Thursday, December 27, 2007

Short Poems 1940

The Lost Horizon

What lieth behind the line at sea?
The lost Horizon.
What mystery land is that you ask?
Nay! 'Tis no land, but a place of dreams
Where every man may idle.
~


The Echo

I stood on a rock, and called into the ravine below.
A voice answered, mystified, from the deep.
I called again, and still the answer came.
The echo of my speech
~


Sydney Heads

Tall, in splendour they have stood
For centuries untold,
Gigantic statues, not made by hand of man.
And, if they could but live and talk,
What strange stories would they unfold?
~

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Tongan Childhood


Bruce, Peggy, Pat and Phyllis in Tonga - probably 1930

Friday, June 15, 2007

Pat's Brother Bruce died

Pat's older brother Bruce Pyne died on 13 June 2007 age 85.
Peggy died some years ago.
Her younger sister Phyllis, 80 now, lives on the Central Coast of NSW with her husband and daughter Tiffany.

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Pat Engaged - 1946


Pat aged 21 and Rik in 1946. Married 28 August 1946.

Pat's Diary - Part 7 Feb to April 1941

This is the last entry from this diary Pat kept in the years 1940 - 41.
She kept a journal or diary most of her life and others will be transcribed as they are unearthed. (I will edit this post later to add scanned clippings)

A very humid night - February 1st 1941 Saturday

Dear Diary
Events of all importance have happened these past days. On Thursday early, a tiny wee girl first saw the light of day. She is now just 3 days old, and belongs at last to the Bakers at Wentworthville. They wanted a girl so for their sakes I'm glad.

February 11th 1941 Glenayr Roseville
Dear Diary
It is eleven days since I last wrote and another eleven days of my life have gone from me.
Three days ago I did something I have regretted ever since, and I vow that as long as I live, I'll never do it again. I had my hair waved into a wella. It was madness to do it because I had such nice hair, even though I say it myself. But it was lovely and shiny in a pageboy, now it's a short frizz. I am going to let it grow from now on, and have it as I had it before. It will be at least nine months before it will be grown long enough to roll.
I have such exciting news, the results of the Scholarship examination I sat for in January have come out and I came 10th out of 1,468 girls and boys from all parts of Australia and New Zealand. I am awfully pleased.
On Saturday I had to take a wreath out to the crematorium for Farmers. One of the girls at work lost her mother. It was quite an experience but I wouldn't like to go through it again.
The February sales are on at work and we are having a busy time.

(Clipping about submarine to be added here)
A windy afternoon in February 22nd 1941
At my little attic window
Dear Diary
The sales are all over, and we are ready to begin life anew.
I am second in charge of the desk now and when the "head" is out, I find it quite exciting to exercise my power. I like it at work now, we're all like a happy big family. On Saturday next, Graham is going on holidays. We'll miss him because he's always around at the desk. He's so familiar to me now, I feel I've known him for years.
We have several boys at work. Gordon is another, he is nice too, but there's something about him I don't understand. His manner is strange, and whatever he says seems to have two different meanings, different ones. Then there's John Willie, at least that's what I call him. He is very young in his ways, and doesn't have much to say. His real name is John Williams.
When he smiles you can tell before that he is going to, by his face. He works it all up into a smile. Mervyn next, is tall and seems a very sensible lad. He told Shirley that I had a very sweet face. That's not why he's sensible, but he knows when a thing is carried too far, & he wouldn't let the older boys and girls too, tell their rude jokes in front of me, so he has some respect for me and I like him. There are two other boys, which I don't have much to do with. Graham is a very nice boy, with a good amount of common sense, and exceedingly handsome. He has great expression in his face, and the brownest of brown eyes.

(Clipping about airwoman here)
March 1st Saturday
Dear Diary
Today is the first of March. The days have been flying past me lately, I have hardly had time to breathe. Indeed I haven't seen myself in the mirror for a few days, but that doesn't say that I am usually vain. There always seems to be something else to do.
Spent Thursday night stocktaking and didn't leave until a quarter to ten. Flopped into bed at eleven and was asleep three minutes later. Late shopping night Friday, I stayed back for the presentation. Miss Kentwell, one of the girls at work, left, and I caught the later train, wasn't home until 9:30.
Tomorrow is Sunday! I'm going to spend a quiet restful day in the sun without a worry or care. I wonder if I shall be in the paper tomorrow? I may or may not, there are only two answers and the inner Pat doubts the outer Pat.
I'm being know at work as the little girl who writes poetry. Yesterday one of the supervisors, Miss Carroll, came up and asked for me, and she wants to know if I'd write her a poem about her niece Cynthia. She has blue eyes and fair hair, aged 14.
On Monday we were all in the line up for pay, and I was behaving rather mischieviously, tying a piece of string round one of Shirley's curls, when Mr Frawley saw me. Mr Byrne is away on business and Frawley is taking his place. He started to laugh and said, "I think you're a bit of a trick, are you?" I just laughed.
Dad framed my D.O.S certificate last week, and it looks very nice in its great white frame. I'm very proud of it. I forgot to say I got my photographs I had taken on my 16th birthday. One big brown & six little ones. I tinted one of them and spoilt the lips.
Anthony has been with us five weeks now, sometimes he can be very naughty, but otherwise he is a little pet.

(clipping - boy with no arms)
21st March 1941
Dear Diary
Today brought me a second letter from my soldier in Palestine. He sounded very excited and sent me two more snaps of Palestine. I will write to him tomorrow. I had a photograph taken in Hyde Park but it wasn't very good so will have another taken to send him.
There's a girl at work i wish would leave. She's horrible, but then I'm Cynthia & mustn't complain.
I am going to send my soldier (by the way his name is Arthur) a poem I had published.
Ivy's son is now three weeks old and is called Barry. I bought him the sweetest little pair of mittens.
I am horribly disappointed in Mervyn at work, and I'm going to have a word with him tomorrow.

29th March 1941 Mummy's birthday
Dear Diary
The Elfkins of Autumn are having a merry rondevous outside my open window tonight. They are chasing each other through the trees and the shivery grass is laighing at their antics.
Today has been splendid, as mummy's birthday always is. I wore my blue frock with cravat scarf and was told I looked nice. Mummy received three pounds 16/-, a pair of stockings, a jar of gorgeous nutties, which was a gift from myself, & a water bottle. She has retired to bed after a very pleasant day.

6th April 1941 Sunday
Dear Diary
The wind is playing havoc in the trees, it's not the elves this time, because it is not the gentle whispering little wind that I love, but a huge fierce biting wind that blows you inside out and makes you shiver at the very sound of it. It's a wind I hate. I do hope it will be gone before tomorrow as I hate being blown along, and my hair gets so untidy. I am wearing my costume, so I want to look extra nice.
I have just heard from Bruce that Germany has declared War on Greece and Yugoslavia. I will confirm the news by tomorrow's papers and slip on a cutting. It seems very sorrowful for those two little countries to be dragged into this awful mess. Especially Yugoslavia, which has only a young boy King to lead them, but he seems strong, and although only seventeen, he seems ever so much older. It is always that way with Royal children. Their childhood is over before they really see it, and the days of their youth move on quickly.


At the Sydney Royal Easter Show - about 1938
from left: Phyllis, Dad, Mummy, Peggy, Pat

11th April 1941 Good Friday
Dear Diary
Today is Good Friday, the day on which our lord died, ever so many thousand years ago. I am so ashamed of myself, I hate writing this, but at the exact hour of Christ's death, 3 o'clock, I was enjoying myself in a wonderful cool rolling surf, Splashing about, without a thought or care in the world, and if there was one thing i wanted to remember it was this Death. I feel horribly selfish and so afraid that God might be cross with me, but he must know I forgot and forgive me.
I am working tomorrow. It seems a great time since I was talking about Easter being in a few weeks, and I can hardly believe it is already here. I am going to the Show on Monday. Graham said to me "I'll be having good company at the Show on Monday, Mervyn is coming with me." I told him Shirley was coming with me and he said " Won't it be fun if we meet?"
I do hope we will, I'm going to tell him quite innocently where Shirley and I are going to meet & what time, and let him do the rest. He is such a sweet nice boy, I don't think there is another Graham like him anywhere, he's just Graham. We have such fun at work now. He teases the life out of me about one of the boys at the layby who is rather keen, and I tease him about Beverley, at the layby also.
But our fun will be marred now. Mervyn is leaving on Saturday and I feel something will go with him. He is such a decent boy, so understanding and loveable, and oh he has such a love of horses. I will miss him, why couldn't it have been Gordon who was leaving. I hate that boy. Life is like that and it isn't fair.
A bit of news popped up today. When Dad, peggy and Phyllis were coming home from the show this afternoon, they met P McDonald, and can you imagine it, Bruce has announced his engagement. It's incredible really, he's only 19 and his girlfriend is too. He won't be married until after the war I suppose.
I will away now as I have been having too many late nights.
So until next time
Patricia Anne

25th April 1941 ANZAC DAY
Dear Diary
I am writing for the last time in my old Diary. It will be hard to leave off my writings of little bits and pieces, but it'll be for the better. One mustn't think I'm going to leave off writing altogether, oh no, I'd die if I couldn't express myself somewhere, and from now on that somewhere is going to be in my dear little neatly bound blue book that Daddy gave me. It'll be a civilized book, which is more than this one is, that is, I mean to say the wordings and the frightful writings that I've written when I've been in a hurry, and just about had to jot everything down or bust. And I won't write unless I have a decent pencil, unlike the one I have now which has worn so low that the wood is scraping the paper.
I'll say farewell now, and one day in the years to come, perhaps when I look over these scribbled pages, I'll smile and think what a funny child I was.
So until then, for it will be then, and ONLY then that I'll unbind my book from its strong paper wrappings
I'll say
Avioure
Patricia Anne
16 & 1/4 years
(clipping Dionne Quins)

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Pat - age 16


Pat - 16 years in 1941. Click on image for larger version

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Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Pat's Diary - Part 6 January 1941

January 9th 1941
Thursday in my little trundle bed

Dear Diary
Nine days have passed in the New Year. Two days ago the Australians entered Bardia. Their casualities figure less than 500, including killed & wounded. Upon their entry they took between 25,000 and 30,000 prisoners. To mark the first Australian battle of the war, the Government has requested that flags be flown on all buildings. I can't help feeling proud of their good work, of my Australian fellow men.
Today I am home with a very bad cold, the first day away from work.



The Mayne School of Authorship have entered me in a scholarship exam which will close on the 31st. How I wish I could win it. It would be the thrill of my life. I'm going to prepare for it right away.
On December 15th I had a poem published, "By the Billabong". I received a purple certificate for it. It is the first poem since my D.O.S was won. I am very thrilled.
Patricia Ann
Here is my poem "By the Billabong".

The air about was calm, & quiet & sweet
The trees in all their perfect splendor stood
The breath of life hung heavy in the air
A reflection in the creek of all things good.

A fallen log lay broken in the stream
The relic of a tree once green & young
And in the rustle of the tree I seemed to hear
The music of a mighty song unsung.

And far away came drifting in the breeze
A scent that blended gaily with the song
And thoughts within my mind were glad & free
On that peaceful day down by the Billabong.

12th January
At my little attic window, Roseville
Dear Diary
In a few weeks I shall be 16. I'm really afraid to be another age. Fifteen sounds so comfortable. Of course there was all the fuss last year when I left fourteen behind, but I'll admit, in truth to myself, that sixteen is really the turning point in one's life. I shall have to accept it I suppose, as everyone has to accept everyday items.

I have read five detective stories lately, all about murder, in the Penguin Specials, and I feel quite capable of commiting one. Please don't take it into your head that I'm going to, because you'd be quite wrong. I'm just an innocent child.
I'm in an awful position at present. having to take some vile medicine which is vileness & the Devil itself.I can't bear it any longer so perchance I will run away.
Back to work I go tomorrow with my new black frock mummy made & finished on Saturday. Elaine is here until Wednesday. She's horribly nice now.
Phyllis has such a lovely book, with hundreds of pictures of the Princesses & the Royal families of Britain.
I have largely neglected my poetry of late, but will pick it up later. It is, in my opinion, that everyone has poetry in them but are only too lazy to develop & find it. I know that no-one agrees with me on that point, but it is absolutely true that everyone has it in them. By that I mean that anyone can string some words together to rhyme. It might be true also, that I am gifted with it, but then that's not the point. I too, have often felt that "can't be bothered" sort of feeling, but I've made myself do it if I felt it coming, and I am sure everyone else could. (no collection will be taken for that little speech)
Today I had so many jobs to perform, that I just forgot about them all & went out & had a lovely sunbake, & tonight everything is crying out to be done. I rather feel like a mother with a bunch of children whom she has neglected. It's too late now to do all the jobs so i thought I'd spend a pleasant evening with my Diary.

The local theatre was not esteemed by my personage over the weekend, instead I nursed my cold in bed. It's so strange! Yesterday I tried ever so hard to write a letter to a person I didn't know so well, & do you know, I was holding that pen for fully half an hour & I hadn't written anything. It must be true what Mr Raine said about me being shy, But fancy a person being shy of a piece of notepaper. It's ridiculous. I'm sure it wasn't shyness that held me back, it seemed just like a hand keeping me back. I'll try again on Tuesday night (recess night).
Well Diary, I must away, as the hand of time is pointing rather fierce fingers at me to beckon me to bed.
So until next time, Patricia Ann of Glen-Ayr, aged 15 yrs

Sunday January 19th 1941
Dear Diary
This is the last day of my fifteenth year, or rather the year I was fifteen. Tomorrow I turn sixteen. When I am sixteen, I'm going to stop collecting rubbish and doing silly things, and going to keep just a few hobbies, instead of the countless millions I now have, so that I shall be able to do them more often and more perfect. I shall dedicate more time to my Sunbeams work now. My fifteenth year was quite pleasant, except for Mummy's illness back in August & September of last year.
I shall not give up my Diary, that is one of the few privileges I'll allow myself. For it is the only place I can openly express my self. I find fun in it, and amusement is hard enough these days.
I just heard a beautiful song with a marvellous tune that went straight to my soul. I wish I could capture the tune and put it down just as I heard it, but things like that can't be done, which I think is a pity.
Tomorrow I am having my photo taken. One big brown tinted one and six little black and white ones. The big one is for Mummy as my birthday gift, and the others are for Uncle Jim in New Zealand, Harold Moore in Dubbo & the soldier in Palestine. I'll have three left.
For the last time as 15, Patricia Anne


Taken in Tonga - December 1928. Phyllis, Peggy & Pat (almost 4 yrs)

Sunday 26th January 1941
Dear Diary
I have been sixteen a week, but life hasn't changed much. Shirley at work lent me "East Lynne", and reading that I feel I could easily write a book.
Today I was to have gone to Cronulla with Pat Weinert, but this morning it was very blowy and windy. This afternoon rain graced the earth in a heavy shower.

Thursday January 30th
Dear Diary
I won't fall in love until I meet the right man, and as I am not even looking for him, I won't find him just yet. I'm more interested in my poetry and thoughts. Today I composed "Autumn Leaves" but have yet to finish the last verse.
It is just after ten. I've had such a lot to absorb, Weddings, our takeover of Anthony, and the visit of the Aunts & Uncles, my experience with the perfume woman, and the affair about the photos. It will all have to wait until next time as very tired is Patricia Anne aged 16 yrs

Friday, March 23, 2007

Pat's Diary - Part 5 Nov - Dec 1940

Friday November 1st 1940
Dear Diary
Today is the first of November, it's just a little less than two months to Xmas.
No news, so as to speak, only that on Monday I'm going into DJs to find a position. So now I'll be a working girl.
Composed a poem, "Down By the Billabong", today and am sending it to S tomorrow. My finger is bad again, that's the fourth time this year. (previously jammed finger in car door? Destroyed nail-bed)
No more news tonight. Yours, Pat Pyne

November 11th 1940
Armistice Day
Dear Diary
Tonight I came home with my first pay, tightly clutched in a little envelope. I brought Mummy a box of chocs to celebrate the occasion. When Mr Burns handed out the envelope to me, he thought he was just giving one of the shop girls their pay, but as I'm not typed as "they", & I am an individual, he was very much mistaken.
I have only 11/- bob left out of my pay. 3/11 next week's ticket, & a pair of stockings tomorrow about 2/11.
Yours, Patricia

November 24th Sunday Morn
Dear Diary
On Tuesday I shall be working three weeks.

December 1st 1940 Sunday
Dear Diary
Just two years today since dear Grandma Furner passed away. I don't know if the others remembered the date, (I think Mummy did) but the very first thing that came into my head this morning was that.
Outside the rain is just Sweeping down in bucketfuls. It's Teeming.
Today the Avenells arrived from Kempsey, and dear little Tric is with us tonight. At present she is sound asleep with her mouth open wide & two big teeth peeping through. She's such a sweet little kid. I'd love a little girl like her, just seven, but oh so wise. Her eyes are brownest brown & her lashes terribly long.
On Tuesday next I shall have been working a month. It doesn't seem that long, and yet it seems as though I've always been there.
Only about three weeks next Wed to Xmas. I'm going shopping next week & going to spend about 10/- on presents. I've never before had that much to myself. I was contemplating buying dad a shaving set, I don't know what to buy Mummy.
My poem "Australia Fair" was published in "Woman" 18th Nov. They have discontinued the children's page now, so I'm going to write to the Herald.
I saw Eunice yesterday. Oh she has changed!
Dad killed one of my chickens last Sunday. That's the first one to go. I'm going to keep the smallest white rooster. I do hope they'll be alright tonight, as the rain is simply terrific. The first Mate's wife has just had her third lot of children, four this time.
Well, I hadn't written for almost a month, it won't be long until the next time I write.
Patricia Ann Pyne, age 15 years & 10 months

December 7th 1940
Saturday Night 9:30
Dear Diary
The days seem to slip by like the leaves off a tree in Autumn lately. On Wednesday I went shopping & did some of my Xmas shopping. I still have two to get. Next Tuesday I shall have been working 5 weeks.
Yesterday I heard the March of soldiers & airmen. Uncle John was in it. I'm going to make him some socks after Xmas.
I'm going to have my photo taken on Wednesday. Until then, Patricia Ann

New Year's Eve Tuesday Night December 31st 1940
Dear Diary
Tonight is New Year's Eve. Tomorrow will usher in a new day, as well as a brand new year. This year, which will fade out tonight, has been a good year. The Government have made ready plans for Wartime duties, and has done a good deal of work for the war.
I have succeeded well with my literary efforts during the year and had 10 poems published as well as several stories.
Christmas has come & gone, for another whole year. We had a jolly Xmas. Dad & Mummy gave me a lovely white handbag.
Yesterday I received a card & letter from a Lonely Soldier in Palestine. He wants me to write to him, so I'm going to.
Harold Moore sent me such a lovely box of handkerchiefs for Xmas.
All the girls at work are going out to celebrate the new year, but none for me, I'm sailing to bed.

I thought this letter was rather touching. A girl at work said to me, "I should imagine that this place would take all the poetry out of you," and it has really. I never have time to write or I'm either too tired. I've been working nearly 9 weeks. 9 weeks today. Today I bought a lovely pair of white shoes with a wall toe & rather high heels.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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