our Stories


Andrea Britz	Sophie Pieters-Hawke	Tess Paul	Annabelle Boyd Jones

Andrea Britz

My grandma was born Audrey Diana Stock on 4th May 1925. She met my Grandpa, John Monteath, on a tennis trip in Jervis Bay.

She came first in Mathematics I and II in her leaving certificate and her name is on the honour board at Newcastle Girls High School. She wanted to go to University in Sydney but due to the war and being a girl, her family couldn’t afford to send her which she was really disappointed about and was incredibly proud that I did what she couldn’t do.

She was the ultimate beach bum, wearing bikinis until her 60’s. She would go out the back on her surfoplane. We would swim out and hang onto the ‘bar’ at Bar Beach.

As a Grandmother, she was awesome. We would have picnics in their garden. Grandma always had M&Ms and Kingston biscuits. She never made me eat my vegetables and I was always allowed to have ice cream for dessert.

My grandma doesn’t remember this anymore.
I do.
Remembering. Shared.

Sophie Pieters-Hawke

My Nanna was a brilliant person – newspapers, her friends, and even those who only knew of her, will attest to that. But she was an even better Grandmother. Growing up, I never recall her angry or anything other than happy – maybe because she saved the best for us.

My childhood memories are peppered throughout with happy ones of her - dressed up in ridiculous clothes and a funny hat, allowing us to usurp her putting practice and gallantly letting us hack a golf ball around the lawn. Having us sit in bed with her and read the papers, playing “this little piggy went to market…

One of my favourite memories is when we would go to visit her on the house on the hill, she would let us roll down the steep hill over and over. At the bottom, we would try to stand but fell dizzy and giddy from spinning, sunshine and laughter, but run up and do it all again. Later, when the itchy buffalo grass made us wriggle and squirm, she would throw us all into a bath together, and put in a soothing lotion to make us all better. There was a beautiful gold clock that sat by the bath, that I would be happy to sit and watch melodically spin.
The gold clock now sits on my windowsill, and I still love to watch it spin.

My Nanna does not remember.
I do.
Remembering. Shared.

Tess Paul

My grandmother would have a fit if we called her Ganny, Nanna, Gandma or Nan. She has always been Dottie to us, sometimes Bottom if as children we were feeling extra silly. Dottie taught me a lot, she taught me how to be a lady, how to tend the perfect garden, how to dine, how to stay fit, how to be polite. She taught me to be strong, stand up for what I believe in and to never give up. The best thing she ever taught me was how to ride.

One day my pony, Jay, bucked me off. Dottie and I were out for a long ride and we were far from the house. I was scared to get back on the horse, she didn’t let me be scared. She said “on you get, and off we go” and so on I got and off we went. I have never been scared to fall since, and when I do, I get right back on.

Dottie does not remember.
I do.
Remembering. Shared.

Annabelle Boyd Jones

My granny taught me how to ride the bus. A clueless young girl from the country, my hip Granny who lived in Paddington, would patiently explain how to hail the bus and which one to catch. She would often take me "into town" to see the windows of David Jones or to have lunch.

Otherwise we would set off on a shopping expedition for shoes,or a new dress, or a handbag, or any other excuse we could think of .My granny is a wonderfu seamstress who passed on her love of fine clothes and style to me. I still hear her voice, "now don't hitch Annabelle" everytime I put on stockings. Granny has always been an extremely active, lively woman, engaged with the world around her. She was completely up with modern trends and often a fashion step or two ahead.

Granny can't do this anymore.
I do.
Remembering. Shared.

join Us. Remembering. Shared.