Vati and I arrived at the church to be greeted by the pastor. The pastor went back into the church to get T who he brought to the entrance to greet me. He then said the traditional prayer for the bride and groom in the foyer of the church. The two men turned to go down the aisle towards the altar.
We had anticipated that there may be a stuff-up and had told our friends. The organist obviously hadn't had my wishes explained to him and launched into the wedding march as soon as he saw T and the pastor move off. T sped up only to be grabbed by the arm and he and Pastor Sandeck ended up walking down the aisle arm-in-arm to 'Here Comes the Bride'. Several of the guests had to stifle giggles.
My three bridesmaids and flower girl organised themselves after T and the pastor reached the front of the church and we had our little procession and I had the lovely symbolism of my father 'giving me away'.
I really don't remember much about the service but I do remember being thrilled when I got to the end of the aisle and saw T's best friend who had had his hair cut and styled and beard trimmed. He looked like a film star. I also remember kneeling on the satin cushion in my long dress and new slippery shoes concentrating on not sliding off. When it came time to signing the register I didn't know which name to sign - my new one or the old one? Pastor Sandeck didn't know which one I should use and now I don't know which one I used.
After the service, which people apparently enjoyed a lot ( it certainly was different considering that we were in the midst of renovations, the bridal procession had an amusing start to it and the service and hymns were in two different languages) we went outside to have a few photos taken.
After that the bridal party all piled into our maroon Mercedes Benzes, the guests went off to their cars and we all called out,"see you at the reception". T and my car was leaving last and proceeded to break down about 2 metres into the trip! The chauffeur was beside himself. He jumped out of the car, put up the bonnet and frantically started clanking about. T and I didn't mind. We were having a bit of a pash.
When we finally arrived at the reception venue people had begun to wonder where we had got to. I had been slightly apprehensive about the state of the place, given how grotty the church was, but I needn't have worried. The wallpaper and carpets had been replaced and looked lovely. The reception room was beautiful and our guests were enthusiastically getting stuck into canapés and our vast stock of beverages.
The band was fabulous and our guests sang and danced up a storm. The meals were delicious and the speeches hilarious. Even the staff and some hotel guests got into the swing of things and joined in when a conga line started and wound its way around the room and out through the foyer.
Everyone was having such a good time that my parents had to rehire the band three times. Finally T and I went off to dress in our 'going away' outfits. The wedding bouquet was thrown, the guests made a big circle and T and I went around farewelling everyone and thanking them for coming.
By now my father had forgiven T for the piglet disaster earlier in the day and had been beaming with pride all evening. My parents were the last two people I was saying goodbye to. My father threw his arms around me, his face crumpled and he cried. I was shocked. I had hardly ever seen my father cry. It made me cry too. T put his new wife in the car where the groomsmen had piped 'Just Married' on the windows with shaving foam and tied cans to the back bumper and I cried all the way to the hotel where we were spending our first night together as husband and wife.
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Saturday, 31 August 2013
Our Wedding Day - Part 1
Our wedding ceremony was scheduled for 6pm so we had the whole day to get ready.
First thing in the morning Vati and I went down to the laundry to check out the piglet. It was still in it's crate and when we turned up it grunted up at us happily. It was even happier when we brought it a bottle of milk and a bowl of semolina porridge. Vati and I decided it was cruel to keep it in the crate so we thought of other options. Finally we decided that we would tie it by the hind leg to the Hill's Hoist clothes line with a long piece of rope. It squealed loudly when I lifted it out of the crate but then settled down with the rope around it's leg and started to explore the backyard as far as the rope would allow.
Members of the bridal party were getting ready at their own homes and arriving at my and T's place in time for photos later in the afternoon. Mutti and I set off to 'Raymond's' to have our hair done while Vati was going to read the Saturday papers and have another cup of tea. Everything was going along nice and calmly.
Thanks to my practice sessions, my hairstyle looked fine and Mutti, who had her hair done every week, looked lovely as usual. We went home only to discover my father sitting slumped in the family room pale and dripping with sweat. We were shocked and asked what was wrong.
He had been drinking his tea and reading the paper when he heard the neighbour call out to her husband, "Arthur, there's a pig looking at me through the fence!" his reply, "don't be stupid Gwen. Where would a pig come from?". Gwen insisted that there WAS a pig looking at her when Vati realised that the pig shouldn't be able to be looking through the fence from where it had been tethered.
He went out and saw the rope with no pig attached. He then raced around the yard trying to rugby tackle an extremely fast squealing piglet. Finally he caught it, put it back in the crate and built a sturdy enclosure.
At this stage T was not one of his favourite people.
The afternoon progressed. Two German ladies who were friends but who hadn't been invited to the wedding came to our place to housesit. There had been a spate of robberies where wedding presents had been stolen while the family was at the wedding. Mutti had prepared platters of smoked salmon open sandwiches and cakes for them as well as a bottle of nicely chilled champagne. They fluttered around getting in the way and having a good time admiring all the proceedings.
The bridesmaids and flower girl, already in their finery, arrived just as the wedding bouquets, buttonholes and Mutti's corsage turned up. We oohed and aahed - they were lovely.
I suddenly thought I'd better get ready and put on a bit of makeup, my nice new undies and stockings and Mutti zipped me up in my wedding gown and helped put on my headdress. She threw on her outfit and Vati dressed in his hired dinner suit. We all thought we looked pretty good. The photographer turned up and snapped a few pictures.
The flower girl was peering out of the window excitedly waiting for the wedding cars to arrive. Three maroon Mercedes Benz cars turned up and the wedding party swept down to the cars. I was surprised at the crowd that had gathered to see us off. Getting into a car, in a long gown with a train and a long veil is not an easy thing. Luckily the chauffeur was adept and managed to seat me so that there would be minimal crushing of the outfit. People always like looking at brides so I had a wonderful time waving (like the queen) as we drove across the harbour bridge on the way to the church.
Mrs Mikalauskas had done her best to clean the church. She had thought 8 pews each side of the church would be enough. Everyone was able to be seated but it was a mighty squash. The floor was still crunchy with dirt and bits of plaster but the pews were polished to within an inch of their life and the carpet down the aisle was vacuumed clean. It gave our guests something to talk about while they waited for the ceremony to begin.
First thing in the morning Vati and I went down to the laundry to check out the piglet. It was still in it's crate and when we turned up it grunted up at us happily. It was even happier when we brought it a bottle of milk and a bowl of semolina porridge. Vati and I decided it was cruel to keep it in the crate so we thought of other options. Finally we decided that we would tie it by the hind leg to the Hill's Hoist clothes line with a long piece of rope. It squealed loudly when I lifted it out of the crate but then settled down with the rope around it's leg and started to explore the backyard as far as the rope would allow.
Members of the bridal party were getting ready at their own homes and arriving at my and T's place in time for photos later in the afternoon. Mutti and I set off to 'Raymond's' to have our hair done while Vati was going to read the Saturday papers and have another cup of tea. Everything was going along nice and calmly.
Thanks to my practice sessions, my hairstyle looked fine and Mutti, who had her hair done every week, looked lovely as usual. We went home only to discover my father sitting slumped in the family room pale and dripping with sweat. We were shocked and asked what was wrong.
He had been drinking his tea and reading the paper when he heard the neighbour call out to her husband, "Arthur, there's a pig looking at me through the fence!" his reply, "don't be stupid Gwen. Where would a pig come from?". Gwen insisted that there WAS a pig looking at her when Vati realised that the pig shouldn't be able to be looking through the fence from where it had been tethered.
He went out and saw the rope with no pig attached. He then raced around the yard trying to rugby tackle an extremely fast squealing piglet. Finally he caught it, put it back in the crate and built a sturdy enclosure.
At this stage T was not one of his favourite people.
The afternoon progressed. Two German ladies who were friends but who hadn't been invited to the wedding came to our place to housesit. There had been a spate of robberies where wedding presents had been stolen while the family was at the wedding. Mutti had prepared platters of smoked salmon open sandwiches and cakes for them as well as a bottle of nicely chilled champagne. They fluttered around getting in the way and having a good time admiring all the proceedings.
The bridesmaids and flower girl, already in their finery, arrived just as the wedding bouquets, buttonholes and Mutti's corsage turned up. We oohed and aahed - they were lovely.
I suddenly thought I'd better get ready and put on a bit of makeup, my nice new undies and stockings and Mutti zipped me up in my wedding gown and helped put on my headdress. She threw on her outfit and Vati dressed in his hired dinner suit. We all thought we looked pretty good. The photographer turned up and snapped a few pictures.
The flower girl was peering out of the window excitedly waiting for the wedding cars to arrive. Three maroon Mercedes Benz cars turned up and the wedding party swept down to the cars. I was surprised at the crowd that had gathered to see us off. Getting into a car, in a long gown with a train and a long veil is not an easy thing. Luckily the chauffeur was adept and managed to seat me so that there would be minimal crushing of the outfit. People always like looking at brides so I had a wonderful time waving (like the queen) as we drove across the harbour bridge on the way to the church.
Mrs Mikalauskas had done her best to clean the church. She had thought 8 pews each side of the church would be enough. Everyone was able to be seated but it was a mighty squash. The floor was still crunchy with dirt and bits of plaster but the pews were polished to within an inch of their life and the carpet down the aisle was vacuumed clean. It gave our guests something to talk about while they waited for the ceremony to begin.
Friday, 30 August 2013
The Day Before The Wedding
What a day! Forty years later I'm still astonished that I survived without having a nervous breakdown.
My parents and I were up bright and early on the day before the wedding. Mutti and I drove to the markets and bought armfuls of flowers which we were taking to the church. We had organised to meet Frau Mikalauskas who cleaned the church and did the flower arrangements there. The door was open and in we went only to be completely horrified. Nobody had told us that the church was being renovated.
All the pews were on one big pile covered with drop cloths. There was scaffolding all around the walls where plasterers and painters were working. Everything was covered with dust and chunks of plaster. Frau Mikalauskas met us with a smile and assured us that the place would be clean and that enough pews would be set out for our guests. She warned us however that the church would still be unfinished.
Mutti and I left The Goulburn St premises quite distressed. Next we headed up to the reception venue where we were delivering the wedding cake, place cards, the seating plan and the vast number of boxes of beverages. Before unloading the bounty we popped in to check on the room and to borrow a trolley to make our task easier. Horror of horrors! The wallpaper was hanging off the walls in strips and the carpet was being pulled up. The place was crawling with workmen. We just about collapsed when we saw the disaster. The functions manager assured us that everything would be perfect 'on the day'.
Mutti and I came home distressed and absolutely exhausted. We had lunch and a bit of a rest before T rang, said he had arrived from Canberra, had something to show me at his house and could he pick me up.
Nick, T's best friend, was sitting on the gutter behind his combi van outside T's house. He was wearing ancient shorts with the fly buttons missing, no undies and his goolies hanging out. At the time he had long hair way past his shoulders. This apparition was going to be our best man the following day!
T's surprise came next. He took me around to the backyard where his sister was feeding a bottle of milk to a piglet!!! I freaked and was pretty sure my parents would too. The piglet was really cute though.
T had turned up at the piggery on his way from Canberra to Sydney and the farmer had forgotten all about keeping a piglet for him. All he had were breeding piglets which were much more expensive. T said that after giving it to my parents as a joke we would take it to a butcher and then eat it. The farmer agreed the original price as long as there was not going to be any breeding, put the squealing piglet in a sack which then got dumped in the car. Luckily it stayed quiet except for once when T took a corner sharply and the sack slid to the other side of the car.
We couldn't keep the pig in the sack, that's where Nick came in. T got a big wooden crate which had been his dog's kennel, put it on its side and put the pig in. The two boys loaded the crate into Nick's combi van and drove over to my parents' house, deposited the box at the foot of the stairs and rang the doorbell.
"Here is the deposit on the bride price," T announced when my parents turned up. My mother started a sort of hysterical giggle but my father had obviously forgotten what he said at our engagement a year earlier and looked confused. What do you do with a pig in the suburbs of Sydney? We decided to put the crate in the laundry, which was in a separate building from the house, feed the pig and decide what to do later.
Nick, in his ancient shorts, and T were invited to stay for dinner. We had finished the meal and had gone into the lounge room when we heard an almighty smashing noise. We rushed back to the kitchen to see what had happened to be greeted by some laughing family friends who had sneaked down the side of the house and were smashing crockery in the German tradition of 'Polterabend'. This is a tradition where crockery is smashed for good luck and the couple about to be wed sweeps the shards up together.
What sounded like yet another disaster wasn't. We all had a jolly evening filled with much laughter. Finally everyone went home and I went to bed excited that by this time the next day I would be married.
My parents and I were up bright and early on the day before the wedding. Mutti and I drove to the markets and bought armfuls of flowers which we were taking to the church. We had organised to meet Frau Mikalauskas who cleaned the church and did the flower arrangements there. The door was open and in we went only to be completely horrified. Nobody had told us that the church was being renovated.
All the pews were on one big pile covered with drop cloths. There was scaffolding all around the walls where plasterers and painters were working. Everything was covered with dust and chunks of plaster. Frau Mikalauskas met us with a smile and assured us that the place would be clean and that enough pews would be set out for our guests. She warned us however that the church would still be unfinished.
Mutti and I left The Goulburn St premises quite distressed. Next we headed up to the reception venue where we were delivering the wedding cake, place cards, the seating plan and the vast number of boxes of beverages. Before unloading the bounty we popped in to check on the room and to borrow a trolley to make our task easier. Horror of horrors! The wallpaper was hanging off the walls in strips and the carpet was being pulled up. The place was crawling with workmen. We just about collapsed when we saw the disaster. The functions manager assured us that everything would be perfect 'on the day'.
Mutti and I came home distressed and absolutely exhausted. We had lunch and a bit of a rest before T rang, said he had arrived from Canberra, had something to show me at his house and could he pick me up.
Nick, T's best friend, was sitting on the gutter behind his combi van outside T's house. He was wearing ancient shorts with the fly buttons missing, no undies and his goolies hanging out. At the time he had long hair way past his shoulders. This apparition was going to be our best man the following day!
T's surprise came next. He took me around to the backyard where his sister was feeding a bottle of milk to a piglet!!! I freaked and was pretty sure my parents would too. The piglet was really cute though.
T had turned up at the piggery on his way from Canberra to Sydney and the farmer had forgotten all about keeping a piglet for him. All he had were breeding piglets which were much more expensive. T said that after giving it to my parents as a joke we would take it to a butcher and then eat it. The farmer agreed the original price as long as there was not going to be any breeding, put the squealing piglet in a sack which then got dumped in the car. Luckily it stayed quiet except for once when T took a corner sharply and the sack slid to the other side of the car.
We couldn't keep the pig in the sack, that's where Nick came in. T got a big wooden crate which had been his dog's kennel, put it on its side and put the pig in. The two boys loaded the crate into Nick's combi van and drove over to my parents' house, deposited the box at the foot of the stairs and rang the doorbell.
"Here is the deposit on the bride price," T announced when my parents turned up. My mother started a sort of hysterical giggle but my father had obviously forgotten what he said at our engagement a year earlier and looked confused. What do you do with a pig in the suburbs of Sydney? We decided to put the crate in the laundry, which was in a separate building from the house, feed the pig and decide what to do later.
Nick, in his ancient shorts, and T were invited to stay for dinner. We had finished the meal and had gone into the lounge room when we heard an almighty smashing noise. We rushed back to the kitchen to see what had happened to be greeted by some laughing family friends who had sneaked down the side of the house and were smashing crockery in the German tradition of 'Polterabend'. This is a tradition where crockery is smashed for good luck and the couple about to be wed sweeps the shards up together.
What sounded like yet another disaster wasn't. We all had a jolly evening filled with much laughter. Finally everyone went home and I went to bed excited that by this time the next day I would be married.
Monday, 26 August 2013
Getting serious - Part 1
We really had to start thinking about the wedding after we were engaged. We decided that 1st September 1973 was a good date as it came right in the middle is the school holidays and I would be teaching by then.
September seemed a long time away. I had Uni exams, T had changed jobs and was still studying at night. I had my teaching and cleaning jobs and we were busy as bees.
T had applied for a couple of jobs including with the Commonwealth. In those days the public service was very forward thinking and was introducing computers to all government departments. They were seeking the best in the new field of computing and were even importing staff from various European countries. T had however not heard anything about his public service application so accepted a position with the 'Association of Employers of Waterside Labour' (AEWL).
T's new job kept him busy with lots of overtime but also with a very generous pay packet. He was enjoying his new work place and was surprised to receive a call, after we had been away for one of our little breaks, from Customs and Excise in Canberra asking where he was. He had been expected to be working in Canberra but hadn't even been informed that he had the job!
A period of soul searching followed and Canberra won out. With regret T had to inform his new workplace who were really sorry to lose him but were also amazingly supportive. It was all a big rush. T had to move to Canberra almost immediately and I was devastated.
One fateful Sunday in early February 1973 my parents drove me over to T's house and we had afternoon tea with T and his family. He then got into his beige Hillman Hunter station wagon, backed down the driveway and headed off to Canberra. I stood in the driveway and sobbed my heart out. I thought he would find someone he liked much more than me and that I wouldn't see him again. My parents took me home but I couldn't be consoled. T rang when he arrived safely but that didn't make much of a difference.
I mooched about at home and was generally so morose that my parents bought a TV so that I could at least be slightly distracted during the week. I guess it did help a bit, particularly when the bold new show 'Number 96' was on.
I shouldn't have worried. T drove the mainly one-lane-each-way Hume 'Highway' to Sydney EVERY weekend apart from the two weekends I went to Canberra.
September seemed a long time away. I had Uni exams, T had changed jobs and was still studying at night. I had my teaching and cleaning jobs and we were busy as bees.
T had applied for a couple of jobs including with the Commonwealth. In those days the public service was very forward thinking and was introducing computers to all government departments. They were seeking the best in the new field of computing and were even importing staff from various European countries. T had however not heard anything about his public service application so accepted a position with the 'Association of Employers of Waterside Labour' (AEWL).
T's new job kept him busy with lots of overtime but also with a very generous pay packet. He was enjoying his new work place and was surprised to receive a call, after we had been away for one of our little breaks, from Customs and Excise in Canberra asking where he was. He had been expected to be working in Canberra but hadn't even been informed that he had the job!
A period of soul searching followed and Canberra won out. With regret T had to inform his new workplace who were really sorry to lose him but were also amazingly supportive. It was all a big rush. T had to move to Canberra almost immediately and I was devastated.
One fateful Sunday in early February 1973 my parents drove me over to T's house and we had afternoon tea with T and his family. He then got into his beige Hillman Hunter station wagon, backed down the driveway and headed off to Canberra. I stood in the driveway and sobbed my heart out. I thought he would find someone he liked much more than me and that I wouldn't see him again. My parents took me home but I couldn't be consoled. T rang when he arrived safely but that didn't make much of a difference.
I mooched about at home and was generally so morose that my parents bought a TV so that I could at least be slightly distracted during the week. I guess it did help a bit, particularly when the bold new show 'Number 96' was on.
I shouldn't have worried. T drove the mainly one-lane-each-way Hume 'Highway' to Sydney EVERY weekend apart from the two weekends I went to Canberra.
Courting continued
I turned 20 in December 1970. We had been going out for about 7 months. T gave me a bottle of 'Le Dix' perfume by Balenciaga (I still have the lid of the bottle in my undies drawer) and a gold Oreton coin purse which I use in evening bags when we go out.
T had Christmas at my place on 24th December and I spent the day with his family on 25th. I wore my dirndl (national costume) which impressed his parents. Both families had lavish meals and we enjoyed ourselves.
I had just finished my 2nd year at Uni and had another 2 years to go. We didn't even consider living together because it just wasn't the done thing but we did start talking about getting married once I had finished Uni and was working.
T's mother went to Austria to work. Life became easier because my parents had accepted T. Fred started coming to our place regularly. He and my parents started going to concerts together. I had Uni and my jobs and T had work and study at night so we were busy but were still able to spend plenty of time together. We used to drive our families crazy because if we weren't together we would be on the phone - no mobiles in those days, just one phone per household set in a public area in the house.
T had started bringing me flowers every week - huge luscious red carnations with white stripes, or white with red stripes.
In 1971 I turned 21 and T gave me a beautiful teardrop shaped amethyst pendant which I still love. His parents gave me a leather covered jewellery box and my parents threw me a party which was catered.
That year Fred was invited to my parents' house for Christmas Eve. We followed our usual traditions where the lounge room was off limits until after dinner. Vati went into the lounge room and lit the candles on the Christmas tree and on all the ornaments, put on the Christmas record and turned off the electric lights before we were allowed into the room. Fred had tears in his eyes when he came into the festive setting. He hadn't experienced anything like that for many years since he had been in Europe and he was exceedingly touched.
T turned 21 in the February of the following year. He is 10 weeks younger than me ( it was one of my mother's objections. She said that husbands should be older than their wives). I bought him a silver pocket watch and my parents got him a beautiful leather bound and gold monogrammed book in which he was to write his poetry (T is a very skilful poet). The book is still pristine and completely empty! This is not to say that T hasn't continued writing poetry. He believes his indecipherable handwriting would ruin the book.
Now that we were both 21 we decided that it was time to become engaged. My parents no longer objected, Fred was very much in favour and T's mother was overseas and didn't have any say. T very traditionally asked my father for my hand. Mutti and I knew what was happening in the lounge room and got the celebratory champagne ready. It was super exciting. Vati agreed that T could have my hand as well as the rest of me.......but jokingly said that I was such a good daughter that I was worth at least 25 pigs a la New Guinea bride price. We finished the evening jovially and the official engagement announcement duly appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald on the following Saturday morning which was 26th August 1972. That morning T asked Fred if he had looked at the 'births, deaths and marriages' as we had not told him that the announcement would be in the paper. His immediate panicked reaction, 'who's died?'
We didn't have any money for a diamond ring and decided on the German tradition of buying wedding rings and wearing them on our right hands and then putting them on the left hand when we actually married.
T's mother came back from Vienna not long after our engagement to see if she and Fred could get on better. She didn't like the fact that I didn't have what she considered a 'proper' engagement ring so gave me a lovely amethyst ring that she didn't often wear. I was chuffed and wore the ring proudly. T's parents still didn't get on so after a few months his mother went back to Vienna.
T had Christmas at my place on 24th December and I spent the day with his family on 25th. I wore my dirndl (national costume) which impressed his parents. Both families had lavish meals and we enjoyed ourselves.
I had just finished my 2nd year at Uni and had another 2 years to go. We didn't even consider living together because it just wasn't the done thing but we did start talking about getting married once I had finished Uni and was working.
T's mother went to Austria to work. Life became easier because my parents had accepted T. Fred started coming to our place regularly. He and my parents started going to concerts together. I had Uni and my jobs and T had work and study at night so we were busy but were still able to spend plenty of time together. We used to drive our families crazy because if we weren't together we would be on the phone - no mobiles in those days, just one phone per household set in a public area in the house.
T had started bringing me flowers every week - huge luscious red carnations with white stripes, or white with red stripes.
In 1971 I turned 21 and T gave me a beautiful teardrop shaped amethyst pendant which I still love. His parents gave me a leather covered jewellery box and my parents threw me a party which was catered.
That year Fred was invited to my parents' house for Christmas Eve. We followed our usual traditions where the lounge room was off limits until after dinner. Vati went into the lounge room and lit the candles on the Christmas tree and on all the ornaments, put on the Christmas record and turned off the electric lights before we were allowed into the room. Fred had tears in his eyes when he came into the festive setting. He hadn't experienced anything like that for many years since he had been in Europe and he was exceedingly touched.
T turned 21 in the February of the following year. He is 10 weeks younger than me ( it was one of my mother's objections. She said that husbands should be older than their wives). I bought him a silver pocket watch and my parents got him a beautiful leather bound and gold monogrammed book in which he was to write his poetry (T is a very skilful poet). The book is still pristine and completely empty! This is not to say that T hasn't continued writing poetry. He believes his indecipherable handwriting would ruin the book.
Now that we were both 21 we decided that it was time to become engaged. My parents no longer objected, Fred was very much in favour and T's mother was overseas and didn't have any say. T very traditionally asked my father for my hand. Mutti and I knew what was happening in the lounge room and got the celebratory champagne ready. It was super exciting. Vati agreed that T could have my hand as well as the rest of me.......but jokingly said that I was such a good daughter that I was worth at least 25 pigs a la New Guinea bride price. We finished the evening jovially and the official engagement announcement duly appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald on the following Saturday morning which was 26th August 1972. That morning T asked Fred if he had looked at the 'births, deaths and marriages' as we had not told him that the announcement would be in the paper. His immediate panicked reaction, 'who's died?'
We didn't have any money for a diamond ring and decided on the German tradition of buying wedding rings and wearing them on our right hands and then putting them on the left hand when we actually married.
T's mother came back from Vienna not long after our engagement to see if she and Fred could get on better. She didn't like the fact that I didn't have what she considered a 'proper' engagement ring so gave me a lovely amethyst ring that she didn't often wear. I was chuffed and wore the ring proudly. T's parents still didn't get on so after a few months his mother went back to Vienna.
Friday, 23 August 2013
Courting and holidays 'in sin'
We had been going out for quite a while when we decided that we would like to go away for a little holiday. WELL!!!! My parents were absolutely outraged. My reputation would be ruined. They would be so ashamed of me. How could I ever think of something so disgusting - we weren't even engaged. Everyone would know and think lesser of me.........on and on it went. I cried. They cried. It was horrible.
Eventually I was allowed to go simply because Fred, T's father, said he would go with us. He was able to borrow a holiday cottage from a friend at Pebbly Beach on the NSW south coast. Fred had a very generous nature and remembered what it was like to be young and in love and thought it was stupid of my parents to be so autocratic. He didn't mind us disappearing for 'alone time' at all and was happy to sit and read and then chat with us when we did reappear.
I don't know what sort of chaperone my parents thought Fred would be, but it cleared their consciences and they even thought it was funny when I told them that T snored! Fred must have said something to them because they grudgingly allowed me to go away after that when we needed a break.
Hilariously one of my mother's friends sheepishly admitted that her daughter had gone away for a weekend with her boyfriend and Mutti, outstanding example of one-upmanship, said that Gabi had been going away for AGES.
We had all sorts of lovely little holidays away. In those days if a motel or hotel proprietor suspected that you weren't married, they could refuse to accommodate you, so I bought a $2 wedding ring which I wore whenever we had one of our sinful getaways.
One holiday which I shall never forget was when we decided to explore the Myall Lakes. T had a beige Hillman Hunter station wagon, a very ordinary little vehicle, but it managed to get us into serious 4 wheel drive territory. If we discovered a dried up creek bed, we would follow it and no bush track would stop that car. We found some beautiful spots which by now are probably covered in expensive houses.
On one occasion we followed a creek bed and ended on a spit of land that projected into the main lake. We got out of the car and were overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. The sun was shining, the water sparkling and you couldn't hear a sound apart from a gentle whistling. It took quite a while to discover that the whistling came from a hawk that was hovering above us. It was adjusting the feathers in its wings and the wind which was higher up than we were was whistling through the feathers. So beautiful.
We went camping and stayed in a leaking tent which was not pleasant. On another occasion we went camping and got so sunburnt that we ditched the tent and stayed at a motel which had airconditioning. We lay bright red and glowing, spread eagled on the bed and didn't even feel a tiny bit romantic.
Apart from the sunburn episode we had great times and felt it harder and harder to go back to our separate homes after a break away.
Eventually I was allowed to go simply because Fred, T's father, said he would go with us. He was able to borrow a holiday cottage from a friend at Pebbly Beach on the NSW south coast. Fred had a very generous nature and remembered what it was like to be young and in love and thought it was stupid of my parents to be so autocratic. He didn't mind us disappearing for 'alone time' at all and was happy to sit and read and then chat with us when we did reappear.
I don't know what sort of chaperone my parents thought Fred would be, but it cleared their consciences and they even thought it was funny when I told them that T snored! Fred must have said something to them because they grudgingly allowed me to go away after that when we needed a break.
Hilariously one of my mother's friends sheepishly admitted that her daughter had gone away for a weekend with her boyfriend and Mutti, outstanding example of one-upmanship, said that Gabi had been going away for AGES.
We had all sorts of lovely little holidays away. In those days if a motel or hotel proprietor suspected that you weren't married, they could refuse to accommodate you, so I bought a $2 wedding ring which I wore whenever we had one of our sinful getaways.
One holiday which I shall never forget was when we decided to explore the Myall Lakes. T had a beige Hillman Hunter station wagon, a very ordinary little vehicle, but it managed to get us into serious 4 wheel drive territory. If we discovered a dried up creek bed, we would follow it and no bush track would stop that car. We found some beautiful spots which by now are probably covered in expensive houses.
On one occasion we followed a creek bed and ended on a spit of land that projected into the main lake. We got out of the car and were overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. The sun was shining, the water sparkling and you couldn't hear a sound apart from a gentle whistling. It took quite a while to discover that the whistling came from a hawk that was hovering above us. It was adjusting the feathers in its wings and the wind which was higher up than we were was whistling through the feathers. So beautiful.
We went camping and stayed in a leaking tent which was not pleasant. On another occasion we went camping and got so sunburnt that we ditched the tent and stayed at a motel which had airconditioning. We lay bright red and glowing, spread eagled on the bed and didn't even feel a tiny bit romantic.
Apart from the sunburn episode we had great times and felt it harder and harder to go back to our separate homes after a break away.
Thursday, 22 August 2013
Courting
We were 19 when we met - kids still, although we felt very grown up. It is only with hindsight that you realise you weren't.
We enjoyed ourselves going out, meeting friends and looking at the world through rose coloured glasses when planning our future together. I had jokingly proposed on our first date and there was some sort of agreement locked there in the back of our brains. We can't remember any sort of official proposal, we just assumed that we would be together forever.
We did a few crazy things that were great fun. In fact we still laugh about the prank we played quite early on in our relationship. We were at T's house, his parents were at a concert and we were sitting idly chatting with his sister Cathy who was waiting to be picked up to go to a party with a new boyfriend. Talk became silly. We decided that a new boyfriend should meet at least one of the parents and that I should pretend to be 'mother'.
This was all spur-of-the-moment and so we had to use what we could find to transform me from a slim, young looking 19 year old into a 'traditionally built' (to use an Alexander McCall Smith expression) middle aged woman.
T's mother used to wear shapeless house dresses which were coveralls when she was doing any type of housework or cooking. One of these 'delectable' garments was hanging on a hook so I put it on and stuffed a pillow down the front and did up the belt to hold the pillow in place. She also used to wear white socks rolled down with scuffs so I found the appropriate items and put them on. The scuffs were too small, but never mind. I powdered my face and hair and applied bright red lipstick.
T and his sister were in the dining room when I came in modelling the new look. We were all screaming with laughter when the doorbell rang. 'Go on, go on, answer the door, do it!!!' they gasped between gales of laughter, so I did.
T's house had a long corridor right down the middle. Sitting room, dining room and kitchen to the left and the bedrooms and bathroom were to the right. There was a large music room which was the width of the house at the end away from the front door. The front door was clear glass with a decorative security screen.
I quickly put on a pair of T's mother's glasses which were a la Edna Everidge and went to open the door. It wasn't so easy. The glasses were so strong that I couldn't see and the scuffs were so small they fell off, so I had to feel my way down the corridor shuffling to keep the scuffs on. The poor boy could see this lurching apparition through the glass. When I opened the door he looked fairly gobsmacked as far as I could tell. I established that he was 'Cathy's young man' and asked him to follow me into the dining room.
I could hear T and Cathy crying with laughter and then much to my surprise saw their blurred bodies hurtle across the corridor into the bathroom so I shuffled up the small hallway to the right which led to the bathroom with the new boyfriend following.
The poor young man. He thought he was going into a dining room and ended up in a bathroom where his date was sitting in the bath red faced and hysterical with tears streaming down her cheeks and her brother was doubled up with laughter on the toilet. He stood there absolutely confused until we could gather ourselves enough to explain the prank. Not surprisingly it was a once only date for Cathy.
Another time we were hosting a dinner party with our friends at my parents' house (my parents were out). In those days everyone smoked a lot and drank like fish. We had feasted to excess and had lots to drink when someone realised they had some marijuana but couldn't smoke it because they didn't have any cigarette papers. No problem. I got my father's pipe and we all puffed away, just finishing and putting the pipe back in the drawer before my parents got home. My parents were pleased that everyone seemed so happy and my father especially enjoyed his next smoke.
Ah those were the days. We didn't have any real responsibilities and certainly enjoyed our lives.
We enjoyed ourselves going out, meeting friends and looking at the world through rose coloured glasses when planning our future together. I had jokingly proposed on our first date and there was some sort of agreement locked there in the back of our brains. We can't remember any sort of official proposal, we just assumed that we would be together forever.
We did a few crazy things that were great fun. In fact we still laugh about the prank we played quite early on in our relationship. We were at T's house, his parents were at a concert and we were sitting idly chatting with his sister Cathy who was waiting to be picked up to go to a party with a new boyfriend. Talk became silly. We decided that a new boyfriend should meet at least one of the parents and that I should pretend to be 'mother'.
This was all spur-of-the-moment and so we had to use what we could find to transform me from a slim, young looking 19 year old into a 'traditionally built' (to use an Alexander McCall Smith expression) middle aged woman.
T's mother used to wear shapeless house dresses which were coveralls when she was doing any type of housework or cooking. One of these 'delectable' garments was hanging on a hook so I put it on and stuffed a pillow down the front and did up the belt to hold the pillow in place. She also used to wear white socks rolled down with scuffs so I found the appropriate items and put them on. The scuffs were too small, but never mind. I powdered my face and hair and applied bright red lipstick.
T and his sister were in the dining room when I came in modelling the new look. We were all screaming with laughter when the doorbell rang. 'Go on, go on, answer the door, do it!!!' they gasped between gales of laughter, so I did.
T's house had a long corridor right down the middle. Sitting room, dining room and kitchen to the left and the bedrooms and bathroom were to the right. There was a large music room which was the width of the house at the end away from the front door. The front door was clear glass with a decorative security screen.
I quickly put on a pair of T's mother's glasses which were a la Edna Everidge and went to open the door. It wasn't so easy. The glasses were so strong that I couldn't see and the scuffs were so small they fell off, so I had to feel my way down the corridor shuffling to keep the scuffs on. The poor boy could see this lurching apparition through the glass. When I opened the door he looked fairly gobsmacked as far as I could tell. I established that he was 'Cathy's young man' and asked him to follow me into the dining room.
I could hear T and Cathy crying with laughter and then much to my surprise saw their blurred bodies hurtle across the corridor into the bathroom so I shuffled up the small hallway to the right which led to the bathroom with the new boyfriend following.
The poor young man. He thought he was going into a dining room and ended up in a bathroom where his date was sitting in the bath red faced and hysterical with tears streaming down her cheeks and her brother was doubled up with laughter on the toilet. He stood there absolutely confused until we could gather ourselves enough to explain the prank. Not surprisingly it was a once only date for Cathy.
Another time we were hosting a dinner party with our friends at my parents' house (my parents were out). In those days everyone smoked a lot and drank like fish. We had feasted to excess and had lots to drink when someone realised they had some marijuana but couldn't smoke it because they didn't have any cigarette papers. No problem. I got my father's pipe and we all puffed away, just finishing and putting the pipe back in the drawer before my parents got home. My parents were pleased that everyone seemed so happy and my father especially enjoyed his next smoke.
Ah those were the days. We didn't have any real responsibilities and certainly enjoyed our lives.
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