Tylee, Jane Palmer Interview

Today is Wednesday 31st May 2023. I’m Maxine Rose and I’m recording an interview with Jane Tylee, who presently lives in Havelock North with her husband, Michael, and who has lived in Hawke’s Bay for eighty-six years. Jane is the niece of the Nelson sisters, Ruth and Gwen, who owned Kereru Station, and Ruth was also Jane’s godmother. So many memories, Jane, but shall we start with your early family? It would’ve been your grandparents who first came to Hawke’s Bay … who were they, and what brought them to Hawke’s Bay?

Well, Frank and Winifred Nelson; Winifred is descended from William Williams, the missionary, who came to New Zealand in 1823. And her father was J N Williams, so she was brought up at Frimley. Frank, I think, must’ve come to New Zealand at the end of the nineteenth century. He was related to William Nelson of the Tomoana Freezing Works and Waikoko at the Showgrounds, and after they were married they bought a big old house down Middle Road where eventually, I was brought up.

My maternal grandparents are Dorothy and Selby Palmer, and Selby’s family came to New Zealand in the nineteenth century from Adelaide to Lyttelton. Dorothy lived in the South Island [and] after they were married they moved to the back blocks of Gisborne, to a farm. How they made the jump from there to there I don’t know. [Chuckle] My mother was born up there – it was real wop-wops – and I think after they’d had two children they bought a farm at Maraetotara, Te Aratipi, and that’s where they lived. And that farm is still owned by the Palmer family.

So you lived in Middle Road?

Yes.

What year are we talking about?

Dad was born in 1903; I was born in 1936, and we went there to live. It was called Rouncil, ‘bout four miles down the Middle Road.

So going back to your grandparents, did you see much of them?

The Nelson grandparents died before I was conscious of knowing them. The Palmer grandparents we saw a lot of, they’re [a] big part of our family; and all the aunts and uncles and cousins and so on.

Did you have family gatherings?

Yes. We had Christmas always with my grandparents at Te Aratipi every year, and the whole family would come. We used to have a big family gathering for the Hawke’s Bay Show and they would all come and stay at home. And Granny would have a lunch party in the Showgrounds under the trees, and that went on for years and years and years actually.

Tell me a little bit more about that, it sounds fun …

Well I suppose it was farming families, and they would park their car under the trees there, and they’d all have these sort of family lunch parties. And for me, going to the Show as a child … you looked forward to it like you looked forward to Christmas. It was, you know, one of the highlights of the year, and we’d get a bit of money to go on the sideshows and we’d go and look at all the animals. And then later on I used to ride in the Show.

So what was your favourite thing to do at the Show?

Oh [chuckle] … I guess as a child, on the sideshows, yeah. Later on it was different. Yes.

Did they have merry-go-rounds?

Yes, I think so, but they didn’t have those wheels or those things that they have these days; it was fairly basic.

So family was really important?

It was, very important.

Did you have a special relationship with either of your grandparents?

My grandfather was very reserved really. But Granny was lovely, she was a real sort of Granny person, and her life was her family and her grandchildren and her gardening. Yeah, she was a very kind and loving person.

And did she have a special name for you?

No … no.

Anything that she gave you that you still have that you think is special?

[Chuckle] Well it wasn’t very special, but I do remember after they went to England for a trip – this was after I was married – she brought me back a set of sheets, [chuckle] which I remember quite clearly. All sorts of things you couldn’t get in New Zealand in those days. [Chuckle]

Do you feel they had [an] influence on you, though?

Not really I don’t think, although Granny … when I got engaged to Michael she said to Mum, “Is he good enough for her?” And I was absolutely furious, because it sort of was a reflection on my judgement. [Chuckle] So she was concerned.

She cared about you?

She cared, yes.

So coming now to your parents, you mentioned that your father was born in 1903. Tell me about him and where he was born …

I’m not exactly sure where he was born but it would’ve been in Hastings, I suppose …

Where did he grow up?

Well he grew up at Rouncil down the Middle Road, yes.

Was Rouncil a farm?

No, it wasn’t a farm – no, it’s got eighteen acres with it but no, it was just where they lived.

So what did your father do then, for a job?

Well, [chuckle] he didn’t actually ever have a job. He was [a] rather sort of unusual man. He got his income from a farm in Gisborne, and he used to spend his time helping other people, really. He did a lot of work for the Hawke’s Bay Children’s Home[s] and did quite a lot of work in the grounds of St Luke’s Church in Havelock [North], and he was a very kind man; he used to look after my mother very well and do lots of things at home, round the place.

And your mother?

My mother was … yes, her health was quite delicate really; she was sweet and kind and concerned, yeah. No, I had a really good relationship with her.

So coming now to you, when and where were you born?

I was born in 1936 in Hastings at Sister Cooper’s private nursing home. And I have wondered since thinking about that, where were [was] everybody else born? ‘Cause I’m not sure that they had any facilities at the hospital then.

So your mother would’ve gone for a couple of weeks, presumably?

I suppose so, yes.

You never talked to her about it?

No, and all my siblings were born there too, ‘cause my sister is much younger than me and I remember going from school to see her … the new baby … there. Yes.

So you’ve mentioned a sister, so tell me [about] your family …

I’m the eldest in the family, and Bill – he’s christened William but everybody calls him Bill now – he went and ran the farm in Gisborne, and then he had an awful tragedy in the family; his little girl was drowned. They moved into Gisborne, and then they came down and lived in the family house down the Middle Road.

My second brother, James, he was also a farmer, and he farmed up there on a separate farm. And they had a child who was [with] cerebral palsy, so they eventually moved into Gisborne as well so she could have more treatment. Then he moved down to an orchard in Twyford, and he now lives in Waikanae where he’s very happy.

And my sister, Christine, she is nine years younger than I am, and she married an Englishman, John Paston, and now they live at Bay View. They’ve got five children and thirteen grandchildren, and she is very, very into horses. She’s actually an authority on dressage in New Zealand. We don’t see much of them; it’s not that we don’t get on … she’s wrapped up in her life, and me in mine.

But you were a large extended family?

Yes. Yes, but she wasn’t so keen about mixing with the whole family, which I think the rest of us were.

Tell me the name of the property in Gisborne?

Parikanapa Station.

So where was your mother born?

She was born in Gisborne, and I gather they didn’t have roads, and so they had to go by horse over the river to where they lived.

So she talked about her life?

Yes … yes, a bit. She actually died when she was fifty-three. Then they came and lived down at Te Aratipi, and we used to go there regularly for Sunday lunch.

Tell me about that?

[Chuckle] Well it was a shingle road in those days and twisty, and I can just remember feeling carsick every single time. But you know, it was a family family, and that’s what we used to do.

And what would you have for lunch?

Probably a roast I should think [chuckle] – roast mutton I would imagine, but I can’t remember at all.

So what other family can you remember?

Well my aunts, Mum’s two sisters – I was very, very fond of them and had a lot to do with them, because they both lived ‘til ninety-seven.

And what are their names?

Mary was the eldest one; she was Mary McHardy – her married name. And the other one was Pauline Phillips, who was married to the Vice-Chancellor of Canterbury University. When he retired they moved to England, so we didn’t see so much of them then.

And you would’ve had cousins?

Yes, well ‘specially when we were young we saw a lot of our cousins. And now we see them, you know, we have a very fond relationship with our cousins. Yes.

So now tell me about your aunts who owned Kereru Station.

Well Ruth was a very reserved person, quite masculine, and she had a little sheep stud in Havelock. She lived at Taruna, which now belongs to the Rudolph Steiner [School]. And she was a carver; she went to university and studied carving, and she’s carved various things. She carved the altar at Woodford, I think. Gwen was much more outgoing, she was fun; and she was the painter. Because they were so involved with Rudolph Steiner they were slightly removed. In those days Rudolph Steiner wasn’t outgoing like they are now; it was almost a secret sort of society, and Dad would have nothing to do with it. And we didn’t know anything about it which was rather a shame really, but we did pay visits there, and I do remember the visits to Ruth in her sitting room. It’s still there, I think, as it used to be.

Tell me what it looked like …

Oh – well it was quite a darkish room, not too many windows, and lots of books I think. And it had a sort of memorable smell, a nice smell if you know what I mean? [Chuckle]

Where did their interest in the Rudolph Steiner philosophy come from?

Well we’ve got a lot of letters … when Gwen and Ruth were young their mother, Winifred, took them to England, and Ruth visited Rudolph Steiner in Germany or Austria or wherever he lived. She was particularly interested in it, so they certainly started the Rudolph Steiner [Education] in Hawke’s Bay, and it might’ve been New Zealand as well, but I’m not sure about that. And I think Rudolph Steiner came out here and visited them at one stage.

And you say that your father wasn’t interested? Did that cause a bit of conflict between them?

Possibly. Edna Burbury lived with Ruth and she and Dad didn’t really get on at all well, and that probably didn’t help things. Dad was a committed Anglican; he was interested in the church so that’s where his focus was, really.

I know Kereru had belonged to their grandfather, but why do you think they wanted to buy Kereru? They never lived on it, did they?

No. Well what happened was, the farm that the family owned in Gisborne … Dad wanted to do different things on it to Ruth and Gwen and they had a bit of a [an] argument about it. And so Dad said he would buy his sisters out, so they ended up with some money which they wanted to invest.

You say that Ruth was very involved with the Steiner School, but Gwen – apart from art, what was her particular interest? The arts in general?

Just the arts in general, really, yes. I mean, she was part of the Rudolph Steiner thing, and she was very involved with starting the Weleda thing in Havelock.

That’s the herbal ..?

The herbal thing, yes. [https://www.weleda.co.nz]

Did she ever talk to you about the Rudolph Steiner philosophy?

No. No, they were … I was going to say sort of closed about that. No, definitely not.

Did she encourage you to paint?

No, no, I can’t even draw a cat. [Chuckles] No.

Jane, before we move on, tell me whether your mother or father … what their memories of the 1931 earthquake were.

Mum used to talk about it, and she said they were driving into Hastings as the earthquake was happening; and she said the power poles were bending over to touch the road. They were going to somebody’s wedding, which obviously I think, must’ve been cancelled. And she talked about the hospital at the racecourse. Dad didn’t talk about it but I know, we had photos at Taruna, there was a lot of damage. At Rouncil I think the chimneys came down; I don’t think there was any other damage. That was about all they said about it.

So by the time you have memories of Rouncil, what was the house like?

Well it was an old wooden house, quite inconvenient and very cold. I do remember that, being cold.

What did you have for heating?

Probably there we had bar heaters, or there was a great big fireplace in the sitting room. But I just do remember being cold and I remember having hot water bottles. I mean, these days you have heat pumps and all sorts of [chuckle] sophisticated heating.

What was used for cooking?

Well it was a [an] old electric stove.

Not a coal range?

No, no coal range there, but I remember a coal range at Te Aratipi. Granny cooked on a coal range for some time. But no, Rouncil – I can remember the first stove they had, and it had legs … it was right up off the ground with legs. Yeah, for quite some time, actually.

And a washing machine?

Yes, there was a washing machine, but Dad used to do the washing and he would light the copper on a Monday morning. There was a couple of wooden tubs and a wringer in the middle, and then the washing machine must’ve … I don’t know where it fitted in, perhaps it came in afterwards.

So unusual to have the man doing the washing … is this because your mother wasn’t very well?

Well it was because he didn’t have a job, you see, and he used to do things round at home.

So the washing process, tell me about that … boiling the copper?

Yes. Well when I left school I had a year at home and I used to do the washing, when I came home. I don’t think I lit the fire, but I think Dad must’ve done that for me. Yes – it was a laborious business when you look back on it.

Washing for six people presumably?

Yes – and then when the sheets were dry they went through the mangle.

What’s a mangle?

A mangle is like a very big wringer, and you wind the handle and it sort of irons the sheets as they go through.

Dries them and irons them?

No, no, just sort of presses them, really.

And you had to do it by hand?

Yeah. The mangle was there ‘til quite recently, and I just hope it’s gone to a museum somewhere, really. [Chuckle]

So did your mother have any help other than that?

Yes I think she did, but I can’t remember really, about the help; but I think she did have help.

Did you and your siblings have chores that you were expected to do?

No, you see I went to Queenswood when I was seven so I really wasn’t at home that much.

So you were a boarder?

Yeah, a weekly boarder.

Staying at home at the moment, you know – what was a typical dinner at night?

I honestly can’t remember. I think we had corned beef sometimes, and I do remember the milk puddings. But Dad was very particular about food ‘cause he was brought up to have good healthy food. He wouldn’t eat between meals, and he grew vegetables, so there would’ve been always plenty of vegetables. But I honestly … apart from the milk puddings and junket, probably these days nobody knows what junket is. [Chuckle]

Well tell me what it is?

Well it’s milk with rennet added and it sets. [Chuckles]

And that’s about it?

That’s about it. [Chuckles] I didn’t mind it at all, but that’s all it was, was milk really. [Chuckle]

When you were old enough to help and do some cooking, were you interested in cooking?

No, I didn’t cook, not as a child, no.

What did you have to clean the house?

I can’t remember at all, no.

It sounds as though your father was a very capable man, so what else did he do besides the washing?

Well he made soap, and I can remember him keeping all the fat. When we cooked meat in those days you cooked it in fat, and you ended up with tins and tins of fat. Then you added, I think caustic soda, and – heaven knows where he kept the caustic soda – but he made this soap, and this was to wash the dishes. He would chop it into a little block and put it in this tin and bore holes in the bottom of the tin, and there would be a wire through the top so that it would hang over the taps. The other thing he did was make bread, ‘cause he was so appalled at the state of our teeth he thought it would be beneficial if he made some wholemeal bread, and he used to buy the wheat and then grind it himself.

Tell me about that, how did he do that?

He had a special grinding machine, I suppose – I don’t know where he got the wheat from. And it was the most beautiful bread, but nobody seems to know [chuckle] the recipe now. I think part of the problem is that that flour was so much nicer than anything you can get now – I think that was probably the secret of it.

Did you learn to make bread?

No, no. But various members of my family wanted his recipe but they don’t seem to be able to replicate it at all.

Where would he have got yeast? Could you buy yeast?

I suppose he bought that, yes.

And you mentioned teeth, so did you go to the dentist when you were a child?

Yes. I’ll never forget it because – well, I mean nobody forgets the dentist, do they? We used to go to J J Faulkner in Hastings, and I can remember sitting in the chair and looking out the window and counting the flagpoles, because it was painful; there was nothing to stop the pain and yeah, it was very unpleasant.

What sort of thing did they do?

Well this was fillings, I suppose. And then they took out four of my teeth; I had ether or something, that wasn’t painful. And then I had a plate for a long time to straighten my teeth.

Was there a school dental nurse?

No.

Did you have a car at any stage?

Yes, we had a car, I think it was a Morris. Dad was right into cars. He was an Anglophile, he was very anti-American. He’d spent quite a lot of time in England before he got married, and so he was very pro the English and would only have English cars. But you see most of my young life was during the war and there wasn’t much petrol, so the cars didn’t feature much, really.

Do you remember rationing?

Yes, I do remember. You couldn’t get rice, and we couldn’t have balloons, and I think sugar must have been rationed … yeah. And I do remember … I think we covered all the windows with brown paper.

Why?

Just so the Japanese wouldn’t be able to see the light I suppose. [Chuckle]

Did you understand what was going on?

No, ‘cause I was you know, quite little really. But I do remember Dad was in the Home Guard, and one day he came home with a bed roll and he undid it in the sitting room and it was full of everything he would need. And I can remember the atmosphere was ominous; he was going to be sent overseas, and although I must’ve been only about five I can remember that feeling … this wasn’t good. And then what actually happened, when they went down to get on the boat they stopped them going before he went, so he you know, didn’t make the grade.

Towards the end of the war then?

No, I don’t think so – I imagine it was about 1941, I’m not sure. And then he spent some of the war guarding German prisoners on Somes Island.

Did he talk about that?

No, and I am so upset, we’d never asked him. No he didn’t; then he was moved to Pahiatua, and I suppose he was still guarding people.

Not Featherston?

Pahiatua, because funnily enough, Michael’s grandmother and his two aunts got friendly with him and used to have out to dinner. Nothing to do with me or Michael, but he became friendly with them ‘cause they were very kind to him in Pahiatua.

What was the role of the Home Guard?

I have no idea. No.

So as a young child, what did you do for entertainment?

We did play cards.

Which game?

Bush Patience – later on, not as a little child. But yeah, cards; and we read. We had a lot of books.

Could you go to a library?

No, don’t remember libraries, no.

So your home had lots of books?

Yes. Yes.

Can you remember any that you read as a young child?

Not as a little girl, I can’t remember.

And toys, did you have a doll?

Yes I think I had a doll, and we had soft toys … I don’t remember very much about that.

But you were fond of animals?

Yes. Well we had a cat and a dog, and I had a pony from an early age. I loved my pony.

Did you own it or was it someone ..?

Yes. Yes, I owned it, because there was a bit of land at Rouncil so we could have a pony there. There was an old stable in the paddock and it used to be my sort of hideout in a way; all the saddle and bridles and so on. That was a bit later on, not as a little child, no.

And I’m assuming that, you know, you at some stage had things like measles and childhood illnesses?

I remember having whooping cough when I was quite little. It was very unpleasant, but we obviously all recovered.

What would your mother have done to help you, you know, given that you didn’t have a lot of remedies?

I honestly can’t remember, but one of my brothers used to get croup and the remedy was we’d put methylated spirits on a silk rag and wrap it round their neck.

Goodness! You can remember her doing that?

I can remember her doing that.

Did it help?

Well I think it must’ve, yes, it must’ve. And then I can remember the medicines … Lane’s Emulsion, you know, for stopping you getting colds; and mercurochrome for cuts and things.

That’s the bright red ..?

The bright red one, yeah.

Did she have any special remedies, your mother?

No. Dad was very into sort of caring for us. He was very keen on poultices, which … to this day they are very effective.

Would you still use a poultice?

I would, yes; and I have, when one of my children had a nasty poisoned thumb I put a poultice on it.

Tell me what a poultice is exactly?

Well you can make a poultice out of several things really … soap and sugar; you make equal parts of soap and sugar … mix it up into a paste and put it onto a bit of waterproof plastic or something, put it over the wound or the sore and then cover it with [a] waterproof thing and bandage it up.

The idea being to draw out?

Draws the poison out.

Very interesting. [Chuckle] You mentioned earlier that Christmas was a big thing in your family, so what can you remember of Christmas in your childhood?

Well we always used to go and stay in the Warrens’ cottage at Waimarama, and then drive up to Granny’s at Maraetotara and have Christmas … we always had the same thing for lunch, I think … peas, potato and ham, I think. Not sure whether we had turkey or not. My grandfather would do the carving, and the adults all sat at the big table and the children sat at the little table, and when you got to a certain age you graduated to the big table. And Granny used to have these young Rarotongan girls helping her. I can’t remember the presents, but of course we did have presents, and I do remember my grandfather used to give us a £10 note which, looking back, was extremely generous.

What would you spend it on?

I don’t know, can’t remember what we spent it on. And then having finished Christmas dinner, you were expected to go and play tennis. [The] family were very, very keen on tennis, and so they all got into their white clothes and down they went and played tennis.

You too?

No, I can’t remember playing. I suppose as we grew older we did, yeah; we all sat on the bank and watched.

You mentioned that you went to the beach first, so were you fond of the sea and swimming?

Oh, we loved … yes we, loved it, and we swam in the sea. Yes, Waimarama was you know, part of our lives, really.

Was it safe?

No. Not really, but … no, there were big waves there. And we used to walk down to the rocks, and … yeah, I mean, there was hardly anyone there in those days.

Your family must’ve had a car, and you thought it was a Morris or something like that?

Yes I did. We’ve got a photo of us at the beach with a car, but that was Granny’s car and I’ve no idea what that was. That probably would’ve been an American car, a Chev [Chevrolet] or something.

Let’s move on to your school – you’ve mentioned Queenswood. When did you start school, and where?

Well I must’ve had correspondence to begin with for the first two years, and when I was seven I went to Queenswood, which was situated in the same place that the Rudolph Steiner School is now. And this big old house … and I was there as a weekly boarder, and we slept on these balconies which had awnings but no windows.

So exposed to the outside?

Exposed to the outside. And as you can imagine it was extremely cold in the winter. The school was run by Miss Hovey who was an exceptional sort of person, really. She was a very big lady, and she must’ve had something the matter with her legs ‘cause she wore long skirts. But she was very kind and she was very musical. She used to play the violin to us when we got to bed. I started learning music when I was about eight, the piano. She had a piano in her sitting room and she would have us all into her sitting room to play one after the other. I don’t know how often that would’ve been. And you got a little trumpet if you played well, and she used to have little sessions with the fire going, and she talked about the facts of life to us – not very much about the facts of life, I might say – girls’ periods and things, and I think that was about it. [Chuckle]

So was she aligned with the Steiner philosophy?

No. No, no – not at all.

I just wondered why you were sleeping outside – was it just regarded as healthy?

I suppose so. That’s how it was.

Any other teachers that you remember?

Ah, yeah – Mrs Foster was my teacher. I think we were very well-schooled in the three Rs [reading, writing, arithmetic] – I’m not quite sure about everything else, really. There was a lovely old walnut tree and we used to climb it, and that was quite fun. I don’t remember a lot of sport really; we each had a little square garden. And I can remember vividly waiting for Mum to come and pick me up on a Friday afternoon, and that endless waiting; and I think we were probably taken back again on Sunday night. But the food was not very brilliant – I mean it was wartime, so I think I remember having tripe. [Quiet chuckle]

So has that put you off a lot of things? [Chuckle]

No. No, I’m not a fussy eater. What else about Queenswood?

Did you have school milk?

No, I don’t remember.

So tell me about a day at school … you’d have lessons ‘til about what time?

I honestly can’t remember. I can’t remember what we would’ve had for lunch.

Did you have homework?

No, I used to do a lot of reading. We used to sit in the loos and read our books.

Why?

Probably because there was nowhere else. It was sort of [a] communal place; [chuckles] there wasn’t anywhere else to read the books, I suppose.

Must’ve been quite cold?

Yeah, but you know, I can remember being told severely to put a jersey on, and I didn’t want to. When you’re that age you don’t feel the cold.

Did you look forward to Friday, and going home?

Yes, yes. I don’t have great memories of it, really. It wasn’t really fun, I don’t think.

How long were you there?

Five years.

And then where?

Then I went to Woodford and I was there for five years.

So was that quite a different school?

Well yes, it was more sophisticated, yeah. We used to liken it to a women’s prison. You were allowed out three Sundays a term.

Oh, so you were boarding full time there?

Yes, boarding full time – everybody was. And two of the Sundays you were allowed out from eleven o’clock, and one Sunday you had a full day, and there was big trouble if you were late back at night. There were a lot of very ridiculous restrictive rules that really had no meaning.

Who would the headmistress have been at that stage?

Miss Hogg, Lucy Hogg. I don’t think she was a great headmistress, but she was actually … I knew her after I left school and she was a nice person. I think she was a good teacher – she taught history. I don’t think being a headmistress was what she should’ve been doing, really. But I used to read a lot at Woodford too, all the classics.

And your music?

Yes, music was a big thing there for, you know, anyone who was musical. I played the organ in chapel, which was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done. [Chuckle] Drama was strong, and I used to act a bit. I loved it.

Can you remember anything you acted in, any plays?

Yes – I can’t remember the name of the play, but I was a wizard because I’ve got photos of it all, and I just loved it; absolutely loved it. I thought I was quite good at the time, but looking back I doubt if I was, really. [Chuckle] I think the biggest thrill was producing this play for some juniors, and I was lucky enough to have Sue Stovell who went on to be a very prominent member of the …

Southern Players?

Yes – something like that, yes. So I just absolutely loved doing that.

So would you say, you know, that Woodford gave you a good education?

I don’t think looking back that scholastically it was brilliant, but it was adequate. Yeah. I don’t think we were pushed enough really, but we got by.

And you made friends?

Oh yes – well in a boarding school friends are so important … made lots of friends.

Did you keep those friendships going?

Oh, quite a lot of them, yes … quite a few of them. There’s a big swimming pool at Woodford and up the other side of the swimming pool is a big bank, and we used to go up the bank on Sundays and read our books. That was fun; and in the summer, sunbathe when no one was looking, and sometimes get extremely sunburnt. And of course you couldn’t possibly tell anyone you were sunburnt because it wasn’t the thing to do, and [I] think some people suffered. But there wasn’t any sort of … I was going to say psychological support; nothing like that if you were upset or you were worried. There was no one to go to.

So did Christine also go to Woodford?

Yes, she did.

Where did the boys go?

Well they went to Hereworth to begin with, and then they went to Christ’s College, which was a long, long way to go to school but Dad went there, so he thought it was important.

And you had dancing lessons ..?

Yes, when I was at Queenswood. Well I actually learnt dancing when I was about a four year old, because there’s a photograph of me as a little duck. We went to Miss Ballantyne’s studio, which was … next to the railway line she had her studio. And once a year she’d have a recital in the …

So this is ballet we’re talking about?

Well it was just called dancing, it wasn’t specifically ballet. I can remember the dressing rooms in the Municipal Theatre, and … oh, it was so exciting! Yes – I didn’t think I was very good at dancing, so if you think you’re not good, you don’t kind of enjoy it.

But you obviously enjoyed being on stage?

Well that was as a little girl, yes. But Miss Ballantyne was a [an] icon – everybody knew Miss Ballantyne.

A Hastings identity.

Yes. And she married Cedric Wright, who looked after the Municipal Theatre.

What about school prize-givings, anything that you can recall from that?

Oh, well I do remember that once a term we’d have mark reading …

What was mark reading?

Mark reading was each girl’s total marks were read out in front of everybody from the top to the bottom, which was a very cruel thing to do; because I can remember vividly a few of the people who were right at the bottom. It’s not fair.

Sounds very cruel.

Very. To this day I can remember who they were. Well you also remember the people at the top, but …

Well thank goodness we’re a little more enlightened now. [Chuckle]

Yes. And then sport was important. I played hockey at Woodford and got into the bottom of the hockey team; and tennis was my big love, I loved playing tennis and got into the bottom of the tennis team. I hated swimming … never swam if I could possibly help it.

But the opportunities were there obviously, to play sports?

Yes. Yes, but it was limited. I suppose we played basketball which is, you know, now netball, but it was kind of … Hockey was the sport to play, not basketball.

What were your favourite subjects when you were at school?

I enjoyed maths, but I found when I got as far as the sixth form I couldn’t do maths any more; that was my limit. You know, you got into calculus and things like that [chuckle] – it was a bit beyond me. I wasn’t very good at English but I did love reading, but I wasn’t good at it. I think I enjoyed French, but we didn’t do any French conversation which was a shame, really. Geography was a non-event … depends very much on your teacher, I think, as [to] whether you enjoy a subject or not, and [the] geography teacher wasn’t very good. We did science; it was sort of just a general science subject; that was quite good. I can’t remember anything else we did, really.

Did you sit exams? You know, outside exams?

Well we sat School C. [Certificate] Yeah, I can remember that – we used to sit up in the library; the library was a beautiful room at Woodford. I didn’t find exams difficult at all; I didn’t find them stressful. We rather enjoyed School C because you had a different routine. And I suppose it was because I could do the exams reasonably easily. I mean, none of our marks were all that high; they should have been much higher. They weren’t.

But there wasn’t the pressure …

No. And you know, we only took four subjects for School C which was ridiculous, because we were all quite able. And then I think you got UE [University Entrance] accredited, and then we went to the seventh form, and I think that was just a glorious holiday to me, really.

You had no thoughts of going to university?

Yes, yes, I was going to, yes. You know, I and my friends were all going to Canterbury to do a BA, [Bachelor of Arts] but I met Michael, you see. [Chuckle]

Aside from your formal education, what about dances, balls or things like that?

We used to have school dances. You’d go and you’d sit on the wall. [Chuckles] Yes. I think we probably had them every holidays, I can’t remember. I do have one photograph of one of the dances.

Did you go with someone?

No … no, no. Your mother or father took you and picked you up again, and that was that. Yeah, there was no contact with the opposite sex … at all. We left school completely innocent.

Where would they hold the dances?

In a hall in Hastings, somewhere.

 

Today is Thursday 8th June 2023. This is the second part of an interview with Jane Tylee. Jane, you’re just finishing your final year at Woodford School with the expectation that you’ll go on to university – was that what happened?

Not exactly. [Chuckle] Shortly after I left school aged seventeen, my mother thought it’d be a good idea if she organised a tennis party with [a] few young guys; and I didn’t know any boys at all so a friend of mine suggested a few people, and among them was Michael. During the afternoon or afternoon tea, we were sitting around and I discovered that Michael liked crossword puzzles. I was so impressed because I thought all young guys … all they did was drink beer, and we had this immediately in common. And that was the start of a long relationship. I can’t remember how soon after that he took me out, but he did about a few months later take me to the Combined Schools’ Ball. Oh, I remember the lovely dress I had and I just wish I’d kept it; it was lovely sort of turquoise checks, it was so pretty. Strapless and big skirt; it was really lovely. Talking about clothes, I wish I’d kept more of my clothes and my children’s clothes, ‘cause there were lovely little smocked dresses and so on, and I didn’t keep any of them.

Go back to Michael, what attracted you to him?

You know, he was obviously intelligent, and he was very good-looking. Yes – when did he propose? I’m thinking … actually, I think he informally proposed not long after that, and I said no because I thought, ‘Oh for goodness sake! You know, I’ll get sick of him, and you know, that’ll be the end of that’. But I didn’t, and we were engaged for quite some time before we told anyone I think. And then we were married when I was nineteen and a bit.

So your parents were okay with the marriage?

Oh well [chuckle] I think they were a bit shocked how young I was; and there was [were] suggestions I might’ve gone for a trip with my aunt and uncle to Italy. But I wasn’t having any of that, so that was okay. I mean, looking back now I was ridiculously young, but that’s how you did it in those days. We were married on 14th January 1956. [Chuckle] I had seven bridesmaids, which also is just so ridiculous – my two cousins, my young sister who was nine, and the others were friends of mine. The wedding was held at our home, Rouncil, out of Havelock, and we had three hundred and forty-two people to the wedding, believe it or not; and we shook hands with every single one of them. And in the middle of the proceedings the caterer came and said to Dad, “The power’s gone off, we’ve blown a fuse.” So there he was, shaking hands one minute and turning round and telling the guy where to get the fuse wire from. [Quiet chuckle] We didn’t have a meal, we just had afternoon tea, and then I think selected people stayed on afterwards to have a meal and sort of dancing.

Was that quite normal?

I think it was probably quite normal. I do know a friend of mine was married a year or two afterwards and she had six hundred people to her wedding, and I know of another wedding with round about six hundred. I think it was not that long after the war, and people wanted to kick their heels in the air and have a good time, and that’s what they did. I mean it’s ridiculous really, because most of the people I didn’t know. It was so funny over the list, because every day, you know, Dad would come in for morning tea and he’d say, “Oh, I’ve forgotten cousin so-and-so; I think we’d better have them” – and all these old people that I’d never even heard of.

Michael and I had to leave the wedding at six-thirty, because some of the old ladies were ready to go home and they couldn’t go until the bride had left. We went to Waimarama to begin with on our honeymoon, and then we went to Taupo. And then back to Elsthorpe, which was a bit of a shock to the system.

Tell me what you wore, and about the flowers and the church?

I don’t remember the flowers in the church, but my dress was lace, and my godmother, Ruth Nelson, paid for it. I regret to say that I didn’t look after it properly and it’s now in shreds, really. It didn’t seem to be worthwhile at the time, but I really should have. My bouquet must’ve been rather nice, because Steve Weymouth was the vicar and he was quite a character in his own way; and during the service he kept looking down at something and I was a bit worried about what he was looking at. And afterwards he said, “There was a beautiful flower in your bouquet and I wondered what it was.”

Michael was very nervous during the service; I wasn’t a bit nervous. I can’t imagine why he was nervous, but he was. It was just a conventional Anglican marriage service and I can’t remember having hymns or anything, but we must’ve, I suppose. We didn’t have a choir because it was in the holidays – we might’ve had the Woodford choir otherwise. But we were married in St Luke’s in Havelock.

So then you went out to live in Elsthorpe – that must have been quite a change for you?

Well yes, it was, ‘cause it’s thirty-four miles from town. And I had to learn to cook, and you only went to town once a fortnight. The meat was mutton, and you had a roast one night, chops the next and stew the next, ad infinitum. And I think we grew quite a lot of vegetables, from memory.

Who taught you to cook?

I think I taught myself really, I was quite keen about it … milk puddings and good hearty food. [Chuckle]

So you were on a farm?

Yes. Sheep and cattle. We had an Aberdeen Angus stud and Michael ran it in conjunction with his father who lived over the other side of Waipukurau. And Michael was a dedicated farmer, and he worked very hard and long hours – too hard, and he really should’ve learnt to take a bit more time off. But that’s how it was and, you know, we were struggling to make our way. So then I started having children – I had my first baby nine months after I was married, [chuckle] which was also a shock to the system. [Chuckle] He was a lovely bouncing boy, and so I think I managed to look after him okay. That’s, you know … it’s quite a steep learning curve.

But you enjoyed being a mother?

At that stage, yes. The one thing I do remember thinking, that for the first time in your life when you have a baby you’ve got to think of somebody else besides yourself, twenty-four hours a day.

Was your mother close to you?

Yes, yes, she wasn’t that far away. She used to look after the children quite regularly. And my mother-in-law was not that far away either.

Presumably you didn’t have a Plunket service or anybody else you could call on?

Well actually I had a Karitane nurse for the first two weeks, as that seemed to be what you did in those days, and so she would’ve got me onto the right track, I think. I used to put him out in the sun, with his legs in the sun so they got lovely and brown – something that you wouldn’t do today. Not the thing to do to have your children out in the sun. But he [Michael] was a lovely bouncing boy.

And then there were other children?

Yes, two years later we had a daughter, Ann; she is called Ani by most people now, but we still call her Ann. And that was nice. Then two years later I had Tessa. That actually was [a] bit of a nightmare because three children under five is too much. Yeah, it was really hard work, and I was also cooking for a shepherd all this time, so … I did have a bit of help; I had a high school girl in the holidays, and you know, other bits and pieces of help.

Did you know much about running a house before then?

No, I suppose … no, you just learnt on the job really. I wasn’t a very keen housekeeper, I don’t think.

So there was very little time with three children for entertainment … did you entertain at home?

We used to have people to dinner, that was what you did, really. As far as I was concerned there was Women’s Institute, but I had a bit of a thing about it, you know. In hindsight I should’ve made an effort but I didn’t go to the Women’s Institute meetings. You know, the idea of having competitions about who was making the best scones didn’t appeal to me, but it would’ve been a way of getting to know the people in the district.

Did you have many friends?

Not really … on reflection it wasn’t a terribly friendly district; there weren’t many people our age. There were a couple of families that we saw quite a lot of over the years, and one family in particular whose children were all the same age, and so we saw quite a bit of them.

How much were you able to keep in touch with your friends from school?

Not really much at all; occasionally we saw them … couple of them I think, were godparents to the children.

And did your parents or Michael’s parents play a part in your children’s lives?

Oh yes, they were great. They used to have them to stay. And when the children went away to stay I loved painting the house, and so I used to get out the paintbrush and the tins of paint and paint a room. When I was first married, the house we moved into was all cream-coloured and I couldn’t bear it; so I painted the various rooms the most awful colours, [to] sort of get something out of my system, I think. Now I feel appalled, looking back on it. [Chuckle] At one stage we put some … actually wonderful wallpaper in our kitchen. It was really lovely, it was blue with great big poppies on it. That was more of a success, I think.

So you loved colour?

I love colour, mmm.

You mentioned before about horses; you’re living on a farm, so did horses form part of your life?

Not then. Once I got married I didn’t ride. Before I got married, that year I had at home I was hunting, and I had a lovely horse who jumped well. But you know, our children had ponies and they enjoyed riding and went to Pony Club, but it was always a bit of a job getting the ponies to the Pony Club. They had to ride them there, I suppose; can’t remember, but they must’ve.

Did you have a car?

Yeah, we had cars, yeah – well to begin with we had a rather uncomfortable little truck, and then we got a Holden car. I think we changed the car quite frequently; I really can’t remember what the other ones were.

When did you get a licence?

When I was fifteen, I imagine, because that’s what you did. And it was quite simple to get a licence; you didn’t have to go through the rigorous preparation that you do these days. And our kids all got their licences at fifteen.

Going back to entertainment, when you did have some time and you invited people over, how did you fill in that evening?

Oh, it was mostly conversation. But as a family – when I was a child we played cards. After we were married we played this game Push Patience, which was very much a game of our family. Michael absolutely hated it – we were all very competitive with it, and it was kind of a race; he hated it and we all loved it. Everybody played; you each had a pack of cards and it was … yeah, it was good fun. Early on in our marriage, I think when I was first pregnant, Michael’s parents taught me to play bridge and I got very keen about that, and used to play with myself while I was highly pregnant. We did play bridge with older neighbours of ours who were very good to us, Pam and Cyril Scannell.

Was there any time to go to shows or to movies or things like that?

Not when the children were small, although Ann learnt ballet; she seemed to be getting a bit bored so she started ballet, and we used to take her into Hastings to do ballet with Miss Ballantyne.

This is the same teacher that you learned from?

Yeah … yes.

Tell me about Hastings. I presume there were many department stores – far different to what it is now?

Yes. I used to go to town once a fortnight to get supplies, and Hastings was very different to how it is now; it was a very good centre, and it had some very good shops. Roach’s was a department store, and Westerman’s sort of sold all sorts of things – material and haberdashery. And it had one of those systems where you put your money in a little cartridge, and they sent it off upstairs and then it’d come back with your change. [Pneumatic tube systems] And Blackmore’s was men’s outfitters – it was a very good shop; and Bon Marche, I remember. And we used to get our groceries at the Hawke’s Bay Farmers which catered for all farming needs. Over the road was the grain store where I’d perhaps go and get you know, a sack of something or other to take home. The grocery department was, looking back, something else – you stood at the counter and you said, “Please could I have a pound of flour and half a pound of butter and three pounds of sugar?” And he would go away and he’d get all the different things and put it in a bag for you. Shopping was very simple; the food was very simple, there was [were] no choices, no exotic cheeses … bread actually was delivered in the truck …

So you didn’t make bread?

I didn’t make bread, no … unwrapped; a barracuda with a you know, division down the middle.

White bread?

White bread or brown bread, which was simply white bread with some colouring. And the milk came in glass bottles. We did actually have a cow for a while – that was good.

Did you milk it?

I didn’t milk it, Michael milked it; then you’d put the milk in a jug and all the cream would come to the top. That was good. Yes, the cheese was … I seem to remember Chesdale which [was] pretty awful actually; but no tins of things, nothing exotic at all. Very, very simple food.

Was there anything like … nowadays you can go round different places, so you might buy cheese from a factory or fruit at a stall; anything like that?

No – there was a greengrocer’s, Mrs Loo Kee in Hastings, and that’s where you went to get your vegetables. And when I was at Woodford actually, she used to make up bags of fruit which would come up to school.

A lot of women would have spent quite a bit of their summer preserving fruit and things – is that something that you did?

Oh, most definitely, yes. I used to preserve peaches, and I did at times make spaghetti, and preserved tomatoes. I mean, we didn’t have a freezer like you do today; everything was preserved. And actually preserving tomatoes was a slightly tricky business ‘cause they’d [?].

Did you have to have a copper or something like that?

I stewed it all up and filled up the jars and put the tops on. I didn’t do it the sort of specialist way where you put it all in nice and neatly and then you put it in a thing with water and cooked it. I just did it a simpler way. I used to make jam and chutney and sometimes tomato sauce. But we used to have a lot of stewed apple; I used to buy, oh you know, five or six cases of apples at the beginning of the winter, and we’d have stewed apple every morning for breakfast. You could buy fruit relatively cheaply from orchards, but I don’t remember specifically going to places to buy vegetables, or anything really. I mean you didn’t go to specialist places at all.

Have you always had an interest in gardening?

The year I had at home when I left school I got keen on gardening, and I used to do Mum’s gardening, and … yeah, I’ve always loved gardening. That’s been my release really. I was keen, probably more on the look of a garden and the colours, rather than specialising in particular plants. The soil in Elsthorpe was awful – it was very clay-ey and difficult to garden with, and every winter I’d want to move shrubs around because I didn’t like where they were, and poor Michael, I used to get him to dig them out and we’d move them, but you know, it was hard work in this clay soil. We did try and grow vegetables, and we grew very good rhubarb I remember; And we had a Chinese gooseberry … kiwifruit … and other vegetables, but we didn’t grow potatoes like some people used to.

Going back to when we’d go to town, sometimes I’d take sandwiches to eat in the park and other times I’d go to the Main Milk Bar. There were no cafes; the Main Milk Bar was about the beginning and the end of it. And there were no restaurants at all, and the night that I had my first baby we went to dinner at … I think it was called the Barclay, and it was opposite the Blue Moon Dairy on the way from Havelock to Hastings … and that was the only restaurant in Hastings, or Hawke’s Bay. [Chuckle] You could get a meal in a hotel and you could get fish and chips, and Michael used to talk about Razos, I think [it] was a fish and chip place that he seemed to be …

What about wine?

I don’t remember wine so much; well … yeah, we used to drink sherry a bit, and we’d get a flagon of sherry and drink that. And then we moved on to casks of wine. And I remember thinking – we used to go for picnics, our family are quite keen on picnics – and you would never ever take alcohol on a picnic. But nowadays, I mean you always take maybe a bottle of wine, or cans of beer or something, and it’s not so terrible really. [Chuckle]

Were you a smoker?

No, I never smoked which was very fortunate; it was good luck rather than good management, but Michael smoked, although not for very long. He had a really, really bad cold when he was about twenty-three and gave up smoking. But you always offered your guests cigarettes if they came to see you – you’d have a box with the cigarettes on [in] on the mantelpiece and you’d offer them to people. And a lot of people smoked, it was very common.

I seem to remember people even smoking at a dinner table …

Oh, I’m sure they did, yes. I mean now it surprises me when I see someone smoking, because it is so unusual which is fortunate. And the other thing which has changed is the drinking and driving; we used to go to a party and you’d drink, you know, copiously and then you’d drive home without a single thought. I mean, you’d never dream of doing that now because if you were caught you’d lose your licence … apart from the danger of it.

It seems incredible.

It does, yes.

Now I know as a niece of Gwen you are a Trustee of the Gwen Malden Trust, so tell me about the Trust and what it does.

Well the Trust owns Kereru Station … well the station is owned by two Trusts actually, the Gwen Malden Trust and the Ruth Nelson Trust … and the money that the Ruth Nelson Trust [gets], most of that goes to the Rudolph Steiner School or Rudolph Steiner interests. But the Gwen Malden Trust give their money to anyone who applies, and we think is worthy – a wide, wide range of different things – kindergartens, schools, arts …

Any particular projects that you can recall being involved in?

Well, the School for Teenage Parents in Napier I remember having quite a bit to do with, and being really impressed with what they did; and how sensible it was really, to have these girls finish their education. They were opening a playground one day and the Trustees went, and Helen Clarke came and opened it. She was really charming and very attractive.

Are you still involved with the Trust?

No, I’m not involved any more, no.

But one of your daughters is?

Tessa is, yes. My brothers were Trustees. In retrospect I think it’s really better to have your Trustees not all family, but from a range of different interests and capabilities.

But you retain an interest in it?

Yes. Yes, definitely. I mean they give money to Prima Volta now, which is quite inspiring, really.

So what do you think Gwen would’ve felt about it now?

Oh, I think she would’ve been thrilled. In fact we often thought when we were deliberating about giving money away, ‘What would’ve Gwen liked?’ But … oh you obviously have to make up your own mind, and you know, life’s very different now. Most of the gifts were very successful; once or twice they were not. We gave money to something in Napier which was a pub with no beer, I think, and it was a complete … I don’t know, perhaps it wasn’t very well organised or something, but that was a mistake.

Is there any obligation to report back to you what they’ve done with the money?

I don’t think so, no. But you know, if you give $1,000 to a kindergarten, it’s not huge in the concept [context] of the farm but it’s huge for that kindergarten. And … oh, I remember one lovely visit we had to a house somewhere in Hastings, some Maori women – they must’ve been working with children I think; they wanted money for a camera. We went there and we were very ignorant about Maori practices as a lot of people were then, and they said, “We must give you a proper Maori welcome.” And we sort of said quietly, you know, “We’ve actually got limited time, and we need to keep going, but we must do this.” And so they gave us a lovely welcome; then we had to give a waiata, and none of us could sing. I can’t remember what we sang, but I think probably like ‘You Are My Sunshine’ or something, but the Maori women were very gracious and very accepting of our efforts. We apologised profusely for our lack of education, and they got their money for the camera, and they were very delighted.

Is it okay to sort of suddenly go back? Just about leaving the children in Hastings when I went to town. Farmers ran a nursery upstairs; if I took the children we used to leave them in the Farmers’ nursery. I suppose it was a kind of creche. We didn’t pay very much to do it, and they were amazing; that was really good. And we would often have a meal or lunch or afternoon tea in the Farmers’ tearooms. The Farmers’ tearooms was very much part of Hastings in those days because of the lack of cafes or anywhere like that, and everyone would go to the Farmers’ tearooms and have their lunch on their day in town.

I’m picturing you in a hat and dressed up to go to town?

Yes, I was reasonably dressed up, because otherwise you didn’t have much opportunity to dress up, and I don’t think there was too much in the way of trousers in those days either. [Chuckle] And talking about clothes or dressing, I can remember my father being very particular about what you wore to church; your arms had to be covered, and I think there was talk about hats too, which seems strange because these days God’s only too happy to have you any old how. [Chuckles]

So how important was religion in your life?

Well, I suppose it’s always been definitely part of it, yes. I remember when I was at Queenswood, going at the weekend to St Matthew’s, and the Reverend Button. And then we must have gone to St Luke’s, I suppose … well we did from school go to St Luke’s, and as a family we must’ve gone to St Luke’s. And I remember going to the Waimarama Church because that’s where my grandparents used to go. After we were married church was once a month, and we thought we were terribly good if we went once a month to church. I played the organ for a number of years … oh, not an organ, a harmonium should I say.

At your local church?

Yes, yes.

What was that like, playing a harmonium?

Well it was very much like a piano, except that you had to pump with your feet. You know, I had played the organ at school so I roughly knew what I was doing, and not many people came to church so it wasn’t too much of an ordeal.

Have you maintained your church association?

Yeah, well you see when we came to live in Havelock, church is every week, and that was kind of a bit of a shock having gone once a month – to think about going once a week. I don’t go once a week, but we do go.

Would you like to tell me about your grandchildren?

Yes, well Grannies always love to talk about the grandchildren. [Chuckle]

Course they do …

Well Holly is the eldest, she’s thirty-eight; her sister is Ella, and she’s married with two children, Moss and Audrey. And talking about names, people raised their eyebrows a bit when they called their son Moss, and I was talking to somebody who was a schoolteacher, and she said, “What’s the child’s name?” And I said, “Moss”, and she paused and thought, and then she said, “Well that’s really easy to spell, isn’t it?” And then there’s Piera, another sister, and she lives in Melbourne. And in the other family there’s George and Alice and Lizzie; George is married and has a little boy called Sam; Alice has just got married to Paddy and they are both lawyers and they live in Auckland.

Do you have family gatherings?

Well we have Christmas together; not always everybody’s there. The grandchildren take it in turns to go to different parts of the family

And Christmas is at your place?

No, with the Wellington family we usually choose somewhere between Wellington and Hawke’s Bay to go so that it’s easier for everybody, and it’s also neutral ground so that makes it all easier. No, we’re quite a family family, and make a point of getting together, you know … on special birthdays everybody comes. On Michael’s ninetieth birthday I think everybody was there; so yes. And we’re very lucky to have the two great-grandchildren in Napier.

How involved have you been in your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren’s lives?

Well I used to look after the grandchildren on a regular basis which was really nice, because you just look after them for a day and then you send them home and you can enjoy them. Great-grandchildren – I’m a bit beyond looking after them, but we do see them reasonably regularly – well not the one who lives in Christchurch, but the two local ones. It makes you think much more seriously about bringing up children. These days they take it very seriously and give it a lot of thought about what they do, and they spend a lot more time with their children, I think. I don’t know how our children ever survived really. Apart from Dr Spock, I don’t remember thinking terribly about how I was doing it, about their education. We sent our son off to Hereworth when he was ten, which looking back on it, I would never, never do again.

As a boarder?

As a boarder. [He was] just a little boy. Elsthorpe School was good really, it was very good. There were a hundred pupils I think, with three teachers, and it was a good school, but you know, he had two sisters, and he was getting a bit obstreperous and we thought Hereworth would be quite good. But no, I certainly wouldn’t do that again. And the girls went to Woodford.

Were they also boarders?

They were boarders, yes.

So you were at home, just you and Michael?

Yes, but when the children were all at different schools it was quite hectic; you were driving [chuckles] from this school to that school.

Were you expected to attend sports days and you know, follow their activities the way parents do these days?

Oh yes, definitely. Well, partly because they were at boarding school and they didn’t see you unless you went to their different activities. I mean our son went to Wanganui [Collegiate], and it was a bit of a drag going all the way over there, so we didn’t go very much; but we did go to the main sports days and things. You know, these days parents give much more thought to where their children are going to go to school and what particular school would suit which child. We did very much what our parents had done. Well being in the country it wasn’t so easy, because to go into Waipuk [Waipukurau] to the high school … I think for quite a long time there wasn’t a bus, and then when there was it was a long journey. And it was almost impossible to get into Havelock to go to the high school, so you know, there wasn’t the same choice that there is today.

And keeping in touch with them must’ve been more difficult too – did they write letters to you?

Yes, we did have letters, yes. They did write letters because they weren’t allowed home much; but they weren’t allowed to ring up, you know, it really was [a] rigorous sort of a life which I think was really difficult. Tessa was particularly homesick, and you know, looking back on it I think the lack of connection with the parents was tough.

So what do you notice are the biggest differences now?

Well I think people are much more tolerant and easy-going; social niceties are on the whole not so rigorously employed. Well a lot of people I think, are very supportive of the different things that people choose to do.

What things are you perhaps concerned about?

Well I think climate change is the thing which we should all be concerned about, and a lot more concerned than perhaps we already are. I think it’s the biggest thing that we as the human race have got to deal with at the moment, and I don’t think enough’s being done about it.

Do you feel your children and your grandchildren are as aware as you are?

Yes, I think they are, really, yes – well some of them, anyway. Yeah … no, I think recycling, and eating the right foods, and not having processed foods, and all these sort of things, I think our family are very conscious of.

Just to finish off Jane, how much have you followed the political scene over the course of your life?

Well we’ve always been quite interested in politics, and while we were farming we were dyed-in-the-wool National of course, and Michael was involved with the National Party and used to collect money and so on. You know, if you didn’t vote National, well that was something pretty terrible in those days. [Chuckle] On the whole you kind of voted what your parents did; these days I think young people make their own minds up, and there’s a freer situation where it’s quite acceptable to vote any way you want to.

What about issues? For instance in the seventies feminism became very prominent; how did that affect you?

Yes, well that’s interesting you should mention it, because Germaine Greer changed my life. At school our headmistress always referred to us as home makers, and I always thought, you know, that’s what women did – they made a home, they cooked and they cleaned and brought up children. And Germaine Greer made me think quite differently, and I realised that women of course have so much more to offer than just being at home. I remember the abortion issue and how there was a march in Hastings; and I didn’t actually go on it, but a friend of ours was very involved in the abortion issue. I think the laws were changed about then. Homosexuality was another thing which was becoming a bit more of an issue; Michael’s brother, Charles, was gay. He was always slightly different, and I don’t think to begin with we realised he was gay but at some stage he got into difficulties in Wellington because it was actually illegal, and he left and went to England where he got a partner. And it wasn’t really until we went to England and we stayed with him that we really became totally aware how difficult it had been for him really, and probably how much happier he was with his life in England.

How did Michael cope with that?

Oh, he was fine about it. But Michael’s parents … I don’t think had realised, and you know they were pretty elderly when they first found out. I think they were absolutely devastated. It was something that they wouldn’t be able to have absorb at all. Sad for them, really.

And later on did Charles become accepted by all your family or was he always accepted really?

Well I think he was always accepted by our generation, yes. He came back to visit and …

With his partner?

No, no. No, just on his own. He came out for a wedding I think, a family wedding, and he was very much accepted. He actually made quite a name for himself where he lived in London; he tried to save old buildings. And when he died they planted a tree in his memory, [chuckle] so … yeah, he was quite a character; he was different. But these days there are so many different sexual orientations that you can have, it’s a very different scene.

It’s one of the biggest differences, isn’t it, that we have to cope with?

Not just gay and lesbian, there’s all sorts of other things.

You will remember the 1981 rugby riots?

Well yes – I think there were differences in our family about which side you were on, which I think went for a lot of families. I think we were both against the tour. I don’t think Rob Muldoon allowed the tour to come because he thought it was politically advantageous; and he should never’ve let them come, but I know that my step-mother got very, very hot under the collar, and you know, couldn’t understand it at all; she thought they should come, and you know, what was all the fuss about? I think it was like this with a lot of families, there was a lot of heat. But they shouldn’t’ve come, I mean apartheid was a horror.

Were you aware of overseas happenings? I’m talking about more recent years, I suppose …

We were the last people in the Elsthorpe district to get television but we were pretty excited when we got it, and were watching all this drivel. I don’t remember being very interested in the news or keeping up with things, really. No.

Jane, it’s been lovely talking to you; thank you very much for your time. I’ve been fascinated to hear about your life, and I’m sure other people will enjoy hearing about it as well. Thank you.