Well, I have ‘done’ the lot now! This was my last frontier. Sorry for my long absence but I had to go to the Tip of far North Queensland and that was something for a lady of my age. Why have we both got a fascination for islands?
We could see Prince of Wales Island, a strip of pale blue seen from the cairn of stones with the flag. Across the Albany Passage it looked empty and forsaken having only 100 inhabitants. Our sights were set on a smaller Island.
Seisia, where the boat leaves, was a full-blown settlement which reminded us of the tropical island paradise of fiction – the coconut palms – the smooth early mornings seas – the distant islands on the horizon – wild turkey scurrying on an urgent mission - well organised accommodation a jump away from the beach – we were set up for a beautiful rest cure at Seisia Holiday Park, Bamaga. But we had to leave the wharf and travel across on the ferry for just over an hour to Thursday Island.
This was settled in 1877. Due to a perceived threat to Australia from the North a military fort was built on Green Hill, excellent position for surveillance of the Albany Passage and other Islands. It had no water but some was piped across from Horn Island, an even smaller Island, which now contains an airport. There I was more interested in an account of the Horseshoe Crabs which have a medicinal value. I was surprised to find all amenities here with a well-established hospital and TAFE training for nurses. The Flying Doctor Services were only available to the airstrip on Horn Island so helicopters were used to transfer severe cases.
The Catholic Cathedral for the Torres Strait Islands invited photographs but the Anglican one was under repairs which needed to be done before the paralysis of ‘the wet’ set in.

Pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up. Eccles.4:10 NIV.

That fussy little person – his sister - but he wished he could see her now…just for one last moment. He’d say sorry too. She really cared for him, with all his faults. He felt he was, after all, a bit of a black sheep!

All that was left was to live through all his memories of the crew again…Alice and Mary had such a close bond. He felt Mary’s heartbreak as her mother fell sick again. That’s what you do before you die…to treasure every one of the crew for the last time. A warm and loving picture was growing in his mind.

And some exciting adventures remembered too!

He thought. He asked himself. He was afraid to move his body but his eyes moved over the jungle-type undergrowth. In a moment of panic, like cold ice trickling down his spine he saw it - the broken tail fin of an aircraft! opened his heavy eyes. He expected to be in his bedroom at the back of the farmstead but this didn’t look like his check curtains. He clenched his fingers around a cascade of green leaves! Yes – leaves they were – definitely leaves! They were damp. If this was his mattress, it felt very uncomfortable. It was hurting his back – ah yes! – that was it! He’d been helping his father, David, in the shearing shed. Very few people knew how back breaking that work was! He tried to alter his position. His hip didn’t turn but the effort produced a sharp electric pain which made him cry out. He closed his eyes. From the silence there came a cry, a shriek and a babble he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t Australian – in fact, it was bird noise. He sank back.

A Learning Curve.

I didn’t know there was so much more I could do with the Golden Spiral and the Secret Rainbow. I sat down with it in front of me and imagined the movements and reactions of the crew. They came alive. They are best published together because one isn’t complete without the other. I am afraid it’s going to merit another reprint and that will be expensive as the Autobiography is now firming up and the family are getting restless.

We press on. I have worked out the new book will average 36X2,000 words. Each part has 18 chapters averaging 2,000 words a chapter. I think I will trust it to a children’s book agent because the autobiography will be expensive to print with many photos.

One warm afternoon about 45 years ago, I rested an aching back on my bed while the children were at school. I wearily took up a magazine and read; ‘if you have a spare moment’ - I had and was bored, ‘write a letter to a grandchild not yet born’. Well, I couldn’t have grandchildren yet, my firstborn was 9 – she had a long way to go! So I got up with difficulty and found a pen and paper – then I started to write.

“Dear Grandchild, you may only know me as ‘Nan’ but I had a Nan too and she lived on a hillside in Wales, etc.” So I went on – and on – and on. At that stage I wrote about three A4 tightly spaced sheets. I had no computer. It was in longhand. I never stopped from there, though I had to break off to fetch the children from school.

Later I was given a primitive computer. Today, having written 3 children’s novels, one history of music in this State, 2 books of poetry and a few oddments for magazines, I am now digging up the buried treasures, editing them and enlarging. My computing is more like ‘state of the art’. One memory may have been forgotten in the years between but the written notes bringing back to me more of the past. I surprise myself at the variety of experiences in my life. Isn’t it the same for all of us?

I started by checking the known rellies and these gave me a lot of family information. Then I went into Ancestry and checking the family tree found a few more that I didn’t know I had. That was an added bonus. The pages keep piling up – I don’t see the end of it. Now the problem is how to get it into print so that each member of the family can have a copy.

A few days ago I showed these words to my married grandson and he was overwhelmed. To think that I was contemplating his birth so long ago!

Next time I would like to say more about family trees.

THE SHACK

Plumbing the nature of God is a hazardous adventure but Wm Paul Young has attempted to do this out of his own pain. The results are a book – an allegory which pulls you up smartly.

We were told this was a book not to be missed. The sudden shift from the mundane everyday life of an ordinary father into another realm of understanding is breathtaking. Some plots from Christian authors can be contrived but his writing comes from deep experiences.

Now the problem arises – should I write another episode or say goodbye to my ‘friends’. There was always a hint that Mary didn’t have long to live. I don’t think I want her to die in my books.

I was fascinated by the Scilly Isles when we visited in 1981 and 1991. Islands are of interest as closed communities. If I had my way I would have gone again and again. There was no end to the experiences on these islands. Just a few examples: the Scilly divers, active over wrecks in the summer, the Bishop Light, visited in calm seas, the pristine beaches on outer islands, the storm waves at Hell Bay, I have worked on them and more as the novels develop. I suppose my account could be considered history but I feel the Scilly Isles will not alter substantially. They were so pristine. I tried to make my physical account of the islands and their histories as correct as possible. I checked and rechecked by literature which I had collected. Then I imposed an active plot which would appeal to early teens. All characters are pure fiction. Not even Goff resembled my uncle because I hadn’t known him. All I knew was that he was a caring person and my character of Goff was like this. I set up the character of the impulsive Howard for contrast. Others slotted in.

What about the first book? This was at the beginning of my experimentation. The trilogy shows the development of my writing. It occurred to me that people bringing kids to the islands would like to have a little story to illustrate the parts of the islands that they could discover. There was plenty to interest them there. They travelled all over the inhabited islands. So I invented a plot with characters named after members of my mother’s family. This was a sort of lucky dip of names and they appeared in the other novels. Except the chauffeur later, Benson, who seemed to become a very popular character with the readers. He did not appear until the second book and had a heroic personality all of his own. I developed him further. True to form, no one ever hears his first name. The first book was a more thorough description of the islands as they appeared to me then – almost a travel guide for kids.

To be fair, I wouldn’t like to suggest a cause for autism. I have a strong leaning toward one theory which i would like to follow up for the sake of babies yet to come. Although in very scientific language which needs explanation in parts - It seems to fit with the background information which I have gathered over the years from conflicting articles. It seems to fit in with my nursing experiences and with the basic biochemistry I learnt in University of Western Australia. For years i have been chasing every scrap of information on human physiology. This theory does fit. This is why the sale of these books (apart from the RSCM one) will go toward relief for families of the autistic.