Memories of a Town No More by Lucy Bathurst (Crowe) (circa 1991)
My memory has to serve me well now as the town where I was born, lived and grew up, no longer exists – YALLOURN.
My dear mother on the occasion of my birthday would often remind me of the fact that had I been born a little sooner, I would have received a hand-knitted layette. Instead, I let a boy from Yallourn North beat me to it. The prize of the layette was for being the first baby to be born at the new Yallourn Hospital. So you can guess my memories go back a long way!
Yallourn was a pretty town with neat houses, red and green roofs and well kept gardens, with trees and shrubs provided by the SEC. The tree-lined streets with beautiful parks and gardens. I loved to watch the Yallourn Band parade, on a summer evening, carrying flame torches and led by Charlie Turner. How I wished I had been big enough to carry one of those torches!
Then down to the Band Rotunda in the Broadway Gardens. How many times my sister and I danced around that rotunda to the music of the Yallourn Band. I remember the “gutter man” with his large strong broom cleaning the open gutters , with small bridges to cross into each home. The “dunny man” too. I used to admire the way he could toss that can up onto his shoulder and not spill a drop – then slowly cart it away on his horse-drawn cart.
We were given the opportunity to ‘have a go’ at all sports, also to be spectators at magnificent ovals for the football or cricket. The old swimming pool being opened, with the sadness of a small boy drowning there the day before. How Yallourn wept for that boy and his family.
Churches for all denominations, with St John’s not just being a church but also a community hall for dances, fetes, concerts and, of course, the “picture shows”. Then something wonderful happened – a beautiful theatre was built to be proud of. Mrs Huddy’s concerts and Mr Connolly’s plays. We were treated to some fine entertainment by many talented people.
The war – although nothing seemed to change much to me, it was a sad time for many. Black-out curtains were provided to each home along with materials for the air-raid shelters. I remember my dad saying to my sister and I “if a raid comes, be sure to put your gumboots on, because the shelter has plenty of water lying in it”. It was a time that brought the folk of Yallourn, along with the rest of the country, very close. The fires that surrounded our town, and threatened its complete destruction, with hedges and trees on fire, we were not allowed to leave the school until a family member came to collect us. My sister did that – and I have often thought how brave she was. There were many brave people that day.
The night our home at 18 Southway caught fire, I will never forget how everyone cared and helped in some small way. After the Friday night dance at St John’s, Fred and I parked on the front verandah, meanwhile the back of the house (kitchen) was ablaze. We were blamed for that fire many times and were told to park inside the house after that.
Every major event in my life took place at St Johns. I was christened there, confirmed, made my debut, and met my husband there. Our engagement was announced there, we were married there, our children and grandchildren were christened there and my parents were buried from there. Like all the other folk who lived in Yallourn, we now have no place to say to our grandchildren “here it all is”, but Yallourn owes us nothing. We were given it all and we have our memories – and YOGA.
YOGA began with June Jardine and I deciding to gather some school friends for a dinner when Yallourn was dying – and what a result! Yallourn was unique and so is YOGA. It is the only Association we have where we can collect together – laugh and cry about old times, and be grateful for that safe, pretty town we were so lucky to share. The people who lived in that town were its heart beat and that keeps beating through YOGA.
Beauty doesn’t last forever – and Yallourn was beautiful.
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