George Henry & Louisa Mary Glover - Late-1950s

George Henry & Louisa Mary Glover

Late-1950s

My maternal grandparents, George Henry and Louisa Mary (May) Glover (nee Turner). Nanny was born on 26 August 1870 and Papa on 26 December 1874. Nanny had a twin sister, Theresa, who died in 1920 and is buried at Waverley Cemetery at Bronte in Sydney. My cousin/godmother, Dorothy Shiels, tells me Nanny visited Theresa's grave each year on her birthday, August 26. She'd take Dorothy, her granddaughter, with her. Dorothy would cut the grass on the grave with a pair of scissors they took with them, specifically for that purpose.

Nanny and Papa met when they were in-service together at one of the grand old stately homes located at The Glebe in Sydney in the late-1800s. My grandmother was the lady’s maid, meaning she attended exclusively to the requirements of the lady of the house, and my grandfather was the coachman, looking after the family’s carriages and horses - today he’d be the chauffeur.

After leaving service, they settled at Crows Nest on Sydney’s Lower North Shore where they raised their five children, George, Keith, Gladys, Colin and Flora. Flora, their youngest, born 1911, is my mother. A sixth child, Laurence, died in infancy. 

The family holidayed at Narrabeen on Sydney’s Northern Beaches each year and at some time in the 1920s they decided to move there permanently. They lived at 8 Mactier Street and we lived next door at number 10. They died within weeks of each other in 1960. Though I was only 10 when they died, I can still see them clearly in my mind's eye and have vivid recollections of sitting on their front verandah with Nanny when I was just a small child, listening to the stories she told. She was a great story-teller. 

On my way to school each morning, I would call in on Nanny to say good-bye for the day. I usually found her in her darkened, Victorianesque bedroom, cluttered with porcelain vases and figurines, brushing her long white hair vigorously. After many strokes of the brush, it was ultimately fashioned into a bun at the back of her head, held in place by a hair-net. From what I remember, Papa was usually pottering in his garden while all this was going on. He loved his garden and took a great deal of pride in it. I can still conjure-up the beautiful fragrance of his sweet peas to this very day.

Mum and Aunty Glad cared for Nanny through her final illness. Mum later told me she had suggested to Papa that perhaps he might be more comfortable in another bed during that sad time. Apparently he responded that he had been sleeping alongside his beloved May for the past 70 years and wasn't about to change beds any time soon. And that's exactly where he was, sleeping beside her, when she passed away. He died soon after at nearby Manly Hospital, following a massive haemorrhage.

They are pictured above on the front verandah of their home at 8 Mactier Street. The French doors behind them lead to their bedroom, where Nanny died. There’s no date recorded, but it pictures them as I remember them, meaning it would have been taken some time in the late 1950s. Their remains are interred beside each other at Northern Suburbs Memorial Gardens & Crematorium in Sydney's North Ryde.

Kerry Wright, et al - 1955

In 1955, when I was 5, I began my schooling at Narrabeen Infants' School, located in Ocean Street, Narrabeen, at the corner of King Street, not far from my childhood home in nearby Mactier Street. Here I am in the 1955 kindergarten class of post-WWII Baby Boomers. That's me, Kerry Wright, in the third row from the front, fifth from the left. I spent three years at Narrabeen Infants' School from 1955-1957. It was only a short walk from home and Mum would walk me across busy Pittwater Road each morning, to see me safely on my way. 

All the teachers were female and generally caring for the most part, albeit in a somewhat strict authoritarian way, in accordance with the teaching methods of the day. The school was in an absolutely stunning location, with its main entrance directly opposite the ocean. The school grounds were generously planted with grand old statuesque pine trees, one of which can be seen in the above photo. 

I vividly remember two incidents from my time at Narrabeen Infants', one good and the other not so good. First the good. All the children were assembled one day to hear a visitor speak about classical music. Among other pieces, she played a recording of Claude Debussy's beautiful "Claire de Lune" on the gramophone. It left an indelible impression upon me, starting a life-long love and appreciation of classical music that continues to this very day. 

And the not so good? You will remember that I mentioned how strict the teachers were. It was the teaching style of the day. Children were expected to sit still and not speak. Well, on this one particular occasion, I remember I needed to wee-wee very urgently. My dilemma was that I was too shy and nervous to raise my hand and bring the attention of the entire class to me, not to mention the possible wrath of the teacher. So I sat tight, hoping I would be able to make it through to the next break. Alas, that was not to be. With startling clarity, I can still recall looking down into my lap and seeing a triangular shaped yellow puddle, contained by my trembling little legs in their grey serge school-shorts. Not exactly a propitious beginning to my academic career.

A Walk Down Memory Lane

There’s been much mention here of Narrabeen, the seaside suburb on Sydney’s Northern Beaches, where I was raised. I recently had an opportunity to, quite literally, take a nostalgic walk down Memory Lane and, as a consequence, compiled this photo essay. Come join me on my walk, won’t you? You are very welcome to come along.

^ My friend, George, asked me to take care of his treasured rose garden while he’s on vacation in Queensland. It’ll only be for a week. Just watering and light maintenance. George lives at Narrabeen on Sydney’s Northern Beaches, not far from where I grew-up. One morning, after watering George’s beautiful roses, I decide to set-off on a walk back in time, through my childhood. To get us in the mood, here’s an image of sunrise over the Pacific Ocean, as seen from the cliffs above Narrabeen beach, close to where George lives. (Click on the images to enlarge them)

^ I take the short walk from George’s house, along the lakeside, estuary path that leads to Narrabeen beach, where the lake empties into the Pacific Ocean. It’s a beautiful, bright, clear, summer morning. The air is invigoratingly laced with the brisk, sharp saltiness of sea spray blowing off the ocean. The constant, rumbling ebb and flow of the breakers on the nearby beach accompanies me as I walk on. There aren’t many people out at this early hour.

^ I continue along the path leading to the rocky platform of the reef, below Narrabeen cliffs. There’s a steep, precipitous cliff to my immediate left, a bright yellow and black sign warning, “Beware falling rocks.” To my right is the dazzling, golden sweep of Narrabeen beach as it stretches southward towards Collaroy and Long Reef. Just as I take this snap, an elderly lady tiptoes into frame, tentatively taking a morning paddle. The large building on the beach, to the right of the picture is North Narrabeen Surf Life Saving Club, where sun-bronzed Aussie lifesavers hang-out in their little red speedos. Their "kiss of life" gives them power over life and death.  

^ The waves are breaking over the reef as the surf swells, so I decide against progressing further. Instead, I walk along the ocean wall enclosing the rock swimming pool. I have to jump to avoid the waves rolling in, as they crash over the wall. There are a few board riders bobbing on the waves in the distance.

^ I return along the path from whence I came. This is where the waters of the lake narrow, as they progress along their circuitous route, before emptying into the ocean. It looks peaceful on days such as this, but in storms and when there’s a king tide running, this tranquil waterway turns into a deadly, raging torrent, the sandbar swept away and deposited miles out to sea.  A school friend of mine was drowned near here.  He was English, aged nine, didn’t know the danger. We all lined the street in school uniform, as his hearse passed by. That’s Ocean Street bridge to the left.

^ I continue walking along the lakeside estuary path, almost to the Ocean Street intersection. Before getting there, I take the wooden, cliff-side stairs to the top of the cliff. The stairs are firmly fixed to the heavily wooded cliff-face, making several twists and turns before reaching the top.

^ At the top of the cliff, I come to an overgrown path, leading through the undergrowth. Though it can’t be seen through the dense foliage, I am aware from the sound of the surf pounding on the reef below, that the sheer drop of the cliff is not far away. It’s peaceful here, protected from the biting sea breeze by the surrounding vegetation, the air warm and heavy with the scent of eucalyptus. The hearty, cliff-top scrub has the characteristic look of all such coastal flora – gnarled, bent, windswept, tough.

^ I come to a grassy clearing and walk towards the cliff-top lookout. I take a seat on the park bench to catch my breath, while I enjoy the beautiful view of the coast below.

^ East: The next four photos, commencing with this one, were all taken from the lookout seen in the previous photo and should be viewed as a complete panoramic sequence looking south and reading left (east) to right (west). This first photo is looking due east, straight out to sea. Far below, the ocean waves break on the reef at the base of the cliff. Over the distant curve of the horizon is New Zealand. Beyond that, Chile.

^ South-East: The estuary, where the lake waters pass over the reef and empty into the ocean. Way off in the distance, across the water, can be seen Long Reef, as it stretches out into the Pacific Ocean. It was in Lancaster Crescent at Long Reef that George and I first met in February 1973, through a mutual friend. Long Reef holds so many wonderfully happy memories for me. On a more somber note, Long Reef is where my ashes will be scattered one day. They are to be cast upon the waters on the night of the full moon, as the moon rises out of the ocean and the tide rushes out to sea. But not yet!

^ South: The beautiful Narrabeen coastline. North Narrabeen in the foreground. South Narrabeen, where I grew-up, in the middle distance. Collaroy in the far distance. Long Reef off camera, to the left. It is said that everyone of a certain age knows exactly what they were doing when they heard of JFKs assassination. I’m no exception. I was on that stretch of golden sand in the immediate foreground when I heard. I was studying for my lifesaving certificate, practicing resuscitating a classmate. A fellow student rushed up to us on the sand, excitedly declaring, “Someone shot the American President”.

^ West: The Narrabeen Lake estuary, with the coastal waters of the lake visible beyond the Ocean Street bridge and causeway. The waters of the lake proper stretch off camera to the west. 

^ I take the wooden steps down to the lakeside path, which leads to North Narrabeen beach. From there I walk along the beach to South Narrabeen, where I grew up. This photo shows South Narrabeen beach, looking south towards Collaroy in the middle distance and Long Reef in the far distance, as seen from the end of Mactier Street,  the street where my childhood home was located. It’s still early, with few people out and about. The air is warm with a refreshing ocean breeze blowing. It was fun to paddle in the sea, as I walked along the beach. The water was quite cold and made my toes tingle.

^ I sit on the beach at the end of Mactier Street and gaze out to sea. If these sands could speak, oh what a tale they would tell. When one thinks of ghosts, the usual imagery that comes to mind is of haunted houses and graveyards. For me, however, here be ghosts! All of them friendly. This was my playground when I was a child. I spent much of my time here. As I sit here today, my parents and many other loved ones from my childhood are not far away. In fact, this apparently deserted beach is not deserted at all. I am surrounded by loved ones here today.

^ For example, here’s a little chap I know very well. His name is Kerry. He is a sensitive, shy, introspective child, who loves to splash and play in the sea. This photo of me was taken at the same place the previous two above photos were taken, on South Narrabeen beach at the end of Mactier Street.

^ I leave the beach and walk directly inland along Mactier Street, where my childhood home was once located. Our humble little seaside house was demolished long ago, to make way for apartments. I walk over the Mactier Street hill and pass by where my Aunty Glad, Uncle Eric and cousin Dorothy once lived, their house also sadly long since gone. Not far from the sea, I come to Narrabeen Lake. I walk along the lakeside path; the big, old, lichen-covered she-oak trees shading my progress. As a child, they reminded me of the apple-throwing trees from The Wizard of Oz. They still do.

^ I take a seat on a park bench, under the shade of the she-oaks, and gaze out over the tranquil waters of the lake. Ducks paddle close to shore. Memories come flooding back to me. This is only a short walk from my childhood home and I had many happy times playing here.

^ I leave the path and walk down to the lake shore. Ducks outnumber people at this early hour. As they glide past, they quack gently to each other, as if in hushed, conspiratorial conversation.  The barely perceptible, gently murmuring ebb and flow of the wavelets lap languorously at the shore. The air is moderately warm, carrying with it the distinctly subtle, fecund scent of lake water, mixed with the ever-present perfume of the eucalyptus trees.

^ As I walk back from the water’s edge, I appear to have attracted a cute, waddlesome entourage. I take a seat on a nearby park bench, open my knapsack, and share a banana sandwich with my new-found, feathered friends.

 ^ The path leads me closer to the reed-beds at the lake’s edge, where the boughs of the she-oaks hang low. It was near here that an old boatshed once stood. We children would hire canoes and paddle off for a day of high adventure, our parents stressing that we must keep close to the shoreline. My maternal grandparents lived next-door to us. My father and grandfather would sometimes hire a row-boat from the boatshed and enjoy a day of fishing together on the lake.

^ The path leads away from the water’s edge and starts to climb through the dense undergrowth towards Collaroy Plateau. This short-cut to the summit is known only to locals, specifically local children. The increasingly steep, serpentine path meanders through the bush as the warmth of the sun shines down on my back. In time, the path gives way to steep steps, cut into the bedrock of the escarpment. 

^ A beautiful vista greets me at the top.

^ Narrabeen coastline, looking north. The headland in the distance is where I started my walk. I walked along the beach to Mactier Street and then walked inland to the lake. In the foreground, to the left of this picture, near the lake’s edge, can be seen a traffic roundabout. That’s Mactier Street, where I was raised. My family lived at the ocean end of the street, to the right, off camera. In 1770,  Captain James Cook sailed up the coast here, as he charted the Australian east coast in his ship, His Majesty’s Barque Endeavour. Cook claimed the east coast under instruction from King George III of England on 22 August 1770, naming eastern Australia “New South Wales”.

^ Captain James Cook RN, 1728–1779

^ Long before the arrival of Captain Cook, there lived on the banks of this lake an Aboriginal princess named Narrabeen. In the local Aboriginal dialect, the word Narrabeen means “Swan”.  At school, we were taught the legend about the heroic young woman, Narrabeen, who ran to seek help from friendly neighbours, when her people were under attack from a hostile, invading tribe. Narrabeen, the seaside suburb of Sydney, is located approximately  23 km (14 miles) north of the city.

^ And so I walk back to North Narrabeen via Ocean Street and pick a lovely bunch of George's beautiful roses from his garden (He said I could!) before driving home to Sydney's Inner West, where I live. The roses look stunning on my coffee table.

Kerry Wright - 1953

Kerry Wright

1953

Here I am on my tricycle in the garden of the family home at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches.

Flora Wright, Gladys Murrell & Kerry Wright - ca.1952

L-R: Flora Wright, Kerry Wright, Gladys Murrell

ca.1952

This photo was taken in about 1952. That's me, Kerry Wright, in the middle. Holding my hands is my mother, Flora Wright (L), and her sister, my Aunty Glad, Gladys Murrell (R). It was taken at my childhood home, 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. Mum and Aunty Glad were both very resourceful, resilient women, with strong personalities. They had an enormous influence on my upbringing. I would sit and listen to them chat for hours and never tire of what they had to say, occasionally intruding with an opinion of my own. When I did so, I was always listened to and made feel as though I had made a valuable contribution to their conversation. This was the case throughout my life, not only when I was a child. I continued to enjoy sitting in on their chats right up to the time they passed away. They had remained close throughout their lives and died within only a few short weeks of each other in 1991. I miss those chats.

Robert, Alan & Kerry Wright - 1951

L-R: Alan Wright, Kerry Wright, Robert Wright

1951

Here I am in the middle, aged 2, with my brothers Robert (R) and Alan (L). We are in the yard of our family home at 10 Mactier Street in Narrabeen on Sydney's Northern Beaches. It looks to be a lovely, bright, sunny day. From the appearance of our shadows (we're facing east), the photo was taken about 11 a.m. Alan seems to be making an attempt at preventing me from bolting towards the photographer, probably Mum or Dad. Mactier Street runs east to west, with the western end skirting Narrabeen Lake and the eastern end terminating in the Pacific Ocean at South Narrabeen beach. In this image, Mactier Street is located off camera to the right. There's a steep hill about half way along the street, part of which can be seen in the distance. In the background is one of the four coral trees Dad planted in the garden. The trees had grown considerably larger by the time I came to know and remember them. Our funny little house has long since been demolished and Dad's beautiful trees sadly went with it. An apartment building now stands at Number 10.

Flora, Robert & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Robert Wright & Flora Wright

with baby Kerry Wright

1950

Not the best quality photo, somewhat out of focus, but the subject matter is pure gold. It shows my darling Mummy (Flora Wright) perching me (Kerry Wright) atop the seat of my brother Robert's bicycle. I recognize the background as our front yard at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. I appear to be fixated on the photographer, probably Dad, whereas Mum and Robert seem to have eyes only for me. Mum and Robert are wearing light woollens, so I'm guessing this photo was probably taken some time around Autumn 1950. I experience a combination of joy and pathos when I view this image. Joy, for the love of my mother and brother, so tangibly displayed here. And pathos for the loss of them both, now passed away. An entire era ended, yet it was only such a short time ago. 

Robert & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Robert Wright & Kerry Wright

1950

This humble, poorly focused family photo carries an enormous emotional impact for me. It shows my brother, Robert, cradling me in his arms. His radiant smile beams from the image, traversing the years and warming the heart. I have three older brothers, yet have little recollection of any of them showing me much in the way of affection during my childhood. It means a great deal to me, therefore, to see this beautiful photo of Robert and I together. It's heartening to have verification that I was loved and cherished by my brother. My brothers were in their teens when I was little, and I appreciate that teenage boys have much more important things on their minds than snot-nosed baby brothers. Robert was 12 when this photo was taken in the front yard of our home at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. He left home not all that many years later, and we saw little of him following that. He moved away and distanced himself from the family. I don't know why. He died of a cerebral haemorrhage in 1982 at the early age of 45.

Ray, Robert, Alan & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Alan Wright, Kerry Wright (front), Ray Wright, Robert Wright

1950

My father, Ray Wright, with his sons Robert (R), Alan (L) and me, Kerry, in the middle. My eldest brother, John, who would have then been 18, is absent. The photo was probably taken by my mother, Flora Wright, and it's likely location is the garden of our family home at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. Even though I had three older brothers, I virtually grew-up as an only child, having no recollection of John living at home, and only fleeting memories of Robert's presence. Alan, the brother nearest in age to me, married when I was 12 but was little seen in the years leading up to his departure, being of an age when the nearby surf club and its inherent sporting and social distractions occupied much of his attention.

Gladys Murrell & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Gladys Murrell & Kerry Wright

1950

My most dear and much loved Aunty Glad (my mother's older sister, Gladys Ann Murrell nee Glover) with me, Kerry Wright, in the garden of my home at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. Aunty Glad lived not far away from us, towards the lake end of Mactier Street. Her house was more posh than ours and I loved the canopied mosquito nets Aunty Glad had draped above the beds at her place. As a child, I remember thinking how exotic and elegant they looked. In retrospect, I now realize they were an absolute necessity for lakeside living, to escape the nocturnal swarms of ravenous mosquitos terrorizing the residents. Exotic and elegant or just plain practical, I still would have loved to have had one of those nets draped above my own little bed. Even though we lived at the ocean end of Mactier Street, my bedroom was on a partially open verandah, and I copped my fair share of mozzie bites in my time. Aunty Glad lived with Uncle Eric (Eric Murrell) and their only daughter, my cousin, Dorothy (Dorothy Cynthia Shiels nee Murrell), who is my Godmother.

Louisa Mary Glover & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Louisa Mary Glover & Kerry Wright

1950

My maternal grandmother, Louisa Mary (May) Glover nee Turner (1870-1960), bouncing me (Kerry Wright) on her knee. We are on my grandparents' front verandah at 8 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. Nanny read the Sydney Morning Herald on her verandah every morning. She passed away in 1960, aged 89. I loved her dearly and enjoyed nothing more, as a child, than joining her on her verandah and listening, enthralled, as she told me stories. She was a great story teller.

Ray & Kerry Wright - 1950

L-R: Ray Wright & Kerry Wright

1950

My father, Ray Wright, cradling me in his arms. I'm looking somewhat sooky, probably because I wasn't getting my own way at that exact moment. Being the youngest, I was spoilt and could be a little terror. My brother, Alan, gave me the nickname, "Wild Bill", which he continued to use way into our adult years, abbreviated to "Wild", even though I had, by then, ceased throwing the tantrums of my infancy. From a very early age, in fact, I soon moved away from the attention-seeking, spoilt brat stage, and came to display the delicate, sensitive, effete characteristics that would come to dominate my reticent, introspective childhood personality and ultimately progress to my gay adult self of today. This photo was taken at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches, where we lived.

Kerry Wright - 1950

Kerry Wright

1950

Yes, Mr DeMille, I am ready for my close-up! 

My first, formal, studio portrait. Mum would have knitted the little ensemble I'm wearing, including the tiny baby booties with the satin ribbon ties. And I suspect the large kiss-curl atop my head is also, very probably, my dear mother's handiwork. 

My mother, Emily Flora Wright (known as Flora) nee Glover, was 38 when I was born in November 1949, and my father, Ray Wright, was 41. The brother nearest in age to me, Alan, was 9, and my other brothers, Robert and John, were 12 and 17, respectively. Because of the age difference between my brothers and me, I virtually grew-up as an only child. I have no recollection of John ever living at home, and only fleeting, peripheral memories of Robert being there. Alan married when I was 12 but was often out of the house throughout the years leading up to that. 

We lived in a funny little house, not far from South Narrabeen beach on Sydney's Northern Beaches. I slept on a partially open verandah, the seaward, east-end of which was open to the elements. I was lulled to sleep each night by the sound of the waves breaking on the nearby beach. It could be quite deafening on stormy nights. 

I once asked my mother, as children sometimes do, because of the age difference between my brothers and me, if my birth had been planned, or was it a "mistake". At that time, Mum assured me that I had been planned and wanted. Certainly, no parents could have ever loved or cherished their child any more than my parents loved and cherished me. Though Mum could be a strict disciplinarian, she was always fair and just. And Dad was a sweet, gentle man, who never once raised his voice to me, let alone his hand. I never doubted their unconditional love for me, which I returned in abundance.

Louisa Mary Glover with Robert, Alan & Kerry Wright - Early 1950

L-R: Alan Wright, Louisa Mary Glover, baby Kerry Wright (front) & Robert Wright

1950

My maternal grandmother, Louisa Mary (May) Glover nee Turner (1870-1960), cradling me in her arms, with my brothers, L-R, Alan and Robert Wright, standing behind. As I was born in November 1949, this photo would have been taken in early 1950. Nanny and Papa lived next door to us and I spent much time in their company during the first ten years of my life. I cherish many wonderfully happy memories of them both to this day.

Flora & Kerry Wright - January 1950

Flora Wright with baby Kerry Wright

January 1950

One of the few photos in my parent's album which identifies when it was taken. On the reverse of the photo is recorded "Kerry 8 weeks". As I was born in early November 1949, that means this lovely photo of my mother, Emily Flora Wright (known as Flora) nee Glover, cradling me in her arms, was taken in early January 1950. My family lived in Mactier Street at Narrabeen on Sydney's Northern Beaches, only a short walk from South Narrabeen beach, where this photo was probably taken. We spent much of our leisure time there. January is the height of summer in Australia and one of the hottest times of the year, so I'm sure Mum would have been most grateful for the generous shade provided by that big old beach umbrella.

Flora & Kerry Wright - 1 January 1950

Flora Wright with baby Kerry Wright

1 January 1950

I'm not entirely sure when this beautiful "Madonna & Child" image of my mother, Flora Wright, cradling me in her arms dates from, but my birth in early November 1949 certainly narrows down the probabilities. Personally, I would like to think it was taken on 1 January 1950 - the day of my baptism at St Faith's Church, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. Just a guess, but I suspect I may be right.

George Henry & Louisa Mary Glover - ca.1950

George Henry & Louisa Mary Glover

ca.1950

In the absence of a date, I am guessing this photo of my maternal grandparents, George Henry (1874-1960) and Louisa Mary (1870-1960) Glover, was taken some time around 1950.  My family lived at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches, and my grandparents lived next-door at number 8.

They passed away within just a few short months of each other in 1960, when I was 10. I can still see them clearly in my mind's eye and have vivid recollections of sitting on their front verandah with Nanny when I was just a small child, listening to the stories she told me. They kept budgerigars in a cage on the verandah, and also had a bright yellow canary named Dickie in a cage of his own. The chirping and chatter of the caged birds provided a constant accompaniment to my grandmother's story telling.

Because Nanny's presence on her verandah was such an established feature of the local landscape (she sat there and read the Sydney Morning Herald every morning), cars would gently beep their horns at her in greeting as they drove past. I remember Nanny would wave to them cheerily and then turn to me with a big grin and a wink and say, "I wonder who that was."

On my way to school each morning, I would call in on Nanny to wish her a good day. I usually found her in her darkened, Victorianesque bedroom, cluttered with porcelain vases and figurines, brushing her long white hair vigorously. After many strokes of the brush, it was ultimately fashioned into a bun at the back of her head, often held in place with a delicate black hair-net. From what I remember, Papa was usually pottering in his garden while all this was going on. He loved his garden and took a great deal of pride in it. I can still conjure-up the beautiful fragrance of his sweet peas to this very day.

Mum and Aunty Glad cared for Nanny through her final illness. Mum later told me that she had suggested to Papa that perhaps he might be more comfortable in another bed during that sad time. Apparently he responded that he had been sleeping alongside his beloved May for the past 70 years and wasn't about to change beds any time soon. And that's exactly where he was, sleeping beside her, when she passed away. He died not long after at nearby Manly Hospital, following a massive haemorrhage.

 They are pictured above in their front garden at 8 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, on Sydney's Northern Beaches. They rest beside each other at Northern Suburbs Memorial Gardens & Crematorium in Sydney's North Ryde.

Louisa Mary Glover & Sarah Anne Murray - 1930s

L-R: Sarah Anne Murray nee Turner & Louisa Mary Glover nee Turner - 1930s

At right is my maternal grandmother, Louisa Mary (May) Glover nee Turner with her sister, Sarah Anne Murray nee Turner, who was always referred to in the family as Aunty Doll. The photo was taken in Nanny's front garden at 8 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, in Sydney. Aunty Doll died before I was born. I was very familiar with her larger than life persona, however. Her name was often raised in conversation, with an equal measure of awe and affection.

Dorothy Shiels with John & Alan Wright - ca.1942

L-R: Dorothy Shiels, Alan Wright, John Wright - ca.1942

My cousin, Dorothy Shiels nee Murrell, with my brothers, L-R, Alan and John Wright. Dorothy is the daughter of my mother's sister, my Aunty Glad (Gladys Ann Murrell nee Glover). Both Aunty Glad and Dorothy played prominent roles in the lives of my three brothers and myself. They lived nearby, in the same street, and we saw much of them. Aunty Glad's husband, Uncle Eric (Eric Murrell) was somewhat reclusive. He rarely came to family functions and we saw little of him. John is my eldest brother, my parent's first-born, and Alan is the brother closest in age to me (almost 10 years older than me). Because my brothers were all so much older than me (John is old enough to be my father), I virtually grew-up as an only child and was very much doted upon by my loving parents. This photograph was taken where my family then lived, at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, in Sydney.

George Glover & Robert Wright - 1937

L-R: Robert Wright, George Glover - 1937

My maternal grandfather, George Henry Glover, playing with his grandson, my brother, Robert Harry Wright, on the swing in the front-yard of my parent's home at 10 Mactier Street, Narrabeen, in Sydney. The little house has long since been demolished to make way for an apartment building. I recently visited the site and was surprised at how small everything looked. In my memory, I remember our front-yard as being huge. In fact, it's just a standard building block. I guess I was a lot smaller back then and everything appeared big to me.