Skip to main content

Rituals

War Memorial Forecourt
After the service, Mum and Dad went to the luncheon for ex-servicemen and women held at the CWA rest rooms.  Every year Dad came home saying things like "They should call him Moses, whenever he opens his mouth the bull rushes." it seems the war that some men fought became more glorious with every passing glass.

"It was the beer talking," Mum said.

While Mum and Dad were at the luncheon we children headed for the supper room at the local dance hall where the RSL Women's Auxiliary put on a lunch for the children of returned servicemen. What a feast! The table was groaning with sandwiches and cakes, more than the collective appetite of a vast collection of offspring, who each stuffed themselves -- being careful to give only the mock chicken sandwiches a miss. This was all washed down with bottle after bottle of soft drink.  If we had been ex-servicemen on the grog, we would certainly been hanging onto each other, singing boisterous songs and falling into the gutter on the way home.  We were full.

Instead, we clasped our stretched tummies and walked soberly down the street to home.  The house was unusually quiet with both Mum and Dad not yet back.  Despite our lunchtime revelling, a reverence still clung to our normally high spirits. To us it felt like a Sunday, and it didn't seem right to go to the pool or pull out our sewing, or to busy ourselves with work,

Comments

  1. Just the photograph here makes me feel as though I have come out of chapel into the sunshine!

    I love the 'bull rushes'. How witty it is! What is 'mock chicken'? My mother used to slosh up 'mock fish' which was a poor person's hash-browns. But I do not know MC. Maybe I avoided it also ... I know that, to this day, I am very selective when chosing sandwiches from a spread ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Mock Chicken is a mystery to me. The web has the following recipe
    2 tomatoes chopped
    2 onions chopped
    1 egg beaten
    salt and pepper
    1+1/4 cups cheddar cheese grated
    2 teaspoons mixed Herbs

    I certainly remember it was lumpy and reddish which fits. My Mum never made it. But other ladies were keen to be the one who would supply the mock chicken sandwiches - which looked and tasted nothing like chicken.

    Of course, real chicken in those days was something you would not find on sandwiches. It was a special treat reserved for Sunday roasts after one of the family chickens had its head chopped off , plucked etc.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Larras Lee

We passed through Bakers Swamp without noticing anything.  Then reached our last dot on the map for this trip - Larras Lee and saw this.  The roadside monument says: In Memory of  WILLIAM LEE  (1794 - 1870)  of "Larras Lake"  a pioneer of the sheep  and cattle industry  and first member for  Roxburgh under responsible  government (1856 - 1859).  This stone was erected  by his descendants.  --- 1938 --- This is a repost from a few days ago. Thinking I would use this for this week’s Taphophile Tragics post I dug a little further into William Lee’s story, it’s a very colonial Australian one. William was born of convict parents, living his childhood years around the Sydney region. In his early 20s he was issued with some government cattle, recommended as a suitable settler and granted 134 acres at Kelso near Bathurst. He was one of the first in the area and did well. A few years later he was granted a ram and an inc...

The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog -  My Bright Field  - to record the delights of my new life adventure. If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.

Coolibah?

Is that a Coolibah tree beside the abandoned house? Every Australian knows about Coolibah trees because the bush ballad Waltzing Matilda is nigh on our unoffical national anthem but most of us live nowhere near the inland where they grow. Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong, Under the shade of a Coolibah tree, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.