TWO MEMORIES   
Lee Conway (Nee Doyle)

The Social
On social night the playground was different. In the dark, the gravel underfoot crunched louder than it did in the daytime and also there was an obstacle course of shadowy cars, trucks and utes to negotiate. Then you came to the verandah. It was all trestle tables, pressure lamps and women bustling about with cream sponges and mock-chicken sandwiches. And inside the classroom was …….magic. Mr. Bateman thumped away on the piano. There were buckets of gum leaves and streamers everywhere and the floor was a slippery mixture of sawdust and candlewax. Once, Georgie Parton, rolling his ‘r’s forever, and all the grown-ups racing up and down playing ‘crusts and crumbs’ and later Miss Loaring won the race to make the best hat out of a sheet of newspaper.

A couple, newly arrived from Holland quickstepped exquisitely around the room executing complicated corners that made us giggle. A young Italian man arrived wearing eau-de-cologne and a designer suit. An English family, misunderstanding Australian tradition made everyone laugh when they presented their empty plate at the supper table. Mr. Giglia played his piano accordion and Mrs Boyanich donated an iced cake from Boans for the raffle. Multiculturalism? We didn’t know it existed.

The Last Day
I was seven years old when Piesse Brook School closed down. I can still remember bits of that last day. A truck came and took all our desks away. Watching it grind its way down the steep yellow drive onto Mundaring Weir Road, my best friend Penny and I began to feel the enormity of the changes that were about to take place. “They’re our desks” I said to Penny. “They’re not Kalamunda Schools”.

But the chairs were still there. They were ranged in rows around the edges of the ‘little kids’ room. The whole school sat in this rectangle with Miss Loaring and Mr. Rose standing in the middle. “Who wants to go to Kalamunda next year?” Mr. Rose asked us. Not one hand went up. “Whose parents want you to go to Kalamunda then?” He went on in his deep growly voice. Only one boy was brave or honest or stupid enough to put up his hand. We all groaned.        

Article:           Lee Conway (Nee Doyle)

Copyright : Gordon Freegard  2008 - 2023