Month: August 2015

Treasures within…

A few days ago a colleague of mine handed me a fragile photo album with the words, “My Grandmother worked with 617 Squadron during the war, would you like to see the photos?” Which, for anyone with even a passing interest in the RAF is going to be a hard offer to refuse. “That’s her, Fay Gillon, debriefing a crew.” I think I managed to stammer something in reply, but mostly I was just in awe as I stared at this little gem of World War II history. After a bit of research, I believe this is indeed Section Officer Fay Gillon, debriefing the...

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8 Things Northern Irish ‘Exiles’ Miss…

For the average Northern Irish expat, or perhaps that should be ex-William, (you know all that Derry / Londonderry stuff), there are some things that no amount of sunshine, freedoms, right to arm bears, surfing, skiing, wearing thongs, eating poutine, swanning in Greenwich Village, doing Hakas or cuddling Koalas will ever replace. These are the eight essentials we have been denied, albeit voluntarily, through our choice of abode. And before you all cry foul, no, I don’t expect sympathy. Although if you can manage to mail a box of No.4 past Aussie customs, I’ll be very grateful. 1.  Fadge – Yes, I realise you...

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Libraries in Linen – Library Fundraising Idea

In 1788 the First Fleet sailed into Botany Bay and later Sydney Cove under the command of Captain Arthur Phillip. The establishing of New South Wales and the founding of modern Australia had begun. The news did little to assuage the madness of King George III, who was probably still smarting over the loss of the American Colonies just five years earlier. Those newly formed United States grew from just three states to eleven states in the course of the year and the newly independent ears of Jefferson, Franklyn and the soon to be elected President Washington, were no doubt soothed...

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Recordings from Long Ago

My Dad could sing. I always knew he could, from faint recollections as a child, but he never sang as I progressed through my teenage years. He wasn’t the one to “give us a song” in get-togethers or parties. He should have been, for he was good. Instead it was others who recited poems or warbled unsteadily and oft times wobbled unsteadily in accompaniment. My Dad loved folk music. Specifically Irish folk music and for that I owe him a never-to-be-repaid debt of gratitude. Although friends I made in later years may not necessarily have shared that particular feeling. Their take on...

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