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.