Early recollections of life begin in Christchurch New Zealand at an address, 22 Carrick Street.

Dad was finishing up a job with a mining company which had miraculously sustained him through the tough years of the Depression. Little did he realize on his happy wedding day in 1929 that he and Louise

Louise (Lulu to close friends and Lou to Dad) were heading into some of the toughest economic years he had ever experienced.

Christchurch

My first recollections of family life pertain to watching Dad at work. The Mining Company was winding up and Dad had the task of taking the gold dust and making it into small ingots using a piece of laboratory style apparatus. It amazed us as small boys (with my brother Stuart 20 months younger) to watch the gold lump coming out of the crucible. Even more on reflection that such valuable items were processed in the garage of a suburban house.

Goldmine

Another recollection of those days was seeing the tobacco plants in the garden planted by Uncle Johnny Fitzhenry as a means of sustaining his smoking habit during those tough times. Dad would not himself smoke but Uncle Johnny had real need and so could be given a space in the garden to grow his needed weed!

Christchurch later came to life through visits made on an annual basis to see Grandma Borrell who lived in Canon St just off the Barbados Street tram car line. The house was large with a big back verandah good for sitting out on and enjoying the sun. A half acre of land made for a large backyard. Unbeknown to us boys this was part of the family survival pattern. Grandfather Borrell was a jobbing carpenter in the days of strong guild type registration of those who had done their time and become proper tradesmen. Lacking these kinds of certifications put him much more at the mercy of lower wages and less work. The large garden complete with fruit trees, gooseberry bushes, asparagus patch matched with a suitable outside storage shed ensured a steady supply of food for when there were tougher times. But to us it was just a glorious place to frolic in. By the time we came to know Grandfather he was retired and spent most of his time pottering around down there out of the reach of inquisitive females. However, he did know about feeding times and regularly appeared when they came around. He was a genial giant with a white beard and a deaf ear which kept him out of most discussions, Meals were begun with a loud grace ended off with a dramatic - In the Precious Name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Grandma was a gentler figure but very much in charge of that household.

Borrell

The boat ride from Wellington to where we had moved was an annual horror event. Cook Strait, the turbulent tract of water dividing the islands ensured that the old boats running pitched and rolled to make almost all but the most hardy very sea sick. That along with the cheaper cabins we were relegated to ensured that we staggered off to the Lytellton boat train through the tunnel and into the city.