Peninsula life in the 1950s

On the way to school in the 1950s, we usually had time to pop into the corner shop to buy some lollies before the bus arrived.

Ida Hoskin (later Cr Hoskin) was always pleased to see us even though we could only afford a few pennies at a time.

Apart from licorice blocks and musk sticks, you could also buy "conversation" lollies which were handy when shyness robbed you of your power of speech.

On one occasion, I gave one with the message "You're gorgeous" to the object of my unrequited affection who then proceeded to ignore me disdainfully all the way to school.

Classes were conducted in the old church and, while I am reluctant to admit to any misdemeanours on my part, I did have a fleeting acquaintance with the feather duster which, on reflection, I so richly deserved.

The worst thing about school in those days was the obligatory bottle of milk which all of us had to drink at recess.

This scheme was brought in by the Government of the day to improve the health of children following World War II.

Of course, there was no refrigeration and the crates of milk would have been standing on the verandah since early morning.

After removing the silver top, one had to deal with half an inch of cream before slurping up the contents, which by then were lukewarm and frequently on the turn; yet somehow we survived.

Likewise milk was delivered to our homes in bulk.

A billycan would be left on the porch or patio with a note and, by morning, your pint would be waiting for you.

Bread would be delivered to your door by your local baker carrying a covered basket containing various loaves baked fresh that morning.

For some reason, baking attracted quite a few of the Dutch migrants in the area, including the Zwan family at Patonga, the Verheyen family at Umina and the Smit family operating from a bakery at Ettalong.

Mail was delivered in Umina by Bruce Smith on horseback.

Bruce, one of the sons of local garage proprietor Rex Smith, was not a bad looking bloke and there were lots of young females who, for reasons I did not quite understand at the time, looked forward to the mail each day.

His black and pink '48 Hudson, dubbed "Sabrina", was also a frequent sight around Umina.

Fruit and veggies were sold from the back of a truck by Mr Solomon of Booker Bay where his store was located (later Somersby Farm).

So apart from the occasional trip to the butchers and the corner shop, there was really no need to go out.

All very convenient and civilised.

With six o'clock closing, most families were at home in the evening listening to "Blue Hills" with Gwen Plumb, or Jack Davey who coined that often repeated phrase: "You are either married or you live at Woy Woy".

How dare he!

Essential listening amongst my peers was the half hour serial "Yes What".

Absolute mayhem in the classroom with an exasperated headmaster trying to maintain order and frequently sending Greenbottle or Bottomley out on detention.

We also loved the Goon Show.

After school, us kids were allowed out till dark.

Usually we would go to the beach for a swim or watch some of the beach fishermen like Harry Pollard bring in another 60 pound Jewie.

Harry, a local builder, was well known and always attracted a large crowd, particularly when he hooked a shark which he sometimes played for hours.

In winter, we rode our bikes or played cricket or footie in the street.

Most roads were still unmade and every now and then council's grader would appear to fill in the sand traps or smooth the bumps.

Owing to a lack of drainage, Ocean Beach Rd and the surrounding area used to flood during rain which provided a lot of fun for us but not so for the residents.

There was no such thing as "stranger danger".

We were all pretty innocent in the ways of the world, with only the occasional shared reading of a Carter Brown novel or a furtive glance at a "man" magazine in the newsagency, giving us a glimpse of new and exciting things to come.

Letter, 4 Mar 2009 Fred Landman, Daley's Point