This week’s Sepia Saturday theme brought back a fond memory of meeting up with friends, and work colleagues, at Burnett House in Darwin for a high tea. I was stunned when I realised 14 years had flown past, and writing to get my mates’ permission to publish the photo set up a flurry of chat on Messenger. Sadly, we’re now scattered to the corners of the country, miles apart.
The Dream Team minus Ben.
High Tea at the National Trust property was a real treat back in those days, with a variety of home cooked cakes and scones, and Anna’s delicious lemon curd tarts. On this particular day we got adventurous and had bubbles as well as coffee (or was it instead?). The laughter was not down to the bubbles however, rather our ability to giggle our heads off when together. Our IT guy was included in what we called the Dream Team but being a bloke he just wasn’t in to High Tea. In the Dry Season it was common to have to share a table and the woman sitting near us looked at us as if we were demented. Ah, special memories.
Throughout high school I was part of a trio of friends who stuck together over the four years, and for two of us, when we went on to university. Sadly our work and life took us far away from each other and the connection faded. I don’t have a photo I can share without their permission but this is my recognition of their importance in my life through those years. Thanks Maria and Sue for those special times and your friendship.
From Queensland, Sydney and Ireland, three bloggers met at Kew.
When I started blogging, I could never have imagined how many friends I’d make from near and far. Some I’ve been lucky enough to meet at conferences, and in November last year three blogging buddies met up to tour Kew Gardens’ Chihuly exhibition. What a treat it was to spend time with these friends, Sharn from Sydney and Angela, the Silver Voice, from Ireland. You wouldn’t credit that we’d rarely met in person…we had such fun and we were in awe of the magnificent glass displays. The grey weather certainly didn’t dampen our spirits.
Three sisters (our three daughters) in front of the iconic Three Sisters formation in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales, 1988.
The theme of three continues to my own family with three daughters. Three very special, clever, gorgeous women. Looking at this photo I see that it was during my applique phase and was during our trip to Sydney for the Bicentennial celebrations.
Dad, me and Mum at my aunt and uncle’s farm at Upper Brookfield.
And where did it all start? Perhaps with being an only child and part of a family of three, not the larger dynamic groups that most kids grow up with. It had its advantages but it also had its downsides…I’d have loved to have siblings to grow up with, to play (or argue) with, and now to share memories.
What a pouty face! Bookmarked between mum and dad. Mum always liked to be nicely turned out and this was the era when gloves and hats were de rigeur for a trip to the city.
I wonder how other Sepians have approached this week’s topic…why not skip over and check out their stories.
One of the things I like about Sepia Saturday is that it makes you think about how the image might relate to your family’s stories. This week’s image just didn’t ring bells for me even though there are farmers on my tree. It took until Sunday for me to have a lightbulb moment. I may have no photos of my farmers but I also have lots of railway workers who I’ve written about before.
This past weekend’s 
One of the major influences in my life for which I’m very grateful has been the presence of many acquaintances and friends who’ve immigrated to Australia. As a child, my Catholic primary school saw an influx of Europeans in the years after World War II. This mix of Czechs, Yugoslavs, Poles, Maltese and others became part of my daily school life. After school I would visit some of my friends at home and stand by while they communicated in their original language with whichever parent or grandparent was at home. These young kids had to bridge the linguistic and cultural differences between their old lives and their new – not an easy task for youngsters. At one point we had so many Dutch immigrants in our parish that we had two or three Dutch priests. At high school one of my best friends was of Italian origin and again I was exposed to a different culture. So you can see why migration, its causes and effects have been important to me over the decades. And all this long before I had a real appreciation of my own immigrant families.
It will seem strange in some countries that our otherwise obstreperous country is not averse to uniforms in schools. (Mind you we also don’t venerate those who wear uniforms either).
My ancestors were all what might be termed “ordinary people”, none achieved great heights of achievement other than to work hard, raise their children well and engage with their communities.
There are two ways to look at a family tree, as genealogy (the begets or begats of the Bible), or as the story of families living in a particular period of time and experiencing all the challenges of the period, influencing their family life and outcomes, just as they play their individual or family role on the greater stage of history. The names of the so-called “little people” are rarely recorded in the history books but they are the cannon fodder of wars, the workers who build a nation, and its railways, the families who make up its people.
It seems inevitable they must have found the upside-down seasons, the severe heat (in those dresses!), the weather extremes and the sheer open spaces to be fierce, or perhaps even frightening. How did they learn to navigate their way through native bush with no formed roads? My 2xgreat grandfather, 
“
