Pooh Reflecting

Pooh Reflecting
Pooh Reflecting

Friday, December 16, 2011

Nan and Pop

Lindsay George Arnold GOOD

I only ever knew one set of grandparents.  Dad's parents had died long before I was born - Grandpa (John Loring SULLIVAN) in 1934 in the Coramba Disaster and Grandma (Christina Ruby JONES) in 1947.  I am just guessing that I would have called them Grandma and Grandpa.  Mum's parents were my Nan (Beryl WALSH) and Pop (Lindsay George Arnold GOOD).  Nan lived until she was 93, and was a great grandmother to my daughter.  Pop died in 1965 when I was 12.  I therefore have lots of memories about Nan, but only a few about Pop.
Nan always looked the same, until the day she died.  A lovely homely, silver-haired lady.  She played the piano, which I always thought was special.  And what's more, she had a piano in her house and as children we were allowed (sometimes) to tinker on it. I learned to play Chopsticks and Good King Wenceslas on that piano.  Nan also had some purple carnival glass dishes in which she served jelly and icecream.  At her funeral I asked a younger cousin what she thought of when she thought of carnival glass dishes.  Her response - jelly and icecream.  The best thing about the icecream was that it was homemade - always tasted ever so much better than most bought icecream at the time.
Nan always wore a pinny, or apron, while she was cooking or doing the housework.  She also had her own special stool in the kitchen to sit on while she was peeling vegetables etc.  I think Mum still has that stool somewhere.
Pop - what can I say about him?  As an adult I now feel that I never got to know Pop as well as I would have liked.  I do know I adored him.  When I think of Pop, which I do often, I see him sitting in one of two places - in a chair right opposite the door into the kitchen, or in his shed talking to Mr. Waterhouse who lived next door.  Pop's shed was a mysterious place, full of gardening implements and paraphanalia and relics from the war.  Pop was an avid vegie gardener.  The house was on a large block and a good deal of it was given over to his vegie garden.  I think he grew flowers like dahlias and gladiolis there too.  The front garden was more Nan's domain.
I always feel that if I had got to know Pop better as I grew older he and I would have had a special connection.  But Pop didn't seem to interact with us much when we were children.  I remember one day when I was writing in my Memory Book (I wonder whatever happened to that book - I obviously didn't keep it) at the kitchen table and Nan told me that Pop would be very pleased to see how much trouble I was taking over my lettering and handwriting.  I can't remember whether Pop was still alive at the time, but I do know that he had the most beautiful copperplate handwriting, and I was so pleased that Nan thought Pop would be pleased.
Surrey Hills Railway Station
Pop worked for the Corps of Commissionaires when I was little.  I think he was a security guard at J.B. Were - a firm of stockbrokers.  He would walk to the Surrey Hills station every day and catch the train into the city.  I remember his lunch box - it was a black tin with two scottie dogs on the lid.  Whenever I see old tins for sale I look to see if I can find one like it.
Pop had some unusual habits.  One I particularly remember was his 'breakfast'.  It consisted of a raw egg in a glass, which he drank!  Yuck!

This is how I remember Pop - this photo was taken in later years.  And this is Nan dressed up as Miss Po-land when she was living in the retirement village in Sale.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

8 Shepherd Street, Surrey Hills

This is the address at which my grandparents lived while I was growing up.  I spent many happy times here, and loved the old house.  I can still picture what it looked like inside and out.  It was a very long block which went right through from Shepherd Street to the lane at the back (which appears to have been made into a road now.)
Next door at Number 10 was where Mr. Waterhouse lived in a flat - Mr.Waterhouse was Pop's good friend and the two spent many hours reminiscing in Pops' shed.  At Number 6 there were two houses with a common wall - just now I can't think of the names of the people who lived there.  I'll have to ask Mum to refresh my memory.  (She says the Durands lived right next door, but can't remember the name of the people who lived in the other house.)  On the opposite side of the road lived the Snells, the Serpells and the ?)
In Number 8 you entered into a central passageway, with Nan's bedroom on the right and another bedroom (which later became Aunty Eily's loungeroom) on the left.  The passage led to the loungeroom.  Beyond the loungeroom was the kitchen, and off the loungeroom was the third bedroom which was Pop's room.  Between the second and third bedrooms, with entry from both rooms, was the bathroom.  The kitchen had a huge walk-in pantry.  The door from the kitchen led to the back verandah which was enclosed and was the bedroom for my great grandfather when I was very little.  Later it had a section divided off at the end for an indoor toilet.  Prior to this modernisation the toilet was next to the wash-house in the back yard.  As far as I remember it was always sewered, unlike the loo at home which was unsewered for many years.  Pop's shed was behind the garage and wash-house.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Mr Grinpukel

Was watching a program called "Bush Doctors" today and they showed a man who had trodden on a nail.  Bill told me he had once had a nail go right through his foot, and that reminded me of the time I trod on a nail when I was perhaps about ten.  I remember that it happened in the front yard, and for some reason Mr Grinpukel was either coming to visit my dad, or just walking past (can't remember which) and he offered to remove the nail from my foot!  I don't remember if it hurt, but I do remember not liking Mr Grinpukel.  I wonder if that because he did hurt me, or whether I just didn't like him?  I have a feeling his name was Eddie.  In fact, it was.  I did a Google search for him and came up with this - Eddie Grinpukel.