As young children we had a very good life on the farm. Mum grew our vegetables, we had free range chooks, and Dad occassionally killed a lamb. Mum milked the cows and we had a centrifrugal separator which separated the milk from the cream. You could stand a spoon up in the cream, it was so thick. Mum baked bread using the combustion stove. Such a lovely smell.

Sometimes a sheep would neglect her lamb, so Dad would bring the lamb home. From memory, each little lamb was called Baa-lamb, and we took great delight in helping feed the lamb out of a bottle. It escaped our notice that the little sheep eventually was taken back to join the flock or became lamb chops.

Mum was very good at letting us wander over the farm. From a young age Mum would give us tomatoes, potatoes, onions, and chops, and we girls would head off on our bikes to explore the farm terrain. We often went to the rocky hilly area, left our bikes and climbed up and through the large rock structures. We would place a pretend flag on the top (a handkerchief on a stick) and then make a ring of stones on the ground, and light a fire to cook our lunch. We had a couple of old pans, and cooked up the tomatoes and onions and potatoes, and the chops. Sometimes the potatoes were a bit raw, but we loved our expeditions. And we were always careful about putting the fire totally out.

We also spent afternoons making fairy floss out of cotton wool, sugar and cochineal food colouring, decimating ants nest with concoctions of old perfume and worcestershire sauce, and sneaking the odd ciggarette of Dad’s and smoking it down by the dam. One afternoon we took a whole packet of ciggys, and while at the dam, started having a puff. We could see Mum coming so we broke the ciggarettes in half and threw them into the dam. Bugger, they floated! Mum spanked us in turn all the way back to the house.