[First part of a letter to a friend. One footnote added.]
Would you have time to dash off a few(?) illustrations for the manuscripts attached? I’m sending one manuscript by the man* to give you an idea of the sort of drawings we have in mind – simple and childish.
What do you think? If you are busy just read the stories and send them back with suggestions if you have any. There is another very long story the man has written, for children, which I would very much like to be illustrated by you. I have yet to type it. That too I shall send in a few days’ time; don’t worry if you can’t do the drawings – at least read it and tell me what you think of it.
We move to Sydney in six weeks time. Got the job with the consultancy firm. We’re looking forward to the change. Will report.
The two weeks August holidays were spent in a house on the beach. ‘Twas good. The man worked and the children played on the beach.
We lost our goat, much to our delight and slight guilt on my part. It was like this: I borrowed the goat as a pet for the children because we don’t like dogs or cats in the house – not that the goat was allowed in the house. She came in once and peed into our coffee cups. At least, we thought, the goat won’t follow us around and she will eat grass. No problem. Alas, the goat thought she was a dog, followed us about, ate the duck’s feed every chance she got, slipped to the neighbour’s garden every chance she got and was generally a nuisance. So when we went to the beach house, we let her loose because we were away from people. She followed us everywhere – even when we went to look at the moonlight on the sea. One day she was gone. Don’t know whether she followed people walking along the beach or whether the dingoes got her. I tried – honestly I tried – offering her to everyone I saw, but no luck.
I heard a good story the other day. There was an old man cleaning the garden of the beach house when we arrived for our holiday (just two miles from our house). A nice old man. His name, I learnt is Ollie. His surname is Collie, so people call him Ollie Collie. He drank too much at one time, went off his head and was put in an asylum. He was let out after a while. Some time later he had a fight in the pub with another guy and this Ollie Collie stood up and announced, “I’m the only man in Emu Park who has a certificate to say he is sane.”
* man refers to Johnny. He wrote short stories for us when we were young children.
Updates and Links
- Addition of poem to Journal Entry 17th July 1969
- Overlapping years added to Where in the World We Lived map
- Addition of content key words to post title
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