saying, ‘She just lay there sulking!’ Somebody sent next door to my father’s office at Elder Smith and he came and drove me home.
At school assembly I would have that swirling feeling and suddenly know no more. Denis, a boy who had epileptic fits, and I were forever falling onto the asphalt. This fainting was never investigated – in those days people seemed to faint more often than now – and finally I not only grew out of it but learnt to sit down at once and put my head between my knees whenever I felt that swirling sensation.
Stories of fainting seep down through the family, punctuating events and making them memorable. For instance, in 1901, a year before my mother was born, Grandfather Shemmeld leased two hundred acres of land at Pyap on the River Murray. Grandfather worked some of the land and was the manager of a sheep station and also caretaker and inspector of the rabbit-proof boundary fence that stretched hundreds of miles. In 1906, the family, with their eight children, moved in a wagon from Angaston to live there. The wagon had a cedar couch across it, which formed a seat for the younger children. Olive, the eldest, drove a horse and dray loaded with household goods. Eva and Otto rode horses. Near a river settlement, which was later the town of Loxton, they rodeahead, calling out, ‘Circus coming!’ When the rest of the family passed the settlement, they wondered why so many people had come out to watch them go by. Sometimes Grandfather had to cut branches to make room for the wagon carrying the furniture. A branch fell on Granny and she fainted.
They camped out at least one night, and Edna and Nora can remember being sent to a farmhouse with billy cans to ask for hot water. They had to say hice wasser. The house at Pyap was built of logs and was surrounded by paddocks with emus eating small caterpillars called ‘spitters’. My mother remembered them making the sound ‘peek peek’ as they ate. She was four.
When, because of the heat and the miserable conditions, the people of Pyap were unable to find a teacher for their school, Granny took her six youngest children and returned to Angaston so they could be educated. The two eldest girls Olive and Eva stayed to care for their father.
Back in Angaston, Granny used the house she bought for the family as a maternity hospital. It was her proud boast that in one hundred births in her home she never lost a mother or a baby. Sometimes the local doctor would call for my grandmother in the middle of the night with his horse and buggy. She would dress after she had answered the knock on her door and go with him into the country where a woman was in labour.
Granny then began a boarding house. The boarders had their washing done as well as lodging in the house or in their tents in the yard. Some of the men stayed so long they seemed, to the family, like brothers.
Attached to the house was the wash-house, which held cast-iron tubs, a copper and wood-framed glass washboards. Once, Edna was stirring jam in the washing copper that was normally used for boiling clothes. (After being cleaned with salt and vinegar until it shone, it was also used for making jam.) A boarder, who tugged her brown ribbons when she waited on him at the table, came alongside her as she stood in the wash-house stirring the jam. He had pulled her ribbons once too often. She turned, lifting the stick with the jam on it, intending to put some of it in his hair. Instead, she dislodged his wig, which came away on the end of the stick, and she fainted in shock. She thought she had killed him.
When my parents were first married, my father took my mother out to lunch with the Puckridges at their spectacular farm at Yallunda Flat. Mrs Puckridge was carving a roast of lamb. A blowfly buzzed over the meat. She grasped the blowfly, squashed it and tossed it away. My mother promptly fainted. She must have been standing up or she would not have fainted. I have it on medical authority that people
At school assembly I would have that swirling feeling and suddenly know no more. Denis, a boy who had epileptic fits, and I were forever falling onto the asphalt. This fainting was never investigated – in those days people seemed to faint more often than now – and finally I not only grew out of it but learnt to sit down at once and put my head between my knees whenever I felt that swirling sensation.
Stories of fainting seep down through the family, punctuating events and making them memorable. For instance, in 1901, a year before my mother was born, Grandfather Shemmeld leased two hundred acres of land at Pyap on the River Murray. Grandfather worked some of the land and was the manager of a sheep station and also caretaker and inspector of the rabbit-proof boundary fence that stretched hundreds of miles. In 1906, the family, with their eight children, moved in a wagon from Angaston to live there. The wagon had a cedar couch across it, which formed a seat for the younger children. Olive, the eldest, drove a horse and dray loaded with household goods. Eva and Otto rode horses. Near a river settlement, which was later the town of Loxton, they rodeahead, calling out, ‘Circus coming!’ When the rest of the family passed the settlement, they wondered why so many people had come out to watch them go by. Sometimes Grandfather had to cut branches to make room for the wagon carrying the furniture. A branch fell on Granny and she fainted.
They camped out at least one night, and Edna and Nora can remember being sent to a farmhouse with billy cans to ask for hot water. They had to say hice wasser. The house at Pyap was built of logs and was surrounded by paddocks with emus eating small caterpillars called ‘spitters’. My mother remembered them making the sound ‘peek peek’ as they ate. She was four.
When, because of the heat and the miserable conditions, the people of Pyap were unable to find a teacher for their school, Granny took her six youngest children and returned to Angaston so they could be educated. The two eldest girls Olive and Eva stayed to care for their father.
Back in Angaston, Granny used the house she bought for the family as a maternity hospital. It was her proud boast that in one hundred births in her home she never lost a mother or a baby. Sometimes the local doctor would call for my grandmother in the middle of the night with his horse and buggy. She would dress after she had answered the knock on her door and go with him into the country where a woman was in labour.
Granny then began a boarding house. The boarders had their washing done as well as lodging in the house or in their tents in the yard. Some of the men stayed so long they seemed, to the family, like brothers.
Attached to the house was the wash-house, which held cast-iron tubs, a copper and wood-framed glass washboards. Once, Edna was stirring jam in the washing copper that was normally used for boiling clothes. (After being cleaned with salt and vinegar until it shone, it was also used for making jam.) A boarder, who tugged her brown ribbons when she waited on him at the table, came alongside her as she stood in the wash-house stirring the jam. He had pulled her ribbons once too often. She turned, lifting the stick with the jam on it, intending to put some of it in his hair. Instead, she dislodged his wig, which came away on the end of the stick, and she fainted in shock. She thought she had killed him.
When my parents were first married, my father took my mother out to lunch with the Puckridges at their spectacular farm at Yallunda Flat. Mrs Puckridge was carving a roast of lamb. A blowfly buzzed over the meat. She grasped the blowfly, squashed it and tossed it away. My mother promptly fainted. She must have been standing up or she would not have fainted. I have it on medical authority that people
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