(Eunice Goddard – nee Simshauser, daughter of Fred and Ethel Simshauser.)
Our mother told us she never really wanted to have children – having been housemaid for C.P. Wilson and his family at “Mayvale”, but said she was surely punished – then in her later years said she wouldn’t have been without one of us!
Firstly, we all had nicknames due to our father and we were always referred to by these:-
| Hercules Kimberley | Dave |
| Enid Jean | Wick |
| Clive Ivan | Oscar |
| Eunice | Sal |
| Gordon Arthur | Jock |
| Ruth | Stran |
| Lex | Dick |
| Maurice | Blue |
My memories as kids – we were happily situated residing at “Campo Santo”, where my father was employed as Manager for George Capel. We had wonderful teaching from governesses Dorothy Kiernan, Miss Hopkins and Minnie Westerweller who always resided with us, which I enjoyed. I still have my prizebook in 6th class, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” given to me by Minnie Westerweller. After 6th class, I went on to Tamworth High School to achieve my Intermediate Certificate – and weren’t they professional teachers. I appreciated their expertise and discipline – they kept us keen. I well remember one incident, my history was lagging and our class wondered if my tennis was more important than history! I achieved my position in the tennis team but Mr Proctor made sure my history got results too. (Being kept in after school did the trick, there should have been more of it!)
Our grandmother Rosina lived at “Tareela” and was my idol, we were always welcome to visit her and were spoilt with cookies and cakes. Her life was gardening, she fetched the water in buckets up the bank of the nearby creek – she had a top orchard of stone fruits, grapes, asparagus, two huge pear trees (always had pear-ginger jam), fig trees and lovely flowers. Consequently a pantry of pickles, chutney and jams – the women prided themselves with a full pantry. I don’t know whether we enjoyed the bee hives but honey was always on the menu, and frequently one of us suffered a sting around an eye or two. Out would come the blue bag for that.
To me, looking back, the two biggest horrors were the drama of separating the milk each morning and the cleaning up of it, and listening to my mother ironing with the old pot irons – the tireder she got the heavier the ironing, and you learnt to keep your distance. Dad’s suits would have been enough, no drycleaners, you used ammonia in water to clean and then a dampened rag to press. Quite a chore.
Each Saturday the ritual was to go to town. (Shops were open full day Saturday.) My mother loved shopping so we always had the gear to wear. I can also well remember the depression years with the men walking the roads, us locked in and them calling with empty sugar bags looking for tobacco, tea, sugar, whatever- there was never any violence. Most workers were still using sulkies to go to town, no breathalisers in those days, we always looked for the wobbly tracks on their return. Another time we kids helped find a fellow’s false teeth, he came to grief as he stepped down from his sulky. Another highlight in school holidays, we were allowed to go on the big wagon with the salt run, around the various paddocks – can remember we would chip pieces off the blocks to suck, the animals didn’t get it all.
An annual event was going to the Sydney Easter Royal Show, we had to take it in turns in going with Dad and Mum, on the train. Can well remember mine, sample bags were free and I had heaps – no way could I take them all home to the other kids as I planned, those old box carriages had limited space. My father’s favourite accommodation was at the Metropole Hotel, a family favourite for others too.
Our governesses could always play the piano, so a sing-song around the piano was frequent, the gramophone was popular too. Can remember getting our first wireless and what a treat, “Dad and Dave” serial was great – I had to act as Dave in a concert at “Plumthorpe” School one year, our play was well received. Warren Jarratt was the teacher then, I was just filling in a few weeks in preparation to go away to school which I was looking forward to. Warren Jarratt was called up soon after that, and joined the RAAF and unfortunately came to grief in the bombing raids from London to Berlin. His training was limited and it was hard to accept at the time. But it was worse for his family, I believe he was an only son.
Still at “Campo Santo”, I remember Mother trying to set a jelly in the old drip safe, and to cool other food as well. just hopeless! Sometimes Dad would go to the trouble of lowering the jelly and cream down into the well, it sometimes worked. They balanced it in a bucket and always wary of a snake cooling off too. Then we were updated to an ice chest, Dad would buy huge ice blocks for it but the biggest treat was our first refrigerator, kerosene of course – no more sour butter! and maybe the butter churn had a spell too, I know we took it in turns to wind the jolly thing. Every morning the kerosene lamps were recharged and the globes washed, it’s a lot better without them.
Thinking of cows, Clive was the dare-devil of the family and a beggar at walking in his sleep, my mother knew what it was to follow him – he’d gather the buckets to go off to the yards, but baulk once he got to the yards. It was scarey, we were never allowed to waken him in his episodes. He was also a great one for making billy carts, we lived on a hill and to his advantage we were handy to push him back up it. We always had wonderful cubby houses, children didn’t play in the home like they do now and stay glued to TV – we were never allowed to listen to adult conversation. It was no trouble for us to have a game of tennis or cricket.
One vivid memory for me, probably at eight or nine years of age. Mother always insisted we use our own brush and comb, but she had a super-looking set on her own dressing table which was forbidden territory, but I decided to use her comb in my long locks, rolling it up as rolls were the fashion. On hearing her footsteps approaching I ended up having to pull a huge chunk of hair out. Now I was in a real sweat showing a huge bald patch – eventually I plucked up enough courage to show it to my dear mother. Then a big panic to find my father, goodness it’s either a ringworm or whatever? Dad and I took off to town for Doctor Phipps immediately but as we approached Barraba it may be an idea to see his friend, Mr Blackall (chemist) first. By now I was feeling the strain of guilt!! But to my relief Mr Blackall convinced my father it was a ringworm and administered an ointment saying it should be OK. Naughty me carried this secret inwardly for years until a white streak appeared – I often wonder if the incident had any bearing?
No way did you ever admit you were sick in these times because Dr Phipps either diagnosed it was your tonsils or appendix which needed removing. Mr Pringle the dentist was dreaded with his old drilling machine and one never was left with much tooth if it showed decay.
“Campo Santo” was 25,000 acres, grew mainly fine wool sheep plus a Shorthorn Stud. George Capel was wonderful to us and all his employees had good weatherboard homes, ours was extended to accommodate the eight children, plus the governess and a girl to help us as the years went by. There was always rivalry between “Campo Santo”, “Mayvale” and “Plumthorpe” to see who topped the wool market. My father always classed the “Campo Santo” wool so naturally we followed that and were thrilled with his success sometimes.
The story goes that the Spaniards built the stone buildings at “Tareela” and the slate stone came from “Slatey Gully”. Here and there were beds of purple and white irises in the close paddocks and these had slate stone around the edges, they remained so in my time.