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Memories of East Fremantle

Bruce Thorpe

My dad, Reverend Hallam Thorpe, was the Minister of the Presbyterian Church on the corner of King Street and Canning Highway. We lived in the Manse at 97 Canning Highway, next to the historic 1898 church, from 1951 to 1959. The church building appeared huge to our childish eyes. Internally it was beautiful, with enormous roof beams, jarrah floors and stained glass windows. There was an apse, later renovated, with the words ‘Oh thou who hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh come’ beautifully painted in curling script on an enormous strip of flat metal. The organ was powered initially by hand and later by a vacuum cleaner which sat in a box outside. It was later moved inside. I remember a Sunday evening film session when I fell asleep and woke up when it was all over.

The manse was built on a sloping block, so was single storey at the front and double storey at the rear and was quite well appointed. There was a central passage leading from the front door to the vestibule. To the left was the lounge, where the Lisner piano was located. There was a wood-burning fireplace as well. To the right was the main bedroom where the fireplace had a metal insert. Next on the left was Dad's study (probably the original dining room) and on the right the bedroom where the three of us slept. Our phone number was L 2634, later 52634.

To the left of the vestibule was the kitchen and beyond that a dining room which was a later addition. To the right was a tiny pantry which was to become my bedroom and next to that a bathroom with a wood chip heater. A long flight of stairs led down to a laundry under the house with a workshop next door. There was a tank on a stand at the bottom of the stairs. A long back yard with buffalo grass and grape vines led to a red-painted galvanised-iron garage to the left rear. Beyond that was a laneway entry off King Street and the old weatherboard-clad hall, which had an impressive brick frontage to King Street, but was never completed to the same standard. The kitchen was at the left rear and very primitive. It always smelt of leaking coal gas.

There was blue plumbago growing down the right side of the house. The flowers would stick to you when you squeezed past. Once I found a sick baby owl in the front hedge, but it later died.

On the other side of Canning Highway was a big, untidy paddock full of sand, lupins and wild oats. This became an endless source of entertainment for the neighbourhood boys.
Next door lived the two Grieve twins Bruce and Graeme. They lived in a similar house to ours with their grandmother, Mrs Lenanton and their mother. I have a vague recollection that their father turned up every few years and then disappeared. I never saw him. Next to the Grieves were the Corbetts and their three(?) boys Ken, Roger and Laurie. I suspect that the three houses were built at about the same time, possibly by the same builder. On the corner of Canning Highway and Sewell Street was Hart's Shell Garage. There was a wine shop nearby. Hassan’s Woodyard was further along towards East Street.

On the other side of King Street was the East Fremantle Post Office. The Postmaster, Mr Blencowe, lived behind in staff accommodation with his wife and children Trevor and Joan. Dad bought a 24 inch bicycle from Trevor, and my older brother Peter and I rode it to school on alternate days. Now that was an early example of sharing a scarce resource! There was a weighing machine in the Post Office porch. For a penny you could weigh yourself and read your weight via a needle on the big dial.

Next to the Post Office was the Police Station manned by Sergeant Foley. When we learned a song at school with the words “Whither shall I follow, follow, follow, Whither shall I follow, follow thee” we made a slight change so that the words now read “Whither shall I follow Sergeant Foley, Whither shall I follow, follow him.” The East Fremantle Town Hall was next to the Police Station and behind it, the Council storage yard. There was a trolley on rails, used for moving heavy objects like cement slabs, and sometimes we would sneak a ride on it, but were always scared of getting caught. The Finlaysons (Malcolm and Melva) lived in King Street next to the yard, with their two children Don and Marcia. They had an enormous wooden cart which Malcolm and Donald used to collect empty beer bottles, each worth a penny or halfpenny, along the river. The proceeds were used to buy components for their model electric railway set. From time to time Malcolm would show 16 mm films such as Bud Abbott and Lou Costello in the back yard, using a bedsheet slung over the clothesline for a screen. A local film was made by Lindsay Purdie, one of Dad’s parishioners. It was about The Good Samaritan. Dad riding a horse, acted out the title role. The ‘Inn’ was the old Council concrete storage shed on the foreshore by the Swan River. Nearby was an enormous tunnel which directed drainage water from Canning Highway. I was always too scared to venture into it. We didn’t have a torch. In any case batteries were expensive. The twin battery for a bicycle lamp cost 2/6d. There were lots of fig trees growing wild on the cliffs and a World War 2 concrete observation post/gun emplacement (?) usually smelling of old human excrement!

The Higgs family lived a bit further up King Street. Their father worked as a Shell tanker driver and used to hit the kids with his leather belt. Cliff was one of the younger ones: Eileen was older with a child of her own (I think).

Below the big paddock was the Swan River and the Swan Yacht Club (SYC) with the old Castlemaine Brewery across the road. There was an elderly caretaker, nicknamed Goggle Eye because of his thick glasses. Once we sneaked into the brewery and almost got caught, but hid under the loading platform to avoid detection. Fishing and swimming were enjoyed along this stretch of river. After a swim, we would lean against the cement-rendered wall of the toilet block to pinch some of the absorbed warmth from the Sun.

Church renovations sometimes mysteriously happened. I recall waking one morning, probably a Saturday, and finding that the back of the church had been ripped off the previous night by a group of men from the church. It was later replaced with a beautiful extension, including a vestry, and choir room. In a February 1954 letter to his father, Dad relates “Our church extension work grows apace – 2 large rooms at rear of church etc including a new vestry.” A later September 1954 letter relates “Our church improvements are wonderful – lighting & colours are very bright & we hope (when finished painting in a few weeks) to have the dedication ceremony conducted by the Moderator General Rev F.W. Rolland M.A. who is from Victoria and the late principal of Geelong College where Marcia (my mum) was. All our boys are full of life.”

Dad bought a twelve feet wooden dinghy powered by a Chapman Pup engine with a removable magneto and a flywheel start. I found out that the Chapman ‘pup’ series marine engines were built by Harris, Scarfe and Sandovers in Perth, under licence to Chapman and Sherack in New South Wales. Perhaps our engine was one of those. It was probably the 2.5 horsepower version. When all things worked, we used to have some pleasant cruises. In a February 1954 letter to his father, Dad says “Our boat has revealed a number of leaks which we really didn’t buy and I have to apply caulking putty tomorrow. The engine fades out occasionally leaving us all to the mercy of tide + current but this is not usual.” In a May 1954 letter to his father, Dad writes “I’ve done a bit of work on the boat + hope to have the clutch & propeller shaft working properly this week – the herring will be coming in soon & I’d like to go fishing just in case I get a few fish!!!!” Dad was no mechanic, so we didn’t get to use the boat that much. I recall one time it did work, with Doug Burtenshaw in the bow singing ‘Yellow Rose of Texas.’ Doug’s dad Arthur was also a Presbyterian minister and a colleague of Dad’s.

At one stage the dinghy, filled with water, sat in back yard for some time as dad effected repairs. It would have been an effort to move it from the river.
On another one of our rare cruises, a rope became wrapped around the propeller as we drifted towards North Mole in the outer harbour at Fremantle. Luckily Peter spied it just before we collided with the rocks.

The "Islander" ferry to Rottnest was always of interest as it passed by on its journey to and from Perth. It was a converted 'Fairmile' launch which had seen duty during the Second World War and could do about 17 knots - very impressive at speed. On one occasion, as I stood leaning against mooring posts near East Street jetty, the wash from the ‘Islander’ came in to shore and pushed some barges towards the posts. I was squashed against one of the posts. If it hadn’t been for some tyre fenders, I would have been killed. Luckily I was skinny in those days.

Peter and I used to attend Mrs White's Kindergarten in George Street. In an August 1952 letter to his father Dad writes “…both Peter and Bruce go to morning (Kgarten) School each day.”

Peter first attended Richmond Primary School in 1953 and I began in 1954. In a February 1954 letter to his father, Dad writes “ Tomorrow (Mon) is Bruce’s big day. – he starts at Peter’s school if they will take him at 5 2/12 years. We shall be glad to see the two older boys away - they are far too frisky.” Some teachers I remember are Mrs Collins, Mrs Carlyon, Mr Duncan, the Principal, who drove a green Hillman Minx sedan, Mr Ensor, who had a wooden leg, Precious Hatch, Mrs Mabel Smith, Mrs Hartree, Mr Jecks the Deputy, Mr Eborall, … Mr Eddy(?),the school gardener had an autocycle.

Dad was certainly an eccentric character. He used to do radio broadcasts from the 6 P.M. studios in Murray Street Perth above Musgrove’s Music Shop. He would wear a pith helmet as he strode along the street. In an October 1952 letter to his father he writes “ I continue my broadcast every week ¼ to 1 pm each Tuesday after teaching in the State School…”

I used to think there were two men in our house - one a rumpled character in a dressing gown first thing in the morning - the other a black crow-like figure with slicked back hair and wearing a cassock ready to take the Sunday morning service. Dad used to potter in his workshop below the house. Once he made me a model yacht by hollowing out a piece of wood and then tacking a thin sheet of ply on the top. He would also make kites from brown paper and fly them in the paddock over the Highway. He would send little paper men up the string.

Dad was the chaplain at Braemar Nursing Home on Canning Highway. Matron Willox was in charge. The smell of vegetable soup takes me back well almost 70 years because I associate it with Dad taking church services in the dining room. I recall Rev Guthrie Thrum’s head emerging from a well at Braemar, and fetes where we got to lick the ice cream canisters, well insulated in heavy green canvas probably stuffed with cork. In a May 1953 letter to his dad, Dad says “ I took Peter & Bruce to Braemar Aged Folks Home where I am chaplain and he (Peter?) sang 8 or so choruses in a clear tuneful voice to the gratification of the old ladies – one is 93 another 99.”

When Andrew was younger, Dad took him into the ocean, perhaps at Port Beach. A wave ripped Andrew out of Dad’s arms and he disappeared. Dad searched frantically for him. Suddenly Andrew emerged from the water and took an enormous breath! At one stage there was a plague of rats in the back shed. Dad would vigorously attack these with a spade. Andrew was obviously impressionable, as when someone asked what his father did for a living, he said “Digs holes and catches rats.”

During Queen Elizabeth's visit in 1954 the whole school walked down to Canning Highway to wave as the Royal Procession passed. We ended up not far from our house at 97 Canning Highway and I recall seeing Laura Glass our ‘maid’ sitting on the footpath in a chair. Laura had been a faithful retainer with the Tulloch (mum's father, Reverend George Tulloch) family and we somehow inherited her about this time.

On another occasion, when I was about five, the Grieve twins told me to put my finger in the door of our Ford Prefect sedan which was housed in a corrugated iron garage in the back yard. I did as I was told, but regretted that move, because a moment later, they shut the door on the ring finger of my left hand, almost severing the tip. At Fremantle Hospital, Dr David Owen sewed it back on. That finger tip was saved, even 'though it looks quite different from the others. I had to wear a leather finger stall while the injury healed.

Sometimes we walked from school to see a Tarzan movie, probably starring Gordon Scott, at the Bicton Picture Theatre. Folk Dancing at school was a regular event. We used to dance and sing such songs as "Picking up paw-paws, put 'em in your pocket."
My Grade four teacher was Mrs Hartree who had been taught by Mum in Kalgoorlie in the early 1940s.

One day while I watched the school playground being re-surfaced, a workman purposely sprayed my shoes and socks with bitumen. I don’t recall how Mum responded. The bottom oval was constructed during our time at Richmond together with a lovely rose garden. I remember I had a biscuit tin for a lunch box with Satsuma plums in it on one occasion.
Alvino the Magician performed his tricks at school from time to time.

Our Grade 5 teacher Mr Simpson played the accordion. Lady of Spain was one of his favourites. He showed a 16mm movie of the Melbourne Olympic Games which he had attended.
Fellow students I recall are Marilyn Spry, Kim Letchford, (whose family owned a soft drink factory) Richard Thorp, Trevor Holmes, Pamela Foley, Geoff Blackburn, Gary Mutton, Ross Metherell, Adrian Hudson, Terry McGovern, Lyndon Lewis, Geoff Shaw, Ron Wilson … As part of a post war health promotion program, one third of a pint bottles of milk were distributed at morning recess. There was a generous layer of cream on top.

I was a reasonably fast runner and on one occasion was in the Inter–School Carnival at Fremantle Oval, but stood no chance against the pros. Because my birthday was so late in the year, I got to run against kids who were born the following year – 1949. I remember Lyndon Lewis being left for dead during one race. He took big strides but his legs did not move fast enough!

In 1957 or so, the popular films Davy Crockett, starring Fess Parker, and Bridge on the River Kwai, with Alec Guiness, started a craze for ‘coonskin’ caps (if you could afford one) and the whistling of Colonel Bogie.
One day during an eclipse of the Sun, Dad came to school. Kids lined up in Osborne Road to look at the eclipse through his photographic glass slides! This was obviously not an approved method and I trust no-one suffered permanent eye damage.

Student teachers would turn up from time to time. After their stint with us, we would farewell them at an assembly by singing ‘Happy teaching to You’ to the tune of Happy Birthday. One such teacher-to-be was Margaret Meharry, whose father was the chief surveyor of Western Australia. (Mount Meharry, the tallest mountain in W.A. was named after him.)

In the family library was a Ladybird book called ‘Bunny’s First Birthday’ by A.J. MacGregor (illustrator) and W. Perring (verses). I assume these two lived in England, but somehow Mr Perring ended up as a teacher at school! Mum got him to sign our copy of the book! I can’t find anything else on the pair but they wrote and illustrated dozens of kids books from about 1940 onwards.

We would make whistles from apricot or plum seeds at school by persistently rubbing the stone on the bitumen playground and using a hairclip to remove the ‘meat’. Playing marbles was always good entertainment.

Electric trams then travelled along Canning Highway. The last tram in Perth ran on July 19th, 1958. Earlier, Dad acquired one of these and used it as Sunday School accommodation at Willagee. I found mention of this in an August 1952 letter from Dad to his father. “The tram is now out at Willagee and will soon be used for a Sunday School – leather seats, bell and all.” In a June 1952 airletter to his father, Dad had written “Today we started our first Sunday School class at WILLAGEE – a new housing settlement 3 miles or so away. 12 children, myself & 3 teachers attended on the back v’dah room of a house. 1300 houses will be built and we are the first church to get moving in that area.” In an October 1952 letter to his father, Dad continues “The work here has intensified and I find that all my concentration is needed to maintain and develop the parish and a new Sunday School (in a tram) at Willagee. The 3 boys are very well – full of life & to a certain extent ‘good’ mischief. Marcia & I carry on but find family life & Church life rather exacting – we must get more sleep – the baby has been awake at night at intervals & that wakes us.” When this enterprise at Willagee concluded, we ended up with some of the red leather tram seats plus pan toilets which had been used on site. The toilets ended up at our holiday cottage at Hovea.

Dunstan the Baker delivered bread with a horse and cart. Dad would collect any droppings and put them on the garden. He was very good at making wholemeal date scones at short notice. Another of his specialties was an apple pudding – stewed apple underneath and a sponge cake mixture on top.

Annual visits to The Royal Show were times of great excitement. We would do chores for some weeks beforehand to earn some pocket money. When we entered the grounds we would invariably purchase an Aspro pink cardboard visor fitted with cellophane ‘sunglasses’, and a pencil for sixpence. Then came a Mills and Wares biscuit showbag for two and sixpence. No doubt we had also hoarded some money from collecting empty cool drink bottles at East Fremantle Oval. We would be admitted free at half time and would wander around with a chaff bag. At the deli on the corner of Staton Road and Canning Highway, we would get tuppence for each bottle. That deli is now occupied by a Domino’s Pizza Parlour. Across the road and still there is a building that was once a Maternity Hospital (A Class?) where my brother Andrew was born in June, 1951. My earliest memory is of mum holding her new baby on the verandah there. I was two and a half.

One day, a number of the neighbourhood boys were playing in the yellow sand in the big paddock on the other side of Canning Highway. For some reason they wouldn’t let me join them, so I was some distance away idly playing by myself, when I felt a blow to my head and suddenly, blood was pouring down my face. One of the boys had thrown a bottle at me, resulting in a big cut above my eye. I must have been screaming because three mothers came out of their respective houses to see what had happened. Just as I reached the edge of the highway, a policeman rode by on his bicycle. He looked at me and rode on! I was taken to Fremantle Hospital, where seven stitches were applied to the wound.

Bike expeditions were enjoyed on many occasions. Even Woodman Point was a destination. Bikes were not geared, unless you were in the ranks of the elite and had three speed Sturmey-Archer gears. No helmets of course. We made our own entertainment. There was always something to do.

Racing hill trolleys down King Street was great fun. We would make these from jarrah fruit crates and pram wheels. Sometimes we would acquire wheel bearings from Hart’s Garage and use them as the front wheels. The trouble was that dirt would rapidly accumulate in the bearings and we would have to rinse them out with kerosene. That reminds me of the times when Mum would cut our hair. She used hand clippers which would rip out bits of our hair, causing intense pain! Then she would rinse the clippers in a saucer filled with kerosene. So we would end up with jagged hair and smelling of kero.

For 12/6d we purchased a canoe from two Dutch boys who lived further up King Street. Their names were Rene and Noel. We painted it and inscribed the bow with PBA (for Peter, Bruce and Andrew or Presbyterian Boys’ Association) Some years earlier, Dad had tried to make a canoe using thick cane and hessian, which he tried to make waterproof by painting it with blue oil paint and sealing the seams with Bostik, a bituminous compound. I don’t think it worked!

One Sunday afternoon while Mum and Dad were taking a Church Service in Fremantle Prison, we went down to the river with a friend. Peter found an empty cool drink bottle worth tuppence. Andrew grabbed it from him and ran off. Peter chased after him, but slipped and sliced the side of his foot on the sharp, rusty slipway rails. It was an ugly cut and I remember a bystander saying “Put some rope in it to stop the bleeding.” Peter had to be taken to Fremantle Hospital to have the wound stitched. Our parents were not very happy when they found out. I like to think a conversation with onlookers went like this: “Where’s your father?” “He’s in prison.” “Where’s your mother?” She’s in prison too.”

More on those offending slipways. The boats that had been hauled out of the water for maintenance often had anti-fouling paint applied to their bottoms. It was a bright orange colour and had a distinctive smell.

One summer’s day, Bruce Grieve dropped a match in the paddock across the highway. The wild oats were tinder dry and the blaze rapidly spread. We tried dropping limestone rocks to extinguish the fire, but to no avail. Bruce said “What have I done? What have I done?” Mr Dennigan, who owned a nearby second hand furniture stop was not particularly helpful when he remarked to Bruce “There’s nothing you can do about it now son.”

Mum’s sister Andrene (Aunty Ann) used to visit us at the manse via the back lane. We would often be required to wash her car. Initially it was a Ford Anglia and then a Ford Prefect. Aunty Ann was a spinster, who lived firstly at 14 Doonan Road, Nedlands, in a bed-sitter at Mrs Byers’ house and later in a house of her own at 18 Louise Street, where we would climb up the windmill and tank stand and pick grapes in season. She was a stickler for manners and would tell us to stop sniffing. A teacher by profession, she taught at Princess May Girls’ School in Fremantle, John Curtin Senior High and Melville Senior High, from which she retired about 1975. Aunty Ann was a great organiser, outfitting us with fancy dress costumes for church socials, arranging birthday parties etc.

Getting Smokey the cat was a big event. He was a faithful companion for many years. In pre-television days the radio was a great entertainer. Each night we would listen to serials such as Dad and Dave, Smoky Dawson, Biggles, Kid Grayson, Inspector West,….

I remember Dad making up the dye for an early version of the texta. He had to mix up coloured powders in water and pour them into individual screw top plastic tubes. A felt ‘wick’ was then inserted.

Mr Murdoch lived in a shack in Grieve’s back yard. He used to clean the wooden church floors with a mop soaked in oil.

In about 1958, a new hall was built between the church and the old hall, using Calsil silica lime bricks. As I understand, these bricks were notorious for sucking the moisture out of the mortar, so that its strength was compromised. As a result, one incomplete wall fell over twice. The PFA (Presbyterian Fellowship of Australia) Youth Group conducted a mock trial where Dad was accused of sabotaging the building while watering his plants late at night. The Youth Group was well supported and lots of dancing took place in the old hall. Red River Valley was a popular tune. I remember Weeties being spread on the wooden floor to make it more slippery and thinking it was a waste of good food. There was a set of Roman rings suspended from the roof of the hall and we would swing on these from time to time.

I recall the carpenters clamping the floorboards of the new hall together as they nailed them to the joists. This hall had a raised stage with a storage area underneath. Pastel painted masonite ‘doors’ allowed access. The Grieve boys discovered it was possible to gain entry to the hall by crawling in from underneath and entering through these doors. The two halls and church were demolished in about 1973, to allow the construction of the Stirling Bridge and its approaches. Ironically the bridge designer was Roddie Purdie who had attended the East Fremantle church. In the ‘West Australian’ newspaper dated October 10th, 2016, there was news of his death. Purdie, Roderick Scott 20/8/31 – 6/10/16. ‘The end of an era. Loving brother and mate to Lindsay and Arch. A chapter completed, a page turned, a life well lived, a rest well earned.’

I went to the closing service and remember seeing an ‘old’ Malcolm Finlayson. I wish I’d bought some salvaged materials at the time. I wonder what happened to the pews, stained glass windows etc.

Sunday School picnics at Peppermint Grove were always great fun. Australian Inland Mission Dinners at the Assembly Hall, Perth were also enjoyable. In between the Assembly and McNess Halls there was a walkway and here were positioned big wood-fired ‘coppers’ boiling water for tea. There was always a shortage of toilet facilities and I recall the long line outside the ‘Ladies.’

Just before my 9th birthday in 1957 I was diagnosed with appendicitis. I had my appendix removed at Fremantle Hospital. The surgeon made a real mess of me, the stitches having pulled apart, or removed too soon, leaving me with an ugly scar. I recall being given a socalled orange juice, consisting of grated orange peel in water!

A number of post-war Dutch migrants came to Fremantle on ships such as the Johann van Olden Barneveldt. Mario Costrensich was a migrant from Yugoslavia. I was asked to assist him with his English (This was when I was probably in Grade 5.) He had severe burn scars on his leg.
On most Monday mornings during term, we were allowed to buy buns for our lunch at Hewitt's Bakery for a penny halfpenny each and being given a bonus matchstick, normally costing about threepence.
Buying a pie for ninepence at the shop opposite the School in Osborne Road was a real treat.
Bonfire Night usually was held in the vacant block where the church hall was later built. We would collect a pile of sticks and scrap wood and even made a ‘guy’ one year.

Buying a coke for sixpence at Baker's deli across the road on Canning Highway was also a treat. The 6d would pay for the contents only as there was a deposit on the bottle, so you would have to drink it in the shop and return the bottle forthwith.
Rolling down the buffalo grass at Monument Hill, Fremantle was another pastime. We would get very itchy!

I remember seeing sculptures being carved from a lump of sandsoap at Charlie Carter's in Fremantle. I was an avid reader, but had to get books all the way from the Fremantle Public Library. Visits to the Fremantle Dental Clinic were not welcome!

Every day there would be bandages hanging on Grieves' clothes line. Bruce had severe exzema and the bandages were wrapped around his legs every night to prevent him from scratching the skin. A potty or two was emptied on their back lawn every morning, leaving dead patches of lawn.

One day I was walking up Osborne Road while returning to school after going home for lunch when a car shot over the crest of the hill heading towards Canning Highway. A girl was crossing the road and the car struck her and hurled her into the air. I don’t know how serious her injuries were.

Lindsay Purdie, the filmmaker mentioned earlier, was hit by sinker on fishing line wielded by Peter. Peter was upstairs on the back landing and Lindsay was below. When hit, he uttered an expletive or two!
We would look at the back page of the Grieves’ copy of The Daily News for the cartoons by Paul Rigby and try and find the little boy.
Mrs Grieve bought a shiny, new Austin A40 sedan about 1958. We were probably a bit envious, as Dad then had a second hand light blue 1953 FX Holden sedan. One day in Fremantle, I had an ice cream in a cone in my hand as I was getting into the car. Somehow my arm shot up and the ice cream hit the roof lining and left a permanent mark.
We acquired a metal slide from the Corbetts. Using a hose I put on water to make it faster. Andrew slid down too fast and broke his arm the day Connie Miller and two children were to visit. That visit was postponed!

I once spent a lot of time cutting out faces from plywood with a fretsaw and hingeing them to a board. I became upset when I let them be used at a fete to have balls thrown at them, but some boys were too rough and the screws began coming out.
Weaving cane into baskets etc was a Manual Arts activity at school. I once made a glass holder tray for Mum's birthday/Mothers’ Day.

Max Porter was in my class at school. One day he was wading in the Murray River at Yunderup with two younger cousins – Gary and … - when they got into difficulties and the cousins drowned. They had two older twin sisters and a very attractive mother.
Another classmate, Garth Caesar, had a grandfather named Julius and a sister Stephanie. I recently found her name in a book prize given to Peter. She was his Sunday School teacher at the time.

There was a whole collection of Purdies. I still don’t know who was who. There was Roddie, Ernie (junior and senior?), Clyde and his son Ian, Lindsay, Archie, and Andrew. Some of them worked for Instones the Plumber. Mrs Knapp used to make a very sweet fig syrup which went well with ice cream. Mrs Jean Purdie would make delicious ‘kisses’ (a variety of cake/biscuit) for socials. In the death notice for Roddie Purdie October 10th 2016), there is a link: ‘Loving brother and mate to Lindsay and Arch.’

Stan and Edna Bell were staunch parishioners,. They had two daughters Josette (who married Dudley Jones) and Robyn. Stan used to pronounce film as fillum. They lived in Bracks Street, North Fremantle. I met up with Josette in 2010 at Melville Uniting Church when she played the organ for Ivan Clarke’s induction.

Ron and Janet Tindall had a shop in Marmion Street. Mum must have been in hospital when we had lunch with them one Sunday. The first course was a bonox-like soup. Dad asked Andrew how the soup was. “Awful, awful” was the response! Externally that house hasn’t changed in 55 years. When we drove past it recently, I could still see the window of the dining room where we had that meal.

Postscript: On Sunday, November 4th, 2012, my wife Gwenda and I met up with Bruce and Graeme Grieve at their family (Lenanton) gathering in King’s Park. I had last seen Bruce in 1959 and Graeme in 1972. It was great to catch up and reminisce. Bruce had forgotten that he and Graeme almost caused me the potential loss of a finger tip! In the intervening years I had re-met their cousin Peter Shurman and his wife Glenys. Richmond Primary School celebrated its Centenary on March 21st, 2021. Past students including Bruce Grieve and Garth Caesar (mentioned above) recalled their time there in video interviews.

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