My father went into the army when I was just three, too young to understand that we were in the middle of a World War. He didn’t come home until I was six, but we knew we were lucky that he came home.

The government had promised the men who enlisted that they would be able to return to their original jobs after the war, but this wasn’t the case. My dad had worked as on the railway, working with Clydesdale horses before the war and now found himself driving a truck , a job that he didn’t enjoy very much.

My parents decided to move to Australia when I was a bit older, because they wanted the best for me, their only child, and believed that Australia would offer me opportunities that Scotland couldn’t.

We had to travel to London’s ‘Australia House’ to have medicals, including x-rays to be allowed to emigrate and we had to also have an Australian sponsor. We were nominated by Hugh Ross’ sister, Mrs O’Neill from Yarrunga near Orange.

I was 13 when we boarded the ‘Astoria’ and sailed from England. It was not a glamorous ship by any stretch of the imagination, but it was comfortable enough for the six-week journey.

We called in at many ports, but my clearest memory was being in Veleta Harbour in Malta and hearing the Army band playing the bagpipes from the shore. That was probably the first time I felt homesick for Scotland.

More migrants came onboard from Malta and we set sail again, through the Suez Canal, just before it was closed. We could see Arabic people camped with their camels around campfires from the ship and it looked terribly exotic to my young eyes.

We arrived in Fremantle and left the ship to have lunch before we sailed on to Sydney. It was the first time I had ever seen flyscreens and remember wondering what they were for. We arrived in Sydney on Boxing Day 1950 in the middle of a heatwave. I found myself longing for the snow I had left behind in Scotland.

We caught a train that very same day from Central Station to Yarrunga, to the cattle station that was to become our home for a while.

I was to attend a one-teacher school in Murga, but my biggest shock was that they only used horses on the property and I was expected to ride to school.

I had never ridden a horse before and could not get it to move. Mr O’Neill would give it a smack on the rump and it would reluctantly oblige to get me there. The rotten thing never had a problem moving on the way home though; it would take off as it knew home meant food.

I did eventually become a better rider, but we were on the move again as my father had been offered a position at Garangula.

Mr Hugh Ross made us very welcome and my father became the resident ‘rabbiter’ and I would help him. That was my first venture as an entrepreneur, as when the rabbit man would come around, Dad would give me a share of the profits.

Mr Ross offered us a cottage on the property, a peisi home that needed some work. It was the first time I had ever seen a chip heater, a copper or a full tin bath.

My mother decided to paint the bath and left it to dry all day. That night she decided to treat herself with a bath and ended up covered in paint.

I started school in Harden, but I was still very homesick. Mr Reid  from Jugiong would pick the Garangula kids up in his taxi and drive us to meet the school bus.

I left school at 14 or 15 and went to work at the Garangula house as their only house maid. It was a big job, but I enjoyed it.

Mum and Dad used to visit Uncle Harry, Aunty Maggie and Grandma Sharp who had come over from Scotland every few weeks. We would travel into Harden and I was allowed to go to the pictures with the friends I had made at school. After the movie, we would go to a café (which is now Potts Point Hairdressers) for a milkshake.

One New Year’s Eve; or ‘Hogmany’ as it is in Scotland, Bill Kemp suggested we go over to a dance that was being held in Binalong. I was too nervous to ask my parents, so Bill rang them and asked if I could go. They agreed and five of us headed off to Binalong in someone’s car.

It was there I met a lovely young man who liked to dance. He asked if he could call on me so I rang my father and he said yes. Suddenly Harden was the most wonderful place in the world.

I was still in bed the next morning when he came to call, but we had seen him coming, so by the time he got through all the gates on the property, I was up and dressed. Les Graham shook my Dad’s hand and said “G’day mate” and we were officially dating.

Les worked on the railway and one day Mr Ross asked my dad if he would mind if his future son-in-law came to work at Garangula as there was a vacant house on the property. Dad said he wouldn’t mind and the following January 4, we were married at Ross Memorial Presbyterian Church.

I dressed at my Aunty Maggie’s house in Swift Street. I remember walking down the front stairs in my wedding dress to see my dad waiting for me in his suit, looking very handsome. I now live in that same house and have done for many years.

The cottage we lived in on Garrangula had no electricity, but it did have a proper enamel bath, so I did not suffer the same fate as my poor mum. We had kerosene lights and a wonderful record player. Sunday nights we would listen to ‘Inner Sanctum’ on the radio and frighten ourselves.

Les always whistled and sang around the place so I always knew where he was. One night after our scary radio program, I hid behind the door and jumped out at him. I scared him a bit too much as he punched the door. I was very grateful he got the door and not me!

Our two boys, Alan and Scott were born at Harden Hospital and we were very happy at Garangula, it was a good life.

As the boys got older, we wanted them to go to school in Harden so we moved into town and Les went to work on the Harden Shire Council, where he remained for 32 years.

Harden was a busy place then and I made friends with the ladies from the RSL Women’s Auxiliary, where we used to cater weddings. It was lovely to see the beautiful brides and handsome grooms and then to see their families grow up.

I volunteered for ‘Daycare’ for over 20 years and the ladies became extended family. I used to sew and do craftwork to sell on their stall once a year. I learned a lot from those ladies but they all, including my mum, gave up on teaching me to knit.  I just never got the hang of it.

I also volunteered with the Scouts when my boys were young. Les helped me, but refused to wear shorts. I volunteered with Meals on Wheels and someone suggested that I should join Demondrille Players.

Demondrille Players would put on shows to raise money for local charities. There is a lot of talent in Harden. I couldn’t sing, but I was really good at filling a space in the back row and miming.

One of my favourite memories is lying in bed listening to the steam trains heading up to Demondrille, we could always tell what sort of train it was. When the Flying Scotsman came to Australia and came through Harden, everyone went to Harden Station to see it. I went up to Demondrille Bridge. The last time I had seen it was in Scotland when it brought my Dad home. I cried.

Living in the Hilltops has taught me so many things through my life. There is no need to be lonely in a place like Harden, you make friends by getting involved.

Harden can hold its head up for what it has done for young people through the years. I am so proud of the talented people this town has produced; doctors, scientists, Olympic athletes, swimmers and so many more.

I remember the first time I saw Harden at night. We looked down from Demondrille Hill and I thought the lights looked like a ladder to the sky. It is my home and I wouldn’t want to have lived anywhere else.