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the equipment was heavy, but more likely it was because portraitphotography was something, like medicine, that a man would do.
    Like most girls in my day, I intended to matriculate and then to teach, at least until I was married. So, after high school I went to the Melbourne Teacher’s College, fully intending to graduate. It didn’t quite work out that way because, of course, the Second World War came and it was all hands on deck, never mind about any dreams we might have had of teaching and what have you. I was assigned a position at the munitions factory in Melbourne’s west and I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it. There was camaraderie – a sense that we were supporting the men overseas – and I had a little money in my pocket, which is something my own mother hadn’t had.
    In any case, after the war the men took over the factory jobs and that’s when I finally took a job as a primary teacher. In those days, all you needed was one year’s study, which I had. The hoops they now make you jump through … well, I suppose it’s a good thing, but it seemed so much easier for people then. Soon after that I was married, and Ken and I had children. I made it my business to raise our four girls. That wasn’t a question then: you had children, you raised them. There was no childcare, except for the church hall, and that really wasn’t considered ideal.
    Ken was a good husband and, I must say, we had an exciting life together, we really did. Before the war, Ken had trained as an electrical engineer. Afterwards, hebecame involved in some of the big water projects: the Snowy Mountains scheme was one, and then we moved onto other things, eventually bringing water to people in other countries.
    Anyway, by the late 1970s, Ken had retired and we’d moved to the Barrett Estate. It was Ken who suggested we move there, I suppose because we both wanted to be closer to the girls. They’d left the nest and were pursuing careers – two of them were in Melbourne – so it made sense to be nearby instead of out whoop-whoop where I couldn’t help them with the grandchildren. Ken saw an ad for Barrett and said, ‘Oh, they’re building a new estate,’ but it wasn’t new to me: they built it on the land where we tested the munitions during the war. There wasn’t a house to be seen in those days, only some concrete buildings we called the ‘bomb shelters’, although they had no actual purpose that we could see. Anyway, all that was taken down and it was remarkable how quickly the houses went up. I was quite impressed. We decided to build our new home on the part of the estate they called ‘Barrett Riverview’, which was a little quieter than the rest of the estate, but you still had the benefit of having the young families around. People were quite friendly – you could rely on the neighbours to keep an eye on things if you had to pop out for a while.
    By the time we moved out there, of course, we were getting on. I had my interests – I had my roses, for example – but yes, I was looking for something else tooccupy my time. I didn’t want to go back to teaching. Although there were Catholic and Anglican schools on the estate I’m sure they would have regarded my skills as antiquated. In any case, Ken had had his first stroke, and I don’t suppose I wanted to be away from the house all day. Before he had the stroke, Ken and I had taken a few courses together: dancing, theology and a short photography course. The photography instructor had told me I was quite talented and I’d enjoyed it, especially taking photos of the grandchildren. It was my daughters who said to me, ‘You should go into business, start your own little empire.’ They thought I might be the next Anne Geddes, taking photographs of children sitting on pumpkins and that kind of thing, and it did tickle my fancy.
    My son-in-law – he’s a solicitor, got quite a good little practice – he was the one who went with me to the Barrett Regional Shopping Centre.