Remembering Selby

We found him that day sitting on a grassy patch,

With his worldly things,

Outside the building that would become the Museum of Contemporary Art,

At sparkling Circular Quay.

I remember his long grey beard,

Being sinewy and small,

With kind, cheeky eyes,

Skin worn hardy from living on the streets.

Growing up, we’d travel to Sydney for two weeks every year,

To the big smoke,

To visit our father.

As Dad’s do, he’d talk about us, but for 50 weeks of the year we were mirages,

For two weeks, he could prove we were real.

Like ducklings we’d follow him around the city.

He sought out Selby,

Finding him, he proudly displayed us.

Following my father,

We sat with him,

I can’t remember what we talked about,

But we talked,

And laughed.

The breeze from the quay cooling our skin burning hot from the summer sun.

Selby.

Sydney in the 80s,

Through a child’s eyes,

So different from the mountain.

One morning walking down an 80s Surry Hills street,

I remember my eyes being drawn to a tiny rivulet crossing the footpath in front of us.

It ran from an inert body, grey and dirty, almost the same colour as the street, heavy upon the footpath, clutching a brown paper bag,

To the curb.

“It’s pee”, my sibling tells me.

My eyes widen.

I’ve tried to find a picture of Selby,

I felt certain that the world wide web would have an image.

My memory is telling me there once was an article about him in the newspaper,

With a photo.

My search returns ether.

He’s in my memory, inseparable for me from Sydney itself.

I’m remembering you Selby.

And feeling the warmth of the sun as we all sit together,

Shooting the breeze.

To this day, I love people’s stories,

It’s my favourite thing.

Have a wonderful day! 🌱

Many Faces

It’s been a long time since I’ve written.

A lot has happened.

February 2020 – Lil and I packed up our much loved home in Adelaide and moved to Sydney.

I started my new job at Industrial Light & Magic and Lil started at the brand new Inner Sydney High School.

Work took me back to Fox Studios, had time stood still? Ha, not says my mirror!

We found a place to live in Rozelle.

Sydney, the same face, with a patchwork of botox and plastic surgery but the same enough to trigger carefully stored memories, some welcome, others not so.

September 2020 – Rozelle became untenable, we moved to Annandale. Much happier.

But still struggling. The villian? Sydney/Covid? (Sydney property managers/landlords?)

In Annandale we found some happiness within our confined Covid existence, how I love the old terraces, sites & stories from early Sydney, the gorgeous tree lined street we lived on and the beautiful gardens, the frangipani’s, the scent of citrus blossoms, the lamingtons and hot cross buns to die for, the walk down to the tram and the glistening harbour.

September 2021 – But Sydney rose up again, saying don’t get comfortable! We moved to Summer Hill.

Just down the hill from Thorin, Genie, Indigo & Ben – and Misha!

Now that has put a smile on my face. We moved into one of the new apartments where the old flour mill had been. I loved the views from our top level apartment, in one direction gorgeous Summer Hill cottages snuggled into a sea of trees so often crowned by the golden setting sun and in the other direction the twinkling city in the distance. I loved the way the sun streamed into our apartment and, when covid retreated, the fortnightly markets with live music and delicious treats, our pizza nights up at Moonbie St and having the Munro’s down to our place. Summer Hill 💛

May 2023 – But Sydney rose up again, was Sydney trying to kick us out? At the same time, an offer to work in Vancouver.

We packed everything into a container and shipped it.

June 2023 – Michal met us at the airport and stayed with us for two weeks to help us find our feet and settle in 💛

Our container arrived in perfect time for us as we moved into our new home in West Vancouver.

And just like that, life felt lighter.

I joined a choir and a painting class 🎶🎨

It’s so beautiful here, the seasons, the mountains (often topped with snow), the giant trees, the crystal clear glistening water ways, our home with glorious views and a little fireplace ✨

And nothing better than a new job to kick your brain into fifth gear! Thank you new job, thank you brain.

We had our one year anniversary just a couple of weeks ago.

Lil has blown me away, in our first year in Vancouver, she was selected as the Marketing Manager of the Student Council, cast as Cady in Mean Girls Musical at Arts Umbrella and earnt straight A’s at school. For 2024/25 school year, she’s been selected into the International Baccalaureate program, voted the Vice President of the Student Council and, after auditioning, received an offer to join the Musical Theatre Troupe at Arts Umbrella.

Proud mum!

I’m going to try and pop in here more regularly.

It’s been a tough year in the film industry, here’s to things turning around soon, please take care out there.

Wishing you a wonderful day 🌱

Transition

Rundle Mall – from another era tall decorative buildings squeeze between modern ones, reminding me of Harry Potter.

So many people, a complex pattern we weave, varying speeds and purpose.

I love being surrounded by their silent stories.

Lifted by the sound of the electric violin, carried to my daughter.

The green door. Our meeting place.

My daughters words mix with the surrounds, her precious voice.

A place of transition between work and home.

Talking on the way home, ‘bad things happen, good things happen’, ‘good things happen to good people, good things happen to bad people’, ‘bad things happen to good people, bad things happen’.

Yes.

Seasons come.

And go.

Grateful for the time.

Have a wonderful day 🌱

Remaining still

My daughter and I enjoy watching the anime series Avatar (over and over).

Both Aang and Korra, but most beloved is Aang.

There is so much to love, a couple of favourites: Uncle Iroh (his wisdom and love of tea), Appa (a giant white flying Bison)…

It’s where I learnt about Jīng.

In Chinese, Jīng means power or energy.

We learn from Bumi that there are eighty five types (degrees) of Jīng but these are the key ones:

Positive Jīng – advancing

Negative Jīng – retreating

Neutral Jīng – listening and waiting

Neutral Jing –

Waiting, listening,

Alert, calm,

Attuned, present,

Observing.

Awaiting for signs, the correct conditions, to alter your Jing.

Retreat…advance…remain still…

Have a wonderful day 🌱

Currency

You can imagine my delight when I read, in early Australia, children of convicts were called ‘Currency’!

Things were looking up for our ancestors!

But then I learnt it was derogatory.

How could currency be derogatory!?

Money in the early penal colony was British, Dutch, Indian and Portuguese coinage, but there was a shortage, and most of it left the colony by way of trade with the visiting ships.

This left bartering.

And the most valuable thing to barter? Rum.

There are a lot of interesting stories with rum at their centre in early Australia:

  • Crime (you might remember from my post about Margaret Maloney, her husband John McDuel, along with several others was found guilty of stealing from the public stores. As they were on full rations at the time, it was suggested that they stole the goods to furnish their drinking habits.)
  • Executions
  • The Rum Hospital
  • The Rum Rebellion…

…the Rum Rebellion…in 1808 the recalcitrant NSW Corps, hundreds strong, in full colours and band playing ‘The British Grenadiers’, marched upon Government House and over threw the government!

The mutinous NSW Corps created a propaganda cartoon within hours of Governor Bligh’s arrest that still exists today, showing him being pulled from under his bed in full uniform.

Fifteen months later Governor Lachlan Macquarie arrived, tasked with restoring orderly and lawful government.

He bought with him a vision of a thriving civilised metropolis driven by burgeoning capitalism.

And at the centre of any capitalist economy? Money.

In 1812 he purchased coins to the value of 40,000 Spanish dollars and had a convict forger punch holes in them, creating the first Australian Currency, the ‘Holey Dollar’ and the ‘Dump’.

The Holey Dollar had New South Wales imprinted around it’s inner rim and the Dump had New South Wales and a crown on one side and Fifteen Pence on the reverse. Their combined value; 6 shillings and 3 pence.

In 1822, just ten short years later, the government began recalling the Holey Dollar and the Dump and replaced it with British coinage, Sterling.

In 1829 the Holey Dollar and the Dump was demonetised. Now worthless.

Currency, worthless.

In juxtaposition, the children of free settlers became known as Sterling.

In schools and daily life, the Currency and Sterling lads and lasses competed…but…

Convict children – with the abundance of fresh protein from land and sea, endless nutritional garden goodness, stunning beaches to swim, boundless space to run and an endless supply of sun and fresh air – grew tall, fairer and strong.

Compared to their counterparts, newly arrived from a motherland suffering from overcrowding, hunger, poverty, crime and where sunshine, space and clean waterways were not so abundant…

…I reckon, regardless if I was Currency or Sterling, I’d want Currency on my team!

Happy Autumn 🍂

Old Sydney Burial Ground

Margaret Maloney is still on my mind.

From William O’Neil’s report after Margaret’s death we know she lived on Back Row East. In trying to find where that was, my research lead me to Governor Lachlan Macquarie.

Governor Macquarie served as Governor of New South Wales from 1810 until 1821 and one of the first things he did when he arrived was name (re-name) the streets. The new street names were published in the Sydney Gazette on 6 October 1810. This is where we find that Back Row East was henceforth to be known as Phillip Street. This is exciting because Phillip Street still exists, it’s right there below Macquarie Street!

The very same Macquarie Street my younger self would frequently make a beeline down to Mitchell Library (NSW State Library), always making time to stop and rub the nose of the boar.

I can’t wait to walk along Phillip Street again (and Macquarie Street) with the new found knowledge that my ancestors lived and walked there.

I’ve also been thinking about Margaret’s resting place.

In my search for her I have discovered that Sydney Town Hall was built on the grounds that were once the colony’s burial ground, the Old Sydney Burial Ground. It stretched from George Street, to Kent Street, down to Bathurst Street and up to Druitt Street (to the entrance of the Queen Victoria Building)!

Yes they moved the bodies but because in early Sydney there wasn’t anyone officially assigned to keep a register of burials, they could never have been sure that they had moved all the bodies. And indeed in the years to come, in that city block and surrounds, with further building, excavations and pipe work, some grisly encounters were had; skulls, bones and graves.

I mean some valuable archeological finds!

Many times I’ve used the underground train station at Town Hall, thinking about it I do remember it being a bit spooky down there!

The Old Sydney Burial Ground was used from 1792 and closed in 1820.

Our Margaret Maloney, living just streets away on Back Row East, died in 1804, was she buried there in the Old Sydney Burial Ground? Sadly no records exist to confirm or deny, but I feel certain of it.

In 1869, to build the Town Hall, they exhumed what remains they found and moved them to the new Necropolis (‘city of the dead’) at Haslem’s Creek, this cemetery, now known has Rookwood Necropolis is the oldest and largest still operating cemetery from the Victorian era stretching across 286 acres.

I do wonder where Margaret is now? Is she still resting somewhere in the heart of Sydney? Or was she moved to the new resting place? Personally I hope she was moved to the peaceful surrounds of Rookwood.

When the Old Sydney Burial Ground was full and closed in 1820, they opened another burial ground just down the road (today the platforms of Central Station sit on top of where people’s loved ones were once interred). It was known as the Devonshire Street Cemetery. Full in 1867, it was closed and the bodies were exhumed and the majority moved to Bunnerong Cemetery which is now known as Botany Cemetery.

Central Railway Station, opened in 1906, is an above ground station, so not half as spooky as Town Hall Station.

However, there is a 300 metre underground walkway (tiled from floor to ceiling), the Devonshire Street Tunnel, that cuts through the old burial ground. I used it frequently to get to University. It was fine to walk during busy times, surrounded by people. But quiet times? Not such fun! I remember instincts speeding my footsteps and sometimes hearing sounds behind me, glancing back to find no-one there, at the time it was a relief to discover the tunnel stretching empty behind me…but that was before I knew!!

Happy Halloween 🎃

 

Seaside Daisies

Sometimes I don’t have many words, but I see things I want to share.

On our walks around our neighbourhood, footsteps in time. We chat. We laugh. We smell the flowers. We sit on the grass and soak up the sun.

We live near the green belt. Dotted around are exercise stations. We stop at each one, inadvertently exercising muscles normally left in peace.

Sometimes we walk in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

Other times we find ourselves wandering down memory lane. On our last walk my daughter spoke of her sadness, missing the beach house, her cousins. Good times remembered.

Tradition has us stop off on our way home for a treat, invariably an icecream.

My daughters footsteps speed up as we head toward home.

I linger.

Have a wonderful day 🌱

 

Ode to Margaret Maloney (1771-1804)

Autumn welcomed us to Adelaide, it was like arriving in my own personal heaven, streets lined with historical avenues of deciduous trees every day turning even more brilliant colours of my favourite season.

This post is an ode to Margaret Maloney, my Great x5 Grandmother.

I remember, as a child, asking my mother if we had any convicts in our family. She said, ‘yes’, my eyes wide, ‘really! What did they do?’. ‘Stole a cow’, my mother replied.

I don’t know if my mother was having fun with me, or if there is any truth to it, I certainly haven’t found anything to prove or disprove it…yet…

But I have found some convicts, let me introduce you to Margaret Maloney 🍀

Margaret was born in Ireland in 1771.

Her parents, siblings and childhood are mysteries to me, every rock I find I wish for a clue, turn it and find nothing.

Her childhood? At a minimum, I hope she was safe, warm and fed.

We don’t know if Margaret came from a poverty stricken family, middle of the road or a family of note but we do know that her life wasn’t about to get easier.

In April 1792 she was tried for a crime in County Carlow.

There are no surviving records of what she was found guilty of, but guilty she was found and seven years transportation she received.

An explosion destroyed the Irish Public Records Office in 1922, lost that day were thousands of documents, many dating to the 13th century, a trove of historical treasure, including sadly for us, the record of what Margaret Maloney was found guilty of that day in April 1792 (and perhaps more information about her life and family?).

About a year after her arrest, 21 years of age (and 6 months pregnant), she boarded the ship Boddingtons and on 15 February 1793 departed Cork with 19 other female convicts and 125 male convicts, bound for Botany Bay.

At sea in May 1793 Margaret gave birth to a son, John O’Brien. She listed the father as William O’Brien. Another William (O’Neil) features later in her story…I can’t help but wonder if they were the same person?

It was an eventful 173 days journey from Cork to Port Jackson interspersed with alarms of mutinies and conspiracies among both soldiers and convicts.

But, under the charge of Captain Robert Chalmers, a convict ship it remained and on the 7th August, 1793 the Boddingtons sailed safely into Port Jackson, just five years after Arthur Phillip and the First Fleet rowed to shore and set foot on the coastal wilderness that would become Sydney.

Some convict ships had devastating numbers of death, especially the notorious Second Fleet with ships run by the slave traders. Thankfully Boddingtons was not one of those, she dropped anchor at Sydney Cove just one convict less (and four babies more) than when they left and it was reported on their landing that they were mostly in good health.

In September 1793 Margaret baptised her son John in Sydney.

I can find no further record of John O’Brien, it has been suggested by one researcher he died in infancy.

Upon Margaret’s arrival in Sydney, she met John McDuel.

My early research indicated John arrived as a private for the newly established New South Wales Corps in 1791 on the ship Matilda. However, I’ve since found alternate research that suggests he arrived as a convict and upon arrival enlisted as a soldier. To find the truth from the old country, I’m searching shipping records, prison records, military records and court records, but the truth alludes me at the moment…

One thing my research has told me is that the journey onboard Matilda was horrendous, 25 lives lost and the majority of convicts sent directly to the hospital upon arrival ‘the greatest part of them are so emaciated, so worn away by long confinement, or want of food, or from both these causes, that it will be long before they recover their strength, and which many of them never will recover’. Governor Phillip to Lord Grenville, November 5th 1791.

In trying to understand the unfolding (unravelling) of John’s life, I find this information valuable…I wish I could find more about his life before his journey to Port Jackson, his family, siblings, career…to further understand…

Margaret & John’s journey together started with a son, William McDuel (May 1795) and then a daughter, Jemima McDuel (5 November 1796).

Then, like something from your worst nightmare, just days after his daughter was born, John (with several others) was arrested, tried, found guilty and sentenced to death for robbing the public stores.

Two were swiftly put to death on November 30, 1796 and another two followed on December 1, 1796.

Terrifying for John.

Terrifying and devastating for Margaret and her two babies.

But incredibly, on the 12 December, 1796, John and two others were ‘granted a colonial pardon by Governor Hunter when favourable circumstances [were] represented to him, on condition of remaining in the colony’.

I can’t help wonder if, for John, those ‘favourable circumstances’ were Margaret and his two wee babes in arms, William (1) and Jemima (just days old)?

I found this an interesting read from The Works of Jeremy Bentham published 1843:

Suffice to say, John was discharged from the NSW Corps on 25 November, 1976.

I’m super grateful to Governor Hunter for showing mercy to my Great x5 Grandfather that day because two years later my ancestor was born, Lydia McDuel (29 July 1798) and then a little sister, Elizabeth McDuel (1800).

But then some not great news, a record in 1801 of John McDuel owing Richard Tuckwell £5.17.4. I wonder how Margaret was coping?

Then this glimpse into Margaret’s personality…on February 2, 1802 Margaret Maloney & Margaret Murphy were confined by His Excellency’s order for riotous behaviour. They were reprimanded and discharged.

She still had her fighting spirit in 1802 🍀.

I wish I knew what she felt so passionate about that day?

My research revealed these two things happened around that time:

1801 – Governor King introduced a 5 shilling fee for a ‘night’s lodging’ in Sydney’s gaol (the fee was divided between the arresting constables and the gaoler).

1802 – Governor King introduced a tax on ‘strong drinks’ (this was to help pay off the remaining debt of building the new stone Sydney gaol).

I also wonder if this gives us a hint as to what her crime was that warranted seven years transportation? Riot? It’s on the list of common crimes in Ireland at the time…? Or was it the cow…?

Sadly her fighting spirit didn’t last much longer, in 1804 she died, leaving her four young children.

Following her death it was reported that:

…a presentation was made to the Provost Marshal by William Neil stating the death of Mrs McDuel, of the Back Row East [was] in consequence of violent treatment received from her husband. Neil’s declarations were calculated, however they might have been designed, to excite strong suspicion whence, after the most minute enquiry, [the authorities] were decidedly of the opinion that the declaration of the above informant was false, infamous and malicious and that no symptom of violence whatever appeared on the body – and the persons who attended the deceased during her illness protested solemnly when examined separately, that no violence whatever had been offered her.

Neil was summoned, ‘…stood confounded and abashed and returned with a severe reprimand. The deceased had four children, the oldest not more than 8 years old’.

It has been suggested that the man named as William Neil was William O’Neil who had been in prison with Margaret in Carlow. He arrived on the ship Marquis Cornwallis at Port Jackson on 11 February 1796.

I can’t help wondering if William O’Neil was the father of Margaret’s son born at sea? Were they parted young lovers/soulmates. Was he anxious to follow his beloved to Botany Bay, but sadly forced to wait three long years before being put on a ship, only to discover on his arrival that she was with another man, not only pregnant but also with a babe in arms?

Heartbreaking if this was their story.

Whoooaaa there imagination…

Thank you William O’Neil, I am grateful to you for being Margaret’s friend, standing in her corner, loving her and valuing her life enough to stand up and speak the truth. I know you would have known that you couldn’t change anything at that point, or prove anything. I see you a bit like her guardian angel, I have some of those in my life for whom I’m more grateful than words can say.

Okay, back to the facts…

In 1805 we find some more not great news, John McDuel registers a promissory note to Thomas Rose for £9.15.5.

And then in October, 1806 this notice appeared in the Sydney Gazette:

All persons are forbid harbouring, encouraging, employing or accrediting John McDuel, cabinet maker, on any pretence whatever on pain of prosecution with the utmost rigour of the law, as also for a breach of existing Public Orders, the said John McDuel being bound to me by Articles of Indenture the conditions whereof have not been fulfilled. I. Nicholls.

Sadly we then find John McDuel listed as a convict on the 1811 Muster in Hobart, Van Dieman’s Land.

When did they transport him to Van Dieman’s Land?

What happened to the children left behind in Sydney?

Were William and Jemima able look after the younger ones?

Knowing what we know about John, did they have to take on the role of parents when Margaret died in 1804, when they were just 8 & 7?

Did William O’Neil help?

I’ve found it recorded that Lydia had a very strong bond with Jemima and lost her will to live after her beloved big sister passed away. In my heart I believe it was the older children who kept the family together and Jemima became the mother figure.

A couple of months before her 19th birthday Jemima married Edward Eager on July 10, 1815. Edward arrived as a convict in 1811, he came from a land-owning family in Ireland and was a solicitor before he received a death sentence for forgery, with his family’s influence his sentence was commuted to transportation for life. He had a noteworthy life after he received a conditional pardon in 1813, one area of significance was his work surrounding the rights of ex-convicts.

And good news for my ancestor. Reverend George Erskine, the son of 1st Baron Sir Thomas Erskine, arrived in a fast developing Sydney town on June 26th, 1822. Shortly after his arrival our Lydia caught his eye, they were married April 2, 1823 at the Church of St Philip. Published in the Sydney Gazette: “Immediately after the ceremony, the happy pair set out for Windsor”

Rev. George Erskine is mentioned on the Australian Royalty website and the suburb Erskineville in Sydney was named in his honour, it was where he built a home for his family, Erskine Villa, in 1830.

Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see my mother in my expressions, I wonder, could that mean I’m also looking at my grandmother(s) too? Next time I see those expressions I’m going to look closer…

Thank you Margaret Maloney, for so much, your strength, courage, fighting spirit…for your legacy and my tiny place in it.

And thank you too John McDuel, I’m sad your life held so much pain, may the joy that has been born through you rained peace upon you. (John passed away in New Norfolk, Van Dieman’s Land in 1827)

Have a wonderful day!

(most of my research has come from online genealogy sites but there has also been one additional source where I found valuable new snippets of information, Barbara Hall’s self published book, ‘Of Infamous Character, The Convicts of the Boddingtons, Ireland to Botany Bay, 1793’. Thank you for your research Barbara, from a very grateful descendant of a convict who made her journey on the Boddingtons.)

Digging

It’s a long time since I’ve written.

Much has happened!

We’ve left NZ.

And our Tiny Garden.

In the hands of new caretakers 🌱

We’ve ventured across the ditch, home (for me) to Australia.

Here on home soil, much inspired, I’ve been doing a different kind of digging.

Into my ancestry.

Some of my ancestors experiences have left me awake at night worrying about them.

Two who have particularly captured me; a 21 year old convict who arrived in 1793 on the ship Boddington and a private in the New South Wales corps who arrived two years earlier on the ship Matilda. They arrived just a few years after Phillip Arthur sailed into Sydney Harbour in 1788 with the First Fleet (11 ships).

I’m patching their lives together with what facts still exist but what I wish more than anything is that I had some of their own words, so I can be there with them while they write, feel their pain and fear, share it with them, a trouble shared is a trouble halved? Halve their worries, I wish with all my heart I could.

We miss so much about our home in NZ; our beloved friends, our little cottage and our tiny garden 🌱

But with the twists and turns of life come new joys, new hopes, new dreams…

Wishing you a wonderful day!

PS. these golden delicious apples are from our last Tiny Garden harvest before we left in April this year. No exaggeration, they were the yummiest apples I have ever tasted! 🍏😃

 

Plum blossoms

We have some plum blossoms!

This is the Greengage Plum that struggled through last year after being relocated.

The thought of some greengage plums makes me want to swing like a monkey from a tree!

That reminds me of trip we made from Sydney to Mullaway Beach when we were little to visit our Nan.

I would have been about 5 years old. We’d been in Sydney since I was two when our parents separated. But now we had a new member of the family, our step father, and the decision had been made that we would move back to the mountain.

In preparation, a new purchase, a short wheel base ex Army, khaki, soft top Landrover.

A visit to Nan was planned (6hrs drive north from Sydney), an opportunity for mum and us kids to take the new truck for a joy ride!

Those of you who are familiar with soft top Landrovers will know that the canvas canopy fastens to the front cab and fits over two metal frames. At the back there is a canvas flap that you can roll up, like a tent door. That day it was a beautiful sunny warm (hot) day, we had it rolled up and we had the perfect view of the road left behind, massive majestic eucalyptus trees one minute huge in our peripheral and the next minute tiny in the distance and blink, gone.

We were on top of the world. And what do you want to do when you’re on top of the world?  Swing like a monkey!

Which is exactly what my little three year old sister did. She started to swing on the middle metal frame, we all thought it was very funny, totally oblivious to the danger.

Mum must have looked back to see what was making us laugh. Can you imagine the horror she must have felt? Her little baby swinging with nothing between her and the open road disappearing behind us at about 60 miles an hour! If her little fingers were to slip and let go?? The horror was felt by all of us when we realised the danger.

On the side of the road mum unrolled the canvas flap and fastened it tightly closed. Locked in (safe and sound) a hot canvas canopy. What was that smell? Army? Dirt & sweat? Or just the old musty smell of aged canvas? Gone was our view, gone was the swirling fresh air. We were pleased to arrive at Nan’s.

I’m not sure whose idea it was but Nan had some shark netting in the shed, Mum secured it to the back of the Landrover. We got our fresh air and (slightly hindered) view back!

That aqua green thick nylon shark netting remained on that Landrover for all the years she drove us around, keeping us safe. She eventually got replaced by another ex army Landrover, this one long wheel base and hard top. No metal bars to swing from, but even if there was, we’d learnt our lesson.

Here in Tiny Garden we don’t have any trees big enough for an adult (or child) to swing from, but we have some plum blossoms! Now we just need the bees to do their magic 🌱

Have a wonderful day!