My family piano

There’s not a lot in common between eggs and pianos. Except for the one in my lounge room. If the hens on my Nanna’s farm in the early 1900’s hadn’t been so productive there’d have been no eggs to sell, no money saved and logically, no piano. In my mind I can hear my grandmother, Nora Farrall playing the piano and singing hymns for Sunday Services and gatherings in the front room of her home. I believe was often joined

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Why I’m afraid of cows…

Cows mooed! Bulls charged! I cried! True! I explore a child-hood fear in my mini ‘moo-moir’. I was taking lunch to my Dad who was shearing sheep in the shed. That meant I had to walk between two large yards – one that held the bull and one that held the cows. When the bull snorted and charged the fence, stomping its hooves I walked closer to the cow yard. The track I was on was wide enough for farm

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