Diary of a 15yr old - Part 2 Sep 1940

Glenayr September 2nd 1940
Dear Diary
Tonight the wind is howling outside terrifictly (sic), it is really comforting to be snug and warm in bed, with a little kitten curled at my feet. My book arrived by this morning's post. It is a really lovely book, "Peggy the Pilot" by Lilian Turner, sister of Ethel Turner.
Today I went to the exhibition. Of course I didn't win anything for my poem but I had the satisfaction of seeing it on show. Peter didn't win anything either, nor did any of the Mackenzies for that matter.Phyllis came with me and we spent the best part of three hours roaming around two exhibitions, one at Anthony Hordens, The Radio Reporters. I nearly forgot to say that my story "Golden Glory of Wattle" was published yesterday in "Sunbeams". I won a blue certificate for it.

Tuesday 3rd September 1940
Dear Diary,
It is one year exactly today since the war began. It seems that, yet it doesn't, if you get what I mean. I wonder how many more years it will go on or if it will stop soon.
Today the first mate's wife laid her second egg. Dad let us have just one look, it's just a weeny little thing about this big (pencil sketch of an oval), white from what you can see of it. I do wish Matilda would lay, and I really think I could forgive Marye the black chook for being herself, if she laid.

I think I have nuralgia because all my teeth are aching. I went to sleep a martyr last night, and if I had died in my sleep, I would have died a martyr too. I've had terrible toothache lately.
I have a secret on, that I can't even tell my Diary. I've sent for something, and I'm going to watch the post each day so no-one can get it. It's weighing on my heart as a heavy burden.
Today I sent a drawing and a poem entitled "Evening" to "Woman"
It's raining tonight and sleepy is yours. ~

Thursday September 5th
Dear Diary,
I hope at last that Spring is here, although it is more like Summer than anything else. It is quite impossible to describe the day. At present the sun is shining, I won't say brightly because it's more than that, it's a very very strong sun. Outside my bedroom window the bees are buzzing in the Pussy Willow tree. It sounds so lovely and summery. Today dad built me a lovely table to do my work on. It's facing the window and I can see as far as the second willow tree from where I sit. On that table I hope to compose many many poems, and perhaps one day, who knows, a world famous book may be written there.

On the next page I will write one of the verses of my poem "Evening". I think it is quite good.
"The evening shadows are falling,
The world is all silent and still.
And I turn my face to the setting sun,
As I wander alone on the hill."
I composed another poem, "Fairies of the Glen" yesterday.

A boy at Dubbo, aged 16, wrote to Peggy McDonald and asked her if she would be his penfriend, and if she was too busy, would she send him the name of someone he could write to. Miss McDonald sent him my name, so I expect a letter any day now.
Yesterday dad brought a car home from work, and last night we went down to Collaroy, to see the grandparents and young aunt. We came home at ten. It is quite nice driving at night.
On Saturday Elaine will be here, and on Sunday evening Peggy will go to Kempsey. Today Dad did my doll's pram up, painted and laquered it ready to send to Tricia.
Later: I have written two poems today, "Our Baby" and "Australia Fair". Peggy is going to Kempsey on Saturday morning now. My hair has been oiled and very uncomfortable is yours, Patricia

Friday 6th September 1940
Dear Diary,
I do hate partings, they seem sad & horrible. Tomorrow morning Dadda is seeing Peggy off at seven (especially early in the morning they seem so awful). I think that's owing to the fact that when I was a tiny little girl of about five or six, and found mummy leaning over my bed, & kissing me goodbye. Then she was gone, for two weeks, away to Vavau. Since then, (as that's always been a sort of nightmare to me) I've had a horror of partings. It was the first time I'd ever been parted from Mummy.
Spring is in the air tonight, as well as in my heart. Today I picked an enormous big bunch of plum blossom leaves from my "orchard", and put them in a beautiful Chinese vase in my bedroom. It seems as if I have brought Spring into the room, and I have. I have four vases in the bedroom now, filled with beautiful flowers of Spring. Lupins, nastursions(sic) lovely and golden, snapdragons (I love that name) and zebras.
Dad brought me a bowl of goldfish. I have stood them on my new table, under the nastursion leaves. They, combined with the flowers, make the room feel very "Springy".
Elaine will be here tomorrow. I'm going out of my way to be nice to her, (hardly that) poor Elaine gets a tough time at their place. It was her birthday in August and I have made her a little gift I know she will like. I chose a white handerchief and typed one of my poems on it, as well as a bookmark.
My essay is in Woman today, but Peggy didn't bring it home. Whenever I have anything published, I feel I want to be famous, and do more work for the paper, but at present, even though I'm happy, I'd like to lie down & die.

September 8th 1940 Sunday
Dear Diary,
On saturday next, the first Mate's wife will hatch the first of her four eggs (going by the book).
Ken Hinder died this morning at three oclock. It was very sudden, he collapsed of a bad heart. The funeral is tomorrow & Uncle Oz & Aunty Olive are driving the Hinders, mother & son, there.
Yesterday I had my photo taken four times. Two of them with Elaine & Phyllis, one with Phyllis and one purely by myself. I had on a large straw hat, and my hair was blowing in the wind. I'm dying to see it, it's ages since I had one taken by myself. It was Mrs Mitchell's film and they're having it developed.
The joy of joys, my poem "Elfin Music" was published in Woman, as well as my essay. I was awfully thrilled, though the title I gave it wasn't "Elfin Music", it was "Elfin Pipers" which would have sounded better, though it's just as nice. Elaine came & we saw "My Son My Son". It was a splendid picture.
Dad & Phyllis saw Peggy off at Central. Dad gave me a wonderful book yesterday, a big fat journal to write in. I haven't decided yet whether to have it as my next diary, or a book for poetry & odds & ends.
Today I found in an old book, four pictures of the princesses. I am saving them now, and have almost a hundred pictures. On the next page I will write my latest poem.
(BORN IN TRAIN CLIPPING)
"Australia Fair"
A rolling land of hills and plains,
Of rivers widely swept,
Of forest trees and winding roads,
Of parks so neatly kept.
Of coloured birds and perfumed flowers,
Of bright blue Austral skies,
Of sandy beaches, tumbling foam,
Australian Paradise.
9-9-1940 Patricia Pyne

September 9th 1940 Monday
Dear Diary,
It is Spring. Everyone knows it, kitty, Uli, the chickens, Matilda (who won't lay an egg) and the bees in the pussy willow. Two of my goldfish died yesterday and I only have two left.
For lunch today I had a boiling saveloy and I still feel a bit squiff. It burnt my chest inside.
Today the postman brought me a parcel. It's not as nice as I thought it would be.

Wednesday September 11th 1940
Dear Diary,
Because I spilt a drop of ink on my new table, I have to keep off for a whole day. That was the agreement made between Phyllis and I, so I am writing on my bed.
The photos were developed, but I was very disappointed in them. We thought a cat or dog had taken Matilda yesterday. We searched everywhere for her, but in vain. I even prayed, that if she would come back I'd never growl at her for not laying eggs. I think she was waiting for that, for when I went outside again she calmly walked out from under the house.
There was a terrible raid on London yesterday, more than 50 people were killed in one block of flats. Also mothers & babies were squashed in air raid shelters. It's horrible to even read it in the papers.
We got a letter from Peggy yesterday, she said Anthony was lovely. Dad is making her a little cretonne dressing table as a surprise. Mummy is getting the cretonne. I think I am to have Peggy's old dressing table. The room's a bit small for two, but since appearance doesn't matter to Phyllis I won't let it matter to me. I'll be glad to get married to have a tidy room and dressing table to myself.
(CLARKE GABLE CLIPPING)
Monday 16th 1940 - A very windy day in Roseville
Dear Diary,
I've completely fallen in love with someone I can never ever in the world have. For he is the hero of a book, Rhett Butler, in "Gone with the Wind". Clarke Gable fits him to perfection, & plays that part in the picture. The book was lent by Aunty Phyllis on Friday. I began to read it late afternoon then, and finished two days later, 9 oclock Sunday night. It has 1037 pages. I didn't like Scarlett much, but Rhett was magnificent. It was terribly sad at the end, when Rhett's little daughter Bonnie dies, but where Melanie dies was the saddest. I cried till the tears were rolling down my cheeks. Poppy & Mummy laughed like anything & told me to stop reading, but I couldn't. Phyllis was very sympathetic but grinned a bit. I want to forget the book, it preys on my mind too much. I really must see the picture. It's on in it's fifth month in town.
Today I received a letter from Mr Hallam, and one from the League of Junior Writers, inviting me to join them. They help critisize(sic) poems & stories, and teach you. Uncle Jim says he loves getting my poems & I have my newly piblished one to send him.
Mummy and Poppa want to send me back to College, but I'll run away if they do. I'd rather work in a shop or Dental Rooms. I'd love Dental Rooms.

Sep 17th Tuesday
Dear Diary,
Today's been a day of events, starting up by the chicken's death this morning & ending when Aunty Madge declared she was going to have a baby. That about ended it all. Imagine, a woman of her age, 45, having a baby! It's beyond my imagination.
The First Mate's children are beautiful. There is only one egg to hatch, probably tomorrow or the next day.
Peggy's room looks lovely. She'll be home on Friday night and she WILL get a surprise.
There have been some intense bombing in London. Part of Buckingham Palace was blown away.
Mummy is ever so much better today, my heart much lighter.
Everyone is talking Votes for the federal election on Saturday. When I'm 21 I'll have to vote too, but at present I haven't the faintest idea or interest in Politics.
Lovingly Yours

Pat's Diary Newspaper Clippings 1940

There seems to be a problem with publishing posts on Blogger. Perhaps Part 1 exceeded a word or image limit. Whatever the reason it won't allow me to insert the clippings mentioned earlier. So I will begin this post with the scanned clippings mentioned and then proceed with Pat's writing starting September 1940 in a new post.



Here's a look at the time! Deanna Durbin sings for the Red Cross!

Diary of a 15yr old - Part 1 July/Aug 1940

This diary is mostly handwritten in pencil which makes scanning impossible so I will gradually type up entries (as they are including spelling) and add them to this posting. This diary spans the time from July 1940 to April 1941, with almost daily writing. Because of the large amount of writing I am going to post in 4 parts, which will appear in reverse order in the blog settings. Many of the pages contain old newspaper clippings which I will scan as I go. Here are the first of many. This entry seems to be more wishful thinking than reality as she had very straight blondish hair (unless it was permed at the time) and I doubt weighed as much. Click on the images to see enlarged view.







... continued from scanned page ...

... yellow. The day is beautiful, the sun is shining from a cloudless sky. It's quite warm for Winter but the mornings and evenings are very cold.
Meg rang me this morning, she's such a sweet girl, not the slightest bit spoilt for being an only child.
Mummy is such a kind woman. Peter, to my disappointment, didn't win the math jackpot. I told mummy that he'd be a bachelor. She said yes, if I didn't have him. He's still going to be one. I won't marry anyone for pity.
Well I'm quite happy today. It'll be Wattle Day on August 1st. There's wattle everywhere. I wish we had a tree.
Loveling (sic) Yours Patricia Pyne Age 15 daughter of Mr & Mrs Pyne of Roseville.

Monday 29th July 1940
Dear Diary
On Friday night old Mum Forsyth passed away to the Happy Hunting Ground. I like that name, Happy Hunting Ground, it doesn't sound like death but just Paradise. She was a nice old lady, very timid and shy, but the Dentist loved her and always spoke of her as "Mum", even on her deathbed he told Peggy that "Mum" had only a few hours to live. He'll be very lonely without her.
This morning Bruce came down with the measles although he went to work. So far I have escaped them and I'm sure I won't get them.
The Bride is moving from across the street, Todhunters house, they've been there just on a year. I hate changes almost as much as Pat of Silver Bush did.
I've often wondered why I am here on the earth, 'me'. I wonder who would have been me if I wasn't.
Yesterday I played four sets of tennis and won two. There were 22 people there yesterday. I haven't got a job yet. I'd love one dearly. Mummy and the Postman say that somewhere in Sydney is a place waiting for me. But I hate Sydney, oh I hate it. In the city you're just one of the crowd, no inderviduallity(sic), which is something I'd rather have. In the country you'd be appreciated but here, no-one appreciates me, well, no-one except Mummy.
I'm going to call this Diary a Journal, it sounds more distinguished. Last night we listened to the Lux play, "My Son, My Son", which is a picture at present in town. The father in it wrote in his journal every day, it was a Diary. Mummy recently read a book in which the heroine wrote a diary, and said when she had finished, that it must be put away and not be read until 50 years had passed. That's rather a romantic interlude.
This picture (missing) on the right is of a Nazi. It's not a very pleasant subject for a diary but here it is. The War in Europe is very serious. England is only waiting now for Hitler to make his final plunge to gain England. But they're prepared for any invasion, as is yours faithfully, Patricia Pyne.

Thursday August 1st 1940
Dear Diary
The first of August and Wattle Day. Only another month to Spring. Today has been golden and glorious, the sun has been out all day.
Bruce is still in bed and I might say, he is not a very good patient. He calls out quite a good bit and doesn't seem able to amuse himself.
At left, Princess Elizabeth at the zoo (picture missing)
I have my hair in 2 ribbons at the sides. Tonight I am happy, Peggy brought me some paper. Yours, Patricia

Saturday August 3rd 1940
On Friday night Miss Patricia stepped out. Poppy met Peggy and I in town. We went to tea, the RR Rooms, a beautiful big place, like on board ship, then off to Paddys Market. Mummy says that as far as she can remember there's been a Paddys. As we passed I saw batches of day-old chicks. I asked Dad if I could have one, they were only a penny each, but he said the cat would get them and we walked off. I was very disappointed and Poppy has such a kind heart he must have noticed so we marched to the Hen Coup and selected three. They're little golden things. We also saw a man with both hands cut off which was dreadful to behold. Everyone on the way home remarked at my chickens, they were amazed, but it wasn't so funny. I had to get them home somehow.

At right is Tyrone Power, famous star in the movies.
When I am married I shall have a son, whom I shall name (scribbled out). I shall have 3 sons, the other two I will name David and Anthony.
There is a wonderful picture in town, "Mortal Storm". I read the book by Phyllis Bottome. Dorothy went to see it and said it was marvellous. Mummy is such a pet. She let us go to the pictures this afternoon. We saw "UBoat 29". It was all about a submarine in 1917. There were also pictures of a German aeroplane boming Belguim refugees as they streamed out of Belguim. The poor people, many of them had babies of a few months and had to seek shelter in the ditches by the roadside. Many a photographer was killed taking pictures. We also saw Mine Sweepers in action. Their work is to clear a path for the destroyers and is one of the most dangerous of the war.
Here is the new 1940 war stamp which has been issued in 1d, 2d, 3d and 6d.
Queen Elizabeth will celebrate her fortieth birthday tomorrow. The Dionne Quins spoke over the air last night. They were six in May. They spoke French, played and sang.
Dorothy has been plagueing our place this week as Bruce is still in bed.
Well my news service has run out, so airous, or whatever it is. Yours faithfully, Miss Patricia Pyne


Glenayr August 5th 1940 Monday
Dear Diary,
Yesterday the Germans made a raid over England and dropped pamphlets on which was written, "A Plea to Reason by Adolph Hitler" and a whole page of reasons.
The chickens are thriving well. I have named mine "Musical David & Cherry". Dadda, Mummy and Peggy went to Mackenzies yesterday. They said it was a very nice place.
Below is a little picture of my dream house (missing), and as I hate the city so much perhaps one day it (the dream house) will claim me. Winter will soon be over and then will come Spring. It has been a glorious day, but darling Mummy had a very bad pain in her shoulder.
Lovingly, Patricia

Tuesday August 6th 1940
Dear Diary,
Last night in bed I thought out some lovely titles for books I am going to write in the future. "Forgotten Fragrance", "Rose of Tomorrow", "Dream's End", "Rondivore of Love", "South Isle of Love", "Comrades Three" & "Poignant Memoirs". I'll have to think ideas for them of course, before I write them. I've written the first one about a family of seven girls who lived in 1830. There's romance in it, which I shall have to touch up. Some people say that you can't write about love unless you've had experience, been in love. Well, I've been in love but as my lover didn't know, he couldn't talk pretty speeches to me. However I'll manage on what I've heard.

My darling Mummy has been in bed all day with a pain in her shoulder. I've prayed to My God for her to get well quickly. I wonder if we all have the same God. I'm sure Hitler's God is not the same as mine, nor is mine a Christian Scientist. My God is just and good and mostly answers my prayers.
My little chickens have little white feathers, and in a few weeks they'll lose their downy fluff. I'm having a hard time bringing them up, as it is not so easy trying to evade the cat & dog. The chickens spend most of the day running around in the Coup, pecking here and there at breadcrumbs and worms. I think Matilda laid an egg yesterday, but as it was under the house we can't see. She has built a nest under there. Yours, Patricia

Wednesday August 7th
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow Peggy is 17, and next year she will be eighteen, that seems very big. But next year I'll be sixteen, it sounds exciting. I want to be eighteen in Springtime, with an organdie green dotted dress on, and a large straw hat. I can just see me then, with sparkling eyes and shining hair. I'd like to be going to Kempsie on Saturday. Sometimes I'd love to go away, anywhere, just to get away from here. That's generally when everyone is cross, but there are times when I'd like to stay here forever, just loving Mummy and working for her.
My chickens are very healthy looking. Elaine bought three from a barrel in town, at twopence each, but sad to say they all died. I'm very eager to bring these three up; I wonder if I shall succeed.
The boy at right (picture missing) reminded me of Uncle John although I really forget what he looks like. I hope I never see him again. Aunty Olive has the measles. I told dadda I didn't think a woman of her age would get them, and he said she was probably teething.
It was twenty three years yesterday since dadda was captured by the Germans on the Matunga. He was only about 20 years old.
I think I should have lived in olden days, somewhere abouts 1800, even if it was only to wear the glorious oldworld dresses. The world is getting too modern. Soon they'll be growing artificial flowers, although there are some flowers of the present day which look very like that.
Sally Graves went to see her father in hospital after his operation, and she was very surprised to find he didn't have a baby in bed with him (she had gone to see Mrs Pallan when Catherine was born it appears).
Today has been clear blue and golden. Sometimes I love things so much, it hurts, and sometimes I hate them to the same extent. My poem, which I composed last month indicates some of the things I love -
Smoke from chimneys on a cold grey morn
A thrush's song at early dawn
Shimmering fields of golden wheat
The smell of rain after Summer's heat
Gnarled old trees on a sunny farm
The roll of the sea so peaceful and calm
A beautiful book by a cosy hearth
The sound of a dimpled baby's laugh
Maiden hair fern growning down in the dell
These are the things I love so well
~

August 8th
Dear Diary,
Yesterday afternoon Mrs Gibson came visiting. She said to me "I suppose you like it not having to work". I replied hautily "I work for my mother". She laughed then, and said, which was very rude of her, "Do you get paid?" "Mrs Gibson", said I, "I work for love".
I cooked the tea last night, but I got into such a flurry I didn't know what to do. Bruce said I lose my head easily, but this was terrible. I gave the children their soup, then Mrs Mackenzie came in while I was getting their vegs. She came to tea, and while I was getting her soup dad came in, and the kettle started to boil. it was terrible, anyway it's over now. Mummy lost her voice this morning and it's terrible to hear her talk. Poor little pet, she looks so sick. I'm going to keep her in bed tomorrow too.
Today I saw in the paper where motor cars are only 15 pounds and 30 pounds each. I suppose it's because of the petrol. I forgot to say that when I'm eighteen I'm going to have a car.
The soldiers begin their walk over the blue mountains on the seventeeth. I think Mr Uncle John is going, I'm not sure though.
There are restrictions on account of the drought, but I'm going to water my garden.
Below, Tyrone Power and wife Anabella.

Sunday night August 11th 1940
Dear Diary,
Another day hath passed & so falleth the night. I wish it were this time next week, two things would be over, the tennis tournament and my trip to Swains. All day today I printed tickets. On Friday I answered an ad at Swains, and was interviewed by a kindly old man, manager of Swains. He gave me two tickets & told me to do a dozen and take them in on Monday. There were 7 others there, that's including 5 from Newton College.
Ivy is being married the Saturday after next. I thought perhaps she might be an old maid but she was too nice for that. She'll still be my Ivy. Love, Pat
(note: Ivy was the family's maid for many years)

Monday August 12th 1940
Dear Diary,
Today mummy has been very sick. She had a terrible sweat, and her temperature was over 99. I'm going to pray so hard for her to get well quickly.
Today peter rang, he said would I go with him to celebrate if either of us won in the Farmers Competition. Of course I said I'd go, and I hope we both get something. I sent in my poem "God's Gift" and he sent a watercolour painting. I wish I could win but I'm not going with hope. By Saturday's mail I received my three shillings from DJ's. I was very excited, at once thought of all the things I could buy with it, a film to do anything I like with, a beautiful framed picture, eye beauty, I haven't decided yet. This morning's mail brought a letter from Lillian Thorning.

Friday August 16th 1940
Dear Diary,
Outside is cold and windy and I am snug by a lovely warm fire. It's been trying to rain all day, but it just won't. Yesterday Aunty Olive came and brought a lovely cake and apples for Um. The darling is still in bed and the doctor came again today.
Yesterday in Melbourne the funeral was held for the ten people killed. One, a young boy of twenty, was brought to Sydney for burial. They could at first recognise only two of the men, the pilot because of his position in the plane, and the other by a medal on him. The others were all charred. I think it would be terrible to burn to death.
Phyllis is making, or rather embroidering, a butterfly on my lace hanky for me. I have been collecting hankies for two years and now have over 23 unused ones. I'm going to keep them for my glory box.

My hair is like Deanna Durbins now, all wavy. Phyllis cut it last night.
My chickens are thriving & are growing bigger each day. Aunty Phyllis popped in this afternoon and brought a scrumptious lot of tarts. I read a book of poems today by Adam Lindsay Gordon. He was very clever but they found him dead in a shrub in Victoria more than 40 years ago.
(MOUNTAINMARCH CLIPPING)
Saturday Night Glenayr August 17th 1940
Dear Diary,
Tonight the rain is streaming down outside, but I feel gloriously cosy & warm. To make things even better I have a lovely warm bottle, water bottle. I never ever have a bottle unless I'm sick, so I'm going to make the most of it.
All day today I've had a sore side, not a pain but soreness in the right hip. Daddy rubbed it with ointment and it feels much better. Mummy is very much better today. The doctor came again and is coming again on Monday.
The rain is coming down now in bucketfuls. I do hope it falls on the catchment areas. Tomorrow is the tournament. I'm going to pray for rain for tomorrow. I don't want them to play without me, and I don't feel a bit like it, so I'm going to say a little one. Grandma always loved this little verse:
I often say my prayers
But do I ever pray,
And do the wishes of my heart,
Go with the words I say.
Today poppy made some delicious jellies and fruit salad. At present Poppy is singing "The Last Rose of Summer" in his comical voice, dear little thing.
(AIRMAN CLIPPING)
Margaret Gibson was seventeen today, and one of the presents her mother gave her amuzed(sic) me. She picked a boy, and gave him two tickets costing 7/6 each, to take himself and Margo to a ball at the trocadero. Not if you gave me the whole world would I go out with a boy who had been picked for me.
Mrs Mackenzie came today & brought a picture of Peter when he was a baby. Patsy (the devil she is) had drawn a moustache and beard on him and he looked a comical sight to behold.
Love, Patricia Ann
(HITLER CLIPPING)
(KINGTALKING CLIPPING)
Afternoon August 20th 1940
Dear Diary,
I've been getting into terrible rows. Yesterday I gave Mama uncooked chook instead of cooked, and I forgot the salt in the porridge, and I forgot to cook the soup. I can't help it, I do my best.
Today my darling little chicken is sick, it will probably die and we'll only have one little brown one left. Why do they have to die? I loved it the best too.
Last night I slept in the lounge on the sofa. It was lovely and warm. On Saturday Peter is coming down to see us. He wants to play cards with us, but Mama wants me to go out. I haven't been out for 2 weeks, she wants me to take him either to the pictures or for a walk, but she says Phyllis is going with us "so it won't get too serious". I think that's awful.
Dad brought two black chooks home from the Markets on Friday night. He has already killed one. I wish he would ..... (page here is missing)
Tomorrow Phyllis and I are going to Mackenzies. I'd rather Peter didn't bring us home, you'd think I was a baby. Next week I am going into town to the exhibition, I'm looking forward to it. Also next week, if Mummy is well, we will see "Rebecca" at the Arcadia.
Dear Ivy was married last Saturday, she's twenty three now. She sent us a box of wedding cake and a little white angel specially for me. I am going to always keep it.
Daddy wrote a story about the Matunga yesterday and took it into the "Sun". They accepted it and said it would be in the paper tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing it.