years later when Mum had been terribly ill.But we all loved Father very much and appreciated how much he had given up to leave family and friends and his beloved Ireland to come and look after our spiritual welfare. He was a good and faithful and true Priest whom I would love to be able to thank in Heaven.He completed a remarkable building programme Convent, Presbytery,several School expansion projects up to High School and a fine new Church - built before the Pizza Hut design era.Father Donovan died at age 78 on 30th December, 1975- Requiescat in Pace.

We had another gift from Ireland , in the person of Sister Austin . I have no photograph of her, but she was the Superior of the little community of Sisters of Saint Joseph who taught at our Convent School in St. Peter Chanel's Parish. Sister Austin was kind and concerned for our well-being in every way. I loved the way, in her Irish lilt she called me "Ant'ny". She made our Primary schooling a very special experience along with Sister Alan, Sister Christina and others. They were devout and selfless women, kind and gentle and dedicated to our well-being. Nothing "I  gotta be me" about them.Saint Mary Mackillop of the Cross would have no trouble recognising them - unlike some to-day in Country Road clothes , bangle and necklaces and footy scarves!

Thank you Father Donovan, Sister Austin and companions AND THANK YOU IRELAND!

*1946 - SCHOOL DAYS BEGIN - ST.PETER CHANEL'S CONVENT SCHOOL BERALA N.S.W.

First Holy Communion Class 1947 - Yours Truly second from left front row
Brien Dryden on my left, Billy Cowan on my right, Cyril Spencer on his right
The great Father Con Donovan at the Centre - God Bless him.

After the short Bus trip,Mum dropped me off at the School and was quickly relieved of her parental responsibilities by a confident little bloke whose name was Cyril Spencer. He came up pleasantly and respectfully, and having sagely assessed the situation, said: "Don't worry lady, I'll look after him!" "Bye Mum!"and I was off into the new world
.
I had not gone to Kindergarten, and so commenced my Primary Schooling in First Class.This was something of a minor disadvantage, because I found that very many of the boys knew one another, whereas the only boy I knew was my best friend Brien Dryden who lived across the street.

The Church/School I have described earlier. It stood at the Western end of the large Parish site that had been accumulated running from the top of the hill on Kingsland Road in the East down to Regent Street(which led directly into Regents Park - all of these Royal word associations were entirely lost on me) Our Irish Parish Priest Father Con Donovan regularly reminded us of the great Archbishop of Brisbane James Duhig, an Irishman of course, who had built most of his churches on hilltop sites around Brisbane, that fabled city in exotic Queensland.So Father Donovan had also chosen a hilltop location for our future church.

This first morning at School was bewildering with hundreds of children ,boys and girls, swirling around and eagerly chattering. Then games started forming up and another boy, Brian Edwards from a more senior class,who appeared to be regarded as rather worldly wise, took me under his wing and we ended up joining a game called "Cocky Lorum"( I have been unable to find any Web references to it.) . It involved forming into two large groups of about thirty each, facing one another at a distance of about 25 metres, then someone would yell "Cocky Lorum"' and each group would charge toward and through the other. There was no ball involved as far as I can remember, and my opinion then was that it all seemed rather pointless.I am not sure if anyone got "out" or otherwise penalised - utterly pointless. If anyone could ever enlighten me about some detail I had missed, I would be very grateful.

I think it was on that first day some boy whose face or name I can't remember started some petty bit of bullying which was promptly terminated when Billy Cowan a stocky pleasant faced little bloke with curly hair intervened and warned the bully off. Amazing the things we remember.

We were in Sister Alan's Class. The School was staffed entirely by the Sisters of Saint Joseph founded by the recently canonised Saint Mary of the Cross MacKillop. Saint Mary would have been proud of them. The Principal ( we always said Head Nun) was Sister Austin ( which you will probably know is a contracted form of Augustine) who was Irish and always very kind to me over the years, I loved her lilting voice and the way she used to call me "Ant'ny".Sister Alan was really good with us littlies, kind and motherly, whilst steering us through the very basics and getting us used to Class discipline.Rewards for good performance consisted of Rubber Stamp impressions on one's exercise book, whether varying animals or, if your achievement was exceptional, the Map of Australia about 7inches by three inches with ink from a violet pad! ( I never got it ! Scarred for life? No.)

It was in Primary School that I noticed my strong interest in stationery. I have since then always been attracted by the rich texture and subtle colours of paper stocks as well as by all the paraphernalia of pen and ink, Fountain Pens ( no one ever tells you that their ink bladders wear out), Propelling Pencils, Biros - not to mention the humble lead pencil and its sharpener.

School Fees in First Class were Sixpence a Week ( 5 Cents), which Sister marked off in a special record book. A Year or so later Class fees went to one shilling ( 10cents) a week.

Discipline was mild in First Class with Boys sometimes being sent outside the Class for 5/10 minutes.In Third and Fourth Class there was talk of "the Strap"but I don't recall ever seeing it used.

As I moved through Primary School , I came to love the first days of each New Year for the experience of getting new Textbooks, often published by BROOKS BROTHERS (I think it was) Their emblem was a Shield with books & other schoolish  things on its four quartered front. I particularly remember in Second or Third Class a History Book, and as I quickly explored "it, my eye was caught by a painting of the First Fleet coming through the Sydney Heads. The ships were PURPLE! Enough to turn one off the British for keeps!

We always brought our lunch, Brien Dryden and I and with all the other children ate it sitting in , or around the "Shed", a fairly primitive sun shade in the middle of the Parish land. We often swapped lunches just for a change - I always ended up worse off. Apart from the Church/School, the only other buildings on the site were, up on Kingsland Road, the Convent -  an 1880s solid brick building with a colonial style front verandah, and the old wooden Parish Hall ( the former Church School) .It had long ago been moved up the Hill from Fourth Avenue where it had sat on land over the back fence from Grandma Dixon's house at 34 Third Avenue, Berala, as I mentioned earlier.



There were two ways home - the long way down Kingsland Road, right into Walters Road down the hill until the left hand turn into Second avenue and home. However, the SHORT way led across the street from the Convent and diagonally across vacant land resumed by the State Government for a State School that was never to be built, and then quickly onto Walters Road and down the hill etc. There was from time to time, a problem with a sharp faced runty  English bully a nasty piece of work we thought - though he just menaced, but never did anything. Often we took the "risk", but after a while we gave it away and found great advantages in visiting Ma Brearley's shop on Kingsland Road, to buy lollies, the occasional Sherbert (sucked from its paper package by means of a licorice straw. Favourite lollies were Musk Sticks - sickly- and grey Pastille sticks - aniseed flavour. But on hot days Ma B. was tops with her own "home made" ICE BLOCKS about 7 inches long and square in section, eaten from their long white paper bags. Life can be great!

Children's crazes for collecting cards were very strong before the War, and I had seen plenty of examples.Now they are back in fashion. But in those days I can't recall any. However we had great fun collecting Cigarette Packets which were carefully folded in on themselves to show the front off to advantage. Very many people smoked then - far more than now it seems, and there were few restrictions on smoking , except on trains which had certain designated Non-Smoking carriages.The Cigarette Packets were great pieces of Commercial design. My prized possessions were Players with a Naval theme, Garrick I think it was, which were bright green - actually, I thought they all looked pretty good. The craze never inclined me to smoking which I always thought was a disgusting habit .

I really did enjoy my time at the Convent School where I went through to the end of Fourth Class in 1949.

It was there in 1947 that I made my First Holy Communion with the rest of the Class. We were carefully and prayerfully prepared by the Sisters who were truly Faith - filled women. Then we were examined by Father Con Donovan and, having proved ourselves, made our First Confessions and a few days later, our First Holy Communion. There followed a Breakfast in the old Parish Hall catered by the Parish ladies , which for some reason brings to my mind brilliant red jelly!

Well, it was not the Breakfast, no. But from that day Our Lord had won my heart and mind and soul totally, and at 71 that dedication has never wavered. Sure, I have let Him down from time to time, but He has never let me down .He is always the first to offer His Hand. And I always know He is the Way and in the Catholic Church and in Holy Communion, I am one with Him. Way to go!( As our American cousins would say!)

Last detail - I almost forgot- our uniform was Navy Blue Shorts, White Shirt and a Black Boucle Tie with pairs of Gold Stripes horizontally across it. I could rabbit on about the other boys and their characteristics and nicknames for a bit, but is it fair to name "x" who was called ""taps"because he would burst into tears regularly and at the slightest provocation - I think not.

Next, I was to follow in my brother's footsteps and go to Marist Brothers'School Lidcombe. That would be in  1950 and I would be 10 years old.

*THANK YOU IRELAND !

My dear Mum & Dad on the right, but one of the heroes of this post is Father Cornelius "Con"Donovan a true son of Ireland and graduate of All Hallows Seminary.

Father Con Donovan was a big man by any measure.He was born in Araglen, County Cloyne on 2nd December, 1897 .His education began at the National School, and he went on to Mt. Melleray College. In due course he graduated from the National University in Dublin in 1920 as a Bachelor of Arts.He was ordained Priest on 15th June, 1924 at All Hallows College the famed Seminary in Dublin. He very soon left for Australia, arriving on Melbourne Cup Day, 1924.He served as Assistant Priest in Camperdown, Bondi, Annandale, Mt.Carmel, Gosford, Broadway and Enfield. He was briefly Administrator of Lawson Parish and on 14th July, 1938 he was appointed Parish Priest of Berala by Archbishop Kelly to replace another Irishman Father Carmody who was terminally ill.
He had been instructed to build a Presbytery. Many years later he recalled "I was ordered to build a presbytery when I came here but, you see, the numbers of children wanting to come to school increased so much that we were forced to build a Parish School first." so, Father Donovan came to live for 12 years under the care of the McLean family in the Regents Park Hotel...."the most difficult time of my life"he later recalled whilst praising the McLean family.
On 28th January, 1940 the new Archbishop, Norman Gilroy blessed the foundation stone of the new Church/School on Regents Street, where I was to be schooled from 1946 to 1949 - 1st Class to 4th Class. The day is recorded as being extremely hot at over 40 Degrees Celsius.The new building was opened less than 5 months later on 9th June, 1940.The old wooden Church/School up on Kingsland Road, which had originally been sited in Fourth Avenue behind Grandma Dixon's house in Third Avenue, would become the Parish Hall. It was in this aged building that the First Communion Breakfast for my classmates and me was set up in 1947.
The Church/School was a great success. At the Eastern end was the Sacristy, Sanctuary Confessional and three rows of pews.Here Father Donovan said Holy Mass each morning and, on Friday evenings after school was finished, we kids had immense fun opening the huge folding doors between the classrooms and the final one to the Sanctuary. Then there was the best fun , racing the seats down the length of the building to turn the whole into a Church for Sunday Masses.
None of your wimpy 9.00am Post Conciliar Masses then - morning Mass, winter through to Summer was at 6.00 am.- up the hill I would go on First Fridays , always beaten by the old gents and ladies who in these pathetic times are "too frail"for Mass before 9.00 a.m. There were good numbers of us kids. And the Nuns were there en bloc - an example to everyone . And then there was dear Father Donovan.The vestments we have come to know as "Roman"were always perfect, the Maniple from time to time a minor problem.we had a Gong struck by the Altar Boy, rather than a Bell. However, there was a small silver bell kept in the Nun's pews in case the designated Altar Boy failed to appear for any reason.Then one of the Sisters could do the necessary without entering the Sanctuary -  it was rarely necessary.
Several memories are stirred by this account. One morning after the 6.00 a.m.Mass Father Donovan beckoned to me and asked if I would take the Mass Kit Box up to the Convent on Kingsland Road. "Yes Father was the keen reply". Father brought the Box with its sacred contents of Chalice , Paten etc. and passed it to me , impressing on me its sacred character. Off I went up the grassed acreage toward the Convent full of devout concentration - too much so it seems, for I tripped and the box fell to the ground. I picked myself up, and the Box , which had not opened, and - grateful for my good fortune, delivered it to the Sisters who cared for it until the following day. That was that - I thought.
About ten days later, from his great height , Father Donovan called to me " Antonny!" - "Good Morning Father" "Antonny, when you took the Mass Kit Box to the Convent , was there a problem?"A benign look down from his great height....""Ummmmm, Yes Father, I tripped and the box fell to the ground ......But it didn't open!!" "Don't worry, it caused a little dint in the Chalice , but I have had it repaired and its OK - I just wanted to know. Don't worry now!"And that was that!
On another occasion a mate and I went into the chapel which the Sanctuary end of the building became during the week to pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. Somehow our devotion must have lapsed, and his eyes lit onto the silver Bell used by the Nuns when the Altar Boy wasn't present.He dared me to ring it. Evidently I was more daring at 6/7 years of age than later, because I did and then swiftly returned to my kneeler in the pew. But the tinkle of the silver Bell did not go unheard. To our horror we heard the rustle of a Religious Habit and the jangle of Rosary Beads as one of the Nuns came swiftly along the Verandah
About a year later, after Mass one morning Father Donovan asked me to be an Altar Boy - my head was full of wild confusion  - I really was delighted to be asked and desperately wanted to be an Altar Boy. BUT I was painfully shy, and I found myself saying against my real wishes "No thank you Father ". Father Donovan was obviously perplexed and once more urged me to accept but my embarrassment only grew - I said "No thank you"again  - and that was that. There was no reason Father should understand my decision, Heaven knows I was so conflicted in my head I didn't understand!!The subject was never raised again, and I was free of the risk of embarrassing myself by making a fool of myself on the Altar.
Father Donovan was far from being eloquent, in fact in one to one discussion he was a little awkward as became obvious when he made his Parish visitation and called at our home. My Father was even more awkward in any difficult situation, and Father sought to get him back to attending Mass. No luck....that would not happen until years later when Mum had been terribly ill.But we all loved Father very much and appreciated how much he had given up to leave family and friends and his beloved Ireland to come and look after our spiritual welfare. He was a good and faithful and true Priest whom I would love to be able to thank in Heaven.He completed a remarkable building programme Convent, Presbytery,several School expansion projects up to High School and a fine new Church - built before the Pizza Hut design era.Father Donovan died at age 78 on 30th December, 1975- Requiescat in Pace.

We had another gift from Ireland , in the person of Sister Austin . I have no photograph of her, but she was the Superior of the little communty of Sisters of Saint Joseph who taught at our Convent School in St. Peter Chanel's Parish. Sister Austin was kind and concerned for our well-being in every way. I loved the way, in her Irish lilt she called me "Ant'ny". She made our Primary schooling a very special experience along with Sister Alan, Sister Christina and others. They were devout and selfless women, kind and gentle and dedicated to our well-being.Nothing "I  gotta be me" about them.Saint Mary Mackillop of the Cross would have no trouble recognising them - unlike some to-day in Country Road clothes , bangle and necklaces and footy scarves!

Thank you Father Donovan, Sister Austin and companions AND THANK YOU IRELAND!