I wrote a story  about my first boyfriend a few months ago. But now I will tell you about John. We met playing badminton. He was my mixed partner, slightly shorter than me, with a cheeky disposition.
 
He and his brother were friends of my girlfriend Sandra, and they picked us up every week, and drove us to the Presbyterian Church Hall in Mentone. Eventually our game improved so much, we were chosen to play in the Pennant Team. It meant more travelling around the clubs in Melbourne, but we had fun.
 
John and Ern knew Bert, my ex., but it was a long time before I told them the reason for our break-up. Predictably, Ern, the youngest, thought it was a hoot, how could I not know he was ‘different’. That’s not the word he used by the way. John reacted differently, he put his arm around me, and told me how sorry he was. I was surprised at the compassion he showed.
 
Gradually, our foursome extended to Drive-in nights, or dinner dates.
​
John quietly slipped into my life. He loved animals and farming. Leasing thirty acres close to Beaumaris, he would head to the property  to feed his horses, and water his veggie patch. He was a floor sander by trade, but his heart was always with the land.
 
One night he had picked me up from the Bank where I worked, and we went to feed the horses. On arrival we saw that the mare was down, and about to give birth. She was having trouble. He headed for the old shack near the stables and boiled the kettle. Rolling up his sleeves, he proceeded to scrub his hands and arms with hot soapy water. We didn’t have mobiles in those days, so getting a vet was out of the question.
 
I sat at the mares head cradling her, as John tried to free the foal. He didn’t know how long she had been down. If too long, he may lose them both. Eventually the foal arrived. At first it appeared dead, but after gentle blowing into its nostrils, he breathed on his own. A beautiful Palomino foal. Mum didn’t look good. John cleaned her up and hoped for the best.
 
We left them in a small enclosure overnight. The next morning John and the local vet were happy to find two healthy horses. Mum was waiting for her breakfast.

After we married, John ran his own successful floor sanding business in Mooroolbark, Croydon and Kilsyth. That is until he suffered a severe chest infection. The doctor said he should stop floor sanding and find another purpose in life. The fine dust was getting into his lungs, and it would eventually kill him.
 
My parents had arrived from the U.K. four years earlier, and were due to retire. We decided to take the plunge and look for a farm. They left it to us to travel each weekend, looking for a property.
 
After many weeks we settled for a farm in Upper Lurg. I found a job in Benalla to help pay off our mortgage. John established  a horse round and sheep pens with the help of my Dad. Mum settled into retirement, enjoying cooking for our family. Sons Jason and Mark settled into their new school at Greta South, which had just over twenty students.
 
After a year, my Grandmother rang from the U.K.  She was recovering from a heart attack, and was told she only had a couple of years left. She asked if she could come to us.
 
My darling husband with the help of his brother, built another room onto our house to accommodate her. I’m pleased to say that Nan outlived the couple of years the doctor said she had, and lived a very happy life with us for a further seven.
 
Our life, though busy, was extremely happy. It was always filled with family and friends. 
 
Badminton became a big part of our social life. Mum started the Benalla Junior Badminton Club, which became very successful due to her expert coaching. Unconventional I guess, but a wonderful, happy life, the house was always full of love.
 
My sons are a testament to that.


Jan Nichols

​I had a trip out with the girls recently to watch ‘The Sheep Detectives’.  I like Hugh Jackman, and had read a bit about his latest film.

We agreed to meet early, as it appeared to be a children’s movie. Luckily we did, the cinema was packed. I counted fivechildren, the rest were mostly people aged seventy and over. Wow, had we got it wrong. I don’t think you could put an age to it.

It was a wonderful film, and it brought back memories of my life on the farm. I found it quite emotional. The sheep helped the local policeman find the murderer of their shepherd.

My story is about two baby lambs, Schweppes and Fanta, named after the bottles used to feed them. They were born at the end of lambing season, and their mothers had both died giving birth. The weather had turned cold, so they spent endless days in front of our wood stove in the kitchen.

They became very tame, not only with us, but with our cats and dogs too. As they got older, they slept together in a dog basket in our laundry. Returning to the flock was not for them. In fact, when John and the boys moved the flock from paddock to paddock, Schweppes and Fanta ran alongside the dogs.

One particular Saturday afternoon, after coaching badminton, we were sitting in the lounge, enjoying a D.V.D. movie, before dinner. The front door was open, and we heard a lamb bleating, and it was getting louder and louder.
 
I asked the boys to check.  No-one moved, so I switched the TV off, saying ‘O.K. Let’s go, something must be wrong’.
 
As we approached the house gate, Fanta took off down the hill.  He kept turning around to make sure we were all still following. Mum and Dad, the boys, John and I, three cats, and three dogs. All trotting down to the horse paddock.
 
As we arrived, we could see something was caught in the fence.

Schweppes was hanging upside down, his bleat hardly audible.  The other animals reached him before the men, and they licked his face as John and dad released him from the wires.
 
Just in time, as the crows were ready to pounce as soon as he was unconscious. It’s not a pleasant sight seeing an animal still alive, with their eyes pecked out.
 
This story has a happy ending. Fanta was made a fuss of. He had saved his friend from a terrible death, and it made our family aware that animals that are loved and cared for, become more human.
​
Maybe the movie ‘The Sheep Detectives’ wasn’t so far fetched after all!
​
 
Jan Nicholls
June 2026

Becoming a widow has to be the worst thing to happen to a woman lucky enough to experience a very happy marriage. The pain is unsurmountable.

No one warns you of the changes to be made, if your husband dies first. Of the bills that have to be altered, and the hundreds of hours spent on the phone, dealing with bureaucracy.

The first year has to be the worst, but if you think it gets better, think again. Suddenly you realise that the days can become easier, as you keep yourself busy, cooking, cleaning, housework and shopping. Maybe a catch up with friends, and a meal out occasionally. But nothing stops the loneliness at night. Sitting in front of the television watching your favourite shows that you watched together, just doesn’t do it for you anymore. Playing cards with your best friends and an empty chair beside you. I could go on, but changes have to be made.

Fortunately I was lucky to have the friendship of neighbours. They called most days to see if I was O.K..  These two women told me about U3A. I couldn’t see how this would help with the depression I was slipping into, but on reading the list of options, I suddenly became interested. Why on earth I chose Creative Writing and As Time Goes Bye, I’ll never know. It has been 68 years since I left school.

My friend Pat took me to my first class run by Joy Shirley, and the following week I drove
myself to Bev’s. It was daunting at first, and I wondered what an earth I was doing. But as the weeks turned into months, I realised my life was so much happier, and my evenings, much easier to bare. I do have trouble remembering the rules of writing. i.e. paragraphs, commas, etc, but the thrill of writing has made me very happy. I love coming to the classes, and listening to your stories. It has given me a passion I never thought I had.

My two sons and their families are very supportive. They love reading my stories, and have both noticed the change in me. I know John would be proud of me too. I thank my friends and my teachers for encouraging me to give it a go.

​If only I’d known how great U3A was, John and I should have joined, when we returned from Geelong in 2014.

Word must be getting around though. Our members increase every year, and an abundance of classes are there for the picking.

Jan Nicholls
May 2026

1960 was an important year for me. I was eighteen, had arrived from the U.K. on the Fairsky and was working at the ANZ Bank in Collins Street.  

Going to and fro on a tram from Balwyn to the City, I befriended agirl named Elizabeth. She suggested we go dancing on Saturday nights. There was a local dance in Balwyn once a month, but generally we went to the St. Kilda Palais. We made a pact, never to come home with anyone unless they brought us both home. Otherwise we left early and came home on the tram.

I wasn’t much of a dancer, but one man generally asked me. He was Dutch but spoke beautiful English. Gerritt (known as Bert) was a young builder.  Tall and slim, he taught me most of the dances.

After our second meeting, he asked to take me home. I explained the arrangement I had with Elizabeth. He said he had a‘Ute’,and it would be quite cramped. I had no idea what he was talking about, until all three of us stepped out to the car park. It was my first trip in a Ute, and although snug, I found it quite exciting. We dropped Elizabeth home, then after a quick cuddle and a kiss, we said goodnight. This became the norm for the next four months.

The ANZ Bank had a position vacant at their Mordialloc branch, so I was able to transfer from the City, and move into my workmate Elaine’s bungalow in Mentone. Elaine had already left the Collins Street branch, and was working at the Mentone branch.

Elizabeth and I kept up our friendship, until she and her family sold up and moved to a farm in the country. Bert and I were still seeing each other. It was easier now, as he lived in a boarding house in Brighton. He used to have dinner with Elaine and I, at least twice a week, and I would be invited to his place at least once or twice a week.

Life settled into a nice pattern. He was so respectful of me, but later, I was beginning to think differently. Especially as Elaine had met her boyfriend Peter, who often stayed the night, something that would never have occurred to Bert.
 
I was doing the dishes with Bert’s land lady, who had cooked a roast for us and Bert’s friend, also named Peter. The fellows were chatting in the garden. She asked me how things were going with Bert. I said slow but good. She told me how much she liked me, but she worried that Bert wasn’t being fair to me. His friendship with Peter was disturbing, she had found some books in Bert’s room the previous week and was worried about his friendship with Peter, as he stayed one or two nights at Peter’s place, when he wasn’t seeing me.
 
Suddenly it was as if a bomb had dropped. How stupid am I?

Bert and I were booked in a motel on Philip Island to celebrate my birthday. I asked him the name of the motel. He had no idea that I had phoned them and changed the booking from two rooms, to a double with a queen size bed.
 
On arrival Bert picked up the key and we headed for the room. I felt sick, but I had to know the truth. The look on his face was priceless. I told him what I suspected. Bert said his feelings for Peter were strong, but in those days people were scared to admit their sexual preference.
 
My first love had become a disaster.
​
 
Jan Nichols
April 2026

​The biggest influence in my life was My Nan. She had six sisters and three brothers and came from a working-class background. Money was short, but love and companionship was in abundance.

Nan Elsie Lewis with her mother and sisters  Top -   Annie, Elsie, Lily; Middle - Katie, Zillah Manston (My Great Grandmother), Emmy;  Front - Daisy, Ethel. ​

​​Elsie met George, a very handsome sailor, in 1918. My mother was born in 1920, followed by sister Edna six years later. Money was short after the First World War, but Grandad purchased a shop close by and opened a news agency.

When the children were young, Nan took herself off to night school to do a wood polishing course. She took to it like a duck out of water, and over the years built up a lucrative business.
 
Then World War II began.
 
Grandad’s shop was one of the first to be bombed in our area. In those days there was no Insurance. Not to be beaten, he took tables to the railway station, selling papers and books under the stairs.

​Nan’s little sideline came to an end, so both did Wardens courses. Most nights saw them helping the people who were injured, some even staying over at our house for a night or two.
 
By this time my mum, also named Elsie, had given birth to me. My dad was in the R.A.F., so we also lived with Nan and Grandad.
 
Food was short, everyone was given ration books. Nan spent her spare time working in the garden - there was just enough room to plant veggies between the back door and the air raid shelter. She exchanged her veggies for eggs and meat. Somehow our family always had food on the table.
 
On Mondays, Nan was seen sweating over the archaic washing machine, doing the sheets and towels and all our clothes washing.
 
My mum was employed by the Government, working in the underground tunnels in London, informing relatives of the death of their loved ones. So, Nan was my main carer. How she fitted everything in, I don’t know, but I always had plenty of cuddles.
 
Eventually the war ended, and I started school. Dad returned safely.  Mum and Dad bought a house, next door but one to my grandparents. They both worked, so my grandparents took me to school, and Nan always had something lovely on the table after I came home.
 
At eighteen I boarded a ship to Australia. They both cried when I hugged them goodbye. Mum and Dad took me to the ship, just as upset but trying not to show it.
 
It wasn’t until I had my own family that I realised what a great teacher Nan was. She taught me how to cook, clean, wash and iron. I loved and missed her so much. She visited here for a few months with sister Daisy. Mum and Dad had emigrated in 1969 after my Grandad died. It was a no-brainer really that Nan returned for good on her 79th birthday and came to live on our farm in Upper Lurg.
 
Nothing stopped her. She insisted on doing all the ironing. She fed the rams scraps every day, bottle fed the abandoned lambs. And, most of all, spent quality time with her grandsons. It was nothing to see her riding on the back of their motorbikes, helmet on of course. Or sitting in the canoe with a life jacket, and both boys taking her for a tour of the dam.
 
Sadly, she suffered a massive stroke in 1984. This time she didn’t recover.
 
Mum and I were so lucky to have her in our lives. She was sadly missed.
 
 
Jan Nichols.

Some of you may have known him, an artist who happened to be a neighbour of mine in Upper Lurg. A man not easy to befriend, but once he accepted you, would generously include you in his world.  
 
Hugh’s paintings are exceptional. I am lucky enough to have two of his prints on my lounge room wall, ’The Man who Steadies the Lead’ and the ‘The Four Deuces’. The third one from the set, ‘Stagecoach’, is hanging in my son’s lounge in Moorngag.
 
These prints have given me solace recently. I find myself studying them most days, my mind going back to the time he and John would ride their horses around his horse pavilion.
 
On one occasion Hugh held a rodeo at Bangtail Stud, inviting friends he had met over the years. John and I sat around the campfire that night happily chatting to John Farnham and his family.
 
Hugh started his working life up north mustering cattle. He became a very good rider.
 
At night he would relax around the fire with a sketch pad and pencil. Over the years he developed his artistry, eventually transferring to oils. It wasn’t long before he was recognised.
 
Hugh eventually met a young woman on his travels. Jill said she “tamed him”. He never thought he would marry, but he did and they had two sons. During this time his he completed numerous new works, and his name became famous.  Qantas even paid him to paint a plane! Hugh thought that was very amusing. Jill was lovely, she knew how to please her husband, he adored her. She wasn’t a dill with the paint brush either. Her paintings of Paris were exceptional. They spent their honeymoon there and went back a few times over the years.
 
Hugh’s early life as a Ringer had also taught him Poker. As he became more famous, he would often take himself off to a casino. On one occasion in Tasmania, he and Jill were staying at the Hobart Casino. They had been riding at a quarter horse show, and he’d heard there was a poker game going on downstairs. Jill decided on an early night but gave him her blessing. Late into the night, Hugh returned, waking her up by turning all the lights on in the bedroom. Sleepily she looked up at him, brushing the paper notes from her body. Hugh had won the game and had smothered her with thousands of dollars. He had a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands.
 
The only reason I heard this story was, Hugh saw John and I playing together on a machine at the Bowls Club. We were playing fifty cents a pull (the machines had handles in those days).  He said, “You’ll never win big unless you gamble big”, then proceeded to tell us about Tasmania. Jill whispered, “Don’t listen to him, just enjoy your little dabble”.
 
I look at my prints with happy thoughts.
 
Hugh Sawrey. C.B.E. 1919 to 1999
 
 
 
Jan Nichols

When travelling in Turkey during 2009, I noticed that I had difficulty climbing three flights of stairs. So, on our return from England, I booked into the doctors for a check up. He sent me to a cardiologist who proceeded to put me through harrowing tests. I was told I was suffering from chronic heart failure.

​To say John and I were in shock, was an understatement. I was immediately put on umpteen tablets, and told our overseas trips were definitely out of the question. Damage to the right side of my heart was caused during another operation, and it was irreparable.
 
It took a little while to organise the sale of our house, but we were lucky enough to downsize into a charming home in Rivergum Ave, Benalla.  Life was good, we had our family and friends close by.

Then COVID struck. The next two years were a nightmare. We felt so lonely. John got solace from using his iPad, so I started writing my life story, using a pencil and pad. I didn’t feel well, but thought I should leave some information for my family to look back on.

The first year I spent writing my story. John and my immediate family, loved it and said I should get it published.

The second year was taken up with sorting out my photos. Finding help with the publication. Emily Burke from Wangaratta, worked on the design and layout, remembering most of it was done on the phone, due to COVID. She also found a publisher in America.

Christmas 2021 was expensive but gratifying. Every member of our family, and close friends, received my book as a present.
 
By the 17 December, 2023, my darling husband had passed away suddenly of melanoma. How could that be? The doctor had just informed me I had suffered two silent heart attacks during the COVID years. It was so unfair. It wasn’t supposed to be him....


Jan Nichols
October 2025

(Please note - this story is preceded by 'Retirement 1' and followed by 'It Was Time for a Change')
 ​

​John and I retired from the farm in 2002 -- not  exactly by choice, but because our son and his wife needed  family support in Geelong.  He had been injured at work.  My mother was starting to need more hospital attention, so we felt the time was right.
 
We didn’t make a killing on the sale of the property, but it enabled us to buy a nice home at Leopold, not far from Clifton Springs. It wasn’t long before we purchased a boat. The enjoyment we got from that made everything worthwhile. We took it out two or three times a week, depending on the weather. I would make up a hamper of fresh sandwiches, and homemade lemon cordial. Sometimes even a bottle of wine found its way into the hamper.
 
When mum was feeling well, she would come too. The whiting and flathead made it all worthwhile. Our U.K. family enjoyed the boat trips too. Mum’s sister was always scared of water, but she loved to come fishing with us, and wherever we sat her on the boat, she pulled out the most fish.
 
Our little grandson Jamieson also loved the boat. He and his dad often came out on the bay. Before he was old enough for school, he and his grandad often fished from the riverbank. I’d make them lunch, and off they would go with their fishing rods. One day, as he was tucking into a ham and cheese sandwich, Jamieson turned to John and said, “This is the life, Grandad.” John was quite emotional when he told me about it.
 
Our family grew over the next few years. Jamieson welcomed a brother Cooper, then three years after him, Georgia was born. Life was good.
 
Mum was getting weaker and needed more care.  She never complained, but by 2008 even her favourite past-time, shopping, was getting too hard for her. In January 2010 we were told she had pancreatic cancer. She asked if we could take her to Benalla for a few days, she wanted to say goodbye to friends and badminton buddies. Our friends the Hayes’ put us up for a week.
 
Mum was so brave.  Kerry and I organised three or four people each day for afternoon tea. Mum sat in the lounge and entertained, and happy memories were shared.
 
Mum passed away on March 25th. Her funeral was lovely. She wanted a white coffin, which was laden with flowers. Her English badminton friends had sent a floral arrangement shaped like a badminton racquet with strings. People she had played badminton with, juniors she had trained, family and friends came. It was a day full of love.
 
After mum died, we were asked by our friends Kerry and Graeme to come for a stay in Benalla for a break. We were at the Golf Course one night for dinner, where we were greeted by Kay and Paul Berry. Kay had been my junior at Carters, and we have been friends for years. They offered us two weeks at their holiday home in Tasmania. They said it would give us a chance to rest and figure out what we would do with the rest of our lives. It was a godsend.
 
Mum had left some of her jewellery to her sister, so while we were in Tasmania, we started to plan our trip to the U.K. On the twenty third of August 2009, we boarded the plane. It had been 42 years since John and I were just a couple, now we could continue to plan our next move. After our return, we planned to go back to Benalla, the place that we loved.
 

Jan Nichols. 
September 2025

My first recollection of Hazel, the girl next door, was around three or four years of age. Her family lived between us and my grandparents. I can remember us playing with our dolls in Nan’s garden. Hazel had a younger brother named Raymond, he was a cute kid with blonde hair.
 
Over the next few years, Hazel and I became close. We went to different schools, helped each other with our homework, had different friends, but always caught up during the week, even if it was just a chat over the fence.
 
When I was sixteen, I answered a notice in the local paper asking young people to write letters to our young airmen in Aden. With our mother’s permission, of course!  Mum said ‘Yes’, providing she could read our letters.
 
My first pen friend, Derek, wrote fortnightly for about 14 months. My second pen friend, Denis, wrote consistently until I was eighteen. By then I had decided to travel to Australia to see the world.  He still had nearly a year to go in Aden, so I asked him if he would be happy writing to my friend. Hazel was very unsure when I suggested this to her, but I eventually wore her down, and Denis was pleased.
 
During my two years in Australia, Hazel and I lost contact, but on my return in 1962, I found her family had moved up North.  Fortunately, my aunt had their phone number and address.
 
It was a Sunday when I spoke to Hazel’s Mum, who was so surprised to hear me she burst into tears. ’Hazel will be so upset to have missed you, but she was married yesterday to Denis’. I was thrilled for her and wished her all the best.
 
I returned to Australia to marry John. Hazel and I lost contact for a few years, although my cousin Margaret kept me posted occasionally when she heard any news. My aunt kept in contact with Hazel’s mum.
 
In 1993 John and I went to England. It was his first trip. We travelled around most of the country and spent a couple of days with Hazel and Denis. They lived up north in Corbridge. For Hazel and I, it was as if we had never parted. The men chatted happily away, and her parents joined us for lunch.

From that time, we never lost contact, writing a couple of letters a year, especially at Christmas.
 
Denis passed away in May 2022, and John died in December 2023.  Since then, we have sent letters regularly to support each other.
 
Our 83rd birthdays are in September.
 
We were both lucky to have had happy, loving marriages.
 
For two girls so completely different, like chalk and cheese, we have had a long and lasting friendship.  The pleasure we get from receiving each other’s letters, gives us hope that we may still share many more.
 
Yes, Hazel is definitely my first friend and such a pleasure to have in my life.


Jan Nichols
​July 2025

​From the time I left school, I had been employed in office work. My first training was as a comptometrist. From there I was trained by the A.N.Z. Bank to work on Ledger machines.  However, in my day, if you married, you were dismissed. I then worked for a ledger machine company as a trouble shooter for companies in distress. These jobs could take 6 to 8 weeks to solve, but one company kept me for 18 months at double the salary. I stayed until I was four months pregnant with my first child.
 
It was nine years before I worked again. By this time, we had moved to Benalla, to a farm at Lurg. I started work for Carters Hardware Store as a ledger machinist; from there I became the Office Manager with a staff of three.
 
After nearly eighteen years, I had helped to pay off our mortgage and decided to follow my dream, to own a coffee shop. I was enjoying my lunch at one of my favourite places, next to the old Post Office, when the owner told me she had just put it on the market. I excitedly told John that night, and he agreed I should make an offer. By the end of the month, The Toast Office Coffee Shop was mine.
 
Tracey, the helper, said she would stay on. This was a great support to me, as she knew the suppliers.
 
We kept to the main menu, and everything was fresh daily. As I wanted to experiment with my cooking, I started making my own pies and sausage rolls, eventually adding chicken, veal and beef pies to the menu. Our carrot cake was to die for, and customers often ordered them for private functions.

As our menu grew, so did our customers. Bus lines travelling through rang to warn us they were coming. We would quickly cook up a lasagne, pizza and scones, to cope with the extra customers.​
 
Local offices usually gave us a day’s notice if they needed platters of sandwiches and fruit. The business thrived. To top it off, the Weekly Times awarded us ‘Best Pies’ in the North East, despite having three bakeries in town.
 
I kept a Visitors Book on a little table by the till. People from all over the world left their signatures. Louis Laumen, the Weary Dunlop Sculptor, spent many hours in our shop while he was in town. Graeme Richardson called in on his way to Canberra. Daryl Braithwaite and other celebrities who performed at the Benalla Bowls Club, cheekily popped in while in town to appear at the Club. But my favourites were Ella and Jesse Hooper, better known as Killing Heidi.  They used to come in after school, sit at a table, and share a milkshake. Scraps of paper with words and music were scattered around them. If we had pies or sausage rolls which were still warm, we gave them to the hungry teenagers.
 
Seven years later, I retired. Tracey had become a dear friend, and we were both sad to end our working relationship. The new owner asked her to stay on, which made me happy.
 
I will always have wonderful memories of this time in my life.

​​We arrived in the United Kingdom on September 3, 2009. I had Long Service Leave and was keen to show John my country of birth.  Little did I know, it was to be another country that captures my imagination to this day. A place I would never have thought to have had such a strong connection.  Turkey.
 
Cousins Malcolm and Sharon had purchased a villa on the outskirts of Antalya, in Augustus Village. They were excited to show us and had booked four flights, giving us four days to recover from the trip from Australia.
 
To say we were nervous, would put it mildly. News from Turkey could be frightening, with fighter planes flying back and forth across the border. Still, we had to trust their judgement.
 
After a five-hour flight, we arrived at Augustus Village in time to hear Mecca from the local Mosque. The apartment was lovely.  We planned our day. A quick couple of hours sleep, before taking off in the hire car.
 
First stop was to the local food store armed with a translation book. Obviously not needed for veggies, meat or tin food, but if I wanted to make scones or pancakes, I had to know how to recognise plain and self-raising flour.
 
On return, we had a cold lunch, before heading for the pool. We had an early night to ready ourselves for what became two weeks of heaven.
 
Up, with the sound of Mecca, I made pancakes for breakfast. We then headed for the car.
 
Our first sight of the Mediterranean Sea was amazing. We proceeded through a little village called Gundogdu, before arriving at Fizz Beach. The beach was pristine, white soft sand, the water calm and clear.  We sorted out our beach chairs and laid our towels on them. Kicked off our sandals and headed for the water. We spent most of the day there, ordering our food and drinks from waiters who worked for the local restaurants.
 
Wherever we went for a day’s outing, we usually arrived back at the complex for a swim in our pool, before heading for a shower, then dinner.
 
Another terrific beach was Belek beach.  It had the same beautiful sand and clear water as Fizz. A wooden boat sitting in the sand was a restaurant. Very expensive, but worth a few trips.
 
One evening we went to a Cabaret. Isset, a young man from the complex, offered to drive us, so that our men could enjoy drinks. We just paid for his ticket. The dancers were gorgeous; the girls, especially beautiful. They picked men out of the crowd to dance with, mainly rotund men with big egos. It was hilarious. Well worth the $20 per person it cost.
 
Other memorable places visited were the Manavggat Waterfall, Serik Market, and the Green Canyon.
 
Departing, after fourteen wonderful days with Malcolm and Sharon, John and I gave Turkey the big thumbs up.

Jan Nichols
​May 2025

Having been born in London in 1942, it wasn’t hard to bring back my early memories. My street was bombed day and night, as we lived very close to a railway line. In fact, my Grandad had a newspaper spot. No! Not shop, (that had been bombed in 1941), but a spot under the steps of the station.
 
My father was in the R.A.F., so it was easier for my mother and I to live with my grandparents.
 
All three were trained as Wardens and had certificates to allow them to treat the wounded. When the sirens went off, two would patrol the streets, and one would stay home to supervise me. I was taught, when the sirens started, to head for the oak dining room table. I would stay there until one of them came looking for me. Then if we had time, we would head to the shelter at the bottom of the garden. The same applied if a plane flew over.
 
I quite often woke up to find strangers bunked down in our lounge room. Their wounds had been dressed, broken bones supported.  Others were suffering from trauma.  It was amazing what a cuddle from a three-year-old did for them.
 
Nan, Grandad and Mum helped so many people. American, Canadian, Australian and British Soldiers, as well as Civilians. Mostly from the trains, but also people whose houses had been bombed. I moved into Mum’s room most nights, to free up beds.
 
The respect my family received from the people in our district after the war finished was wonderful.
 
Dad returned, and we bought a house two doors from my grandparents. There were five of these Terraced double brick homes still standing, Dad reckoned if the war couldn’t damage them, that was good enough for his family!
 
One thing that didn’t change was my rush to get under the oak table every time I heard a plane fly overhead.  In fact, I was eleven when Mum said, “You know, eleven-year-old students going to High School might look a bit strange, ducking under a desk or table, every time a plane flew over”. Somehow that worked!
 
A letter arrived in 1948 from one of the English soldiers, the family had cared for. Terry had
 
suffered burns to his arms and feet. He tried to rescue an old lady from the train, but she didn’t make it. He stayed with us longer than most, due to trauma. He had lost his parents and young brother and sister when their house was bombed in 1941.
 
Terry was now a Grenadier Guard at Buckingham Palace, He had fallen in love with a girl from
 
a suburb close bye. He wanted us all to come to his wedding, and “…would Nan and Grandad be his parents for the day?” Naturally they were thrilled, and the night before the wedding, he stayed with them.
 
Imagine our surprise the next day when we were waiting for the cars to arrive. Here was Terry standing on the top step, in full red and black uniform with his busby under his arm. Mum took some photos, and people stopped to look. Two cars arrived to take us to the Church. It was a day of sunshine. Not just the weather, but for our family too.
 
 
Jan Nicholls
April 2025

It’s hard to believe how quickly five years can pass. So much has happened. I now live a life so different than before Covid struck.
 
My husband John and I went into voluntary lockdown a few weeks before it became official.  Only doing one big shop at 7.30 am on Easter Thursday, 2020, when the supermarket was quiet.  Masks weren’t available yet, but we kept well away from other customers in the shop.
 
Thank goodness for FaceTime. We were able to speak to our young grandchildren on Easter Saturday. They were very excited about a visit from the Easter Bunny. My elder grandchildren, caught up with us on Easter Sunday. They travelled up from Melbourne where they attended University. As their parents have a few acres nearby, it was nice to see them all sitting outside under the trees. Oh! How we wished we could join them.
 
John and I got into the habit of walking every day. Not far, as my new knee was still a problem, but around the pretty courts near our home. Life was very quiet; we talked to our neighbours from a distance. Our son and daughter-in-law only spoke to us from outside the house. They both worked in public jobs, and didn’t want to pass any germs onto us.
 
 
This was to be the pattern for everyone, until a vaccine became available. Our government kept us strictly in lockdown until Christmas, when we were allowed to mingle with discretion, and enjoy the company of our relatives.
 
A highlight the whole country enjoyed happened on April 19th, 2020.  The concert ‘One World Together at Home’ was televised. Artists including Elton John, Lady Gaga, Paul McCartney, Keith Urban and Delta Goodrem entertained us. It was amazing and, for the first time, we realised that the Whole World was in the same crisis as us.
 
It was a very worrying time. Isolation wasn’t easy to deal with, in a country of friendly and active people. Victoria suffered worse than other states due to the Premier declaring a bubble around the city, but people in the country could move more freely. We had to wear masks. Restaurants, cinemas, hotels, in fact all sorts of entertainment were banned. People like my husband, who had appointments in the city, had to cancel. It was the 17th of April 2021, when my husband and I received our first jab of the vaccine, followed by a second on the 26th of June 2021.
 
By the end of July restrictions were relaxed, but this only lasted a couple of weeks, when tighter restrictions came into place. This lasted until early December. This second wave seemed easier to cope with, and the excitement of enjoying Christmas together with all the family was amazing
 
It wasn’t long before the restrictions came back, but the public were getting impatient with our State Politicians who insisted on reigning us in. Other States were more open with their borders. Eventually we came into line with the rest of the country, and near normal returned. A lot of people died all around the World from the Pandemic, and countries won’t be free, if ever, of this awful Disease.

 
Out of all our family and friends, John and I were COVID free. Indirectly, he died because of COVID. The appointment in Melbourne that had to be cancelled, may have found the Melanoma that took his life in 2023.
 
 
Jan Nichols
March 2025

​In 1960 at the age of 18, I stepped from the ship, the “FAIRSKY” in Port Melbourne, to start a new life in Melbourne. It seemed a million miles from London, but the thrill I felt as I took my first steps on Melbourne’s wharf was amazing.

My first job was with the ANZ Bank in Collins Street. My previous job was with a Bank in Cornhill, London. Things were much more relaxed in this country. Instead of Managers wearing collars and ties, with expensive suits, the climate here called for a nice shirt, shorts and long socks.
 
Melbourne was an exciting city in those days. People were friendly, and the cultural changes were subtle. Immigrants from the U.K. and the Continent arrived on the ships and planes. With these changes our food changed too. So much more to explore in the new restaurants that popped up. My social life expanded, and so did my palette. Life was good.
 
By 1964 I had left the Bank and was employed by Victorian Broadcasting Network. The General Manager was David Symes. He controlled all the advertising seen on Victorian Television Stations, and all the advertising on Country Radio Stations. He was an immensely powerful man, but in saying that, a kind and gentle man. Important people popped into our office all the time. Famous Chefs, Politicians, Sports Stars and Actors. There was never a dull moment.
 
Nothing could beat the Adrenaline rush when staff were told on the 10th of February that we were having a visit from the Beatles Manager. True to form, Mr Symes brought him in to meet his very excited staff.
 
The Manager explained that due to illness, Ringo Starr was to be replaced by Jimmy Nicol for the coming tour. He explained that the concert was a sell-out, so he had no free tickets to give us, but Mr Symes had agreed to give us extra lunch time, so that we could at least see them, as they appeared on the balcony of the Town Hall mid-day on the 16th..

​That so many people, of all ages, could gather so quickly, was amazing. Traffic was stopped, and police were everywhere, though not needed at that time.to deal with unruly crowds..

Reflecting back, I also remember seeing  the Beatles play during rehearsals at Festival Hall. They sang and played for quite a long time. Some of the boys in blue joined the rest of us, letting the music take over their minds and bodies. We were all ecstatic, very loud, but well behaved.

It was a time I will never forget. I am sure the people who turned up that day felt as I did. Exhausted, but exhilarated, and wondering how on earth the Beatles would find the energy to perform again that night, to a packed stadium.
 
 
“YES, I WAS THERE!”


Jan Nichols
​February 2025