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we’d gather the wood we’d put aside from the wood stack during the winter for our sledge making. The carefully selected wood was duly laid out and then we were into Dad’s nails again! We made two sledges and the boys next door made one. The design was simple and never varied. A strong runner for each side was shaped to a blunt point at the front with the small axe. Then firm flat pieces were carefully nailed in place to form the seat—all neat and tidy with nothing out of place. On the front of the runners we bent a nail into a staple to attach the guide rope to form the handle. This was usually last year’s skipping rope, we were very thrifty sledge builders. Next we raided Mum’s dripping tin for soft fat to rub into the bottom of the runners. After two days of sledge building we were ready for the fun to begin. We’d take a small tin of dripping with us and pull our sledges which were very heavy, all the way to the top of the hill.
    The eldest sat on the front of the sledge with a younger one behind hanging on for dear life. A shove and a big push and the vehicles would career down the hill carryingyelling, screaming kids having the best fun we’d had for ages. After each run we dragged them back to the top again, inspected them to see if they needed regreasing, changed the crew and the hill would again echo with excited screams. Sometimes when other kids heard us we would have quite a queue waiting for us to let them have a ride.
    To this day we can still remember the thrill of the danger and the exhilaration of the speed that created a wind in our hair as we sped down that hill, choosing the exact moment to steer the sledge away from the pile of logs at the bottom. We were well aware of the danger and the risks we took with our sledge rides. Looking back at the hill now, through mature eyes, we find it hard to believe that Mum let us do such a dangerous thing. That hill is nearly perpendicular! In one word, suicidal. Because Mum showed us how to make the sledges in the first place, perhaps she had faith in our ability to fly safely down the hill without hurting ourselves.
    We never rode our sledges at the weekend when Dad was home he could think of too many jobs for us to do. Saturday was always our main cleaning day with bedrooms and dining room swept, polished and dusted. We washed the floors on our hands and knees, then we’d put on the polish. By this time our poor knees would be a bit sore so we tied old jumpers and rags to our feet and slid around pretending we were ice skaters or ballroom dancers until the floors had a high shine on them. Sometimes in anticipation of falls we tied the cushions to our bottoms. Sliding was good fun—but we made sure we didn’t make too much noise because Mum or Dad would put a stop to our enjoyment.
    When we had finished the work we begged Mum for sixpence and went down the road to Mrs Ferguson to buy some flowers because she had a bigger variety than we did. She never turned us away and we’d go home and arrangethe flowers in the dining room. We loved to see our home looking so clean and bright.
    Dad, Geoff, Valda and Joan at Noojee, Easter 1932.
    The family at Oakleigh, Melbourne, 1935.
    From left: (back) Dad, Uncle Ern; (front) Uncle Jeff, Uncle Bob. Lilydale, Mt Arthur in background, 1947.
    Grandad Johnson
    Granma Johnson and Uncle Ern, Lilydale, 1947.
    The twins, Barbara and Rosalie, and Peter dressed for anniversary, 1944, the sausage tree in the background.
    Mum and Peter in front of the house, Lilydale, 1941.
    Rosalie, Barbara, Peter and Wilma. Daffodils for the teacher, circa 1946.
    The twins, Barbara and Rosalie, with Wilma on Dad’s bike, circa 1945–46.
    The twins, Rosalie and Barbara, winners of the open double handed sawing event at Lilydale Area School Show, 1948—Launceston Examiner.
    From left: Valda, aged 12 years and Joan, aged 13 years.
    From left: Rosalie with Rupert, Barbara with Fevver.
    Dad