Thursday, September 06, 2007

My brain thinks in words and pictures, I can't seem to separate.

The Caravan (in my last blog) was Our Home for the first 5 months of married life.

It belonged to The Scot, he moved to my hometown from Aberdeen, Scotland and couldn't quite face boarding houses, so he bought the caravan and this is where he lived.

I met him at work - British Timken - or rather I chased him, might be called stalking today, but then he did have a motorbike.

Two months after we were married, we were sitting in the caravan having breakfast and discussing whether we could buy me a sewing machine, or if I should ask to borrow my sisters machine to make some new curtains. Hence the plot was hatched - this was September 1965.

  • sent for the relevent information and forms

  • applied to be accepted

  • went for an Interview

  • received our flight details (we were on one of the first flight migrations)

  • said our goodbyes over Christmas

  • and left England for a new life on January 3rd 1966

all in 4 months and because I wanted a sewing machine.

and thats how I came to be a Pommie born, Aussie married to a Scot born, Aussie.
Or does that read better Aussie, born Pommie married to an Aussie, born Scot.
What the heck, you just have to listen to our accents and you will know what I mean:)


sion said...

carn hops, that's like a story from my dad on a bad day, don't do that to me! How on earth did desire for a sewing machine translate to deciding to emigrate???

sMC said...

Now Sion, thats how I got called grasshopper, my mind just can't stay on the subject. I think it was all to do with...where were we heading. We did plan (?) we arrived in Aus with $300 and just one small carton of household goods. No friends, relatives just A Free Spirit. Thats why I feel quite proud of The Scot. He dun well.

Apart from putting paid to my stalking.

meggie said...

I love this story!
It was obviously Meant To Be!

Molly said...

Isn't it strange the random things that determine the course of our lives?