FC: Retracing a Journey through 80 years The Story of Ida and Lindesay Neil INTRODUCTION3 Postscript3 Chapter 1 - TRAVELLING SEPARATE PATHS4 Part A - Ida Eileen Waldron5 Part B - Samuel Lindesay Neil9 Chapter 2 THE MEETING OF THE WAYS17 Chapter 3 - NEW TRAVELLERS ON THE ROAD20 Chapter 4 - WALKING IN THE SUNSET27 Chapter 5 - THE FINAL JOURNEY35 INTRODUCTION This story was written as a tribute to my parents - Ida and Lindesay Neil - in 1992, the year in which they both celebrated their 80th birthdays. The impetus for this story was a request made to my Dad by one of his cousins. Dad had been asked for information about his father, Samuel Lindesay Neil senior, for a Neil family history. While I was away on holidays with my parents at Caloundra in November 1992, I offered to help with this request by putting down on paper some of the details of the early years. So that week we had several sessions, travelling down memory lane, with me writing down the main points, trying hard to keep up as the story of Dad and Mum’s lives unfolded. Eighty years is a long time and much happens during a lifetime as full as theirs. The events recorded may not be the events which are the most important in a historical sense, but they are clearly significant because these are the stories which came readily to mind for them as we sat reminiscing. For this reason, all the material recalled during those sessions has been included. Some of the information was new to me, most I had heard before, but it took on a new meaning for me as I put the bits and pieces together as in a jigsaw. I hope it may be the same for you, as you read this story. Gail Bateman December 1992 Postscript Over ten years have passed since I wrote Retracing a Journey through 80 years. In August 2000, Gail and Rod, Dennis and Kay, Gillian and John organised a memorial service at Gleneagles to honour the lives of Lindesay and Ida. Following the service we stood together and scattered their ashes from the bank of the Brisbane River at the bottom of Gleneagles garden. We agreed it would be good to add the final chapter to the ‘Journey’. Two years passed before I got around to this task. Once started, I found it an emotional and rewarding experience to revisit those final years. For both Lindesay and Ida, these years were lived at a much slower pace, both physically and mentally, but were still very much part of their life journeys. Gail B January 2003 Chapter 1 - TRAVELLING SEPARATE PATHS Part A - Ida Eileen Waldron I was born on 19 December 1912 on my grandparents' property near Yingerbay in the Roma district, the tenth child of Albert Waldron and Ellen (nee McPhie). With four older sisters and five older brothers there was always someone around to help me, show me how do something and, in the case of my brothers, to tease me. As for me, I was only 'big sister' to John, born three years after me. My childhood memories are of happy times, even though there was not much money around and with a large family there were lots of expenses. Looking after such a large family was a huge task for my mother, but by the time I came along she had the help of the older girls and so she had more time to spend with me. We were very close. I also remember that I was a favourite with my grandfather on my mother's side. If I was in trouble he would intercede saying "Don't smack the little bairn - she didn't mean to do it". We didn't get into town very often – when we did it was usually to visit the dentist or the doctor, travelling into Roma by means of a horse and sulky. I can remember times when I didn't have shoes to wear for these visits into town and my mother had an arrangement to share shoes with my friend Bell Taylor – at other times she would wear mine. One of my earliest memories is running from the house across to the outdoor toilet, the sand getting hotter and hotter on my little feet. I knew we didn't have much money, but as a little girl I always longed for a doll. Once I dreamed there was one waiting for me on Christmas morning, but there wasn't. I didn't tell the others why I had tears in my eyes that morning. With my birthday so close to Christmas we often had just one cake for Christmas and Hazel's and my birthday. I often wished that I could have had a cake with candles especially for me. When I told my parents this years later, they said that if only I had told them, I could have had a cake of my own - they hadn't realised that it worried me. They say that necessity is the mother of invention and so I can remember many happy hours playing with my family of dolls made from corn-cobs and dressed from scraps of material which the older girls had left over from their dressmaking. Later when I was about 7 years old and my older brothers were working, they bought me a 'real' doll. I went to school for a short time at Yingerbay School, a small country primary school with children of all ages in the same classroom. This worked really well - a large family atmosphere and of course I had my older brothers (the twins -Gordon and Stanley as well as Mac) close at hand if there were any problems. In about 1920, we moved to Spring Hill, a property situated seven miles from Eumina, still in the Roma district. The property was around 5,500 acres and Dad grew grapes and citrus fruits, and raised a few dairy and beef cattle. Maggie was married by this time and her husband, George Thornton built the house. I shared a room with Ruth. Dad had a large orchard and he was justifiably proud of the fruit trees and the produce they yielded. He would often say "I will give a pound to anyone who can gather a hat full of weeds from the orchard". I guess he was pretty confident that no one would make a claim as he didn't have money to throw around. One time when he was away on a trip I decked the house with blossoms to celebrate his return. When he arrived back and saw the flowers I couldn't understand the look on his face - he didn't seem pleased. It all became clear when he said to me "Didn't you know that all these flowers would have been apricots if you hadn't cut the branches. I wasn't able to go to school after we moved to Spring Hill. The boys rode to school on horseback six miles each way and later one of the older boys took John on the back of his horse. My parents didn't think I was strong enough to make the journey, so for most of my primary school days, a travelling teacher came about once every three months and between times Ivy or Ruth supervised my daily lessons. Feeding a large family was always a lot of work. The food we did not produce on the property was sent out from Roma usually by the sugar bag full. Mum would bake six loaves of bread every day in the wood stove, followed by a batch of patty cakes in time for morning tea. When Dad and the boys were busy in the outlying paddocks, I would sometimes take their lunch out to them. Whenever John and I got up to mischief, John could always put on such an angelic smile that no one could believe any wrong of him. I was not so lucky. One of the regular jobs which John and I had to do was to grind the wheat for homemade wheatmeal porridge. Dad had bought a second hand grinder for this purpose and we were told that the wheat had to be ground finely. This job always brought back visions of me sitting in church as a preacher pounded the pulpit, saying in a dramatic, threatening voice, "Two shall be grinding at the mill, one shall be taken, the other left." His voice would ring in my ears as I turned the grinding wheel. I felt sure that John was the good one and he would be the one "taken". I sure didn't want him to go, so I kept my eye on him the whole time, getting through the job as quickly as possible. I don't know how many times we were sent back because the flour hadn't been ground finely enough. The walls of the kitchen were regularly coated with newsprint. I really loved watching the girls putting homemade flour and water glue on the newsprint and then covering the walls with it. I'd 'help' whenever they let me. I remember one time waiting excitedly for the paper to be redone, only to be told that it was too late for me to stay up. I got so upset that Ivy said that they would do it another night and she lay down beside me and pretended to go to sleep. Next morning I cried and cried when I found out that they had tricked me and had done the work after I had gone to sleep. Later when colour print came in, we used the mail order catalogues for wallpaper - it looked quite good. Ruth and Dad held Sunday School in two districts on alternate Sundays. They continued this over a number of years, travelling miles by horse and sulky. People used to look forward to the combined concert at Christmas time. I used to star in lots of the items, one minute dressed as an angel, next singing or reciting. I guess I was always on hand to practise or to be fitted for the costumes that Ruth used to make for these occasions. Mum told me of one time, when I was still quite young, they had me recite a long poem with 12 verses. She said she thought I would never get to the end of it as I stood on stage, going through verse after verse. For the last three months of primary school, I went into Roma and stayed with Maggie and George. The idea was that if I could pass the entrance exam, I could get into high school. It was a strange experience to be in a classroom with other children. I was very eager to learn and was surprised how the other girls seemed to waste time. Everyone was amazed that I got such a good pass and Ivy and Ruth, my tutors over the years, were particularly pleased. I continued on to high school and studied the two years to the Junior exam. I was always very grateful to Maggie for the opportunity she gave me to get some formal schooling. Lindesay was in the class ahead of me but I didn't have much time to notice him. I wanted to be a domestic science teacher, but all of the hopeful, prospective teachers in our year at Roma High got a letter saying that there were hardly any places available in training college that year and we had not been selected - 1928 was during the Great Depression and not a good time to be looking for work. I got a job as a governess with the Perry family, teaching their three girls, Gwen, Joan and Shirley. I stayed with them for about six years. The girls affectionately called me "Spy-Y" from the "I spy" game and even as adults on the few occasions I have met up with them they still call me that. The Perrys converted a woolshed into a classroom and that was where we spent our week-days. I also helped with light housekeeping and made most of the clothes for the girls and Mrs Perry. We had fun and adventures together over the years. One event still very vivid in my memory is a time when the Perry girls had to round up the cows for milking and without knowing it we went too close to a cow which was very protective of her new calf. The girls called out "Look out Spy-Y! she's coming after us" I managed to get the girls under the wire fence, but by the time I was struggling to get through with my tight dress I could feel the breath from the snorting nostrils. As I scrambled through I heard this ripping sound and thought the cow had hold of me, but it was the wire that had caught my dress. I can remember when we used to get up at 4am to go into Roma for the Annual Show. The Show was held in winter and it was freezing. Perrys had a car and we would stop for breakfast along the road side and boil a billy. One time when we got back from our breakfast stop there were icicles on the car. I used to ride a horse the eight miles back home to Spring Hill on most weekends; at other times I would go to Hazel's which was only two miles away. On one of my visits back home in 1932, there was a terrible accident. It was during grape picking time and the men had taken the grapes into Roma for railing to Brisbane. Mum, Maggie and her children, a cousin Norman and I were the only ones at home. Norman and Bob, (both around eight years old) were playing in the packing shed. We heard a shot - I raced as fast as I could and found Norman lying in a pool of blood. I called out to Mum not to come in, I knew she had cared for Norman as if he were one of her own sons. But she did come in and Mum sat holding the limp body until help came. It seemed the boys had been playing and Norman was accidentally shot with a rifle that must have been left loaded. I had to ride across to a neighbour's to phone the ambulance, but it was too late to help Norman. He had died instantly. It was a terrible accident - for months I couldn't get to sleep without being haunted by the sight of Norman's face. I know Bob took the memory of the accident with him through his life, and active service in the army brought back the horror of it all. During the time I worked at Perry's, I started going out with Lindesay - but more of that later. IDA - January 1942 Part B - Samuel Lindesay Neil Lindesay - 4 years (standing at right) Evelyn (standing back row) Walter and Bessie (seated) I was born around midnight on 17 April 1912 and so when I was young there was some doubt about what day my actual birthday was. My birthday was celebrated on 18 April for a number of years but one year my father, Samuel Lindesay Neil, Senior, was away and brought me back a book for my birthday dated 17 April. The family thought he had got it wrong, but later when I needed a copy of my birth certificate we found that I was in fact born on 17 April. At the time of my birth, my parents were living in a house in Granville Street, West End, a suburb of Brisbane. Opposite them was the Silcock home where my mother's parents and sister (Auntie Kate) were living. It was in this house that I was born with Auntie Kate and a midwife handling the birth. I was the third child of a family of four - two boys and two girls. There was always a close attachment between Auntie Kate and me, maybe because she was present at my birth. I really thought of her as a second mother. I remember one time I was playing with a large tin of preserved fruit and dropped it on my foot. My mother's reaction was that it served me right because I shouldn't have been playing with the tin in the first place. So I can remember running across the road crying to Auntie Kate for comfort. Dad worked as a pastry cook in the Rowe's Cafe which is still operating from the same premises in Edward Street, Brisbane to this day. One of my earliest memories is when Dad was ill with pneumonia. The ambulance bearers arrived on foot with a stretcher on wheels. They put Dad on the stretcher and I have a vivid memory of them setting off down Granville Street wheeling Dad to the hospital. I must have been quite young at that time because by the time I was old enough to start school the family had moved to Shorncliffe. I started school at Sandgate and we went to and from school in a horse drawn cab owned by a cousin of my mother. After a time a kindergarten opened in Shorncliffe close to home and so I transferred there. I remember it was a new building and the teacher was especially careful of the venetian blinds. She told us that we were not to damage the blinds and if we saw any damage we were to tell her so that she would know we had not been responsible. I'm now not at all sure what principle she was operating from - seems that whoever could speak up the quickest would get off. And that is just what happened with me. When the blind near me got damaged, by the time I noticed it and told the teacher, someone else had reported it and I was blamed. A frequent punishment was to be made to stand up on your chair for a certain time. One time two kids near me were both standing on their chairs; one pushed the other on top of me and the lead of his pencil got embedded in my leg and stayed there for years and years. My Dad opened a mixed business in Shorncliffe in a place called Decker's Hall. There was a stable door between the shop and the picture theatre. The films were silent movies with a pianist to provide the accompaniment. We sold peanuts, lollies and chocolates to the customers watching the films. One night the regular seller did not turn up and so my older brother, Walter, took on the job at short notice. He was not very well dressed, but he sold more than the regular seller usually did. I guess the people felt a bit sorry for the poor looking boy. In summertime the picture show moved outdoors onto the beach and the seats were set out near the pier. Dad's business did well in summer with extra custom from visitors travelling to the beach. An annual event was the Ipswich Railway Workshop picnic when the workers and their families arrived in a special train from Ipswich. Dad was employed to cater for the lunch. Dad had a horse and dray which he drove to Brisbane each Friday to buy fruit and groceries to stock the shop. He had to leave by 4am to be at the Roma Street markets in time for the opening of the stalls. When we had school holidays, Dad took one of us children for the trip to Brisbane. Despite the early start, this was a real treat and I can remember we often argued about whose turn it was to go with him. Dad's horse, old "Ginger", could be really stubborn at times. There was one time when he flatly refused to pull the cart up Nudgee College Hill - nothing Dad tried would make him budge. A "Good Samaritan" came along and tied Ginger on to the back of his horse and dray. In the end Ginger had to get up to a trot to keep up with the other horse. Another day, the wheel of the dray got caught in the tram track in the middle of Edward Street in the centre of the city. A policeman and some onlookers had to pull Ginger to move the dray out of the way of the trams. These were some of the trials in a period when there were many changes from the old ways to the new. Ginger was housed in a yard adjoining our back fence at Shorncliffe. I can remember Dad often used to wake up early in the morning troubled by a cough and the family used to be amused because Ginger would answer the cough from over the back fence. I suppose you could say they both had a hacking cough! One event which I remember quite clearly was a time when the whole family went up to Brisbane for a large procession. It could have been to celebrate the end of World War I, but I'm not sure. I only remember the crowds and the excitement. People jammed the streets everywhere and it was even a struggle to get out of the railway station because there were so many people. Once we’d managed to get onto the route of the procession, we were okay because we were allowed upstairs in a shop owned by David Webster (of biscuit fame) right on Queen Street. We got an excellent view of the ‘pride’ of the procession - a gypsy moth plane on a horse drawn lorry. Later we heard the news that further along the route there had been a fatal accident. At a point where the street became narrower, the wing of the plane pinned a spectator against a tree and he was died from his injuries. In April 1920, while I was at primary school in Shorncliffe, the Prince of Wales, Prince Edward visited Australia. All the school children received a letter from the battleship HMS Renown – the ship on which the Prince travelled out from England. I can remember the excitement when we lined up to hear the Prince’s address to the children and to receive a specially minted bronze penny to commemorate the royal visit. This was only Prince Edward's second official tour outside England after becoming the Prince of Wales. We read later that he was very ill at ease and got quite depressed coping with all the official engagements and the crowds on these tours. None of that was obvious to the wide-eyed children who lined his route and cheered him on his way. Soon after this, Dad sold the business in Sandgate and we moved into an empty shop in the Valley opposite the Brewery in Brunswick Street. We lived for a short time in a dwelling above the shop. The business was not a good proposition as it was out of the way of the passing traffic. It was during this time that my grandmother on Dad's side died. Dad was called to a phone in the firewood depot next door. I can still see his face as he came back across the yard and told me that Grandma had died. Around this time, Dad had the offer of a shop in Roma and decided to open up a cafe there because of the failing prospects in the Valley shop. It was agreed that the family would stay behind in Brisbane until it was clear whether a move to Roma was the right way to go. In hindsight it was probably a good move because by the time the depression hit, S.L.Neil's Cafe in Roma was well established. We first stayed with our cousin Eva in Masters Street, Teneriffe. I can remember Dad coming back for a visit. I ran down the road to meet him and he gave me a Henry Berry diary for my birthday. (This was the occasion I mentioned earlier which set off the debate about the correct date of my birth.) We moved from Teneriffe back to Granville Street to a house a few doors from the Silcock home. I attended the West End Primary School which at that time segregated the girls from the boys. While I was at West End, there was an outbreak of bubonic plague. Every day all the students formed a line and marched across the school-grounds, picking up all the food scraps in an attempt to keep away any rats which might have been attracted to the food. The Silcock family were foundation members of the Brisbane City Tabernacle Baptist Church. Sundays were strictly to be 'a day of rest'. Mum often made soap from the excess fat from cooking. The method was to boil the fat, add caustic soda and pour the liquid into a mould and then later cut the soap into bars. One Sunday night Mum decided to make soap and used an empty butter box as the mould. The box was not strong enough and the hot caustic mixture seeped out of the corners of the box onto the linoleum floor and took the pattern off. We kids were lined up and sworn to secrecy about the incident, especially the fact that Mum had been making soap on a Sunday. We left West End at the end of the school year of 1921 to join Dad in Roma. The first day at the Roma School I was surprised and pleased to find that the West End school headmaster and his family had moved to Roma in the holidays and his son was in the same class as me at Roma Primary School. For a short time, we lived in a house opposite the school and then we moved to Conlin Street which was much further away. After school, we walked to the other side of Roma to Dad’s shop. We’d spend the rest of the afternoon playing at the back of the shop and then have our tea there. Some nights Mum and Dad worked late and we would sleep on the floor. When they were finally finished (sometimes around midnight) they woke us four children to walk the two miles back to the house. Friday nights were always late. Dad would get cases of mullet up from Brisbane by rail early Friday morning. The fresh fish would be sold on Friday and any that was left over had to be cooked on Friday night to be sold for Saturday lunches. There was one occasion when I had a bad toothache from an abscess and in the end I had to go to the doctor's surgery to see Dr Feather (a legend for his service to the Roma community over a long period). He gave me anaesthetic and pulled the tooth out. I couldn't go to school that afternoon so I was taken back to the shop and Mum spread out some empty flour bags on the concrete floor and I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping on the floor. These sound like hard times, but we accepted it all as part of everyday life. I remember my childhood as being happy. There was a paddock behind the back fence of our house in Roma from where bullock teams set off to work in the surrounding district mostly carting bales of wool in for sale. The bullocks had shaped collars with steel hoops and a chain running through to join them all together. It was fascinating to watch the preparation for their journey. All the bullocks answered to their name and walked up in turn to be hooked into the team. Later when our cafe was operating on a firmer footing, Mum and Dad bought their own home in Bungil Street near the school. We were also able to have a full-time live-in maid at home while Mum carried on working in the cafe. This meant that we were able to go home after school rather than take the long walk to the shop each day. We were never given any pocket money, but every Sunday night Dad would get the balance of the week's takings ready for banking, including wrapping the coins in bundles. I used to help Dad from time to time and I discovered that if I was around when he was rolling up the coins he was likely to give me a few of the coins left over - so I helped with the banking more often. I went to Roma High School for two years and at the end of my schooling in 1927, I sat for the Post Office examination. The successful candidates were ranked in order and called in to start work in the Post Office firstly as telegram boys. I had had some experience as a part-time telegram delivery boy on Saturday afternoons. This had paid quite well as our main job was to take the telegrams giving the race results to the ‘bookies’. If we brought them good news they tipped quite handsomely. While I was waiting for 'my name to come up' I started work with Dad in the cafe. After some time when other boys from my year had received offers of a job, I mentioned to Dad that I was wondering when my turn would come. Dad's reply was that there had been a call from the Post Office but he had told them I had a job already and wasn't interested. And so without any clear decision on my part I set out on the path to become a pastry cook. We not only sold cakes and pastries from the shop front and served meals and teas, but also catered for large functions. These were held in the large room in the café for that purpose or we took the food, wedding cake and all the trimmings to the function, often in the surrounding district. I remember one time when we were catering for a wedding - there had been a lot of rain and we reached a spot where the river had flooded across the road. It was impossible for the utility to get through. The locals saved the day by ferrying us and all the food for the reception across in a row boat to a waiting truck on the other side. Fortunately we didn't capsize and the food arrived safely, though a bit later than planned. Christmas was always a busy time. We would spend the day before Christmas Eve baking all the Christmas fare. One speciality was Scotch bun made by lining the tin with puff pastry, filling with a dried fruit mixture and folding the pastry over to seal before baking. On Christmas Eve we would be flat out getting the orders out - first the orders ready for the mail man before he set off at the crack of dawn. Then we would pack orders, write out railway consignment notes and get the Christmas orders on the trains to Injune and Mitchell before 9 o'clock. One year I was so tired, having worked till the small hours of the morning, that I had to go out and chop some wood to wake myself up so that I could finish the invoices. We were first in bringing ice-cream to Roma. We arranged with Peters in Brisbane to send out a barrel of ice-cream, packed in dry ice. We would then keep up the ice supply until all the ice-cream was sold. Walter and I were keen cricket fans. Early in the Bradman era, the Melbourne Radio Station 3GB set up radio broadcasts of the Australian/England cricket tests. The commentators in England would send news of the game by cablegram and from this the 3GB commentators would know the position of each fielder, a description of each ball and the direction it was hit. To make their commentary more realistic, 3GB introduced sound effects using a match box and a pencil as a good imitation of a bat hitting a cricket ball. This was a long way from today's TV replays and computer generated graphs. However, these early cricket broadcasts became social events. The tests in England were broadcast from around 9pm to 3am Australian time. Walter and I were one of the few owners of a radio in Roma in those days. The telephone staff at the Roma Post Office were also keen on cricket and used to ring us for the results. Then they started coming around to the cafe after they had finished work for the evening. Our visitors increased as others got to hear about the radio broadcasts. It was not unusual for about 20 young lads to be sitting around in our lounge room listening to cricket and playing cards. Later Walter became an agent for Astor radios and with a bigger radio set we were able to expand the cricket sessions into a business venture by setting the radio up in our café and serving suppers into the small hours of the morning. Another youthful enterprise was our gliding club. A group of us got the idea of building our own glider. Months of work were invested in the assembly. All our spare time was taken up building the spruce wing frame, covering it with calico, doping the calico to shrink the material taut over the frame and finally finishing it off with a coat of silverfrost. We were very proud of our achievement - but of course the whole idea was to get it off the ground. When the glider was finished, the Club was featured in the local newspaper, the Roma News. The strategy for launching the glider was supposed to be to have one group stretching out a heavy elastic cable while the other half held on to the tail of the glider. When the tension on the launch cable became taut enough, the team holding the glider were to let go and the contraction of the elastic was supposed to launch the glider. We had no way of getting much instruction on what to do once we were air borne, but with a mixture of faith and enthusiasm we took turns at being the pilot, hoping to be 'the one' to get it off the ground. The elastic launching system was not a success no matter how hard we pulled, so one Sunday we decided to experiment by towing the glider behind a car. It was my turn as 'pilot' that day. We managed to get enough speed up behind the car to lift the glider off the ground, but unfortunately, not sufficient to actually glide. The glider came down onto the ground with such force that the wing cracked across the middle. Alas! that was the end of the Gliding Club. During these years, my friendship with Ida was becoming closer and so next we will tell you about our 'courtship and marriage'.
1: INTRODUCTION3 Postscript3 Chapter 1 - TRAVELLING SEPARATE PATHS4 Part A - Ida Eileen Waldron5 Part B - Samuel Lindesay Neil9 Chapter 2 THE MEETING OF THE WAYS17 Chapter 3 - NEW TRAVELLERS ON THE ROAD20 Chapter 4 - WALKING IN THE SUNSET27 Chapter 5 - THE FINAL JOURNEY35 INTRODUCTION This story was written as a tribute to my parents - Ida and Lindesay Neil - in 1992, the year in which they both celebrated their 80th birthdays. The impetus for this story was a request made to my Dad by one of his cousins. Dad had been asked for information about his father, Samuel Lindesay Neil senior, for a Neil family history. While I was away on holidays with my parents at Caloundra in November 1992, I offered to help with this request by putting down on paper some of the details of the early years. So that week we had several sessions, travelling down memory lane, with me writing down the main points, trying hard to keep up as the story of Dad and Mum’s lives unfolded. Eighty years is a long time and much happens during a lifetime as full as theirs. The events recorded may not be the events which are the most important in a historical sense, but they are clearly significant because these are the stories which came readily to mind for them as we sat reminiscing. For this reason, all the material recalled during those sessions has been included. Some of the information was new to me, most I had heard before, but it took on a new meaning for me as I put the bits and pieces together as in a jigsaw. I hope it may be the same for you, as you read this story. Gail Bateman December 1992 Postscript Over ten years have passed since I wrote Retracing a Journey through 80 years. In August 2000, Gail and Rod, Dennis and Kay, Gillian and John organised a memorial service at Gleneagles to honour the lives of Lindesay and Ida. Following the service we stood together and scattered their ashes from the bank of the Brisbane River at the bottom of Gleneagles garden. We agreed it would be good to add the final chapter to the ‘Journey’. Two years passed before I got around to this task. Once started, I found it an emotional and rewarding experience to revisit those final years. For both Lindesay and Ida, these years were lived at a much slower pace, both physically and mentally, but were still very much part of their life journeys. Gail B January 2003