WRITING GALLERY - AUGUST 2024

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY by Cindi B 

His ‘Complete Works of Shakespeare’ are now mine and I have a photo of him and Mum, he starkly tall and she short against the wall of the smithy. They stand, patient and aging. He stands tall and muscular and lanky, she diminutive and wide. Bland smiles cover the many years of tribulations tackled together. It saddens me that I have so little of him but I know that the next generation might not keep even that.

In a biography some dates would be appropriate, but I know few and none with certainty. Benjamin Ouvrey Birch was my husband’s father. He was born in a coastal town in South Africa of English parents. It must have been close to 1890 as he volunteered for and served in the 1914/1918 war and had already qualified as a blacksmith and was running his own business in the tiny Afrikaans township of Thaba N’chu in the Orange Free State. 

Dad, wounded in the trenches in France, was hospitalised in Plymouth, England. Missing in Action, Believed Dead, he met Minnie, a hospital visitor. Engaged to a beautiful girl back home, rehabilitated, Ben returned to South Africa, only to find his finance married to someone else. He risked everything he owned to return to Plymouth to court and wed Minnie and take her back to Thaba N’chu with him.

How impossibly romantic was that? How could Minnie have said ‘no’? Date? Probably around 1920.

Always morally strict, with high ideals and very few words, illustrated when the ex-fiancee turns up thirty years later, now a widow and looking for him. “I already have a good wife”, were his classic words. All his boys used those words in some hilarious situations for years afterwards.

For a man then planted forever in a tiny village in the centre of South Africa, he became known in a few interesting fields. He was a man who wrote to newspapers and corresponded with government departments. However, how he came to be recognised as a qualified authority on game birds is a mystery, but every year an invitation came from the stewards of the Rand Easter Show, all expenses paid, for B.O.Birch to travel down to Johannesburg in the Transvaal to judge that section of the great show. 

His own fighting cocks were magnificent but I am sure his overwhelming first love was boxing. Fitness, self- reliance and discipline were instilled in all his ‘boys’. The ‘boys’ being all the young men he trained several nights a week with the hope that real fights could be arranged with clubs in neighbouring towns every month or so. Money for transport was the killer, but somehow it was always recognised that in small communities boxing and its attendant discipline was a force for good. No, to street fighting, train and try to beat him to a pulp in the ring!

When I first met Ben as a young bride in 1958 he confided that he only learnt to read when he was eighteen, apprenticed as a blacksmith. Overawed, I never asked the simple question why? What a leap to become a man who read Shakespeare for pleasure. He was bi-lingual in Afrikaans and English, also speaking fluent Khosa happily with the men working for him in the smithy.

Suddenly, with four boys and a girl themselves, he and Minnie needed to take on an extra three. Two pretty girls and another boy thrown into the mix of young boxers after his brother and sister-in-law’s fatal car accident. Ben made it clear from the outset that relationships were forbidden, possibly incestuous.

The three extra children came with no support at all, their money locked up until they were twenty-one. It was a difficult and unhappy situation and resented on both sides and when Hubert, the boy, got a local girl pregnant, Ben’s rules meant that he was thrown out of the house, quite literally, I gather.

He died in a mental hospice in New Zealand in about 1960.

Very tough love indeed. A soft touch though for all his grandchildren, he learnt a lesson when a two year old put on a hissy fit when his grandfather did not come home with chocolate for him as usual. Back to normal, there had been no money for treats for his own children!

Ben died in about 1965 with leukaemia. I never heard him raise his voice, but he never needed to, his word had been law. No smoking, no drinking. He boasted in the latter days about his fitness- and he was fit. He worked into his late seventies blacksmithing, but constantly challenging boxing friends to hit him in the gut to prove his fitness was unwise.

Eventually someone gave in and hit him! He went down like a stone. No one laughed.

An unusual, complex man and a great leader in his community and a wonderful man of his times, I loved him.

TRAINING TO BE A LADY by Valda R

Training in the 1960s to become an air hostess, back then regarded as a very glamorous job, took four weeks for the new intake of nine. Constant smiling was necessary and installed from day one. Passengers were to be greeted and farewelled with cheerful confident smiles.

After introductions on day one, girls whose height and weight had been considered before being offered employment, were required to walk around the room for an endless amount of time with a book balanced on their head. Good posture was necessary. They then progressed to holding a tray in the left hand at a height above which would be the passengers heads, while still with the book on the head. Once accomplished, the tray was laden with cups and trays, first empty and then with liquid.

Should an unfortunate incident occur on a flight where a beverage would be spilled over the lap of a passenger, quickly get a cloth and help sponge the area, but not if it was on a male passenger's lap, just discreetly hand him the cloth. A dry cleaning voucher was to then be handed out along with apologies.

Public address messages before takeoff and landing were learned, and a safety drill conducted. Should the call button from the flight crew in the cockpit appear, one was to respond immediately to fulfill the Captains requirements. There were raised eyebrows after this instruction.

As one would be required to have many overnights at the best hotels it was important to know table etiquette. Always lay the serviette over your lap before eating, and never cut the bread roll with a knife, but pry open with fingers. Butter knife to be used to place butter on the small dining plate. Standards must be set.

The winter skirt or summer cream linen dress must be no shorter than 1⁄2 an inch above the knee. Stockings must never have a ladder and a spare pair must always be on hand in the overnight carry bag.

An afternoon spent on how to apply makeup was hugely successful as the products were handed out for free. Always reapply lipstick between flights, and hair was to be kept clean and in a tidy state. Who knew when applying lipstick, the mouth should be wide open to cover all the lip area. Such important information.

As the weeks progressed, more important behavior was learned such as addressing the passengers with a greeting and smile as they boarded and departed, as this was very important as it may be the first flight for some. Most importantly always with a wide smile despite a possible turbulent flight.

Passengers in the 1960s did not wear stubbies and thongs, and instructions were given on how to fold the gentleman's coat before carefully placing it in the overhead locker. Similarly the lady’s hat must be placed with care; not to be squashed. Before landing these were to be retrieved and handed to the passenger. Fraternizing with passengers on the flight or after was not acceptable, and nor with the flight crew on overnight stays.

Should turbulence occur and air sickness prevail, a cloth from the drawer at the front of the cabin should be rinsed in cold water and placed on the forehead of the unwell passenger. If a female passenger, the hostess should place her hand on the forehead with the cloth for assurance, as she heaved into the white bag retrieved from the front pocket despite oneself feeling the need to vomit as well.

Once the bag seemed full, it was to be carried behind the hostess and deposited in the bin at the back of the cabin. It was important to keep smiling during this time, to show an air of calmness and control to disguise the bag.

The aircraft parts such as the engines, fuselage, landing gear, ailerons, wings, empennage (tail) and tail wing span were to be learned, as passengers may ask these questions Names of rivers and heights of mountains also needed to be learned. What a knowledgeable group ready for any questions. As soon as the buffet was served it was important to chat with passengers.

First Aid was left to last and the prospective hostesses were trained in basic first aid, such as bandaging, resuscitation and comforting, making sure to quickly announce over the PA while showing no sign of panic, if there was a doctor or nurse on board should an incident occur. Should someone die during the flight, discreetly lean over and close their eyes placing a blanket around them and then inform the captain. It was important that other passengers would not be aware of their demise.

Should severe turbulence occur, it was important to show confidence and calmness by smiling as one gripped the overhead bulkhead. It was important to show the passengers that you were in control and not as terrified as them.

A simulated video of an aircraft crash was played, with people lying in pools of blood with obvious severe injuries. The room was too warm and almost all the trainees had to leave soon after the start. Towards the end of the training the group was taken to the airport and boarded a stationary aircraft for familiarization. How to open and close the door on take off and landing, which was rather important. Practicing the release of the chute and sliding down without losing one's dignity whilst in a tight skirt was great fun, with the ground male crew cheering on.

Weekly assessments were made for each new student, with suggestions of improvement. At the end of the course, uniforms were handed out with a small badge of wings. The fun had just begun. Nine young elegant ladies with their fixed smiles, were ready to greet whatever came before them.

Those who would be transferred to Christchurch were told not to fraternize with the American contingent now stationed beside the airport. This advice was later ignored and these young men were great fun, knew how to jitterbug and very generous with gifts.

LIFE STORY OF A HAY FORK by Ron D

The birthplace of Teddy is unknown; he was found by a man called Harry Corbett abandoned in a Joke Shop on Blackpool Pier in 1948 and adopted by him. Teddy was a bear, and he moved in with the Corbett family, becoming a beloved companion of Harry’s children.

Harry was a magician and puppeteer, and in 1955, seven years after taking Teddy under his wing, he was given a show on the exciting new media they called television, and Teddy joined him on the show. Television was all black and white back then, and Harry felt that the pale Teddy needed something to make him stand out. He smeared soot on poor Teddy’s nose and ears and changed his name to Sooty.

The show ran for two years before Harry decided Sooty needed a companion, and he was joined by a shaggy dog called Sweep. Sooty and Sweep soon became firm friends, and they became a big hit on the BBC children’s television, providing a mixture of slapstick comedy, magic tricks and music; with plenty of custard pies, water pistols and characters getting gunge, or slime, tipped over their heads.

In 1964, Sooty and Sweep were joined by a sweet young panda called Soo, who was to become Sooty’s girlfriend. Harry’s wife Marjorie joined the show at the same time, as Soo’s handmaid. For reasons that he never divulged, Sooty did not speak out loud, instead whispering to Harry who passed on what he had to say to the audience. Sweep spoke in a high-pitched squeal and Harry had to interpret what he said to the audience. Soo, on the other hand, was quite prepared to voice her thoughts to one and all.

When Harry retired, he handed the reins over to his son Matthew, and the Sooty Show went from strength to strength. By 1992, when the show ended, Sooty and his companions were established household names in Britain. So popular had they been that a rival station called ITV launched a sequel under the title of Sooty and Co.

Matthew continued to manage the showbiz life of Sooty and his two fellow performers until 1996, when he sold the rights to the Sooty Show to a company called the Global Rights Development Fund for £1.4 million pounds. This move was to boost Sooty and companions to international stardom. The team went on to make a couple of movies; and appear as guests on other TV shows. They also toured in numerous stage shows; and in 2017 Sooty was officially inducted into The Magic Circle.

Of course, Sooty was truly grateful to Harry and his family, who all quite literally had a hand in his success, but one cannot help but wonder if he wasn’t a tad bitter too. It was his appeal, and that of his companions, that had made the show a huge and profitable success, but they never had a share in the huge profits that had been made from any of their performances. Sooty couldn’t help but feel that he been but a puppet in their hands.

CELEBRATION OF SUCCESS by Elaine

My eyes searched the room. It didn't take long to find him. Even though he was only average in height he stood out in the crowd. I watched him carefully, knowing that he hadn't seen me yet. I stared, trying to discern that quality that made him stand out.

His dark blond head was held high, his handsome face thoughtful, as he concentrated on what was being said to him. He stood with his legs slightly apart. The stance showed the confidence I knew was a part of his character. The dark suit, silk shirt and tie spoke of class and quality. The tailor-made fit on his lean athletic body was perfect.

He exuded the pride that came with his position as head of this new firm, and that, with his good looks, made sure that everyone in the room knew he was there.

My mind went back to the youth I had known. In high school he was an A grade tennis player, good scholar and popular with the girls. He tackled most things with confidence and enthusiasm, but I knew that he was shy and uncertain in many ways.

After he left school, he had been unsure of what he wanted to do, then he had stumbled into the profession he now excelled in and found his feet quickly. Over the years that followed he studied all he needed to know to be good at his job. It wasn't long before he became a leader in the field of soil testing for construction and was able to start his own company. Tonight, was a celebration of its beginning.

His gaze strayed over the shoulder of the businessman he was talking to, and he spotted me. His blue eyes lit up with pleasure and he smiled a greeting and excused himself. As he came towards me, I watched his right-hand stray to his earlobe in the nervous habit that was so familiar.

I smiled at the thought that he could handle all the business people and dignitaries in the crowd with confidence; but faced with showing his mother around his new venture, he was as nervous as he had been presenting his report cards. My heart swelled with pride and love.

A BIOGRAPHY by Julie S

HB was created by using a combination of Pinus Radiate and Cedar wood, turned to a thin elongated cylinder with a hole running its length and into which a funnel of graphite was inserted. Finely sharpened he became a wonderful tool for drawing and writing.

He was given as a birthday present to a little boy called Pablo who loved to draw animals with human faces,  cars with wings, houses with smiling windows, and  the sky with rainbows and sparky happy faced suns. As Pablo was sitting drawing in the park one afternoon a storm very quickly closed in, and in his hurry to escape the rain he left his pencil behind on the bench where it was picked up by Jay Pee, a journalist who was there supervising his children.

HB, now known as HEEBY, was put to work immediately by JayPee covering the 1983  election of Australia’s larrikin Prime Minister, Bob Hawke who remained as Prime Minister until he and his party were ousted in 1991.  In 1985 he was thrilled to be taken to London where he covered a concert called Live Aid and where he heard many pop stars and bands, including his favourites, Pink Floyd and Queen.  July 1991 saw him in Washington US, to witness the nomination by George W Bush of the very crooked fellow Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court.  A very black day for American democracy as Thomas has continually overturned old rulings seemingly at the behest of interested parties.  In 2008 HEEBY was back in Canberra to hear the then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd deliver an apology to the indigenous population of Australia for the past wrongs committed against them; often by well-meaning folk but too often with devastating consequences .

Sadly, like so many loyal hard-working employees HEEBY was made redundant in 2010.  Replaced by a modern marvel – the IPad.  JayPee could write directly onto this marvellous thing called a tablet, and without so much as a thank you or goodbye HEEBY was put in the drawer with the dried up texta pens, paper clips and broken erasers, but much to his delight he found many of his cousins the Derwents in there too.

But he was not there for long . The IPad proved to be useless in covering the devasting flooding which occurred in Queensland commencing in December that year.  Thousands of people faced forced evacuations from at least 90 towns with 75% of the state declared a disaster.

This was however, his last story as a journalist, but he was tired, worn down to not much more than a stump and well and truly chewed.  Back in the drawer he enjoyed many reminiscences with his cousins who all  seemed to have enjoyed very colourful lives just as much as he had.

In 2023, following the death of JayPee and the subsequent cleaning out of his house, along with the other residents of the top drawer HEEBY was unceremoniously cremated, with no one to mourn him,  but long to be rememberd by many who were ever grateful for his writings.

ABANDONED by GOD by Valda R

Two young men wearing long grey trousers were often seen late at night, ascending the grand staircase in this beautiful home with its sweeping views. This was not in an upmarket suburb in Victoria, but on the small remote Pak Island, in the Manus Province of Papua New Guinea.

The large copra plantation on the island was managed by an Australian named Gus Dodderidge whose liking for alcohol required the assistant manager, a capable mixed race man, to run the Edgil and Whitely owned plantation.

One Easter in 1965, we visited and stayed in this grand manager's house. Built in the 1920’s for the then manager and his new bride, it was built to standards not seen before. Materials arrived from Australia by ship, and labour was brought in from surrounding islands. The peoples of Pak Island, who believed in animism, refused to go near the house and assist with the build, as it was being built across a path where two newly arrived Irish missionaries had been ambushed and slaughtered only a few years earlier. Those primitive people believed they were carrying evil messages and not welcome, but were now afraid their spirits had returned. It was also normal on Pak Island for the local witch doctor to point the bone at someone who had committed a crime causing that person to die even in the 1960s.

To appease the spirits the local people demanded a doorway at the top of the stairs to open onto a void where these spirits could escape. We were aware of this story when late at night, these two young men dressed in long grey trousers, would walk up the stairs and disappear. Our first night was in the company of only the Manager, as the Assistant Manager refused to visit or move into the house. As the gin bottle slowly emptied, justified by the quinine in the tonic water, we were beginning to believe the story, and kept glancing at the stairwell. The open air living area where the stairwell rose, serviced the kitchen and amenities, and as Gus slunk lower into his large canvas chair where he would spend the night, muttering ‘bloody little black bastards’ he slapped his arms to ward off the mosquitoes. ‘They should be coming soon’ he uttered. Before midnight we collected our lantern to make our way to our bedroom on the upper floor across from the door which opened to a void.

This was all very unsettling as my husband, who had spent time with the village people that day, learned they were horrified that we should stay in this house. 

Around midnight we were awoken from a very light sleep, to a door banging. Of course the generator was off and the only light was from a candle in the lantern, which had now begun to flicker.

‘What was that?’ I whispered as I nudged my husband, who was already attempting to get up but becoming entangled in the mosquito net. When we eventually touched the floor, we crept onto the landing, and were shocked to see the door opposite open, and a cool breeze blowing in.

The next day, we were pleased to join the work boat for the three hour trip back to Lorengau.

Sixty years later, we often wonder, now the country has independence and the Pak Islanders would have taken over the plantation, whether the house is still standing and if so whether the spirits of these two young men still climb the stairs, or whether they have found peace.

FIVE 'Bs' by Trevor S