I have been through a number of life transitions, starting with the big move from UK to Australia, where I had to get used to a whole new way of life. As a very young primary student it was all a big adventure for me. Going from a tiny brick cottage with indoor facilities in lush green rural England to a larger wooden house with dunny way down the back, outside laundry and in the Australian bush. School systems were different too, but it opened up opportunities for me. Mum learning to cook on a wooden stove and me with the giggles every time she produced a wedge-shaped cake because she had failed to rotate it. Employment was easier to find and flat rentals cheaper, so this country girl could afford to move to the city where work was plentiful.

The second big transition was when I got together with some friends, and we hatched a plan to travel overseas. I had always been a rather shy and quiet child but was starting to learn how to come out of my shell somewhat. We booked a 6-berth cabin on a ship called the Fairstar, stopping in South Africa and Holland enroute to the UK, where I planned to catch up with family I hadn’t seen in 15 years or more. By departure day, I was the only one still travelling and shared the cabin with five strangers. Those strangers became friends.  It was the start of a 3-year working holiday in the UK where I experienced quite a variety of things, good and bad. By now I had gone from shy and quiet to confident and adventurous. My disasters have been the topic of previous submissions, as has my move from working in shops and stables to having the confidence to take up a career. Something I never thought I was capable of.

I took up a career in the Air Force after returning to Australia and soon made friends. Our group became the ‘Gluttons Club’.  We would go into town each pay fortnight and eat big at one of the many pubs, clubs or restaurants. Although Air Force food was OK, it was good to go out for some luxury too. I recall one trip to a place called “Dirty Dicks Theatre Restaurant”.  It was one of those places where you eat and see a show based on Elizabethan London, with buxom serving wenches and bawdy ballads. They had a chain of clubs all over Australia and the UK at a time when theatre restaurants were popular. I met a fella I rather fancied. He was eyeing off my roommate, and his roommate was eyeing off me. Basically, we all had ideas of who we would like to go out with, and all ended up with someone different. It worked out well in the end. I met my husband Paul and we began dating.
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Paul was often rostered on as guard commander whilst I was in charge of security. We shared a long wooden hut and supported each other as colleagues. My big boss was a bit of a romantic and kept encouraging us to get to know each other better. After a year together I got transferred to W.A. Paul remained in QLD. We kept in touch and were devoted to each other. After Paul got a career opportunity outside the Airforce with a W.A. based company, we became engaged and began our lives as a couple. 47 years and many moves later we are still together and happy.
 
Heather Hartland
July 2026

My best friend Helen and I were animal crazy vet nurses on morning shift in a local clinic. Through the vet we also scored jobs at a local racing stable in the afternoons. It was fun but hard work but fun.
 
Our role at the stables was grooming, feeding horses plus mucking out stalls then polishing the harness and sulky’s. We also learnt to harness the horses, which included adding hobbles to the pacers. We learnt that some horses race using the natural gait with legs on opposite corners moving together, cross gaiting. Others moved the two left legs together then the two right legs together, pacing.
 
After our first 12 months we were given the chance to drive a horse around the home track. Just trying to sit in the sulky was hard enough. A most unladylike pose, terribly insecure and uncomfortable, frequently falling off.
 
As a special treat, whenever possible, our racing boss would allow us to attend race meetings. He listed us as grooms and attendants to allow us free access to the track. On the downside we usually travelled in the float. Not the two horse domestic float, the 6 – 8 horse truck style. We were thrown in with the feed.
 
One day we got to accompany the boss to a horse auction. Neither of us had seen one so we were curious. We chatted on the way up and hatched a plan to buy our own horse and train it.  We had been working at Big Jim’s stables long enough now, so we thought we knew enough. We ran it by the boss of course, and he told us we could use the old stable to house our horse and the track to exercise after his racing horses were finished. We agree on fees etc.
 
As the first few horses came out, we tried bidding, then realized when the auctioneer called, any opening bid, 40? He didn’t mean $40 or $400 there were some extra zeros.  Yikes, these things were expensive. We quickly checked our funds and stopped bidding. Some horses sold for over $50,000.00.
 
We became disillusioned. Jim said, wait till the last lot. In came Saucy Sam, a beautiful bay gelding. He was an older horse and was being sold as a companion mount. All others were prancing around, this one steadily walked along. Well-trained, we thought. We bought him.
 
At the stables the purchased horses arrived. Jim’s was dancing around, ours steadily walked. We spent a few weeks getting to know him, riding him and then put him in the sulky. We had been allowed to borrow equipment till we could afford our own.
 
Once we got our gear we were permitted to run him with the other horses on the practice track. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Sam was very polite. He trotted patiently beside the other horses, occasionally neighing to them. No matter how hard we tried we could not get him to run to the front. He just liked to trot n chat. Perhaps we are not doing it right, we thought.
 
We persuaded the experienced jockeys to try him. They tried and laughed and suggested we give up. He was a saucy character, well suited to his role as companion mount but totally useless for racing. Too old and too slow. Apparently, a companion mount is an old horse used ride beside younger ones to settle them down. Bugga.
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So much for our money-making scheme. We said goodbye to our $10,000 outlay and our hopes of winning races and earning heaps. Now we had an overpriced money eating machine, not a money-earning racehorse. We still loved him though.
 
Heather Hartland
May 2026

During the mid-1960s I often met a group of friends after work at a local milk bar set up with mini juke boxes on each table. At that time I was living in Mangimup in Western Australia.  We would get milkshakes and put coins in the juke box to hear our favorite music, usually Elvis. Well, one day, while we were singing along to Love Me Tender, this guy walked in looking amazingly like Elvis. We stopped talking and just watched him join his mates at the back of the diner. Wow, sooooo handsome! I started seeing him all over town and began saying hello as we passed.

One day we were all sitting with our music and shakes as usual when the guy and his mates came over and invited us to join them for the Slim Dusty concert that was in town. It wasn’t Elvis, but it turned out to be a great night out. There was a barbecue and singing, some country dancing and a lot of fun.

The Elvis guy and I got talking. His real name was Ken. We found we had a heap of interests in common. We had both grown up on farms and loved animals. We both had relatives who were artists. Ken was 4yrs older than me and had already bought his first car, an FJ Holden. I was still on the trusty bike.

As we both loved the country, we did a lot of bush walks, picnics, barbecues and visited local sights. The first time he picked me up he was greeted by Dad at the door giving him the third degree. They soon became friends. One day he drove me out to the farm where he lived, and I too was greeted by a Dad who scrutinized me. It must have been the thing back then, Dads vetting potential dates.

Well, as soon as I began telling his family about my auntie, the artist, I was in. Soon I forgot about Ken as I watched his Dad paint a magnificent picture of a Clydesdale horse. Ken loved motor bikes. His Dad and I did not. His Dad and I loved horses, Ken did not. His Dad told me discreetly that Ken was a bit scared of them.

So, it meant a lot when, one day, Ken accepted my invitation to come on a pony trek. I arranged two quiet horses, old plodders in fact.  We set off at a leisurely pace through farm tracks and forest. Ken soon began to relax, though he was not exactly comfortable. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and both horses bolted, veering in all directions. We both fell off into the mud. We confirmed neither of us had an injury as he wiped mud off my face.

It was in that moment I knew we were meant for each other. When the horses came back looking at us strangely, we laughed, then rode home looking like a couple of mud monsters.  On our next date he arrived on a motorcycle – “fair’s fair” he said. I soon got to enjoy the ride. After 12 months we were so in love we became engaged.

Sometime later Ken was conscripted into the Army and was sent to Vietnam. We corresponded, cheering each other up with tales of our dates and mishaps like that first horse ride.  

​About a year later it was devastating to receive a phone call from his parents to say that Ken had been killed along with two of his mates.    The next trip to the milk bar we shed tears over our milkshakes, as my friends had also lost boyfriends or brothers in Vietnam.

I will always remember him.
 
Heather Hartland
April 2026

​A number of people have had a strong influence on my life, family, workmates, teachers, people I got to know through my life.

My parents instilled in me the importance of honesty and integrity. I was definitely not an A student and totally lacked confidence, but my parents weren’t too worried by that. They encouraged me to try my best and so as long as I did that, and stuck to those two values, they were proud of me. We were poor in assets but rich in what mattered. I grew up in a farming community so most of my food was grown at home and playtime always included mud or mess. Through them I also learnt the importance of hard work and the value of money, as in, don’t waste it.

Dad worked and mum looked after kids and home, as was normal back in those days, but occasionally they needed time out. I didn’t find out till years later that Mum had been very ill and that Dad had come back from the war a broken man and needed ongoing assistance to settle into normal life again. During those times Mum’s sister Edna would come and ‘babysit’. Edna was a free spirit and never had kids of her own (her choice). She lived on the river in a canal boat so visits to her were a real adventure.

​Aunt Edna was a major influence on me. She was an artist and I loved to paint, so when tasked with my care we would often set up easels and paints. She would create an amazing masterpiece and I would make mess, paint through the hair, over the clothes etc. Mum was not amused. Another time Edna decided to get working on her pottery wheel where she created some lovely ornaments, vases etc. I was set up in a corner with some clay to play with and proudly presented Mum with my “creation”. A sort of vase thingy. Plus, clothes and hair covered in clay. Again, she was not amused. Soon I had a little apron to wear. Some of the other activities we created were Christmas wreaths made from twigs and intertwined with holly and ivy. An old galleon made from driftwood with sails of leather.

Even criminals have had a strong influence on my life. To explain, I have been at the wrong end of a gun in a robbery, trapped under rubble after a terrorist bomb exploded, and have rescued victims from a variety of situations caused by criminal activity. Those events taught me to value life and make the most of it. Don’t waste time worrying about minor stuff.

The strongest influence on life is life itself.  


Heather Hartland
March 2026

​"I would like to share a story I entered in a competition with Take 5 magazine way back in 2002,  Heather"... 

Walking into a hamburger bar, I noticed a uniformed air serviceman seated with some friends of mine.  "He looks like a nice guy," I thought, putting in my order.
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I ventured over to the group to say hello.  Turning to the new man, I smiled and said, "I'm Heather".

"Hi, I'm Paul Hartland", he replied.

It was 1978 and, at 27, I worked as a duty police officer for the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF).  For two months I'd been living at the Amberley Base in Queensland, which was a long way from my home in Perth, WA.

Sitting next to Paul, I soon found myself having a great conversation with him.  "I'm originally from Sydney," he told me.  I also discovered that he was a supply clerk with the RAAF, and that we shared a love of photography.

Paul, 24, joined my group of friends, so we saw each other regularly.  We were all single, and started calling ourselves the "Glutton Club", as we went to different restaurants each pay night. 

Over the next two years Paul and I became great friends - and found our bond got even stronger as members of our group left Amberley for different units.  We began to spend more time together - just the two of us.

"I'm missing my family," I told Paul one evening, "I'm thinking of taking a month's holiday so I can visit them in Perth."

"Can I come?" he asked. "I'd just love to meet your parents."  I was taken by surprise.  "Would you really?" I said to him.

Paul smiled and nondded.

A few weeks later, we were in Perth, having the most wonderful time with my parents, Bert and Audrey Davies.

"You've finally found a really nice man," Mum told me one aftenoon.

I hadn't really considered having a relationship with Paul, but soon realised that he was serious about me!

We returned to queensland to find a message on my answering machine.  "It's my superior," I said to Paul. "They want me to transfer to the Pearce base in Western Australia."

Paul looked upset and, while I was sad to leave him, I was looking forward to being close to my family.

Soon I was settled on a new base and Paul started ringing me once a week--but before long, he was calling me daily, as our relationship grew stronger.

"I'm putting in for a transfer to Pearce," he told me one evening.  "I miss you."

But he didn't get the transfer.  "Oh well," I told him.  "Maybe another time".

Then he phoned next day.  "Will you marry me, Heather?" He asked.

"There's no point if we're on other sides of the country," I explained.

But my refusal didn't deter him - he continued to propose weekly for months!

I'd been living on the Pearce base for a year when Paul rang and said, "I'm leaving the RAAF. I've arranged a job with an aviation company near you.  I'm coming over in six months".

"Really!" I exclaimed.  "Yes," he replied.  "Now will you marry me?"

"There was only one answer I could give.  "Yes!" I said excitedly.

My family was very happy about the engagement and, a week later, I went to spend some time off with them.

One morning, as I was having a cup of tea with Mum, someone knocked on the front door.  Mum went to answer it.

"Heather," she yelled.  "There's someone here for you!"  I walked to the front door to find Mum's postie on bended knee!

"I'm acting for Paul," he told me.  Holding out a registered post package he said, "Heather, will you marry me?"

Laughing I said "Yes!' as I opened the parcel.  Inside was a beautiful engagement ring from Paul!  "This is wonderful!", I said.

Mum had told the postie I was recently engaged and, assuming the registered package had a ring inside, he'd taken it upon himself to act as Paul and propose!

We married on November 28, 1981.  Today I'm 52 and Paul's 49.  We now live in Victoria and I've since left the RAAF, but I still have a chuckle when I think about my postie Proposal!

​Heather Hartland

​​My first boyfriend was a rather good looking fellow, sandy hair, beautiful blue eyes, always meticulously dressed. He was our neighbour’s son and he and I spent lots of time together. He used to come over to invite me to go for a ride on his bike. Of course, he was in control and I sat at the back. We rode around the park adjacent to the garden.  It was a blue and red tricycle. He was 4 and I was 3.

​On arrival in Australia our first home was an old timber and fibro home in a bush setting, a bit of a shock for Mum who was used to indoor plumbing, running water etc. Now we had the traditional “dunny down the back” and a rainwater tank. For me it was an adventure but, for Mum, with a   pre-teen daughter, a toddler and new baby, it was a bit rough.  Plus of course our first meeting with a goanna. A bit scary at first but this guy became a regular visitor and we learnt he keeps snakes away, something else we were not used to, so he became a sort of pet. Mind you, Mum wasn’t keen on it sitting next to her in the dunny. 😊

​I travelled to and from school by special school bus which picked up farm kids on the highway. It was quite some distance from the house. I would walk from the bus to the house admiring the wildlife and unusual plants, particularly the grass tree.
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Growing up we didn’t have much money but our family were rich in what really counted. We had love and care and lots of fun. I grew up on farms and loved animals of all sorts. I desperately wanted a pony but we could not afford to buy one. During high school Dad got talking to the owner of a local stable and arranged a school holiday job for me. I groomed the horses, cleaned the stalls and the equipment, I guess you could call it my first job. I wasn’t paid in money; my reward was to ride one of the older horses. One of those horses, called Daniel Boone, was an ex-pacer used for first time riders. He was about to be retired so I was allowed to adopt him. After that I rode him on a regular basis and paid his stabling by working at the stables.

There were a number of firsts in my life but I can honestly say, my first marriage was my last. We have been together since 1978; we have been through a number of highs and lows, but are quite happy together in retirement.  First marriage, right fella.

Heather Hartland
​July 2025

In my working life I was involved mostly in Human Relations, Occupational Health and Safety, Police and Security.  I had to be very organized, disciplined, and follow laws and regulations rigidly. I was always on time and on schedule, well almost always. In “My Other Life”, not so much. It’s more a case of totally disorganized, no discipline whatsoever and never on schedule.

To explain, I needed a hobby outside of work to provide relaxation. I had a friend who was an avid quilter who introduced me to the wonderful world of cutting up perfectly good fabrics and sewing them back together in a different sequence. I learnt all the variations where trims, laces, buttons etc. could be used up in quilts, plus other projects such as bags, pin cushions, couch cushions and pictures also using these same supplies. I grew to love it, BUT, quilting and craft is addictive.  It’s almost impossible to go into a store that sells quilting or craft supplies and not purchase something. Things have a tendency of coming home with me. At the time of course, I was between careers and working in a haberdashery and craft wholesaler, staff got everything at cost price so how could I say no?  I now have 20 plastic tubs full of quilting fabrics, 50 cards of lace with 30mtrs per card and various containers of other craft items. I have started numerous projects and have a large tub with 48 UFOs. That’s unfinished objects for those who don’t quilt. You see, I keep changing my mind.

In retirement I had a little more time and became more budget conscious. I tended to explore op shops and of course they also sell craft stuff!!! As I struggled to avoid the temptation to buy, I saw a stand with jigsaw puzzles on it. Desperate to take my mind off quilting I bought my first jigsaw puzzle. Well, who would know that this is also addictive. It seems every op shop has puzzles so cheap I could pick up 2 or 3 at a time. By now we had moved to Benalla.  My house has a long room at the side which sits in the sun, even during winter, an ideal spot to relax with coffee and puzzle. Now, I have a new hobby and addiction. With five op shops here, and puzzles going out at ridiculously cheap prices, I now have a collection that just reached 2000. That is, after giving away those I did not wish to keep to fellow puzzle addicts.

There is no one happy place for me. Of course, I am happiest when I am catching up with family or friends, you can’t beat that. My go to place outside of that depends totally on my situation at the time.

When I have a tough day dealing with family issues, or perhaps trying to resolve a situation for others in my welfare role, I have a friend and mentor with the Salvos, the welfare officer, who is always willing to help resolve issues or problems. We sit and drink coffee, go through the issues and 9 times out of 10 we come up with a strategy to sort things out. Then I am back in my happy mode as we chat over a coffee.

Sometimes after a really busy month, I just need time out. So, I go and sit at the dining room table and pull out a jigsaw puzzle. Sounds crazy but I find jigsaws very calming and relaxing.  Our old house has a room at the Centre which serves as dining and family room adjacent to the kitchen. The table is in a corner which looks over the garden and the sun hits it all day. It got big windows so there is plenty of light coming in. I may sit there all day and complete a puzzle in one sitting, but usually come away from there feeling much happier and more relaxed. I’m sure my husband thinks I’m nuts sometimes.

Other times I may go to the gardens and sit amongst the amazing roses, quietly enjoying the display or perhaps sit nearer the lake and just quietly watch the world go by. Both usually with my travel mug of coffee. I love nature, the beautiful trees, flowers, the lake and of course the wildlife. The beauty of nature can be so calming. When we used to farm-sit for friends, we would often sit on the verandah looking out over the valley to the distant hills, such a calming environment.

We recently installed seating at the cenotaph, heritage style metal engraved seats, as a memorial to those who fought for our freedom. If I have a down day or feel frustrated that I can’t afford something, or can’t do something, I just sit in those seats, imagine what those people went through fighting for Australia’s freedom and I soon start to wake up to reality. I have a house to live in, which I own. I have food on the table and the beautiful gardens to enjoy.  What have I got to complain about?????????????


Heather Hartland
​May 2025

I am fortunate in having two sisters I love dearly. Yes, we have had a few scraps along the way, but generally we get on well despite our differing views.  I am the oldest of three and coincidentally, the first of three babies to survive. As such I was spoilt rotten by aunts, uncles, and of course my wonderful parents.

I grew up in an era of girls playing with girl toys and boys with boy toys, so I had a large collection of dolls. When I was 9 years old, Mum came home and showed me her latest doll. It moved and cried and was totally fascinating to me.

It seems after so long, I had a sister. I immediately began to “help” Mum to care for this new arrival, so I had the privilege of naming her. I had been reading the Susan Day stories so of course, I decided Susan was the best name.

My parents went overboard to ensure I knew I was still their little angel (or so they thought). Hence there was never any jealousy.

Rather, they had an issue with trying to get me to let Mum be the Mum. I recall one morning I heard Susan crying upstairs in her cot. Mum was hanging out the washing so I went upstairs, lifted her into the carrycot and slid her down the stairs!!!! Luckily no injuries occurred, but I was told quite firmly not to try that again.

Another year went by and suddenly Mum appeared with another doll. This one screamed louder than the last but was just as much fun. By this time, I was 10 and quite capable of doing more to help. I’m not sure who came up with the idea, but we ended up agreeing to Lynne for her name.

We grew up together and became a very close family. I became the son my father always wanted, at least, that was the family joke. I loved being out in the garage helping Dad. I even got to do some carpentry with him. My sisters were inside learning to cook and do dressmaking with Mum.

Susan and Lynne grew very close. They were able to share experiences such as their first day at school, their first boyfriend, and so on, which, because of the age difference, I didn’t. Despite that we got along well. I’ll always remember, on returning from a 3-year working holiday overseas, hearing the song ‘Welcome Home’ being played on the radio with a message from my two sisters. We hugged and hugged.

Both of my sisters became Mums, I did not. They had good careers, one a teacher and the other a nurse. They knew what they wanted.

I was still very undecided and spent my time trying all sorts of different jobs, travelling and having a good time. Eventually I joined the full-time RAAF, then, upon leaving the RAAF, became an OHS Manager.

I have been fortunate to have a wonderful family, a lot of experiences, and a loving husband. 


Heather Hartland
March 2023         ​

I was always a dreamer, never really deciding on any particular career, always seeking change and variety. My Mother was old school and so wasn’t particularly perturbed by my lack of direction. In her mind I would end up as someone’s wife with my primary role being to care for family. I had so many other ideas but couldn’t settle on any one in particular.

Then came the trip that provided the turning point and lead to a totally different direction. I did some travelling finding myself back in the UK, reuniting with the family. My cousin lived in London and enthusiastically took me out and about. I told of my passion for crime novels and reading about true crime and he joked about me joining the Met. I laughed saying I’m not good enough, didn’t excel in school. Long story short, there was a recruiting campaign on, encouraging people from all walks of life to apply. We had a wager, I said not a hope, they won’t take me, he said, you’ll get in no probs. I had secured a holiday job in a department store to fund my travels, so I wasn’t too fussed if I got in or not.

The application was duly completed and sent. I forgot about it and continued sightseeing. Then I got that letter, an invite to Scotland Yard, yikes what had I done. My Aunt accompanied me and off we went, by train, to my appointment. After passing the security checks going in, I was ushered to a quiet room with other applicants while my aunt was taken elsewhere. One by one we were taken into the next room; each person went in but never came out. Where did they go. I found myself getting rather apprehensive.

My turn came and I was taken through the door to a rather scary room, dull and formal looking. Three people sat behind a desk, all in uniform and looking rather stern. I sat before them and answered multiple questions being thrown at me simultaneously. It reminded me a little of some of the courtroom dramas or interrogation rooms I had seen in movies. After the grilling I was taken to yet another room, this time, non-uniform people. I wasn’t sure if they were fellow applicants or not, but we had tea and discussed our lives, experiences etc. Very casual, like strangers who meet in tour groups. Then I was taken to the canteen where a complimentary lunch was provided. We, the applicants, then chatted about our experience.

An hour later we were called, one by one, to the big boss, who told us our fate. I was in!!!!! Yikes, how did I manage that?  I paid my wager, dinner out for my cousin. A month later I received a package with my join up documentation. I was to be housed in a section house in London right next door to the training college in Hendon. There my newfound life would begin. I served 3 years in the British Police before returning home with more confidence in myself and more direction in my life. I joined the RAAF Police and Security division where I had a great career. 


Heather Hartland
​October 2024

Relationships are an integral part of our lives and intertwine into the complex web of life creating the building blocks for who we become. It begins on day 1 when we are born and the bond between mother and child is formed. My bond was strong as I was my parents third child, but the first to survive. My life was full of parental love and the love of family. I felt secure and safe and was especially close to Mum. Times were tough so Dad worked long hours, while Mum took in washing and ironing to ensure we had the essentials of life.

Through this I learnt to appreciate what I had and to work hard to obtain my goals. I was already in primary school by the time my two sisters were born and my parents worked hard to ensure we bonded and there was no jealousy. I felt privileged because I had a real live doll where my friends only had toys. Though I’m not sure that’s the lesson Mum intended me to learn.

On one occasion my sister was in her carry cot crying while Mum was in the kitchen. Trying to be helpful I decided to take her to Mum. I carefully lined this cot up at the top of the stairs, gave it a push, sliding it all the way down. Luckily no damage was done, but Mum was quick to explain the error of my ways. The relationship between my parents was strong and helped them through a war and numerous difficulties which led them to seek a new life in Australia.

My Aunt was a big influence, she and I had a strong bond.  I spent many hours with her watching her create beautiful landscape paintings, or sculptures from a lump of clay. From her I got my creative side. She encouraged me to trust myself and have the confidence to “go for it”. Whatever my goal, she believed I could achieve it.

I was a dreamer, often gazing out of the window and imagining what my future may hold. This led to me getting into trouble with teachers and of course, the inevitable parent teacher chats. I built strong friendships with other pupils.  We were taught the value of teamwork and learning to relate to others. Teacher pupil relationships varied, some we really loved, but our math teacher was rather stern, so we didn’t like him so much. He had the amazing talent of writing on the board with his back to the class, then spinning around and throwing the chalk at the exact pupil who was talking or playing up. “How could he see through the back of his head?” we asked.

Many relationships shaped my life, teachers, employers, work colleagues, friends. During my Airforce career the importance of teamwork and careful planning were valuable lessons learnt and afforded me new opportunities after my service finished. I built some very strong friendships and a new confidence in my ability to handle whatever life throws my way. 


Heather Hartland
​October 2024

​​Many years ago, my husband and I had taken some leave from the RAAF to holiday back in WA with my family. We had the simple task of babysitting a 3-year-old boy. His mother, my sister, was having some medical tests done. Now you would think, two ADF personnel could handle one small boy.  Wrong !!!
 
We had taken him for ice cream on the foreshore before going into the nearby shopping centre for a look around.  We walked past the toys where he showed a great deal of interest. I had been holding his hand till he sat on the floor looking at a big red fire truck with considerable interest. I was looking at other toys for his older sister’s birthday, while Paul looked elsewhere.
 
After 10 minutes or so, I looked at the time and selected my purchase, ready to go and pick up my sister.  Horrified, I turned to find our adventurous 3-year-old had vanished.
 
I joined Paul to see if he was with him, no luck. Panicking we both left in opposite directions to look for him. We searched the store with no luck. We advised the help desk, who put out an announcement. We scanned the mall outside and Paul raced out to the parking area in case he’d strayed outside. I did another run around the store.  We both dreaded the task of telling my sister we had lost her son. We even tossed a coin to see who got the scary task of telling her.
 
Not to be beaten, the store manager and I commenced a systematic search of the store, reasoning that he could not have gone far in such a short timeframe. He had to be exploring somewhere! We even saw other customers looking inside kennels, behind displays and any other place a little boy could hide. After all, his favorite game was hide and seek, he was good at that.
 
With an amused look on her face, another customer pointed out some stock lying on the floor in two or three spots.  We followed this trail of chaos. Perhaps he had been rearranging things?  No, the offender was a rather precocious little girl.
 
Then the call came over the loudspeakers, “would the parents of a little blond boy in a blue track suit, approximately 3 to 4 years old, please come to the Garden Centre”.
 
A ray of hope!
 
We approached the garden centre where a rather amused shop assistant pointed out a little boy, covered in potting mix, happily pulling plants out of their pots and carefully placing them into the ornamental pond.
 
I was overcome with a sense of relief that he was safe and well, but was horrified at the state of him, and the destroyed displays. Very embarrassed, we offered to pay for any damages and explained our situation.
 
We decided to buy him a new outfit and to race into the nearest public loo to clean him up before returning him to his mum.

Alas, she caught us!  She had finished early and was walking towards the coffee lounge where we had arranged to meet.

​Fortunately, she saw the funny side of the situation.
 
​
Heather Hartland
August 2024

​After leaving school I worked as a vet nurse from 7am to 3pm, then at a racing stable from 4pm to 6pm.  I loved animals but lacked the necessary qualifications to progress to become a vet. I tried purchasing a racehorse, arranging to have him trained and cared for at the racing stables where I worked in lieu of wages. His name was Gaymist. Sadly, he was more workhorse than racehorse and ended up being sold to a riding school. I did some travelling then commenced work in a trotting stable with the Kersley family, well known in WA. Of course, I had high ideas of becoming a trainer too. I bought a trotter called Daniel Boone in partnership with my then boyfriend. Well, that horse loved to stay at the back of the field and admire the rumps of the horses in front of him. Another failure. I sold my share of that horse to the boyfriend and said goodbye to them. Yes, both horse and boyfriend were bad decisions.

Some more travelling and a look at more attainable careers. I served 3 years in the British Police before returning home and joining the RAAF Police and Security division.

My brilliant career was one I came upon by accident, literally.  After 15yrs I had left the RAAF and settled in Victoria with my husband. A variety of jobs followed before joining the Godfrey Hirst Group. The Government had a scheme where employers were offered financial incentives to offer an apprenticeship to older workers, so I took full advantage of that. I did Human Resources initially, becoming the HR manager at their Geelong site. I loved it.

One fateful day I was onsite with a WorkSafe inspector and a site manager reviewing employee training following a workplace accident. As we walked and talked, I stepped off a loading dock, next to the actual steps, and found myself doing a very embarrassing faceplant in the concrete. Not my finest hour. At least WorkSafe was on hand!!

Upon being cleared to resume work on modified duties, I had numerous meetings with my boss, my Doctor and the insurer’s case manager and found myself becoming interested in Return to Work (RTW) solutions. Godfrey Hirst had employment opportunities in their Preston and Reservoir sites for OHS managers and could still take advantage of that Govt incentive, so off I went to Uni and WorkSafe for training. It caused great amusement when I attended OHS training on crutches.

​'You've travelled through time and encounter a younger version of yourself.  What life lesson (or lessons) would you share?'
​
I had a great life full of variety, experiences and, above all, change. So, it’s difficult to say what advice I would offer my younger self. Perhaps I would suggest that I stop being reserved, shy, quiet and self-doubting and go for it... "Whatever your goal or dream, go for it. Don’t conform to the stereotype that society maps out for you, make a change, make a difference. Be yourself."

In my early years women were still restricted as to career options, finance, and so on. . We couldn’t get a loan for a house without a male guarantor. Jobs for women were usually clerical, sales catering etc. On marrying, we were expected to give up our jobs to raise the children and care for our husbands.

My mother was an apprentice dressmaker, her father was a tailor. She gave up her career to marry Dad, but ended up in a munitions factory during WW2. After the war she stayed home and cared for him, and eventually me. My Aunt was a bit of a rebel and chose a career over marriage and children. We often talked long and hard about my dreams hopes and ambitions and she tried hard to encourage me to try. Sadly, I gave in to pressures of society and missed a lot of opportunities. So, if I were to meet my younger self I would say, listen to your aunt.

She loved photography, taking lots of shots of nature. She was also an accomplished artist and we often sat by a river, or in the gardens where she painted whatever was in front of her. I sat watching in awe of her talent, I idolised her. I confessed to her that I wanted to be an author and artist, travelling the world. I even dreamed of travelling on a canal boat as some of her friends did. Sailing up and down rivers and mooring wherever or whenever the mood took me. I even thought of being a vet or horse breeder, perhaps owning a property where I could let out cabins to artists. My aunt and I laughed over dreams of us co owning the property, much to my parents’ horror.

Had we stayed in Wales, who knows, I may have tried to achieve some of these dreams with my aunt’s encouragement. However, with a new baby and toddler (my sisters) and Dad being a broken man after some awful experiences in the war, things were tough in the UK, so our family came to Australia.

I was engrossed in exploring the new surroundings and ended up, predictably, working in a shop, then becoming a vet nurse. I did start to travel a bit to explore my new home and when finances permitted, I returned to the UK to visit relatives. Under my aunt's influence I did investigate alternate careers so on my return home I sought, and achieved my RAAF career, then my OHS career.

No major regrets, so little advice to offer other than, whatever your goal or dream,

"GO FOR IT!".


Heather Hartland
May 2024

​My best holiday was also my worst holiday. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. It all began in 1970 when I, and three friends, decided to do a cruise. We researched all the options and decided on the Fairstar, a magnificent ship, small by comparison with today’s cruise liners, but back then, state of the art.  We selected a 4-berth cabin down in the lower decks with ensuite. Departing from Fremantle W.A, we did the 4-week cruise to the UK, stopping off at several countries. The return trip was to be via the Panama Canal.

We all originated from countries outside Australia and were keen to explore our roots. I had arranged a visa for a three-year working holiday so I could reunite with family who I hadn’t seen since pre-primary. We enjoyed the onboard entertainment, shops, cafés and cinema. However, showing a movie about a sinking ship probably wasn’t the best choice. 

During the first week we were all seasick. Not a good start.  After awhile we got our sea legs, by this time we were in South Africa. We docked at Durban initially, went on the organized tour around town, great stuff. 

We returned to the docks to discover something had gone wrong with the ship. We were stranded until repairs could be carried out!  This was a bit scary being in a strange country, but the shipping line took care of us.

We were told we had two options, stay in a hotel in town, at company expense until we could rejoin the ship. Or join an overland safari, also at company expense, and rejoin the ship in Capetown, its next scheduled stop. We opted for the latter, not thinking what we would do if the ship didn’t make it to Capetown.

Our cabin luggage was transferred to the bus and off we went, one of the highlights of the trip. Travelling through safari parks, the waterfall trail, then eventually via nature reserves and into Capetown. Plenty of magnificent wildlife, photos to be taken. There was even a road around a steep cliff on the bay near Capetown, well, they called it a road. More like a goat track clinging to a mountain, very scary, especially when another bus came the other way, also full of terrified tourists like us. This required much jiggling and maneuvering by the drivers.  We also called into a Zulu village. Very friendly people. We got to see their traditional way of living, very primitive by today's standards but effective. The women made beaded bracelets and necklaces for the tourists, the men made spears and carved wooden objects. At least it was a souvenir.

We were relieved when, finally, we were able to board the ship. Back to comfortable cabins after rough campsites and creepy crawlies.  Two nights roughing it was enough, thank you!

After Africa came Portugal, docking at Lisbon where an array of colorful markets which tempted us once again. Our final stop was in Holland. I loved that place, so clean and fresh. Very friendly people and the best cheese ever. We did all the touristy stuff, windmills and so on. We finally docked in London, finishing our trip on a high note.

My working holiday in London was, however, marred by the IRA and their random bombings (the subject of a previous story); the death of one of my travel companions in a road accident and the early departure of the other two.

On a positive note, I was able to see my grandparents before they passed and was reunited with my favorite Auntie, who made sure I had a really fun holiday travelling around the UK. 
​

Heather Hartland
April 2024

​I have touched on this in previous stories but one of my many and varied experiences occurred back in the 1970’s in London. I was on a working holiday in the UK and, with my Welsh heritage, was able to travel on a British passport and work to fund my trip.

The day began with lovely sunshine and new friends made during my travels. We were all young and enthusiastic, keen to explore, try new things and have new experiences. Be careful what you wish for. I had only been in London for 6 months and was keen to explore places I had only heard about, the big stores etc. On this day we went down to a narrow subway under a block of business offices heading toward the Thames River, leaving the traffic noise and crowds behind us. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and I remember thinking car accident. Debris was flying around me, then darkness. I will never forget that weird sensation of being confused, bewildered as I looked around, somehow, I was lying on the floor, I don’t recall falling. My friends were gone, I didn’t know where. Nearby was a rough looking young man with blood on his head. Another man was crawling towards us. A woman next to me was crying. Where was the sky? Why couldn’t I see. We all huddled together trying to keep each other calm as we tried to figure out what was going on.

By now the noise had gone, the dust settled but it was dark, like we were in a cave. This being before mobile phones we could not call anyone; we were on our own. We were joined by another man who said, I think we are in trouble. What an understatement. We sat for ages, trying to chat, trying to figure things out in our dark and silent place.

We introduced each other and Tom, the newest arrival said “don’t panic but I think that was a bomb”. Wow, I had heard about random bomb threats, bombings etc. but here? Now? Can’t be. We all dismissed that thought; it was too scary to contemplate. There were no Govt buildings in this area, no police stations that were normally the targets. Tom then admitted he was a detective and had just called in to pick up the lunch orders before heading in to the police station. I’ve often heard jokes about, you can never find a policeman when you need one, well we had our own!!!

Another man then introduced himself as Father Murphy, not the best name under the circumstances.  He started us singing silly songs and telling jokes. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but it seemed like forever. Eventually Father Murphy offered prayers and begged the Lord for help. None of us were believers but he tried to reassure us stating God would help us. The blood covered man, never told us his name, said “Has he got a @#@!@# shovel then?? We laughed; it broke the tension. The priest looked up and suddenly there was a chink of light and a voice said, is anybody in there?

We began calling out, yelling and laughing at the same time. Relieved that help had arrived and amused that the priest had appeared to summon help from above. The hole got bigger and one by one we were hauled out of our cave. A fleet of ambulances stood waiting for us and first aid administered. On that day I began my journey towards becoming a Christian and vowed to take each day as it comes and make the most of my life. Make every day count.

We had survived 10 hours under the rubble of the office building that had collapsed on our laneway. It was indeed an IRA bombing.

I was uninjured but one thing I really desperately needed was ...

… a loo !!!!!!!! 


Heather Hartland
​February 2024

Following some renovations, I had changed the designation of some rooms and of course, re-arranged the whole house again. I guess you could say that renovating or decorating triggers a need for change.  I have been in this house too long, 8 years, it’s a record for me. Anyway, being unable to move house I had decided that the old bedroom at the front of the house would become my combined office and sewing/quilting room. The walls are floor to ceiling bookshelves which meant I could get my books out of boxes and place them on shelf like a mini library. Just looking through my books as I placed them carefully in category triggered an assortment of memories.

Some books on historical towns and places in the UK brought back memories of my childhood. Then some books by James Herriot about his life as a vet reminded me of my days as a vet nurse, an early career. The Dick Francis books about crime around the racing industry, reminded me of my school holiday job in a racing stable and my purchase of a not so smart racehorse.

With some books it was not so much the author or the topic, but how I came to have that book. I have an edition of Black Beauty by Anna Sewell given to me as a Christmas gift by my best friend and school buddy Alison just prior to our immigration to Australia.

Even older is a rather worn edition of a book by Thomas Hughes entitled, The Scouring of the White Horse first published in 1859.  It’s one of a series written specifically for the education of children and was given to me by my Auntie, who felt I needed a proper education.  We spent many hours together as I watched her paint and create amazing works of art.

The final book which triggers memories is one which I do not recall receiving. It was presented to me at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. I, along with many other children in the UK, travelled to London to watch this historic event and we all received a small bible which had our names hand-written into an official royal label. The logistics behind this was never explained, my family certainly did not know the royal family. However it came about, it is amongst my most treasured possessions. These three books come with me everywhere as they create warm and happy feelings of a wonderful childhood. I was blessed with very loving family.

Everything in life can be a trigger, from watching a TV show to attending a local fete. From reading a book to visiting a local landmark. I have had a very nomadic and varied life with a lot of experiences and, given that most of my possessions are of sentimental value rather than of high monetary value, they trigger memories of my life. Let’s hope I am spared the dreaded 'old timers, because I would hate to lose these connection to my past. 


Heather Hartland
November, 2023 

I have never been one to believe in numerology and the like, however, after reading an article on prime numbers where the author said that everyone has a prime or dominant number in their lives, I had a re-think. My prime number is 3.

I am my parents’ 3rd child but the first to survive past a few weeks. I am now the eldest of 3 children. I had 3 Aunties.  During my life I became engaged 3 times (3rd time lucky). My husband and mother both celebrated birthdays on 3rd Sept and my parents married on 3rd Sept 1939.

I have had 3 main careers in my life, London Metro Police, RAAF and OHS/HR Manager. With the RAAF, I had applied for all 3 services and been interviewed for all 3. The 3rd application worked and I joined the RAAF, where I had 3 types of careers. I was initially recruited as a general hand but then got re-routed to Clerical. During my training they read my work history and decided RAAF Police and Security was a better option, so that’s what I ended up doing.  

I have been caught up in 3 natural disasters, earthquake, fire and flood. I have survived 3 bombings, two were in London and the 3rd in Melbourne.

I have miraculously escaped death 3 times, once in a major car accident, once in the earthquake and lastly when the building I worked in in Russell Street was bombed.

I have even had cancer 3 times and surgery 3 times as a result.

Oh and of course, my pregnant mum used to travel by bus to the hospital for her check ups.  This was her 3rd trip.  My birth seemed imminent and this time …….it was. The conductor called out, "Any fares, please". I arrived…...much to the shock of all concerned. The surprised driver detoured into the hospital emergency entrance where we were carefully collected. Of course, it was a number 3 bus!


Heather Wallace, 
October 2023

A word that puts excitement into the lives of some and fear in others. For some it’s a time to fulfil all those ambitions and dreams that were placed on hold while working. Yet for others it’s a time of thinking what now?

Sadly, I was in the latter category. I was lucky in that I was never unemployed. I had a variety of interesting careers which meant that every day I was up, off and running to complete the days tasks. Some of my career choices were in those occupations where regular hours are impossible and one never knew what the day was going to bring. Travel also featured prominently so life was never dull. The one thing I had no experience of was taking it easy. That was a totally alien concept. The thought of getting up in the morning with nowhere I had to be, scared me.

So, that day that we were gathered in the canteen and told that we were all to be made redundant, the company was closing, was a devastating blow. The company made up amazing resumes which were sent out on our behalf to assist us with job applications. But it appears that 20yrs in the industry and a good reputation means nothing when competing with 20 something uni grads. I was on the scrap heap. Mid 60’s and wiped off the employment list. Scary stuff. Suddenly the excitement in my day was cleaning out a cupboard, sitting in my sewing room, or pottering in the garden. For some that was pleasure, for me it was boredom. A kind of home detention. I had to fix this.

During the last year of employment, we had been looking for a house in N.E. Victoria//Southern NSW as a holiday home and eventual retirement place. Somewhere out of the hustle and bustle of city life and closer to family. Then my husband got offered an early retirement package which he readily accepted. Plans accelerated and we sold our city house, found our rural home and off we went. Ready to start a new life as retirees. Whatever that may be.

Well, I quickly learnt that you don’t stand in the middle of Benalla and say I want to volunteer, you get run over in the rush. After the basic unpacking and sorting I was bored already so I went was the Information Centre to see what was in and around Benalla. I asked if there were any volunteering roles so I could try to fill in my day. I became a volunteer at the Centre where I learnt all about my new home. During training I was shown the Aviation Museum, so I found myself working there too. Of course, I ended up in the RSL having transferred membership and there I met the Salvos chaplain who introduced me to the Op Shop where I began volunteering. Through that I met CWA ladies and of course, volunteer there too. My neighbor introduced me to Probus where I eventually became newsletter editor, then secretary. Paul became Vice President at the RSL and attended a Lions changeover dinner with me as guest. That lead to me joining Lions where I became involved with the driver reviver program, kids public speaking comp, raffles, fundraisers and the antiques fair. I eventually became secretary there too. I also got introduced to U3A, and found many interesting social groups to join.

After 8 years of retirement, I currently am secretary to the RSL, GV Rail and VT Lions. Vice President of CWA as well as being their craft coordinator. I do newsletters for two organizations and I still volunteer at the op shop, the Aviation Museum and assist with RSL Welfare and my most recent achievement, I actually joined the Salvos!

One day I’ll look up that word “retirement” and see what it means!

​Heather Hartland
August 2023

"I Changed my mind" – the story of my life, of constant changing of directions.

Studying history in school we learnt about how life was in our parents and grandparents’ day and the long struggle undertaken by pioneering women who changed the way we are perceived in society.  I learnt a great deal in studying the transition of women from being bred to care for the men and populate the country, to being individuals with intelligence and freedom to choose a path in life. With encouragement from both parents, I was inspired to work hard to achieve my goals. Though those goals kept moving, too.
 
The influence of my very artistic Aunt during my early childhood lead me towards becoming an author, or artist. I spent many hours watching her paint, create sculptures and write inspiring articles. Then our family began a new life in Australia so the earlier influences on my life, that aunt, my grandparents and a cousin, were not such a strong factor. I had made new connections.
 
I did all my schooling in WA and wanted to be a vet after assisting in a local vet clinic after school and during school holidays. Then a farmer, because I loved animals and grew up in a farming area. I even had ideas of being in the police after watching UK crime dramas. Then I thought of a job on a cruise ship, though after my two cruise holidays I decided that definitely wasn’t an option - ships bounce around too much. I kept drifting from one to another, trying each career in turn and generally mastering not much!!!
 
Things changed rather dramatically following two events in my life.
 
One was visiting London at a time the IRA was very active. I was in London with my cousin and we had had long talks about career life etc. I said that I had not been that good at school and most careers I had thought of probably wouldn’t happen. My cousin asked why I didn’t follow my police dream.  I said I wasn’t good enough, however he insisted that they need people and would train me. The IRA were very active,  Experienced officers were needed to combat those incidents, while new recruits were needed to do the basic stuff. We had a bet about whether I would be accepted. I lost! They chose me………………
 
The second event was a chance encounter on a bridge. I had been through some awful experiences and had changed my mind again about being a police officer in the UK. I yearned for family and the peace of Australia. I was standing on a bridge overlooking the Thames River, deep in thought and constantly changing my mind about what to do next. A voice said, please come away from the edge, come talk to me, nothing can be that bad. I stepped back and found myself talking to a Salvation Army Officer. After boring him for 2 hours, I made the decision to return to Australia and explore career paths there.

Once safely back at home I looked at past jobs, looked at police work and decided to find something less stressful. Again, I changed my mind, deciding I had learnt a lot about myself by getting into the police, why waste it? I applied to the Navy, changing my mind when I recalled those heaving ships on cruises. So, I ended up in the RAAF. It turned out to be a good move. They put me in the Police and Security division and I had a long and rewarding career.  Well, long for me.
 
When I eventually got out of the RAAF I had careers in Human resources, Occupational Health and Safety, Stock control and purchasing. I just kept changing my mind…………………………………
 
Now I’m sort of retired, but that’s a future topic.


Heather Hartland
​July 2023

Studying history in school we learnt about how life was in our parents and grandparents’ day and the long struggle undertaken by pioneering women who changed the way we are perceived in society.  The transition of women from being bred to care for the men and populate the country, to being individuals with intelligence and freedom to choose a path. With encouragement from both parents, I was inspired to work hard to achieve my goals.
 
The place of women in Australian society fitted the typical stereotype staying at home to look after the house and any children. However, When World War I broke out, many women took on different roles:

• volunteering in the Red Cross
• working for soldiers' comfort funds
• raising funds for wartime charities that worked overseas

 
In the UK and Australia, the men were sent to fight the war while the women filled their jobs in manufacturing, agricultural etc on the home front. Their work was vital in keeping things going until the men returned and resumed their jobs. Others provided support on the front lines as nurses, doctors, ambulance drivers, and translators. They were not considered suitable for front line duties.
​
However, World War I didn't create lasting changes in the roles of women. They had to relinquish their jobs to the men when they returned. They still worked in traditionally female roles at the end of the war, and by 1921, the number of women in paid employment had actually declined considerably compared to 1911.
 
During the 1920s and 1930s, Australia developed the Anzac tradition that had begun in 1915 (and that we still observe today). The Anzac legend became an important element in Australia's remembrance of the war and its national identity. The war was mostly fought by men, so the ANZAC legend focussed on men's achievements. At that time, the role of women was commemorated in a much smaller way, with a focus on nursing.
 
Women's organisations that were active during the war included:

• Australian Women's National League
• Australian Red Cross
• Country Women's Association
• Voluntary Aid Detachment
• Australian Women's Service Corps
• Women's Christian Temperance Union

Melbourne woman, Vera Deakin, set up the Red Cross Missing and Wounded Enquiry Bureau. The organisation tried to get information to the families of soldiers who either:

• had been killed
• were listed as missing
• were wounded
• had been taken prisoner

 
Women could join the services in clerical type roles, communications and plotters, as well as nursing. Those involved in code breaking, communications or plotting were essential in combatting our enemies. Australian Nurses played a vital role in caring for the injured. It was not until World War II that women took on service jobs, working in areas that were previously male-only occupations. The women’s services were operated as separate entities alongside the men. So, the WRENS, WRANS and WRAAF was born. However once married, they were encouraged to resign. 
 
Later in the 1980’s, things began to change and the women’s services gradually blended with mens and we all became Army, Navy or Airforce. Women today are deployed into war zones, on overseas duty and are actively involved in the Defence of our country.  
 
Here in Benalla, we have a female Petty Officer who was the first female to serve aboard an Australian submarine.  In the cemetery here lies Sgt Mabel Shannon, a Wangaratta lady, who enlisted in the RAAF in 1942. Her unit was No1 Wireless Air Gunners school. Sadly, she passed away in 1943 from illness while employed as a drill instructor, before she could realize her full potential.
 
As has been made known recently with the unveiling of the memorial in Devenish, Vivian Bullwinkel was an Australian Army nurse born in S.A. She was the sole survivor of the 1942 Banka Island massacre, served in Singapore and Malaya. She found herself on Banka Island after the ship she was travelling in was sunk by the Japanese.
 
Whilst this may sound like a women’s lib speech, it's more about how things have changed over the years. Acknowledging the work done by women but also being an advocate of equality in that anyone has the right to learn, grow and achieve in this world, regardless of gender, colour, religion or race. 


Heather Hartland
May 2023

I have had so many influences in my life, good and bad. Many experiences too but one lesson learned from history and from my favourite Aunt was that if you want something badly enough, and work hard enough towards your goal, you can achieve. You must believe in you

Learning about the changing role of women in history enabled me to shape my own future
My parents, grandparents, Aunts and Uncles were in the British forces so the ANZAC legend did not feature strongly in my family. However, it was certainly strong in my husband’s family. Then as I began my RAAF career the ANZAC legend became more prominent in my life. I began to understand what it meant, the sacrifices and the achievements. I always marched in Honor of those who served.

Each year we pay homage not only to those original ANZACs, but to all who died or were disabled in their service to this country. They enrich our nation’s history. Their hope was for the freedom of mankind and we remember with pride their courage, their compassion and their comradeship. They served on land and sea and in the air, in many places throughout the world. Side by side, black and white, rich and poor, people of many cultures fought for Australia, their home.

The Spirit of ANZAC is an intangible thing. It is unseen, unpredictable, an unquenchable thirst for justice, freedom and peace. This phrase is synonymous with   'The Spirit of the Anzacs’   However, despite being intangible, the Spirit of ANZAC is an integral part of our heritage.

On the morning of April 25th, 1915, Australian and New Zealand troops landed under fire at Gallipoli, and it was then and in the violent campaign which followed, that the ANZAC tradition was forged.

This is something which has been a significant influence on my life with family connections and my own service career. Seeing those old diggers marching and the emotions they showed at the services across Australia. Hearing their stories as we sat in various RSL halls following marches and talking to the unsung heroes, the families of those who served. Reading numerous books on the subject with more and more information being released as its declassified. I also fear for our future as we do not appear to have learnt to live in peace.  Wars still break out; people still suffer.
​

Heather Hartland
May 2023

​​I tend to hang on to things that were gifts. They don’t have to be fancy or expensive, if they were given to me, or made for me, I treasure them dearly. I have a somewhat wonky mini vase made by my niece at age 10. I love it. I have a hand made wooden sailing ship made by my Auntie and her boyfriend with driftwood we had collected on the beach. Another favorite would be a statue of a clown made for me by an Auntie who was an artist and sculpturer. I also have a drawing made by another niece at around 8yrs old. Plus, a crochet rug my baby sister made at age 15. I also have the bible I mentioned in my first story, given to me when I attended the coronation of Queen Elizabeth.

I have to admit, my most precious items are the old black and white family photos. They are just irreplaceable and are a great way of recalling my life and my family history. One such photo is a rare one of my Grandparents together in their garden in Wales which I have hanging up. So many photos showing my parents, aunts and uncles growing up. Others I had taken in the early days of my life before colour photos and more recently digital photography, came in.

​Although I am currently scanning old photos onto my computer, somehow digital photos don’t seem the same. They are a pain to transport when moving house, but I wouldn’t be without them.

All of these things are the first items I grab in an evacuation. My priority, People, Pets, Photos and then precious objects.  If I have time, I take clothes too!


Heather Hartland
​March 2023

My life has been somewhat nomadic so I have been new in town so often it has become “the norm”. My father was badly affected by his experiences in the war so could not resume his apprenticeship. He and Mum moved frequently before embarking on the biggest move yet, to Australia from the UK, in search of a better life.
​
After a stay in the migrant camp, which was a series of old Nissan huts and a communal food hall, we arrived at his new place of employment, Bunnings Mills.  Bunnings had saw mills in several locations around W.A. This one was in Nyamup surrounded by natural bushland. The company actually constructed little communities in which the employees and their families could live. The road through town was gravel and the mill houses were timber with little front verandahs. They were basic but comfortable, we had beds and a couple of donated pieces of furniture but managed with wooden crates for dining chairs, and a larger timber crate as a table. We had a wood burning cooking stove, there was a huge rainwater tank outback of the house which we had to rely on for our water supply and of course, right down the end of the backyard was the essential little timber structure. For a small child, this was a big adventure but I’m not sure my poor mother saw it the same way. In the UK she had been used to an electric stove, running water and indoor loo.  It didn’t help when, the first time she used the backyard facility she had a small visitor sitting next to her, watching. It was a goanna!!!  I confess I was a bit scared of them till I got used to them.

I commenced Primary school and was happily travelling from the mill into town on an old school bus, meeting new friends and swapping stories of where we came from. (90% of the school were children of immigrants from many locations). Dad was enjoying his new job and making friends but poor Mum was having a much harder time getting used to the facilities. I don’t think she shared our enthusiasm for the new life at that point.

Our first Christmas was the hardest. Being away from family, we had been invited to the Community hall for a Bunnings Christmas. Children were given gifts by the company and happily played, the men chatted. It was fun. Unfortunately, the invitation said, “bring a plate”, so my parents, being their first year, brought a plate each plus a cup and cutlery, thinking the mill may be short on those too. No one advised them that there was supposed to be food on the plate to share. An embarrassing introduction to the Aussie tradition of “bring a plate”. Everyone was very nice about it and it became a source of good-natured humor. We got it right the second year, hahahahahaha …

The move to Australia was the best idea my parent ever had. They eventually got to own their own home, with indoor plumbing, plus they got a car.  My sisters and I got an education and made our lives here. We have been very happy. 


Heather Hartland,
February 2023