This story is about the memories I have of my holidays with my grandmother in her
wonderful old colonial house. The house was quite large, sometimes spooky but
always facinating and magical. A dream for a child looking for adventure.

The closer we came to the outer suburbs, the more the houses, cars, people and
activity. The more excited I became. I was leaving behind my far to quiet
country lifestyle. With the first glimpse of the Swan River waters, I knew we
were close. Nans house was situated on a cliff face, which overlooked the river,
in the very historical suburb of Fremantle. The view was magic.

We finally arrived, and Nan was there to meet me in the courtyard. After seeing
my friends off, we went inside where Nan and I would chat for a short while. I
would then go to my room to unpack my clothes. I loved the walk down the long
passage way to the bedrooms. The smell of freshly polished floors was always
present. The room I stayed in, was always referred to as “The Nursery”. Nan
called it this, as it was the room where my mother slept as a baby. Nans room
was directly opposite. After unpacking I always liked to explore the house and
grounds.

I can still see every nook and cranny, of this huge old colonial house. To me it
was nothing short of magical. The large wooden front door, had a brass knocker
and a letter opening. On either side of the door were lovely lead light glass
windows. Each was made up of a flower, and patterns of all colours. Inside was
the main foyer, where on display were Aboriginal artefacts. On the walls there
were spears, boomerangs and an ornate neck ornament. From New Zealand
there were antlers, and even a huge stag head mounted on the wall. The eyes
would follow you, and when I was really young I was sure that they blinked. At
night I would rush past, never daring to look up.

Every room in the house had an open fire place, although I only ever saw the
lounge fire lit. Sometimes, Nan and I would scramble the cliff face, down our
special path to the river, and collect the drift wood for kindling. The dining room
was the largest room in the house, it also had the largest and most ornate fire
place. It was only ever used on very special occasions. My mother recalls,
peeping through the door, watching the “grown ups” all dressed up for a formal
dinner.

It had three doors. One leading from the main foyer, another to the passage that
lead to the kitchen. There were also double wooden doors, with windows, that
lead out onto the veranda. The huge table in the centre of the room, would seat
10 people comfortably, and was extendable if needed. It had high back wooden
chairs, all dark woodstain. The two chairs at the ends of the table, were very
impressive. All were hand carved, but these had a lions head situated at the
top, and at the ends of the arm rests were the claws. The room had a lovely bay
window, with built in wooden bench seat. Each window was adorned with lace
curtains and a red blind. On the floor was a magnificent Persian rug, deep red in
colour. It had lots of colourful patterns around the edges. The room had a
mantle situated halfway up the wall, which went around the full room. On display
were vases, photos, pictures and various family treasures. It really was a most
beautiful room.

During the following days, I spent my time walking or catching the bus into the
centre of Fremantle. This is where all the shops were, and so much to see and
do. This was a far cry from “Carnamah”, where there were two food
supermarkets, one service station, and a newsagent. I had little pocket money,
but that never worried me. I enjoyed just looking and experiencing all the things
going on around me. I remember buying a “Alice Cooper” record and looking
forward to listening to it.

The nights at Nan’s, I think of as bittersweet. When it was hot we would sit out
on the veranda, with the majestic view. As the house was situated on a cliff, you
could see for miles. I loved the sight of all the lights and watching the boats go
by. Nan would bring out her binoculars, so I could see to the other side of the
river. The smell of the river was ever present, and the feel of the cool breeze
through my long blonde hair, was so refreshing. Frequently, the breeze greeted
you with sweet perfume, from the Freesias which grew wildly. If you listened
carefully you could hear the water gently lapping on the shore. This was the
sweet part of the night.

The bitter part came, when it was time to go to bed and the lights went out. The
house seemed to take on new features at night. It was dark, and this old house
made so many creepy noises, and I was missing my mum. The creaks, squeaks,
and clangs seemed to be calling out to me. The shadows outside my window,
took on the appearance of grotesque faces. It was not long before, I could stand
no more. Very quickly, I left my bed and entered Nans room. With voice
trembling I asked, “Nan can I sleep with you?” She always answered with,
“Yes”. As Nan had a double bed, there was plenty of room. I’m sure she knew
how scared I was, as she never questioned me.

Being in strange surroundings, I would always wake early. With the transition
from night to day break, the house took on another appearance. It was no
longer something to fear but was again magical The faces at the window were
long gone. I would lay there and listen to the roosters greeting the morning.
Soon the Doves started with their soft soothing tones. Kookaburras ever joyful,
calling to each other with their haunting laugh. With the Naval Base close by,
the bugler alerting the sailors to their morning march, would join in with this daily
chorus. Oh, what I would give to experience this just once more.

All to soon the holidays were over, and it was time to go home. I fought
conflicting emotions. I wanted so much to stay and enjoy more time with Nan,
and her enchanting house. Yet, missed my family and friends, and longed to
see them. Yes, I even missed my small home town.

My grandmother died in 1981, when I was expecting my first child. I was then
twenty years old. The house was eventually sold. It had been part of my family,
for near on 60 years. Sadly, the new owners pulled down my magical house.
When building the new one, they used that lovely old wooden front door. So
that door is all that remains today. If doors could talk, what tales it could tell of
children’s laughter and family chatter. It would also remember the warm glow of
love, of many long since gone. Yes, my wonderful grandmother and her magical
house are gone, but the many memories experienced by a young country girl will
live on forever in her heart.