We were still living in a Rabbit Board house but this only had a quarter of a acre town section and we missed the acreage we had at Naike. After a year we decided to find a piece of land for ourselves-big enough to be able to keep the animals we enjoyed-and also to build our own house.

This, then, was the plan but it took another two years to perfect. We finally managed to buy a three acre section overlooking the beautiful Waikato river and built our, first, very own modest three bedroom home.

Dail was now 15 years old and Kim 7 years old. Both girls were fond of riding so an aged mare named Peggy joined the family. Our house was three miles from the school so Peggy became transport to and from school occasional when waiting for the last school bus run became tiresome.

Nine milking goats (Saanen) came next and helped us clear the land of gorse and blackberry plus provide us with very good milk.

My first chore each day was milking. Only four goats were in milk but these lovely creatures came happily to a call and cold winter mornings found me cuddling up to a nice warm Doe.

Goats, however, are notorious escapologists and can go A.W.O.L. any time they like. We yoked our goats in an effort to thwart this behaviour but we needn't have bothered . They simply learned to turn their heads to one side, flattening out the yokes, as they slid carefully under the bottom fence wire.

The locals became very used to seeing our Does nonchalantly walking on the road frontages. They often crossed the road to our neighbours farm when they thought the tucker there might be sweeter.

One day the farmers dog chased one of our does and in her hurry to get away she tore her udder on the barbed wire as she rushed through the fence. A11 her milk landed in the middle of the road as she ran across. Another visit to the Vet and careful stitching put everything right. The farmer saw what had happened and offered us cows milk as compensation.

Another time a Does' teat was bitten by a dog and this resulted in a jagged tear. Milking her now was a 'thumb and finger' job-akin to milking a mouse-until the teat healed sufficiently to milk her properly again.

Throughout all their ordeals the goats remained placid and good natured. They were truly lovely animals to work with.

We slowly improved the property adding a carport, garden sheds, milking shed and dog kennels eventually for six dogs.

We had a 'mixed bag' of canine friends, Mandy, our black Cocker Spaniel two golden Cocker Spaniels-Goldie and Copper 11 and a brown and white spaniel named Kerry. Spot was a Fox Terrier and Tondy-a grey hound like dog of no particular parentage. These were Peters' working troupe and they worked very well indeed. Ming-ming, a Pekingese came later. He was a 'rescued dog' who had been badly treated previously. Strictly a lap-dog who never did learn to trust men.

One day I noticed Tondy behaving oddly with his food. He would very gently, pick up a piece of meat then throw it into his mouth by tossing his head backwards. On examination we found Tondy had broken his jaw. At work the dogs are very busy rushing around old homesteads, through fences, under all manner of debris looking for and chasing rabbits. Tondy must have collided with a solid object at some stage but Peter noticed nothing as Tondy had continued working. The Vet had to wire Tondys' jaw and we were amazed how quickly he healed and was back at work in no time.

We decided to breed from the spaniels and thought this could be another boost to the income. The dogs were Pure Bred not Pedigree, but we had no trouble selling the pups. They were much sought after and we did this for the next ten years.

Goldie had twelve pups in her first litter. She thought she'd never stop having things as one after the other pups kept arriving. We considered twelve pups a rather large number for her to handle so we took six pups and hand fed them. We left six pups with Goldie. These we alternated on a regular basis each day but Goldie could count and was not satisfied until all twelve pups were with her in her basket. We thought we had carefully fed, burped, pottied and settled the pups but no matter where we put them, Goldie would search, find and retrieve them. The smug look on Goldies face when she had completed the task, and had all twelve wriggling pups around her, said it. all.

Stinky, the ferret, was another acquisition but he was Peters' friend, not mine! Stinky took sheer delight in harassing me at every turn. He always made a 'bee-line' for my legs. I took to wearing my gunboats whenever Stinky was free but he simply jumped higher to get at the bare flesh as he continued to pester the life out of me.

We also had a Bantam Cockerel who also gave my legs a hard time. This he would do only when I was hanging out the washing. With my hands both occupied and high in the air he would make his charge. At other times he feigned complete indifference. But once my hands went up and were no threat to him, he was like greased lightening in his attack.

I'm not sure why my legs should attract the males of these species but it was a compliment I could live without.

* * *

In 1965, Peters' parents, who were now living in Canada, came to stay with us for three months.

Our days became even busier as we dashed around the countryside trying to show them, as much as possible, of our new Homeland.

They saw Rotorua, with it's Geysers, boiling mud pools, large trout and the famous Buried Village at Tarawera. Auckland, with it's Parks, Apartment stores, lovely Harbour and Rangitoto-the extinct, off shore, volcano, Also Northland with it's very pretty bays, beaches and large Kauri trees-a must for all visitors.

Although Television had come to N.Z. some time (previously' we hadn't yet found it necessary to join the ranks of T.V. addicts as our life style left very little time for viewing but the 'Aged parents' had been used to this type of entertainment and missed the 'Box'.

Dail and Kim were thrilled when Grandpa asked,

"Would you to have a Television set?"

As Grandpa was very kindly' paying for the T.V. we rushed down to the nearest electrical shop and selected suitable set.

Not only did we have busy days and evenings but we now had late nights too as we sat with our eyes glued to everything on that screen. It was pure magic!

Not long after Peters' parents returned to Canada realized number three daughter was on her way.

Maya was born eight years after Kim, who was born eight years after Dail. There is eight years difference between Peter and I. This was not the case of careful planning but rather 'Shauri ya Mungu' (The affair of God). Not quite sure what Mungu was up to but I figured when Maya was eight years old perhaps I should go away on holiday! We were now quite satisfied with our family numbers.

Dail left school to work as a Dentists assistant until her marriage two years later.

When Maya was four months old she had difficulty breathing and needed Hospital treatment. She was placed in a steam tent and given Oxygen. Croup was diagnosed. Of course, she was a Goats milk baby but the Hospital did not have access to this type of milk so I carefully carried two preserving jars of Goats milk to the Hospital, daily, so Maya could continue with her accustomed food.

At the time my own health was poor but, with a sick Babe in the house, no one seemed to notice. I staggered from the bus to the Hospital, each day, trying hard to put one foot in front of the other. Each step took a lot of mental effort, as well as physical effort, and at time I didn't know what was wrong, I just seemed so slow and anything was a tremendous effort.

One day I arrived at the Hospital to find a young Nurse playing with Maya. She looked up when she saw me and said,

"Isn't she a lovely baby?"

"We think so" I replied, and the Nurse enquired,

"Are you Granny?" laughed and said,

"I feel should be but, no, I'm Mummy"

The poor Nurse fell about trying to apologize for her 'faux pas'. She was almost beside herself trying to say "Sorry", It really didn't matter and I tried to assure her of this but I now realized I not only felt old but also must have looked old, too.

Apparently, the little piece of Thyroid gland I had left, after my 'Op' in 1952, had now ceased to function and I had Myxodema. This was not realized immediately and it wasn't until I was unable to articulate properly that notice was, in fact, taken and pills for the condition were prescribed. Communication, with the family, was now easier. As my ability to articulate had deteriorated they simply stopped listening. There were times when I would scream,

"I AM TALKING TO YOU LOT!!""

To which they would reply,

"We11, we can't understand what you are talking about." and continue talking between themselves, Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!.

Mayas' croup stayed with her and many nights were spent with kettles of boiling water by her bedside to create enough steam in the room so she could breathe and the wallpaper could fall off the walls.

Finally, at the age of 10 years,she was diagnosed as Asthmatic. Kim, meantime, had several accidents of a minor in nature but she managed to break bones both her legs and one arm. We seemed to be forever attending the out-patients clinic at the Hospital for yet more plaster!.

* * *

My Brother retired from the Royal Navy after 25 years service and, together with his wife, Vera and their three children. Michael, Michele and Richard, they too came to New Zealand to begin a new life. Shortly after this my parents decided to follow suit and they also arrived in the country. After 21 years, spent in different parts of this world we were, once again, all together living in the same country.

Dail had her first daughter, Peta, so we happily became Grandparents and our parents became Great, Grandparents. Dails second daughter, Paulette, was born two years later. It seemed 'Mungu' still wasn't listening to Juma. Peters Mother became quite ill so Peter took his annual leave and flew to Toronto for a three week visit with her. Kim, Maya and I took Daddy to the Airport and we said,

"Goodbye, Daddy. See you in three weeks time". Maya, now 3yrs old, kept telling anyone who would listen,

"Daddy has gone to Canada" Finally, someone said,

"You don't know where Canada is".

"Oh yes I do", replied Maya, "It's up there", and she pointed skywards. Well, she had seen the 'plane take off and rise rapidly. Daddy was on board so it was obvious. Canada was 'up there' and she knew!

Back home I had two Bitches whelp.

Mandy wouldn't have anything to do with her pups so I had to play nursemaid and hand rear them. Mandy never did show any inclination to rear the pups she produced-she wouldn't even look at them. After trying with three litters we gave up with Mandy.

Opossum numbers were on the increase in the district and although they don't breed as prolifically as rabbits they were becoming a serious nuisance. A programme of eradication was arranged and we spent many week-ends, evenings and days off setting poisoned baits, then collecting carcasses. Peter did his course on Poisons and Herbicides so was able to do this work. He skinned the possums and cured the pelts after which I made soft toys-mostly Koala Bears-with these fine skins. I had already made many felt, and rag-bag, soft toys for sale. Every little helped as we continued our busy life and provide for our growing family. Who was is who said, quote

"When in Rome do as the Romans do" unquote,?

Living in New Zealand I had to do just that and I found myself, baking, jam-making, fruit preserving, pickling and doing all the hundred and one other chores necessary to make ends meet.

I made a home garden worthy of note and then we started a small Market garden on our 3 acres, which Peter and I had fenced off into 3 paddocks.

Initially we grew sweet corn and then root crops of swedes, carrots, and potatoes. Later came watermelons, cucumbers and tomatoes.

Transporting vegetables to market in Auckland sometimes cost more than we received back from those markets so that couldn't always be relied upon as an outlet.

We built a small stall on the roadfrontage, put an 'honesty box' on this and sold some of our veges in this manner.

A lot of my time was taken up with this venture and a lot of hard work went into it.

My faith in human nature was strengthened, one day, when a lady knocked at my door and said she had inadvertently short changed me in the honesty box by 20 cents! She handed me the money with a profound apology. 1t appeared she had arrived home-approx 4 miles away-found the discrepancy and had returned to pay the deficit.

Our dancing life continued as did the weekly evening woodwork class which Peter attended. He made several pieces of furniture and became very handy with woodwork as the years went by.

New Zealanders are great 'Do-it-yourselfers' and we learnt to 'do-it-ourselves' as we came to grips with wall-papering, painting, Barbeque building and carport erecting. Also sanding and polishing our lounge floor.

This latter job was a feat in itself. The only electrical sander we could hire, at the time, was an antiquated machine which, I could only assume, had come straight form the 'Ark'.

It was quite unsatisfactory-not heavy enough to do the job. Having paid good money for it's hire however, Peter was determined the monstrosity would do it's work. He got me to sit on the machine, to add more weight, while he pushed the thing backwards and forwards across the floor. I jiggled and joggled on that infernal contraption and thought little about it until, at the end of the day, I discovered a large bump on my anatomy which made sitting down quite painful.

Our next Labour-of-Love was plastering the lounge ceiling with what appeared to be porridge but was, in fact a, sparkle rough-cast coating which, when dry became a very decorative ceiling. The trouble was getting the 'goo' to adhere to the ceiling in it's wet state. As fast as we trowelled the mess onto the ceiling it fell off again and plopped onto our heads, shoulders, and faces. It didn't help matters much when I sang the old Musical Hall song;

With our combined efforts, a tot of rude words, and two very sore necks, we finally got the ceiling plastered and the effect was, in the end, very pleasing. My father and brother came lend a hand with the home improvements.

The carport floor was concreted, then together we panelled the lounge and dining room walls with wood veneer. We revamped the bathroom with a new vanity hand basin around which Peter built a very useful cupboard.

Peter, again suffered from Dermatitis after handling Hormone Spray at work. He was badly' affected and it became obvious he couldn't go on working with this dangerous material.

The Raglan County Council , who were now responsible for the eradication, offered Peter work on their Waikato river stop-bank programme as Clerk of Works. His previous roadwork experience was appreciated so he changed jobs. At the time , I was in Hospital getting of Kidney Stones, but came out to a new work style.

no longer needed all the dogs and we found homes for them. Some for work and some for retirement. We were not long without animals around us however, as Dail bought us two cats and a baby Cockatiel. She arrived one day with a handful chicks she had reared and said to Peter

"Choose one, Daddy."

Peter looked at these baby birds with no feathers-just tiny bodies with large beaks covered in Farex baby food and pointed to one miserable looking object.

'Charlie' became part family for the next 15 years.

As he grew into a splendid, fine feathered, friend, he became very clever, quickly learning to whistle 'Pop goes the Weasel'

This 'party piece' was performed for all visitors and whenever he thought no one was paying attention,-which was frequently the case when we were watching, or trying to watch, a particularly interesting T.V. programme. 'Pop goes the blooming Weasel', with suitable nodding head movements, would be performed and whistled over and over again and again until someone would have a word with Charlie. He was definitely not to be ignored. There were times when I really did wish I had never taught him 'Pop goes the Weasel'!

About this time Dail started breeding Persian cats.

One day she came to visit bringing one her beautiful, long-haired, white Persians with her.

Puss was sporting a rather fetching hand-knitted purple jumper.

Apparently Dail-needing something to do whilst watching a 24 hour Telethon-had knitted the cat the garment. She brought puss-Snowflake-into the house but unnoticed by us Snowflake had walked out again. We suddenly realized he was missing so immediately searched our garden and most of our three acres including the bush section but to no avail.

Our next plan of action was to ring a11 our neighbours.

We had seven families on our 'Party-line' so we cranked the handle and asked each in turn,

"Have you seen a large white Persian cat wearing a purple jumper on your property?"

You can imagine the answers we got! We rea1ly did confirm our neighbours worst fears!.

Although in our searching we had called and called there was little point in doing so as Snowflake was totally deaf, but as Dail pointed out Snowflake could lip-read Purr-- - - f e c t 1 y .

After a lot more hunting and scouring the neighbours paddocks we found Snowflake curled up and peacefully sleeping under a bush on our road frontage. His hearing might have been impaired but not his sense of smell as Dails perfume wafted in his direction he awoke and I'm sure he wondered what all the fuss and extra cuddles were about.

We still managed the dancing life but this was somewhat curtailed for Peter when he again became ill. After weeks of guessing the Medics diagnosed Asthma. It took two years of trial and error with various medications and many visits to various specialists to stabilize his condition.

* * *

In 1974 Sheila Watkins and I decided a 'girls' holiday to Fiji was just 'what the doctor had ordered' and we made plans for a 10 day holiday-leaving very early in the morning to get our full 10 days away.

The thought of a complete change away from all our daily chores was morale lifting and 'Heady' to say the least and we got excited as our departure day neared. However, two days before 'D' day Maya became il1.

Somehow the Doctor wouldn't believe her pain, which had persisted for some time, but our fourth visit to his Surgery left him in no doubt -Maya had Peritonitis.

An emergency dash, 70 miles to Thames Hospital was next thing.

At the time, garages would only open for business, on a Sunday, if it was necessary to provide Petrol for an emergency.

This was an emergency and it was a Sundays.

I clutched the Doctors' note, tightly, as we sped down the highway to Thames hoping no Traffic Cop would stop our speeding car, and hoping the Petrol would be sufficient to get us there and that we didn't have to stop and get some reluctant Garage owner to open up his garage, causing us a delay.

Luckily nothing untoward happened the journey.

Mayas' pain was enough.

I kept assuring her we were nearing the Hospital. We arrived at casualty and Maya was examined and immediately sent to Theatre for an emergency Op.

Time dragged as we waited for news. The Hospital provided us with cups of tea but the next couple of hours seemed interminable. Nurses kept asking each other,

"Where's that child who went to Theatre a while back. Why isn't she back yet?"

We wanted to ask the same question but didn't dare.

Finally Maya was brought, back to the ward and we were assured all had gone well with the 'op'. She was lucky.

Back at Sheilas' house I related what had happened and Sheila said,

"We11, it can't be helped. At least Maya O.K."

Sheila worked for the Social Welfare Dept. and her leave had been carefully arranged to fit in with other personnel. There was no way she could change her dates at the last moment. I knew if I didn't go to Fiji Sheila wouldn't go alone so I felt terrible having to cancel our plans.

Next day, at the Hospital, we were told Maya was making very good progress and the Sister said.

"She's doing fine. We are all here to look after her. You carry on with your plans. Go to Fiji and don't worry, just have a nice time."

Peter said,

"Yes you go. We can manage here.There's plenty of us to visit Maya"

Thus reassured, Sheila and I agreed to keep to our itinerary. We arrived at the airport the next day, at a very rude hour of 5.30a.m. expecting to be winged away aboard a jet 'plane only to be told,

"There's no 'plane leaving here for Fiji this morning. This flight was re-scheduled. It should leave here 6.00 p.m.-hopefully- Didn't the travel agents inform you?''

Peter took one look at my face and decided he should make tracks for home and work. He knew the 'Lid was about to come off' and wasn't inclined to stay.

We went to the nearest telephone and rang the Travel Agents head office. "I want to speak to the Boss!" I demanded.

"You want to speak to Mr Moss?" enquired the girl at the other end of the line.

"Yes, I do!" I replied, not knowing who Mr Moss was, that he was indeed to boss.

There was a short interval and then a very pleasant voice said

"Mr Moss here. How can I help you?"

The 'voice' was much too nice and I couldn't get cross. But I spelt out the difficulty Sheila and I found ourselves in and the pleasant Mr. Moss assured me the Agent should have informed us of the re-scheduled flight and he apologized. Apparently, others were similarly affected and we were offered rooms at the Airport Inn for the day- rooms and meals on the house- until our flight that evening. We spent the day 'phoning friends and relations saying,

"You think we are in Fiji, well we're not. We're stuck here in Auckland"

However, it was all very comfortable and the King Prawns for lunch were superb!

We finally got away around 7.00p.p.m. and our 10 day holiday in Fiji became a 9 day stay.

It was 'shades of East Africa' with the climate, the place and the people. We relaxed in the Hotel pool. Shopped in the markets and took trips to other Hotels and towns. We spent half our time on the mainland and the rest on an off-shore island.

This was so like Diani Beach, Mombasa, where Peter and I had spent those lovely holidays and of which we still had fond memories. I vowed, one day, Peter should see this too.

We arrived back home, refreshed, the day after Maya discharged from Hospital. Next day was was Mayas' 8th birthday.

Kim was now training at the Hairdressing College in Auckland. She was growing up very quickly. We realized this when, on a day outing to Waingaro Hot Springs she was persuaded to enter the beauty contest and won the title

''Miss Waingaro'' Kim worked as a hairdresser until her marriage 1975.

It was at this time that we lost Ming-Ming. He was quite elderly when he wandered in front of the car. It was all very sudden-instantaneous. I'm sure he didn't suffer but the lady driver was terribly upset and it took a lot of talking to reassure her she was not at fault.

We visited the S.P.C.A. and saw a bright-eyed Dachshund who was waiting for adoption. It was love at first sight and Dino became a much loved member of the family.

* * *

Shortly after Kims' wedding Peter, again, had health problems and Osteo Arthritis of the spine was the cause of his severe pain.

The Drs agreed the condition dated from the war years when Peter was injured in the Torpedoed P.O.W. ship. It seemed a common occurrence among ex -servicemen who had similar 'Bad wars'

This painful degenerate disease spread to other joints and the Drs advised Peter to stop work. At, the time , he wasn't keen on the advise as he enjoyed his work and those who worked with him, but as the months went by, it became more and more obvious the Drs had given him sound counselling and at the age of 54 years Peter gave in to enforced retirement.

The house, garden, market garden, animals and the Scottish Country Dance Club, were now more than I could manage on my own, although I willing gave it a try. We had put so much hard work into the property over the past 11 years , we were both loathe to sell and start again somewhere else. However, as each day followed the next, we could see the difficulties that lay ahead, particularly now with Peters' limited capabilities.

* * *

Adi and Edna Gegg had, sometime previously, bought a Hotel/Motel complex at Omapere, in the Hokianga district approx. 240 miles north of Auckland.

The Hokianga Harbour is well known in New Zealand for it's friendly Dolphin-'Opo'-who visited the area, stayed and played with the people for much of 1955. This was it's claim to fame.

'Opo' was named after the small township of Opononi where this occurred. Almost forty years on Opo is still remembered by the locals. A statue of her was erected and her memory lingers on.

Omapere is the next small township on the Hokianga Harbour and in 1975 both these places were quiet, peaceful, backwaters, much favoured by tourists for their tranquil beauty. A 'Get-away' from the Rat race that seemed to be taking over New Zealand.

Adi and Edna had now moved away but during their time at Omapere we had, on several occasions, helped them in the Hotel, particularly during their busy periods. Also, I had managed the complex for them, when they needed time off. We, therefore, knew the area quite well and had often thought the Hokianga would be a delightful retirement place with it's uncluttered beaches, it's sparkling waters, lovely landfills and slightly warmer climate.

Well, retirement had come earlier than planned so we now had to reassess our position-yet again-and it seemed the North was calling.

Fortune, again, smiled upon us.

A new school which offered classes from Primary to sixth form had recently opened at Omapere and an 'A' framed house which was only partially built-was for sale at a very reasonable price.

This all happened place we wanted be at the time we needed it!

It didn't take long for us to mull over the situation. If we sold our property in Onewhero it would be possible to buy the, as yet, unfinished 'A' frame house and slowly complete the building to our own tastes.

Maya, who was now 10 years old, could attend the new school, which was within walking distance from the house.

It all seemed perfect - Why not give it go?

The plan worked. We sold our small-holding and, in November 1975, we bundled 3 cats, one dog, and one Cockatiel into the back of our car and drove to Omapere and our new life.

Our very own first home ! Overlooking the Waikato River at Onewhero, Waikato, NZ

veiw of the Waikato River from the garden.

The Tuakau Bridge over the Waikato River. Our property on right of picture.

the front of the house and part of the garden

Early morning milking! Two of my Saanen goats and Maya

The removal van reached Omapere first while we trundled on behind with our livestock. We arrived, after a 5 hour journey, to find the removal men completely bewildered, staring at this half finished house and wondering where to put our boxes and furniture.

Three weeks previously Peter had arranged for a builder to install the kitchen sink, benches and stove. The Plumber had connected the house to the water mains and as we arrived the Electrician was completing the power connection. We, therefore, could cook meals and wash up but that seemed to be the sum total of housework until we had completed some of the rooms with wall-boarding, ceilings, door-jambs, doors, window sills etc, etc.

My piano was carefully placed a ground floor room which, later, became our Rumpus room-together with most of we had somewhere to put our boxes and furniture. It seemed senseless opening boxes and hauling out our things until things.

It was a 4 bedroom house-2doubles and 2 singles-large lounge, small dining room next to the kitchen, large laundry, Rumpus room, separate toilet and bathroom. A large balcony off the lounge, which was on the first floor and single car garage. All this on seven different levels. The house had been left in it's unfinished state for two years-It was obviously waiting for us to arrive and administer some T.L.C.

As we worked on the building, and gradually moved further and further into the house, so the spiders moved out. We literally camped in the house and built it around us. We were complete novices at this construction game but we had all the time in the world to search about and find out just, how this, or that, job should be done. We did this quite slowly and it took two years to complete the task.

Peter managed to measure, hammer and saw, while I fetched and carried, held this and that, and eventually, did all the concreting jobs.

I made concrete blocks and erected a garden wall. Other retaining walls, in the garden, I built with beautiful coloured stones from the beach.

My father came and built a Schist wall the lounge as a feature wall.

Again, a lounge floor had to be laid and we decided on parquet. Half way through laying these blocks Peter needed Hospital treatment for Asthma so Dail came up and helped me with the project.

The garden I started from a piece of raw New Zealand-again. I laid concrete paths and a plinth for a garden shed. Well, I'm not a bricklayers daughter for nothing!.

In our first year at Omapere we had 38 visitors most to stay as people came to see just what this mad couple had got themselves into now! I began to think we had built ourselves an Hotel. However, we finally had a house worth talking about-and talked about it was.

I think we were 'those peculiar Pommes who lived in that peculiar house'.

The house was even talked about down in auckland.

When my sister-in-law mentioned, to her Doctor Auckland, that she would be visiting Omapere, he said, "When you get there, go and see that A frame house. It's intriguing."

To which Vera replied,

"See it! I'm going to stay in it. It belongs to my sister-in-law and her husband."

Maya settled in at the new school and I now only taught Scottish Country Dancing to school children on Electives day. These were the days when pupils could elect to do the subject of their choice from several options offered. At school Maya played the recorder. At home I taught her to play the piano. Peter could no longer dance so perhaps Maya had less of Daddy than her sisters in this respect but Peter still played the trumpet so together we made music,-or what in our opinion passed for music.

Both Peter and Maya popped in and out of the local Hospital as guests, from time to time, with Asthma related complaints and, at one point, Peter decided on Shingles!

It seemed Agar or, more correctly, Agar-âgar Seaweed, was collected on the beaches of the Hokianga Harbour. This seaweed was then processed and a culture medium for bacteria was made. It involved the local people walking along the pleasant beaches, with sack and stick in hand, picking up as much as could be found, then drying the seaweed and bagging it before selling it at so much per kilo.

The trouble was, once the Agar had been thoroughly dried, it weighed like a feather. So quite a lot of collecting was done before a sackful of any appreciable weight could be obtained and a few dollars earned.

Once again, 'When in Rome etc............' and Peter and I found ourselves Beach Bums by definition.

Peters' walking was seriously impaired by his condition so we bought a small motor scooter and this became his legs.

Our fortune in finding the Agar waxed and waned according to the state of the tides and the weather and other collectors.

One particularly bad day, when the Agar was very thin on the ground, an old Australian poem called, 'Bloody, Bloody, Bloody came to mind and I couldn't help but compose my own version which I entitled, 'The Agar Collectors Lament' or 'Bloody, Bloody, Bloody'

With apologies to the Australian author.

The Agar money did, eventually pay for a trip to Fiji for Maya and I and this time Edna Gegg and her sister, Olive, decided to join us.

Maya-not quite 12 years old-thought one should fly every day. It was wonderful and all it took was money!.

We had 10 lovely days holiday and came home determined that Peter should join us the next time.

Back to Agar collecting!

After a while we had an opportunity to run a small craft shop in Opononi.

At first a few local people brought their handcraft to be sold in the small shop but later we found Peter and I were supplying roughly 80% of the craft, Peter had learnt, through trial and error, to woodcarve.

First he carved his knee, then carved his fingers and he once he carved his forehead as the piece of wood got away from him and his hand flew upwards. Finally he carved the wood! He became very interested and skilful in Maori carving. He was encouraged, in this, by the Maori people.

I again, made soft toys, did crochet work, knitting, Macrame, and Decoupage. I painted native scenes and native birds on wooden coasters which Peter had made. He also made wooden toys. I did Fimo jewellers and sewing the list goes on. Dail also put hand-craft into the shop-mostly soft toys. We thoroughly enjoyed this part of our time in the Hokianga, especially meeting all the travellers who browsed in the shop.

One day letter arrived at the shop addressed to:

"The Craft shop

Next to the Take-away shop,

OPONONI:

It was from a lady who had been through the shop sometime previously.

Apparently she had seen one of Peters' carved Meres (Maori Club) and thought she would buy one later in her tour. Of course, Peter's carving were 'one-offs' and she couldn't find the same thing anywhere else. She returned to England and then decided to write and ask if we would kindly send her the Mere she had seen.

We were very pleased to do this and afterwards had more commissions from friends of hers who had seen the Mere. We also found a rapport through the correspondence so started the Pen-pal era.

Later the lady, Rai Boulton, returned to New Zealand and stayed with us, although by this time we had finished with the shop. We had run the shop for over two years but after three attempted 'Break-ins' we gave it away.

I had the chance to try my hand at Pottery something I had always wanted to do-so gave it go and spent many happy, and sometimes frustrating, hours at my wheel and kiln. I built a brick, oil fired, kiln but don't think I ever really got it to behave exactly the way I wanted. I managed various pots, jugs, bowls, dishes and my 'one person tea-pot'. Many pieces the girls took but I did sell a few pieces at another craft shop so must have done something right.

Maya completed sixth form at the local school and wanted to continue Fine Arts studies at University. First she needed seventh Form Bursary Certificate so had to board at Epsom Girls Grammar School in Auckland to achieve her goal. The next year saw Maya, now 17 years, head for the South island and Christchurch to study for the next 4 years for her B.F.A.

* * *

Back in Omapere, my neighbour, Anne Hessell asked Peter about his war experiences. She was genuinely interested and kept asking questions until Peter had related all that had happened, the capture after the battle, and all that had followed.

As I had not heard Peter tell his story to anyone before I was quite amazed. Obviously it was meant to be as the very next day Anne came running across to our house calling out,

"Have you got the radio on?. Listen to the National Station. I'm sure this is what Peter was telling me about yesterday."

We rushed inside and tuned into the National Station to hear the Documentary. We sat transfixed as we heard the, little known, story of the torpedoing of the P.O.W. ship 'Janson', and the subsequent events, told by two survivors of this holocaust. It was the day, the time and the exact location of the event.

All the horror came floating back to Peter and he was very affected by the very descriptive narration. After 40 years Peter go let go and weep.

Until this point. in time, Peter had never known the name that ship. Now this was all revealed and Peter wanted know more. Anne said,

"You can get the tape of that programme. Just write to Wellington. They'll help".

Peter duly wrote explaining he, too, was a survivor and would like to get in touch with the men who had spoken on the programme.

New Zealand Broadcasting Corp. sent Peter a copy of the tape together with the names of the participants. One man, Spence Edge, lived in Whangarei, only 100Kms from us. Peter immediately got in touch. He wrote to Spence and received an invite to meet him and his wife.

At the time Spence was writing a manuscript and the resulting book,'No Honour No Glory' was published revealing, for the first time, the tragic deaths of 162 Kiwis.

The two men talked and Peter found that Spence had been the man who handled the Bosuns Stretcher which carried the wounded ashore. Peter had reached the Greek shore in this manner so it must have been Spence who helped him all those years ago. Now, 40 years on, he could say "Thanks Mate"

The only 'Grey' area in Spences story was what had happened to the wounded once they had been taken off the stricken ship.Here Peter was able to help him and fill in the gap.

But for Annes interest, and her gentle probing, these two men might never have met again.

* * *

We had a short holiday in a hired campervan. It seemed the up and coming thing in New Zealand. Hotels and Motels were beginning to price themselves out of the ordinary persons pocket. Campervans came into their own.

We were both so taken with this mode of travel that our next acquisition was a second-hand Campervan, and we travelled as much as we could around the country exploring out-of-the-way places as well as tourists spots. It suited our life style perfectly. We had no need to rush anywhere. We could stop wherever it suited us as, like tortoises, we carried our house with us. We toured the very beautiful South Island in this manner catching up with Maya as we went.

One day, in 1984, I was reading a magazine and noticed a competition which required the competitor to write a short story-albeit a true story- about Tea, or Teacups, or teapots. the contest was called 'Over the Teacups'.

I casually glanced at this and thought,

"What could be interesting about a teapot?'' When suddenly remembered an incident which occurred in Kenya to friend of mine concerning a tea-cosy.

It seemed my friend had invited her neighbour to tea, the neighbour arrived and noticed my friend did not have a tea-cosy. A few days later she sent the most hideous cosy to my friend. Obviously made with lots of loving tender care, the cosy was embroidered with large red letters that read,

"FRIENDS FOR EVER"

Not wanting to hurt her neighbours feelings, my friend explained to the houseboy that this monstrosity was to be used only when that particular memsahib came to tea. The house-boy' nodded his head, shaking his traditionally shaped over stretched earlobes and indicating that he understood.

When the neighbour again came to tea, imagine my friends embarrassment when the house boy entered carrying a tea-tray in his hands and wearing the bright green tea cosy on his head. One long earlobe hung out of the spout hole and the other dangled from the handle hole "FRIENDS FOR EVER" shone out like neon lights and his extra wide grin did nothing to help the situation.

Luckily the neighbour had a sense of humour. She laughed until tears ran down her face, the friendship and continued for years.

I remembered being told about the incident so wrote it down and sent it off then promptly forgot all about it.

You can imagine my sunrise and excitement when, some weeks later, I received a 'phone call telling me I had won the competition and the prize was a two week holiday for two in Sydney plus $1,000 spending money! I mentally said a big 'Thank-you' to my friends house-boy for his ignorance and Peter and I enjoyed wonderful fortnight in Sydney.

* * *

My childhood friend, Stella Elms, decided to write after

30 years of non-correspondence,

It seemed that Stellas son, Martin, emigrated to New Zealand from England and Stella and her husband, Peter, had visited their son and his family. When she returned to England, however, Stella realized that my entire family were now living in New Zealand and she hadn't made contact.

Stella set about putting this right by writing to my parents whom she knew as Aunty and Uncle. They, in turn, sent the letter to me, and our correspondence began.

After a year, Stella and Peter, again decided to visit Martin and wrote of their plans. We insisted they visit us this time and the reunion, after all those years, was terrific.

"Do you remember?" was the most worn out phrase by the end of the first week.

Stella and Peter left us and went South to Martin and his family, then after Christmas, Peter and I joined them with our campervan and together we toured the South Island. It was a marvellous trip and one which set us off on other trips.

Stella convinced us that a holiday, back to the U.K., was not beyond all hope as I had thought. So our thoughts turned to this eventuality and plans for our sentimental journey home began 18 months later, Dails elder daughter, Peta, set her wedding date.

This was just prior to our departure so we were able to attend Petas' wedding on the Saturday then she and her husband, of two days, insisted on taking us to the airport on the next Monday to start the first leg of our journey. The joke was, Granny and Grandad were on Honeymoon with Peta and her new husband.

We arrived at the airport thinking we had several hours to wait so we had arranged for Kim and family to meet, us there for a Pow-Wow and Maya, who had flown up from Christchurch for the wedding, was to return with Kim for a few days before returning to Varsity. However, when we reached the airport passengers for our flight were being processed-he flight. had been brought forward 3 hours! What is it with me and airports?

Next was a frantic 'phone call "Come quickly, we're off" She arrived with the children just time to say,

"Hi and 'bye," and we were off to the U.K. via Brisbane, Australia. We were met by Adi and Edna, who were now living in Queensland.

The next, day we met, Gavin and Olive, who had also emigrated to the 'Sunshine Coast' and, who were living not far from the Geggs. We spent 9 days with Adi and Edna, soaking up the Australian sunshine, before taking our onward flight.

Stella and Peter met us in London and we drove their home in Sussex.

Everywhere spring was in the air. Daffodils and bluebells were out in profusion. I was intoxicated, enthralled and delightfully surprised. England was still England. My feeling of 'Home coming' was complete when we drove past my old home. Even Peter, who doesn't have quite the same feeling about England that I have, was impressed.

Everything was still Oldie Worldie' in many places. Thatched cottages were still as I remembered them and although, after 32 years away from England there were obvious changes, it was still my England and much of my village of Addlestone was as I remembered it.

We bought a Campervan in Sussex, with buy-back guarantee. This seemed to be a good scheme. The van served as our home and transport for the next six months. Stellas home was our base and we could return any time we liked, Also, Stella played Post Mistress and forward our mail as it arrived.

We set about looking up old friends from our East Africa days, old school friends, ex-Army pals and relations.

It was a wonderful time realising we hadn't been forgotten and were made extremely welcome everywhere.

My small bridesmaid, Margaret, was now a grandmother and was wonderful catching up with her and her family.

I didn't realise just how homesick I was. Roots play a large part in ones life and I had very mixed feelings leaving England when the six months had passed.

We had travelled over 8,000 mites mostly around Britains country lanes, and had met up again with 35 people. We had kept in touch with most people only at Christmas time when we sent cards and short notes, but somehow, we had lost touch with Pam and Bill Hussell and their three daughters. We hadn't heard from them for 7 or 8 years.

We decided to try and make contact again and started looking for them at their last known address in Devon. We drew a 'blank' there and further efforts on our part went unrewarded. Of course, we weren't sure if they were still living. They would, by now, be in their sixties and who knows the day or time? After more enquiries and searching we almost gave up looking.

We thought we would visit a well known Gorge but, when we got there, it was obviously too much walking for Peter so he suggested we should see an old church we had passed on the way. The old churches, Cathedrals, Castles and such with their very long histories, fascinate Peter. They are something we lack 'Down under'.

After signing the visitors book we wandered outside the church and stood reading the obituaries on some of the grave stones in the churchyard.

Suddenly a lady came running out of the church and asked loudly,

"Who is here from New Zealand?"

"We are" said Peter.

"I have a lady with me here who is also from Zealand," said the stranger.

At that moment the N.Z. lady and her husband appeared.

"What part New Zealand are you from." I enquired.

"Auckland." came the reply. "We're just back here for a holiday. Haven't been back for 26 years and we're loving every moment"

The accent was Devonshire.

"How strange" I said. "We're doing the same thing. We haven't been home for 32 years and we're having a Ball."

The lady was very animated and chatted on. By this time we were getting along famously. The men were chatting away so I continued the conversation with the lady and asked,

"What are you doing in these parts?"

"Oh we lived here once. We're locals just back visiting old friends.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"We11 that's a long story," I said. "We were trying to contact some old friends of ours-people we had known in East Africa, Uganda-people by the name of Hussell, but we can't seem to find any trace of them."

"Not Bill Hussell!" asked the astounded woman.

"Yes! Yes!"

"I don't know where Bill is but I know where his brother lives and, if you ring him, he'll tell you where Bill and Pam are. My father used to work for Bills father," continued the lady. "When you see Bi11 tell him Mary Goffin send her regards, will you?

I couldn't believe my ears. What a coincidence!

Here we were, home at long last after all these years, we had just wandered into this tiny Devonshire church as we had nothing better to do, wrote in the visitors book, was noticed by another N.Zeder who just happened to be there, also after long years away, and who knew our friends and their family very well.

We made that phone call. Got Bills new address only to find we had stayed almost next door to him one week previously.

We retraced our steps to Totnes and once again met the Hussells. Suprisingly the two Mayas lives had run along similar paths. Both are involved in Art work.

Our return to New Zealand was via Canada with a visit to Peters' brother, Maurice, and his family in Malton, Toronto.

We spent two lovely weeks with Maurice and Kay and their two daughters, Sheila and Joan, during which time we visited the magnificent Niagara Falls. A truly inspiring sight!

The autumn Colours were absolutely splendid. I think I photographed every leaf and every squirrel. Chipmunks were so very fast movers I didn't have any luck photographing them. I particularly liked the black squirrels. I hadn't seen these before. We had seen plenty of grey squirrels in England and had caught glimpses of the odd red squirrels, which are now in very small numbers in Britain.

* * *

Our next trip back to the U.K. came in 1989.

Maya had graduated and her 'Capping' was in March of that year.

We planned to be in Christchurch for the ceremony and then fly 'home' again via Hawaii. My brother and his wife had just returned fro m the U.K. and were now living in the South Island.

We arranged to meet in Auckland and fly down together. We met on the due date and Stanley and Vera checked their bags and were allocated their seats. I put our bags in for checking and our tickets for processing and was told,

"You are not on this flight"

Here we go again! My heckles began to rise and I said,

"Oh! yes I am! I booked this flight over 8 weeks ago. My daughter is being 'Capped' tomorrow and come Hell or High water I shall be there!"

Peter decided it was time to make a hasty retreat while I hounded away at the guy behind the desk, I had seen the booking punched into the computer and had paid for and received my tickets so nothing was going to stop me now.

After more banter I rang my travel agent who was horrified and said

"Leave it to me"

I didn't feel like leaving it to anyone so went back to the counter for another confrontation. My life seemed to depend on getting to Christchurch that night.

We were fina11y a11ocated a seat but just as we were seated a steward asked us to follow him. Not knowing where we were going we dutifu1ly trotted down the aisle, passed Stanley and Vera who asked,

"Now where are you going?"

"Damned if I know." I rep1ied and fo1lowed the guy in front.

We were escorted to first class seats and V.I.P. treatment.

My agent MUST have pulled some strings.

It wasn't all 'beer and skittles' however, as although we had made it to Christchurch, our bags hadn't. I now only had the clothes I stood in to attend the graduation ceremony the next day.

PANIC!

I made a mad dash down town to look for something more suitable to wear. A11 the shops were just about to close for the day so I returned to the Guest house thinking, "I might have more luck the morning."

At 10 o'clock that night our baggage arrived outside our door. It didn't say where it had been-and no one was letting on. I was just so relieved to see it I didn't ask questions.

* * *

Stella and Peter again met us in London and we made the same arrangements as before with the Campervan.

This time we were to travel to Germany, where Peters' Regiment was stationed, and join in an Old Comrades reunion which was planned for June of that year.

Another truly memorable occasion when we were wined, dined and feted for 5 days by the officers and men of the 'Queens Own Hussars' (the amalgamation of the 7th and 3rd Hussars)

Again, Peter met pals he thought had died, 50 years previously, in the Desert Campaign at Sidi Rezegh.

These meetings were something no one can possibly describe.

These men had been Boy soldiers together before the war so the friendships went back a very long way.

We toured Germany, Bavaria and visited, just briefly, Austria after the Reunion and we were very impressed by the beauty and cleanliness of the entire area. We met many Brits and N.Zeders travelling, like us, also thoroughly enjoying the region.

We returned, via Belgium to England,

It was in Belgium that the accident occurred and the Campervan was completely destroyed. Very luckily, no one was injured but a very shaken couple returned to England after, what had been, a wonderful experience with Germany and the Regiment.

We were offered an old Bedford Campervan to continue our U.K. holiday, and managed with this very old van, until we returned to New Zealand in October.

* * *

Sometime before we left Omapere we had put the A frame on the market.

We were now just two people rattling around in a large home with a large garden. The work for me wasn't getting any easier.

New Zealand had a series of set-backs with different Governments pursuing different Policies. Politically, economically and, yes racially, things were not so pleasant as they had previously been in N.Z.

The country had become very depressed and conditions, for pensioners, -as we were by that time- were much better in Australia.

Many hundreds of people left New Zealand during this period for 'Greener Pastures'.

Our friends, who had lived in Australia for some time, convinced us Australia was the place to be. We decided to sell up and move-once again.

was not as easy as it sounds as the housing market was, like a lot of other markets, extremely depressed at the time and we had no'takers' for the property,

It happened as we were lining up at, the Dover Docks with all the other vehicles going to the continent. Our van was in line and we waited, patiently, to drive onto the Ferry. Suddenly an official appeared at my window and asked,

"Are you Mrs Ma1ins?".

"Yes".

"There's an urgent message for you. Would you ring Mrs Elms?" he asked, "We don't know what it is about but it's not family", he continued.

My heart started beat again as raced to nearest 'phone.

We only had minutes before our Ferry sailed so wasted no time, rang Stella who said;

"Dail rang from N.Z. She says someone wants to buy your house. They won't argue about price, they just want it now, right now. Can they have it?".

Mindful of the minutes ticking away and hoping the Ferry wouldn't sail without me, I said something like,

"I,er what, er, I" and thinking all the time,

"How can we pack up everything from here. accumulated junk of 13 years... .What do I do?"

Stella continued,

"Dail says, "Don't lose the sale. She and her husband Mark, will do everything. They can pack all your stuff and take it to their house.

Dail and your solicitor can manage.

I quickly said,

"O.K. I'11 ring Dail as soon as Germany and tell her to 'Go ahead'.

Dail and Mark were truly marvellous and everything had been arranged by the time we got back to New Zealand.

We never went back to the house.

Dail had even arranged a Drs Appointment for me as discovered I now had troublesome stones in my Gall Bladder.

A quick trip to hospital for the removal of one Gall Bladder, then Christmas with Dail and family before another trip to Queensland, Australia, to house hunt.

The girls have been truly wonderful.

I have lost count of the many times Kim, who lives in Auckland, has ferried us to and from the airport. She's been there so many times, on our account, I'm sure the staff think she works there.

The A Frame house at Omapere, Hokianga, NZ

Block Building

Veiw of north and south heads of Hokianga Harbour, Northland NewZealand, with Omapare Township seen on the left of the picture.

Our househunting in Queensland, Australia, was very successful and we found exactly what we wanted for retirement here on the Sunshine coast.

The terminology here is 'Low set' home-meaning one story or bungalow. No more steps for Peter to negotiate.

We've been here in Eudlo for almost 3 years now. Once again, we are in a small community. Not many people know where Eudlo is and we're not telling -we like it the way it is, with it's one store, one small Post Office, small school and so on. We also have a small railway station. Only those in the first carriage can alight as the small platform is just the length of one carriage. It's all, very definitely, my size!

The girls and the their husbands-Dail and Mark, Kim and Andrew, and Maya, who now lives and works in Western Australia, have visited us twice.

Kims elder daughter, Alicia, now 10 yrs old came over on her own, during her school holidays. Kim brought Danica, now 3 yrs, to see us so we didn't miss all her babyhood. Dails younger daughter, Paulette and boyfriend, Craig, have visited. My very good neighbour from Omapere, Anne Hessell, has stayed here twice. Peters brother, Maurice and his wife, Kay came over for Peters' 70th birthday. Two people from the U.K. have paid us visits so we're still running an Hotel-like home.

All approve of our move.

When Maurice and Kay visited us, a day out was arranged and we went to see a well known waterfall near us. Maurice decided to wander off down a side path and reappeared later saying he had enjoyed his walk. We drove back into town and decided to have dinner at a restaurant. Maurice ordered red wine with his meal. All seemed well. However, after a while Maurice glanced down and was horrified to see a large red patch on his shorts near his groin.

"That waiter split wine on my shorts!" he wailed

"Sure1y not" I replied." "Can't see how that could have happened, the glass was well on the table, not near the edge."

"We11,look at my shorts" exclaimed Mo.

Kay said, "You'd better sponge that off, Mo, it could leave stain."

Maurice dashed off to the mens room and came back with all trace of the offending wine removed. He hadn't long sat down again to his meal when the 'stain' reappeared, and the stunned Maurice couldn't believe his eyes.

"It's there again-I don't believe this."

Suddenly the 'Penny dropped'. Maurice must have met an unwelcome visitor on his bush walk-a leech-which had obviously now left his person and Maurice bled profusely. But where was this visitor? We all searched the floor adjacent to our table expecting to see a now bloated, well satisfied, blood filled leech but there was nothing to see.

Maurice, now quite agitated, said,

"I didn't feel thing"

"No, you wouldn't" I replied, "They don't make their whereabouts known. They're very careful about that. They just like to feed before they are noticed. I've had several little chaps adhere themselves to my legs when clearing the long grass by our creek.'

Maurice was now seriously disturbed. If they can't be felt, how many more were lurking near his groin? It was an unhappy Maurice who finished his meal and rushed home to search his anatomy for further 'Hangers on'.

We again decided we should visit the 'O1d Country' before neither of us could physically, or financially do so, and we planned another trip, this time stopping over in Bali, Indonesia.

Bali, however, turned on very, very, hot humid weather for us and this, combined with the intense cold of the air-conditioning in our Hotel room, sent Peters' Asthma 'over the top'.

By the time we reached Jakata Peter couldn't breathe, even with all the help of his 'puffers' pills and potions, Oxygen was given to him on the 'plane but made little difference.

After a nightmare, 7 hour, journey Peter saw a Doctor at Abu Dhabi airport. He received treatment and more medication and we continued on the flight to Gatwick. Peter was 'all in' by the time we reached our destination. Once again, Stella and Peter helped me get Peter to their home where they called a Doctor, who arrived very quickly and she, in turn, called the ambulance. Peter spent the next 4 days in Intensive care in St. Richards Hospital. His sojourn in hospital lasted 4 weeks while he made slow but steady progress.

Of course, whilst Bali, Peter had been bitten by a monkey!

We visited a Temple there where all these sacred monkeys live. We sat, quietly, watching the antics of these rather unattractive apes when Peter needed to use his Inhaler, He opened his bag, got out the 'Puffer' and put it to his mouth. He was watched, carefully, by one of the monkey's who must have thought he was about to be offered a 'tit-bit. When he wasn't given anything, he grabbed Peters' bag to see for himself just what it contained. With so much medicine etc in the bag, Peter immediately grabbed it back. This annoyed the monkey' and in his anger he bit Peters' arm.

This information sent shock waves around St Richards and the decision was taken to give Peter anti Rabies injections.

Can't be too careful!

We managed to start our planned travels, after 6 peeks in the U.K., with a very sedate, very enjoyable, journey on the Monmouth and Brecon Canal in Wales. With Stella and Peter we travelled at just 4 m,p.h. on a Canal narrow boat. Just the thing for recuperation!

After 3 days, and when we were nearing Brecon, we met another boat with what Peter thought might be Australians on board. They were wearing Akubra hats. Peter called out,

"Are you guys Aussies?"

"No, we're Kiwis!" came the reply.

"Where from?", asked Peter.

"Napier, Hawkes Bay, shouted one of the men.

"Do you know Jack Simonsen?" asked Peter.

"Yes, he's my best friend." shouted another chap.

How many of these coincidences can occur in one life time? The chance of passing someone in a canal boat, someone from the other side of the world who just happens to be a good friend of your friend, is probably one in several million.

At the next Lock we stopped and had a chat with Jacks friend.

I guess this world is getting smaller and smaller. It certainly seems so as we move around it. Although I don't feel MY world has been small at all.

We've had 3 floods since we've been here in Australia. Our creek, at the bottom of our garden, has burst it's banks twice. We've had Cyclone warnings and a Drought. We've had 7 snakes, of different types, in our garden and a Red Back spider.

On the plus side we have many, many colourful and noisy birds- Lorrikeets, Rosellas, Galahs, Cockatoos, Crested Pigeons, Honey eaters of various kinds, Kookaburras, Magpies and the odd Corella and King Parrot.

We have a large Green Tree Frog who visits most nights and whom we have named Lady Kermit. She is very beautiful and has an enormous grin that delights all our visitors.

Dail is now a grandmother of 2 grandaughters-(Peta and David have Hazel, 4 yrs and Breezsha, 2yrs.

Seems Mungu still can't get it right!

Kim has 2 daughters, Alicia and Danica, and one son, Nicholas, now 16 yrs.

Maybe, Juma would be happy that God did ONE good thing.

Kim and Andrew have just had 2 weeks holiday with us and now I'm off to New Zealand to another wedding. Paulette marries her Craig.

I shall get to see my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

* * *

And so life rushes on. It seems to accelerate daily. Is it getting faster or am I getting slower? Perhaps the latter. We still have our campervan and hope to keep travelling.Queensland is a VERY big state and we hope to see more of it next winter-Why?

Because we love travelling, love meeting people and yes, life is indeed very interesting.

And this not the end............

written by Betty Malins in 1991

  Peter designed the crest used, covering their interests and travels