Pat Pyne's Diaries

Short Poems 1940

2007-12-27T21:23:00.000-08:00

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?
~

Tongan Childhood

2007-07-10T23:33:00.001-07:00

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

Pat's Brother Bruce died

2007-06-15T00:51:00.000-07:00

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.

Pat Engaged - 1946

2007-05-31T00:46:00.001-07:00

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

Pat's Diary - Part 7 Feb to April 1941

2007-05-31T00:39:00.000-07:00

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)

Pat - age 16

2007-05-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

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

Pat's Diary - Part 6 January 1941

2007-04-10T22:57:00.000-07:00

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

Pat's Diary - Part 5 Nov - Dec 1940

2007-03-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pat's Diary - Part 4 October 1940

2007-03-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

Three days later
October 3rd 1940 Thursday
Dear Diary,
I do wish my little mummy would get well. She is so sick, and the doctor, to point the seriousness of it, was contemplating in sending her to hospital. Oh I do wish God would let her get well. I'd even promise to be a nun, if only Mummy could have always health.
Today Poppy gave me the sixteen shillings he owed me with one shilling interest. Poor little thing, he's not so very rich himself.
Today Matilda laid the first egg in the new fowl run. Marye the Black Gynn now has laid 7 eggs in 10 days in her outside nest. I do love my little lot of poultry.
Tomorrow Aunty Olive is taking me to see aunt and Lilliput Mansion. I'm going to wear my costume & a new frill blouse, so I'm going to pray that it will be warm.

Eight hour day
Monday 7th 1940
Dear Diary,
Today is the least public holiday to Xmas and now today is over. It's been a most glorious day, on the River in a boat for Peggy & I & three of the girls from her work. Laugh! I don't think I've laughed so much in all my life. Betty the gingerhead fell headfirst into the river. I just saw feet disappearing over the edge. We took it in turns to row there, but coming back, two young boys towed us kindly to the boatshed. In all it was a splendid day, and I ended up getting terribly sunburnt.
On Friday my D.O.S certificate came to hand. It's a beautiful one with dark engravings and my name written in ticket writing.
Also went to the Australia Day display in town. Everyone said I looked OK in my costume.

Glenayr, Roseville
October 8th 1940
Dear Diary,
"The Flowers that bloom in the Spring" tra la. I feel as gay as a giddy lamb. Today whizzed by like a merry go round on edge. I hardly had time to sit down It always goes fast when one is working, & anyway I couldn't sit down if I wanted to, I'm so sore from yesterday.
There is a lovely new song out about the diggers leaving Australia. One of the lines as follows: "And the fields of waving corn"
I liked that that. I haven't had an inspiration for ages.
Today a young girl at Willoughby was murdered in her bed. The street she lived in starts six or seven streets up from us. She was only 16. I'm not going to sleep on the verandah any more.
Today I wrote to Eunice & asked her to come down on Sunday.
Well no more news has Yours Truly, Patricia

(Aunty Olive & Mummy PHOTO)
Thursday October 10th
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I posted the letter to Eunice and she rang last night. It was good to hear her again. She joined the VADs but is leaving again. She also had her hair done like mine. She is coming down on Sunday.
Today I received my certificates cancelled from "Woman". I suppose the book will follow tomorrow. I'm going to turn over a new leaf right now, and no-one will know me. I might even be a nun, but I'll have to think that over because nuns have to get up even in Winter at five o'clock, and if there's one thing I do like in Winter, it's my bed.
I do wish Mummy would get well. I'd willingly give my life for her to be always well, strong and happy.

Monday 14th 1940
Dear Diary,
Received book "Anne's House of Dreams" on Saturday. Princess Elizabeth made her first broadcast today. She spoke very nicely, slowly and clearly, and didn't sound a bit nervous. It was lovely to hear her.
On Saturday we saw "Under Two Flags", an old revival with beautiful Ronald Coleman. I really must see "Gone With the Wind".
Tomorrow I am going in with Muz & Fuz for the Farmers exray.

A week later
Sunday 20 October 1940
Dear Diary,
Tonight the wind is howling outside and at times the rain beats heavily on the pane. The only reason I want it to stop is because the hen house isn't too strong and liable to collapse any moment.
Today I composed a poem five verses long, entitled "Two Songs". The Song of Peace & the Song of War. I am sending it to Sunbeams tomorrow.
All weekend I've had a wretched cold in the head, and it made me terribly miserable. Mummy had one too. I've had two wretched nights. I can't breathe because of the cold, and so therefore can't get to sleep.

At my little attic window
Friday 25th 1940
Dear Diary,
And so another day has passed! On Wednesday I missed a position by one inch. A girl was wanted for a frock salon, so Miss Pyne (me) applied at 11, which was a few hours too late. But oh she was such a nice woman, the Manager, she said she would have taken me had I gone earlier. She was very taken with me, but she had engaged a a girl earlier that morning. So I finished my day at the theatre.
Another batch of evacuees arrived in Sydney yesterday, 39 in all, poor little kids! I'm glad we don't live in England.
Mummy is not quite well yet, and in some ways I'm glad I didn't get the position. I've still got a wretched cold, it's just as bad.
There is a light breeze blowing in through my curtained windows & fanning my face as I sit here, with the whole of my youth behind me, and a future in front. Around the bend, I like that phrase, but what is around the bend? Perhaps wealth & unhappiness, perhaps joy & sorrow, or maybe a long life & happiness. You never can tell, and so we must live a day at a time, until we can turn the bend.
I must end my light romantic dreams. No doubt you will smile as you read this, but at times it is a luxury to fly with your thoughts into swifter & wider channels. I must away now as my candle has just burned away (the candle of my thoughts).
So Avious (sic) until next tome, A very tired Miss Pyne, Patricia

Pat's Diary - Part 3 late September 1940

2007-03-05T22:53:00.000-08:00

Glenayr Wednesday September 25th 1940
Dear Diary,
I am of a most undecided mind. I want to go to work and I want to stay home with mummy. I don't know what to do, I'm torn between. If I did go to work mummy would have to do the washing and work in the house and she's not at all well, she has a terrible pain all the time in her side. What will I do?
On Sunday my story was published in "Sunbeams". I won a purple certificate for it, and now I will get 10/- for all of them when I write in.
Today I found to my great delight, that my chook Mary, the Black Gin laid her very first egg. It's only a very small brown one, which was laid on a slope.
Bruce & Dorothy went for a ride early this morning on Bruce's two bikes, as far as Frenchs Forest.
Yesterday Darling Mummy was just in the act of cutting my hair, she had snipped one side, when I caught one horrifying glimpse of myself in the mirror. I refused to let Mummy cut another inch off me, so now one side is missing. I'll have to curl it up.

Sep 26th 1940
Dear Diary,
Today I applied for a job. I must get it. If God knew how much I wanted it he'd give it to me first shot, because I've been very good lately despite a few grumbles. As typiste, at one pound a week commence, & I'd work hard, oh if only I could get it. I've written out all the things I can buy with my money, for the next 10 weeks. Tonight I'm going to pray so hard.
Mummy is going to have Dyfimac(sic?) treatment for her pain. She's really very sick.
Mrs Gibson rang today, and I think that if she didn't take such an interest in my little chickens I would dislike her intensely. She refused to agree that Tite had a personality, she clasped her hand to her chest & laughted, "Oh Pat, you are funny", when I told her. I let my little chicks out now, they roam all day, & they're happy as the day is long.

September 29th
A very wet day, from my little attic window
Dear Diary,
At present the rain is teeming in bucketfuls down the pane. Today I am happy, for today I received the D.O.S. That is to be my title from now on. September has been the luckiest month I've ever had. I've had two poems published, one "The Lark" last Saturday, & "Elfin Piper" on the 6th. I've had three essays published & won a book, & now have enough certificates for ten shillings from Sunbeam. And a book from "Woman", and now I have the D.O.S.
It's simply teeming like one thing now, it hasn't stopped once since 12:30. Elaine & I raced up the back in raincoats & umbrella, to rescue the little chickens. They were shivering with cold & fright, for they've never seen rain like this before. Poor little things. We bundled them into their little box & covered it over, never stopped to count them. I hope I didn't leave one out, because I know it won't be alive when & if the rain ever stops. As soon as it does, I shall move the chickens coups into the fowl house & put some old clothes for the chicks to rest in, for I'm sure they must be wet though to the bone. You'd never ever believe how hard it is raining. Elaine, here for the weekend, will find it impossible to get home, methinks.
Elaine's Uncle is home on final leave.
I just can't believe I have won the D.O.S. It's a thing I've always dreamed of but never for once thought I'd ever have.

September 30th 1940
Monday. A very rainy night.
Dear Diary,
Today is the last day of September, and it certainly isn't what you'd call pleasant. It's blisteringly cold out o'doors, but I don't want to go out, I'm snugly tucked up in bed with a sand bottle at my feet, & by jove it is warm. It's raining heavily outside.
Today I waded out in the heavy rain to post my letter, or rather my certificates, to Peter. I asked him for either "Anne's House of Dreams" or "Magic for Marigold", delightful books by LM Montgomery. I doubt if I'll get any of them. I'll write my poem below,
Virgil Hope
"With marching feet & your head held high,
And a grim smile on your sunburnt face,
We know you'll go to do or die,
But not come back to a conquered race.
We watched you as you sailed away,
To fight for Life & Liberty,
We can but hope & wait & pray
Until you bring us Victory."

I'm all excited about my D.O.S certificate. It will probably come next week as the names are hand painted on each one. I'm a very tired Patricia Anne tonight, as I've had a very busy day. I wish I could like boys, but I can't. The only boys I do like are Poppy, Laurie Hinder, & someone I'm not mentioning. So unless my affections change, I'll remain
Widow Pyne (Patricia)

Clark Gable

2007-03-05T22:24:00.000-08:00

Clark Gable & Jeannette McDonald

Diary of a 15yr old - Part 2 Sep 1940

2007-02-26T04:58:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-26T03:34:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-19T17:58:00.000-08:00

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.

Published Poems

2006-09-19T18:31:00.000-07:00

As a teenager Pat was a prolific poet. I will gradually scan the poems I have and upload them here. Here are the first few. Remember it was wartime and the general feeling was very patriotic. Click on graphics to enlarge them.

Postcards from Brandenburg - 1918

2006-09-11T23:19:00.000-07:00

Pat's father, Norman Arthur Pyne, was the purser on SS Matunga which was captured by the German raider Wolf early in WW1.
He spent the remainder of the war in Brandenburg POW camp before returning home to marry Miss Dorothy Furner.
Later they lived in Tonga where he held the position of Customs Officer and their four children were born in Ha'apai in the 1920s.
Click on the images to enlarge

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That's Norman, front row right with the black cap on.
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The Sparkling Brook - from 1938

2006-09-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

Family newspaper started as a child by Patricia Pyne in Sydney 1938.
Click on the pages to view larger images.

More of the Sparkling Brook will be uploaded when I have time to finish scanning.
Please feel free to add your comments!