My memoirs

There are some in our family (and some of our friends!) who think our life is one long holiday. And yes, it is true that we travel a lot; our philosophy has become “do it while we can” as we know too many friends, and family, for whom “holiday” is too hard or impossible and we want to  make the most of the opportunities we have. It appears to us that there is a finite window of opportunity for travel and nobody knows how long that time is. So, for as long as we can, you will find us on the road, or on the water, or in the air… The first most memorable holiday I had involved a year of travelling around Australia. In 1995, Roger and I bought a Jayco Swan camper trailer and a 4WD. The kids were 8 and 6, so we took them out of school, rented out the house, and headed off on the road.  Having never camped before, this was quite an adventurous thing to do, but we felt very excited as we drove along the highway heading for places previously unseen by us. We explored every state and c...

  Shakespeare understood how central music was to life and love. Whether good or bad, happy or sad, it is always there to be appreciated. I grew up in a house where music was part of the fabric of daily life. The radio or record player was constantly playing—popular songs or classical favourites—and we often broke into song ourselves: football anthems, happy birthdays, or simply because we were together and felt like singing. My grandparents always sang in the car as we drove to their house in the Brisbane Ranges:  The Quartermaster’s Store ,  She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain , and (my favourite)  If You Knew Suzy . Mum and Dad loved the big musicals, and as soon as the records were available, they bought them.  The King and I ,  The Sound of Music ,  Oklahoma!  and  South Pacific  became the soundtrack of our home. At family parties, songs around the piano or pianola were essential, and the  Hallelujah Chorus  inevitably m...

  New Years Eve, 2017, and we were enjoying a magical post-Christmas holiday in a European winter wonderland, in Nuremberg, Germany. We kicked things off with “Australian new year”, toasting each other with bubbles as the fireworks exploded over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Detmar and Petra, our German friends, had planned an evening of celebrations, German style, and we were celebrating our good fortune to be there with them. A drive along the busy motorway and into the mountains and Detmar parked the car just as darkness fell. Rugging up in our coats, scarves and gloves, we wandered along a candle lit path, through the trees, to reach a tiny village. We grabbed a warming Glühwein and found a spot to watch the parade of pilgrims leaving church after a 24-hour vigil, walking solemnly through the streets accompanied by hymns. The experience was quite mesmerising and we expressed our wonder in hushed tones, not wishing to break the magical spell. From there we drove to our friends’...

  To the outside world, We all grow old, But not to  SISTERS We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets,  family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. Clara Ortega I was born an only child and was happy with the arrangement. All the attention, all the accolades, came to me. But two years after my arrival, along came my sister and changed everything!  Janine was born two years and three days after me. We share a star sign as well as DNA, a wicked sense of humour and the love of a good time. Our mother despaired of us for fighting when we were younger, often telling us how much she wished for a sister and how she couldn’t understand the way we treated each other, but at the end of the day, when push came to shove, we were always there for each other. When we were younger, Janine and I did everything together. Mum and dad encouraged this, as not only did it keep us e...

A given name is a label fraught with dangerous connotations and comparisons. It is something we need to think carefully about when we name our offspring as they may not thank us for how it is used… My parents named me Susan, because my father always wanted a “Suzy”, and Patricia, after mum’s closest cousin and confidante, Pat. These days, the only people who call me Susan are my own family and Martin is the only one who calls me Suzy. To anyone else I am Sue. Susan was the most common given name in the year I was born, so I have many friends with the same name as me. If I’d been a boy, I was to be called Peter – also the most common name of that year. When I was at school, my nickname was “Spike” because my surname was Milligan and there was a famous UK comedian, Spike Milligan. My father had also been called Spike when he was younger. It was not a nickname I liked, but it was better than that bestowed on my younger sister, who was called “Prickle” because she was little Spike. Eve...

My mother got her drivers licence when she was 8½ months pregnant with me. I’m sure, if you look hard enough, you could see the indent of the steering wheel in my scalp. She passed first go, which she would say was due to her skill, but I wonder if the tester was too scared of her giving birth on the spot if she failed. Dad had given her driving lessons himself, which ended at least once with her getting out of the car at a tram stop after too much “instruction”… I always considered both of my parents to be very good drivers. We had many long trips in the car to different destinations, from my grandparents’ house in the Brisbane Ranges to interstate holidays in far flung places like Coffs Harbour or Surfers Paradise. Mum and dad always shared the driving, both drove at a reasonable speed and my sister and I felt safe in the back of the car – for many years this would have been without seatbelts – although we probably asked “Are we there yet?” innumerable times. When I was 17, I had...