1943-1945 CULTURAL ICONS

R.M.S. QUEEN MARY

As I grew up, my mental wallpaper in matters civic was without question British. The great icons , cause of our pride were British -  R.M.S.QUEEN MARY. the steam locomotive "FLYING SCOTSMAN", the world's "best"car the ROLLS ROYCE, British crockery, British manufactured goods. Why not! We were British weren't we ?

Of course as Catholics we were just a tad sceptical of the underpinnings of all this. We knew about the English repression of the Irish before Home Rule. And we knew that the establishment in Australia was largely anti- Catholic. We could handle all that. We just knew that everything that was best and good in civic life was British.Of course it was! All the books we had available were published and printed in England ( save for a very few - not popularly distributed- which were published and printed in Australia).Things and people British were "proper"and to be emulated. On the Wireless, the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) announcers were selected for their rather prim, well modulated British accents.

All of this worked subtly to establish a cultural "client "mentality in most of the population.Many of us felt our cultural isolation and longed to travel "overseas"- but most of the time, this simply meant London or England more broadly.Travel overseas was 98% by ship , and the ships were British ( of course) and such shipping lines as P&O(Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company), Orient Line, Shaw Savill and Huddart Parker were household names.

Oddly, before the War there had been a great number of American cars on our roads . Names such as Chevrolet, Buick, Oldsmobile, Ford, Mercury, Willys,Dodge and De Soto were still quite familiar even though restrictions on U.S. currency transactions had long since stopped U.S. car imports. So our cars were Vauxhalls ( who could forget the glittering chromed flutes down the edges of the bonnets), Austins, Morrises,Rovers(Doctors'cars), Wolseleys,Triumphs,Hillmans, and the rarer Lancasters, Alvises, Armstrong-Siddeleys, Humbers , Lagondas, Daimlers( very big with the Royals) and Bentleys etc.

Still other considerations of English origin, re-inforced our above view of the world. Architecture was a leading factor in this way. Most public architecture had its origins at least in the Victorian era. So it was that Government Buildings were designed and constructed to suggest permanence, authority and strength. Other buildings like Banks had developed out of the experience of hard times past. There were usually friendly glass inner doors , but strong, forbidding outer doors - everyone had in mind the runs on the Banks in the Great Depression - only  11-15 years earlier. Windows were high by to-day's standards, further enhancing protection against external assault.

But beneath the surface, there were several subversive streams at work.There had always been American films, movies they called them.As the war effort grew these American films came to be more and more the true mainstream. Their ideas were quite different and...somehow, more ...exciting.The presence of American Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen in Australia greatly expanded the Americanised way of thinking.The failure of the British to come to our aid ( largely due to inability and the failure of what they did try) was commonly known and resented in reality, no matter what the reason. There was a fairly natural affinity between Americans and Australians based upon openness and a lack of British type Class pretensions. We were more like the Americans then, than we are now I think. That may seem paradoxical given to-day's very free communications. But whilst these modern communications have made our cultural links much stronger, they have, it seems to me, facilitated in each society a more rapid development of particular tendencies which are drawing us further apart in essence, if not in superficialities. Hmmm Getting a bit deep. Might try to come back to this later.

1943-1945 SIRENS AND SEARCHLIGHTS

Air Raid Siren

A monthly , or bi-monthly feature of life in suburban Sydney during World War II, at least in the vicinity of Berala , in what were then Sydney's Western Suburbs ( now the inner Western Suburbs!), was the sonorous wail of the Air Raid Sirens. As far as I am aware the Siren we heard was near the Park in Lidcombe - a brisk 20 minutes walk away. To me it was a marvellous bit of entertainment! We never believed that it could be a genuine air raid, not that that belief was based on any detailed knowledge of the disposition of Japanese Aircraft Carriers - we just knew we were going to be O.K. Similarly, but more irregularly, anti-aircraft searchlights would pierce the night sky - wonderful stuff causing people all around to run onto their verandahs or into their front/back yards to watch the show. There seemed never to be any aircraft around to give the exercise some semblance of reality, and very rarely a second or third searchlight to allow co-ordination exercises.

We had in our backyard a large hole dug as an air raid shelter, but it seemed to me even as a child, somewhat half-hearted and incomplete, and it  was never taken seriously and as time wore on , it was filled in.

WW II Searchlight

The War, so dramatic in the films, and apparently serious in the papers - not that I could read them- was somehow at one remove from our day to day lives.  At least that was true for children like me.

1949 A LUCKY ESCAPE = GUARDIAN ANGEL ON OVERTIME!

                                                    1927 DODGE TOURING CAR

Bear with me a little longer while I'm on this automotive theme.

My best schoolmate in Primary School was Brien Dryden who lived directly opposite our house on the other (Eastern) side of  Second Avenue. Our families knew one another very well, but never did things together as many neighbours do these days. Each of  our parents would speak to us about the other's parents using "Mr." and "Mrs" so , when we operated our little scam to get parental approval of something we wanted to do the dialogue went like this :

Me :  "Mum, if Mrs Dryden says its O.K., can we go to the Pictures to-day?  "

Mum : "Well, if Mrs. Dryden says its O.K. - Yes".

Dash across the street...

Brien: "Mum, can we go to the Pictures to-day? Mrs. Dixon says its O.K."

Mrs Dryden : "Well, as long as Mrs.Dixon says its O.K.. "

DONE DEAL! It could start on either side of the street, and worked very smoothly! should add that none of the projects proposed ever had any inherent risk, until one day... but even then it could not be known.

Mrs. Dryden had a sister named Isobel who had been married, but was divorced  - an extraordinary thing in my experience. But now she had a "boyfriend" - they were both in their late thirties/ forties and his name was "Brian". He was a big fellow tall solid in build, very pleasant without being "outgoing" AND he drove a 1927 Dodge Tourer. That was a big car, especially in comparison with the English cars that had come to dominate our roads in more recent years,when U.S. currency imports were strictly controlled. Brian offered to take Brien, me and I think Isobel's little son, for a drive to the City where he had some business to do. Parental approvals were secured by the usual means and all was ready.

Brian got out the crank handle,gave it a couple of turns and the engine started easily. I was seated on the back seat RH side. It was a magnificent position high and with firm leather seats, I felt great looking down on the world passing by. All went along well once we got used to the rather heavy noise from the gear box common in cars of that vintage, and the driver's busy footwork "" double de-clutching" whenever he changed gears - no synchro-mesh when this old lady was built. However, as we went down the back way towards Pyrmont and crossed Glebe Point Road we entered on the sharp downward slope and curve to the left. Brian was energetically hauling on the HANDBRAKE! "What's up??" We asked.

"Oh! the footbrake doesn't work -  so I have to change down gears and use the Handbrake !"( The brakes on a car of this Vintage were mechanical and not hydraulically assisted in any case) I may have been only  9  years old, but I knew that  was alarming. My feeling of mastery of the Universe in my high seated position vanished. As it happened,the journey, including the return leg was completely incident free.

We pulled up outside Brien's home and big Brian got out of the car and immediately crashed to the ground in an epileptic convulsion. In  a few seconds we got adult help from the house , and in due course the seizure passed and he recovered and rested. We went our separate ways rather badly shaken...what if....only 30 seconds earlier? Mum was horrified at what might have been , and that someone knowing he was epileptic would drive, let alone take a group of children along when he did! The story of the brakes only compounded  the problems. It was obvious I owed my Guardian Angel a huge debt!

But it was a grand car!

CLOSE YOUR EYES....THINK ABOUT WHEN LIFE WAS SIMPLE

My Childhood Home - Picture taken in 1960s can be dated by TV Antenna
Which definitely puts it after the introduction of TV in 1956 and we did not get a TV until about 1961
AND my car a second hand 1961 VAUXHALL CRESTA ( Panoramic Windscreen! Leather Upholstery and a Radio !!!), so I think this is about 1964/65. 

When life was simple......for most children, little children that is, life is simple. It may be delightful,dull,harsh, even, hurtful but it is usually simple, due to the limitations of the little child's developing brain. A piece of cake can induce ecstasy, a teaspoon of peas may induce reactions of tragedy.

My pre- school years were mostly centred around my parents of course and lived out in our small , two bedroomed home pictured above. I was not conscious of being in any way deprived . I was always well-fed with the prudent necessities of food and regularly enjoyed delights beyond the necessities - including Mum's sponge- cakes: from time to time  true delights.

The weatherboard ( what Americans call "clapboard "I believe), house had a corrugated iron roof, which could produce a not unpleasant noise when rain was soft, but was  totally deafening in heavy rain, let alone hail. It did not look the way it does in the photo ( taken in the late 1960s) . The house had been built in the mid 1920s , and when I was very young we did not yet own it.In those early 1940s its paintwork looked more than a little tired, the front fence was in need of repair, there was no concrete driveway (and as I have said, no car in any case), the double gates for car entrance were wooden , and not well built so that they sagged and had to be lifted to open. Of course there was no TV aerial seen in the photo. That came several years after the introduction of T.V. in  1956, around 1959 I think .

My Dad worked Shiftwork in those years at the Garden Island Dockyard.In fact he worked Shiftwork even when he later worked for the Metropolitan Water Sewerage and Drainage Board at nearby Potts Hill Pumping Station and later at Ryde Pumping Station for the few years before his retirement.Dad's Shiftwork meant that he was not as significant a factor in my bringing up as he might otherwise have been,He worked Morning , Afternoon and Night Shifts in weekly succession with a break of about four days at the end of each cycle. Night Shift was the worst week for me because Dad left home about 7.30 to 8.00 p.m. to start at 9.00 p.m. When he arrived home about 6.00 - 6.30am he went straight to bed and would not be up until about 2.00 p.m. This meant "SHHH!Remember Dad's asleep!" Echoing in my ears whenever I wanted to do anything amusing.Especially in the small house with its timber floors and linoleum floor coverings of the time.
I subsequently learned that the War had prevented us enjoying a lot of things such as chocolates, sweets and soft drinks, and Ration Books ruled the domestic economy - a Socialist's heaven. But now and then Dad's work at the Dockyard paid off. Servicemen were not denied these little luxuries and some were happy to trade their issue or sell it. So, coming off Night Shift and arriving home as I was having breakfast he would often reach into his pocket , and with feigned surprise "find"a small bar of chocolate or some other treat for me.

Dad used to travel to and from Garden Island by a workers Ferry from Circular Quay, then walk to or from Wynyard underground Railway Station to home. At Circular Quay on the Eastern Corner of Pitt Street was Plasto's "SHIP INN"a regular port of call and centre of "devotion"on his way home. Each year we used to have brought home the large format Calendar of the "SHIP INN" which always featured large black and white prints of sailing ships that had frequented Sydney Harbour and in many cases, Circular Quay itself.
Afternoon Shift was not so bad family wise,. Dad left after an early Lunch and got home about 11.00 p.m.
Morning Shift was almost like a normal family , though Dad was gone before I got up he was home in time for Dinner or "Tea"as we always called it ."Dinner"was the Lunchtime Meal.

My Mother was the constant loving presence, the true "hub"of the little family. For my Dad, though he was never cruel or harsh, was not good at any display of affection. I have no recollection of him hugging me, lifting me up or kissing me.It was a not uncommon phenomenon amongst men of the time as literature now shows.( Indeed the Poet James McAuley in the poem "Because"relates the extreme case of his own father :

"Having seen other fathers greet their sons,
I put my childish face up to be kissed
After an absence. The rebuff still stings."

Mum, God bless her, was the very model of loyalty, love and kindness , thinking always of others, ever ready to blame herself for whatever went wrong. Dad's mealtimes were always rigidly observed as if by the most sacred Rubrics. And it didn't matter if this meant her getting up in the depths of Winter to get his breakfast at some ungodly hour when dawn was still a long way off, or having a very late Dinner on the table when he came home at 11.00 pm on the relative Shift. When he came home at night she always had the external light at the back burning bright "to welcome him home".

We all dressed simply, Wartime Clothing Rations ensured that was the case.But there was always a set of "Best"clothes for going out, which would mean perhaps a visit to Grandma Beckmanns (interesting - I typed that automatically, but that was what I called it - Not Grandma & Grandad Beckmann's)or to nearby Auburn which had several important shops, or further afield to Burwood , Parramatta Road to the North and Liverpool and Canterbury Roads to the South .Then again there were trips, sometimes weekly, to the City.

My brother Pat did not feature largely in my life. He was born in 1929 , and so was 11 when I came on the scene, During the War-years he was completing his High School to 3rd Year and then went off to work - not exactly the years he might want to be involved with a baby brother. But in any case I have no memories of him at that time. Interesting really, in later years when his life started going wrong, he would always, or often anyway, reproach Mum & Dad for his shortcomings with the refrain : "He (me) was always the favourite"  now that I reflect on it, I wonder how far back his resentment went . Maybe the arrival of baby me was to him wholly unacceptable. Mum and Dad always spoke of Pat having been "spoiled" by Grandma Dixon and the Aunts and Uncles around in Third Avenue. Even to the extent of giving him a pushbike Mum and Dad had said he couldn't have; whatever he couldn't get at home, he got at Grandma's.Ah, well....

Almost all of my toys were War themed. My pride and joy was a sheet tin toy  - a tank with a little plane attached to it by a wire arm. When you wound the tank up it would go along and the plane would rise up on its wire arm until the tank shot at it with friction sparks! There were the usual lead soldiers and I had a small fort which I think was desert/Foreign Legion themed.Later there was a very small HORNBY most basic wind-up train Red Engine and two carriages I think and a simple circle of track. When Santa came at Christmas he left my few presents in a Pillow Case always left at the foot of my bed for his convenience and he was always provided with a hefty chunk of Mum's delicious Christmas Fruit Cake and a small bottle of Beer! Good old Santa!

So, I had a very nice early childhood thank you Mum & Dad. Whatever your troubles, and photos show the strain of those post Depression War years, you did not let them get to me - models of parental care - thank you!

P.S. I used to play in the dirt under the house when I could, building roads and dirt houses, but always close to the side which in later years had the driveway, the Northern side which let the Sun shine in there. I discovered my brother's much earlier diggings under there too - gave the effort something of an archeological flavour. The discovery of some Red- Back spiders later made the spot forbidden.

STIMULATED BY LIBRARY EXPERIENCES

Long before my time - the Western side of the Queen Victoria Markets as it was originally known, the York Street frontage looking South to the Town Hall.

Also long before my time- the Assembly Hall Building on Margaret St viewed from across York Street .The picture evidently taken from near the entrance to the present Wynyard Station..The picture is full of interesting detail, note the early 1800's residences next door.These are occupying the site where new buildings were to later receive as tenants the USIS LIBRARY and the always exotic ( in my youthful mind )PFAHLERTS HOTEL. Note also in the R.H. corner the paling fence(!) - this suggests that the "cut and cover"excavation and construction for Wynyard Station had begun ( early 1920's).

Yesterday's post "1955 -1956 LIBRARY EXPERIENCES"stirred up a few quite varied thoughts:

THE QUEEN VICTORIA BUILDING

For all of my childhood and youth, the QVB stood virtually empty, save for the City of Sydney Library and their Cellar at the Northern end and a few shops and a Cafe on the George Street frontage. Access to the interior was not available to the public.

The great building, originally the Queen Victoria Markets, had not been a commercial success and , no doubt, the Great Depression finally set the seal on that. So it stood there like a great sandstone question - "what will you do with me?". There were many answers as I was growing up - most of them not respectful. Like its rival Melbourne, Sydney lacked, and still lacks , a fitting civic Square ( Melbourne's recently fabricated "Federation Square" still doesn't fill the bill and is just an eyesore.) Numerous "visionaries" wanted to demolish the QVB to create a Civic Square beside the Town Hall!Fortunately the inherent good sense of Sydneysiders of the time rejected the idea. Besides, the suggestion crystallised in the public mind the thought that we really liked and admired the old girl, We just needed to find a suitable use for her! Urban shopping was evolving and in due course, that evolution and the QVB's potential crossed paths.

To-day the QVB with improved access via a Tunnel to Town Hall Station and under George Street at either end of the building, has created a pulsing, vibrant shopping heart thronged by local and overseas tourists alike.It is always great fun for a wander  each time we return to Sydney for a visit. The Metropolitan Museum of Art Shop on the top level is always a favourite and on several occasions our daughter Justine has taken us to High Tea in the grand restaurant in what was originally a Ballroom on the upper level at the Northern end.

MARGARET STREET

The sandstone houses in Margaret Street in the photograph above, were typical of houses of the vintage of 1840 onwards that were still common around Sydney into my early twenties  and could still be spotted here and there in one or two place until much later, I am thinking of Castlereagh Street near Park Street for example. Earlier a very nice group on the corner of Phillip Street,King Street and Macquarie Street was demolished to make way for the ugly multi storey Courts Building.

LIBRARY IN MY POCKET?

Reflecting on those Libraries and their influence on my development, I came again to marvel at the phenomenon of the Kindle 3G E Reader which holds thousands of books in the size and weight of a small paperback, and offers the capacity to search in a particular book or across its whole library and make notes! The impact of this on my work will be brilliant, when I realise my goal and get one. How much more brilliant for a student in secondary studies  and tertiary studies. No doubt many not limited to a Retiree's means will even have the greater capacities of an I Pad! The acceleration in the rate of learning should be immense - but what of the depth of learning?Will they use the full potential of the E-Reader? Or simply skim further and faster?

Despite all the advances in technology, and the changes in the patterns of teaching, it is surprising how little many young people to-day know about history, even the modern history of our own society.And relatively few seem interested to find out.

1955 - 1956 LIBRARY EXPERIENCES

The Queen Victoria Building -Southern/Town Hall end looking down George Street.

In 1955 and 1956 I went to finish my Secondary Schooling at Marist Brothers'College Darlinghurst - that will be the subject of a later post. My purpose on this occasion is to mention visits I started making to the City of Sydney Library which occupied two levels at the opposite end of the Queen Victoria Building to that shown in the photograph above. That Northern end on Market Street, across George Street from GOWINGS menswear store - famous for its location and its quirky , rather old-world stock and presentation, and its slogan "Gone to Gowings"was a landmark well into the 1990's when newer management had tried to modernise and popularise the brand. They finally failed  - things had moved on and they never did succeed in re-invention.

 The library was reached by climbing the stairs or riding the ancient lift cage to the first or second floor. Neither option would avoid the heavy odour of ancient wines from the City Council's Cellar in the Basement- a heavy mustiness that was not pleasant but not revolting either . It simply suggested something - in quantity - that was 'off".!

The library itself was not impressive in its reception or counters , everything suggested lack of money, care or attention.The collection however was full of items of interest. I usually visited with my classmate Tony Hannon, now my longtime Brother-in Law. We shared many interests in common especially history. We got a lot of satisfaction out of copies of The Illustrated London News, which were kept tolerably up-to-date. Both older copies and more recent ones were full of interest, especially when they did major photo essays on particular events or places. I regretted its passing in later years. The library also gave access to "Jane's All the World's Fighting Ships"editions from recent times back to the First World War. These were a remarkable source of FACTS and, if you know ANYTHING about teenage males, you will know that they are very keen on facts.The opportunity to absorb all of the interesting information from this large library's extensive collections was giving us a horse and buggy equivalent of the self education the Internet now provides at home. We, or at least I, did not use the library for study purposes on many occasions. For Tony it was a twenty-five minutes bus trip home on the little blue private bus from Bathurst Street to his home. For me it was a train trip to Lidcombe, change for Berala often, then a ten minute walk home - all up about an hour and ten minutes allowing for connections.

A few years later , Tony discovered the United States Information Service Library in Margaret Street. It was rather a different experience. In a smallish very modern building just down from the Assembly Rooms which contained the Scots Church where my Mum's sister Mable had married Robert Campbell Kerr before the War ( WW II).
 The USIS Library was the very model of modernity and efficiency and its carefully planned collection was recent and regularly up-dated with the latest books and selected magazines, all breathing  a healthy, happy optimism.By this time Tony was at University I think and I had left the Seminary ( another future post) and , due to an "accident "I was working for the Commonwealth Bank of Australia.

NIAGARA CLASS LOCOMOTIVE
NEW YORK CENTRAL RAILROAD
1945-1946 put in service.

I had for a very long time been interested in steam locomotives and railways      ( this is not so much an intellectual exercise- an act of the will- no, it is in some way " in the blood "or in the spirit - a type of romantic enthusiasm defying logic). Anyway, I particularly remember a very large format new book that the library took into its collection crammed with fantastic photography on the New York Central Railroad's newest ( and as it turned out,last) mighty steam locomotives the huge 4-8-4 "NIAGARA"Class with their massive 10 Wheel (I think) Tenders. They were the very last word( too true) in post war modern locomotive design, roller bearings on every turning surface and massive boilers to the very limit of the loading gauge , mission : beat the diesels for efficiency.They did well , but it was not "mission accomplished". How I would love to have a copy of that book. A Niagara is one of my 4 locomotive model collection , which I hope my Grandsons may  appreciate in due course. 4 Locomotive models, 3 Grandsons....Hmmmm!

Sadly, in one of those periodic expansion/contraction spasms that American short-term financial reporting recurringly causes, a whole host of USIS Libraries around the world was closed in the 1960s or 70s and the poor old Aussies "who are our Allies anyway" lost their USIS Library for a few years . In a later spasm it was re-opened up in Park St in the City - I never have been there - very big on security I believe. Sometimes I think the best times are behind us all, at least in that regard

1960 1961 A GLIMPSE OF HISTORY

EVERY JOB HAS ITS PROBLEMS - PRESIDENT KENNEDY PONDERS THE OPTIONS
CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS OCTOBER, 1961- OR SO IT SEEMED  - SUBSEQUENT REPORTS SAY THAT THE PHOTO WAS TAKEN BEFORE THE CRISIS AND ONLY USED BY THE MEDIA FOR EFFECT.

After about two years in the Stock and Share Department of the Commonwealth Bank, I became the subject of one of those Staff Department letters which began "It has been decided to move Mr Anthony Dixon to ( in this case) Summer Hill Branch". And that was that!

My familiarity with Summer Hill was limited to flying past it on non-stop electric trains rushing into the City or from the City to their first stop at Strathfield before heading on to Lidcombe. A few times I had driven alongside the railway past Summer Hill, but it was not a place to stop - for me, anyway. Until now.

So I started working in this quiet little backwater of a branch. As I said of Stock and Share Department, computerisation lay well in the future. At Summer Hill we had hand posted Savings Bank ledgers and simple Machine posted Trading Bank ledgers.Almost everything about the Branch would within ten years be regarded as archaic. But, for now things went on as they had always done - in the case of the hand posted Savings Bank ledgers - since about 1901 when the Bank was founded.

 The essential elements were a set of about twenty square pidgeon hole files., an appropriate number of small rectangular two post binders for the ledger sheets, a stand-up desk and there you were - in business. The virtuoso of the hand -posting was the Branch Accountant a very short man named Mr Wilson. The poor fellow had had a nervous breakdown at some stage and it had heavily marked his personality. Every day with rigid regularity he went home to have lunch with his wife.One skill had come through totally unimpaired - his virtuosity at the Hand Posted Ledgers. It was something ( however petty) to see . Standing at the Stand up Desk, topped with the pidgeon holes. he would take up a batch of deposit slips , read the account number on the top one, his hand would shoot to the appropriate Binder, fly through to the correct account, post the transaction , note the new balance on the deposit slip, initial it and re-insert the Binder in a flash. "There, that's how its done. Now get on with it!"

The Trading Bank ledgers were posted on a simple accounting machine - no Comptometers yet and there was still a handwritten control ledger.

The work was shared by two other young people a good looking curly-haired happy go-lucky young Catholic guy Mick ? and a short rather sullen girl whose Christian names were "Melodie Charlotte Ivy Aloma Phyllis... whatever". I could never forget that assemblage of Christian names!

The Manager of the Branch was a retired Second World War Brigadier who had accepted the Japanese surrender at Rabaul . He was always impeccably dressed in his suit and vest and had a moustache . His desk , like his entire office was a testament to inactivity. He read the Sydney Morning Herald from front to back each morning then came out and stared at the street for about fifteen minutes and would give a damning review of any workmen in the street: "Look at these lazy wretches Mr Wilson - four of them standing about with only one shovel ! One shovel - Four men! Outrageous! Mr. Wilson ,do you hear? " "Yes Sir, of course! Outrageous!" Smirks from the staff and scarcely suppressed laughter from the younger ones.

And that was it really, until one day during the Cuban Missile Crisis the newspapers were brought into the Branch reporting the confrontation between the United States Navy quarantine blockade and a fleet of Russian ships bringing missiles to arm the Cuban bases they had built on the United States doorstep. But Mr Kruschev had badly misjudged the younger President Kennedy. The U.S. Navy stood firm it was Mr Krushchev's ships that had to first stop, and then head home. The world stood back from the nuclear brink. At the same time, my future wife Robyn and best friend Penny, still , together with her husband Keith our oldest friends, was travelling round Ireland and being advised "you had better get back home, it looks like there is going to be a war"!