Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Part 2: ONE WRITERS LIFE
As you drove up the long, winding path that led to the house, you could see through the window the tall willow trees swaying in the wind. When you arrived at the house my precious dog Laddie would excitedly jump around ready to meet you when you got out. Every time I would stop and look at my house. The sweeping cream veranda, the giant wooden door that I had always found remarkable for the reason that it had a certain charm you could not replace, the silver pitched roof that stood so high and the old blue rocking chair that always sat alone on the verandah. This was my home and I love it for that. When I was two my beautiful sister Isabelle was born and from then on it was Isabelle, Mum, Dad and I, we lived together happily and peacefully on our little farm. I will always remember the date 25th of June 1914. I was four years old and Isabelle was two. Mum and Dad thought it would be a fabulous to have an outing to the beach. We packed a picnic basket full of delicious treats to eat. Off we drove to the beach, the four of us happily as can be. I can remember how much fun we had getting all sandy and wet. There is this one photo of us, Isabelle’s sitting on mum’s lap right beside dad and I am standing beside them. We look so happy and young, each of us with a smile on our face. We had such fun that day.