Eddie Day
freddoMelbourne c1935
January 27th 2012 03:16
It was nearing the end of December and this was a period in Mary’s life when she experienced a great deal of happiness. She and Elsie Chance, the landlady, proved to be good company for each other. Elsie Chance, an expert knitter, harnessed her talents knitting baby’s clothes and bunny rugs for Mary’s new child, and she’d agreed to mind Eros when Mary went to hospital to have the baby.
Christmas of 1935 was exceptionally hot. Drying winds blew from the north making life uncomfortable for all, but despite the discomfort, for the first time in a long while people were smiling. Throughout Australia the unemployment rate had dropped to 13.7%, its lowest point since the beginning of the depression, and the State of Victoria was leading this resurgence in economic improvement. In and around Melbourne there was a distinct feeling of confidence, the queues at the soup kitchens were noticeably shorter, children could be heard to laugh and sing at their play. Everywhere there was talk of prosperity and happiness; the general consensus was the future would be better than most could remember. In dance halls the flappers enjoyed themselves dancing the fox trot to the tunes of the Big Bands.
George Formby, a cockney banjo player, ushered in the New Year with a catchy little tune called ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows,’ and Errol Flynn, making a name for himself in America, played Captain Blood in the swashbuckling pirate film of the same name.
But, on the other side of the world, there was a rapid build up of hostility and aggression.
The Nazi war machine stormed into the Rhineland, annexing territory taken from Germany in the 1918 armistice agreement. Mussolini’s Fascist troops over-ran Abyssinia and then marched into Ethiopia, resulting in very many troops from both sides being needlessly slaughtered. Japan continues to wreck havoc in China, killing and raping with a frenzy described as barbaric. On January 20th 1936, George the V, King of the British Empire dies, on the 21st his son, Edward VIII is proclaimed the new King.
The King is dead, long lives the King!
Meanwhile in Melbourne, the morning of the 24th of January promised yet another hot and windy day. Even before the sun came up the wind began to blow from the north, and for the rest of the day the sun would beat down from a pale remorselessly mocking sky.
Mary had just packed Beau off to work and was washing Eros when she felt the first pains of her labour. She was aware that on this day she would give birth, but her experience told her it would not happen for several hours.
She’d previously packed the old carpetbag with items the hospital required her to bring along, yet just to be sure she needed to recheck the contents. Satisfied everything was in the bag she hoisted Eros to her hip, grabbed some clean clothes for the child and headed across the yard to the main house. Then the realisation suddenly dawned on her, today was Thursday and Elsie Chance would be at the Salvation Army hall helping to prepare lunch for the needy.
Elsie had been devoting her Thursday mornings to this task for some time and she had never arrived home before one o’clock in the afternoon, Mary was at her wits end, what was she to do?
By nine thirty in the morning Mary had experienced three contractions, she knew she was in a pretty pickle but had enough sense not to panic. Setting Eros down in the corner to play, Mary lay on the bed with a hot water bottle resting on her stomach, the warmth was supposed to slow the contractions and relieve the pain, perhaps it was an old wives tale, but it was worth a try. The clock ticked away slowly and the heat of the day, along with her predicament, caused Mary to sweat profusely. Her pains continued to occur, gaining in strength as they did and she was left to ponder her options.
If she went to hospital she couldn’t take Eros with her, but she certainly couldn’t leave her on her own, she started to pray for Elsie to return and as if by some form of magic there was a knock on the door and Elsie’s head appeared.
‘Oh my God dearie, you do look to be in a bad state, you’d better get out of that bed and scarper off to hospital as quick as you can. Just you leave the girlie to me, come on now, up you get and away you go.’ said Elsie.
Experiencing an overwhelming sense of relief Mary rose from the bed and donned her coat, picked up her hospital bag and headed for the corner tram stop, only to see a city bound tram leave the stop just as she arrived.
Now there was further delay, she had to wait for the next tram to arrive and when eventually it did, Mary struggled to climb aboard for the ten-minute trip to the corner of Elizabeth and Lonsdale Streets.
Alighting from the tram, she was faced with the difficult task of walking up the Lonsdale Street hill to the Woman’s Hospital. She made it to the corner of Swanston Street and with fifty yards to go she doubted if she was going to get any further. Forcing herself to put one foot after the other she finally entered the hospital’s main entrance. The hospital staff, seeing her predicament, quickly washed and gowned her, then wheeled her to the delivery room and placed her on the delivery table.
A seriously painful contraction jolted Mary into awareness; this was it, the baby was bound to arrive within minutes and she could no longer afford the pleasure of dreaming about her past. It had been a good mind’s journey, interrupted only by a doctor or nurse tut-tutting over her and urging her to push harder. But at this point Mary knew it was all about to change and she called for help.
Nurses strapped her feet high and wide, and in the belief he was helping, the doctor pushed and prodded her stomach. The pains became more intense as the baby’s head forced her pelvic bones wider and wider.
At five thirty on the afternoon of Thursday the 24th of January 1936, Mary gave birth to a boy child. She heard the doctor slap the baby’s bottom, quickly followed by the child’s cry as it gulped in its first breath.
Mary counted her baby’s fingers and toes and felt great relief that the child appeared to be in good health with all external appendages correctly placed and sufficient in number.
Beau and Mary had earlier decided if the child turned out to be a boy then they’d name it Edwin, and for their own safety they would never be able to reveal the reason why. The birth was recorded at the Victorian Registry of Births and Deaths by Alexandria Alfred Day, he as the father and Mary Ethel Day as the mother.
Edwin Day officially became a member of the Australian population. However, this was no great earth-shattering event; after all, it was just another splinter in history’s arse as it slid down the banister of time.
The Wrapper
Christmas of 1935 was exceptionally hot. Drying winds blew from the north making life uncomfortable for all, but despite the discomfort, for the first time in a long while people were smiling. Throughout Australia the unemployment rate had dropped to 13.7%, its lowest point since the beginning of the depression, and the State of Victoria was leading this resurgence in economic improvement. In and around Melbourne there was a distinct feeling of confidence, the queues at the soup kitchens were noticeably shorter, children could be heard to laugh and sing at their play. Everywhere there was talk of prosperity and happiness; the general consensus was the future would be better than most could remember. In dance halls the flappers enjoyed themselves dancing the fox trot to the tunes of the Big Bands.
George Formby, a cockney banjo player, ushered in the New Year with a catchy little tune called ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows,’ and Errol Flynn, making a name for himself in America, played Captain Blood in the swashbuckling pirate film of the same name.
But, on the other side of the world, there was a rapid build up of hostility and aggression.
The Nazi war machine stormed into the Rhineland, annexing territory taken from Germany in the 1918 armistice agreement. Mussolini’s Fascist troops over-ran Abyssinia and then marched into Ethiopia, resulting in very many troops from both sides being needlessly slaughtered. Japan continues to wreck havoc in China, killing and raping with a frenzy described as barbaric. On January 20th 1936, George the V, King of the British Empire dies, on the 21st his son, Edward VIII is proclaimed the new King.
The King is dead, long lives the King!
Meanwhile in Melbourne, the morning of the 24th of January promised yet another hot and windy day. Even before the sun came up the wind began to blow from the north, and for the rest of the day the sun would beat down from a pale remorselessly mocking sky.
Mary had just packed Beau off to work and was washing Eros when she felt the first pains of her labour. She was aware that on this day she would give birth, but her experience told her it would not happen for several hours.
She’d previously packed the old carpetbag with items the hospital required her to bring along, yet just to be sure she needed to recheck the contents. Satisfied everything was in the bag she hoisted Eros to her hip, grabbed some clean clothes for the child and headed across the yard to the main house. Then the realisation suddenly dawned on her, today was Thursday and Elsie Chance would be at the Salvation Army hall helping to prepare lunch for the needy.
Elsie had been devoting her Thursday mornings to this task for some time and she had never arrived home before one o’clock in the afternoon, Mary was at her wits end, what was she to do?
By nine thirty in the morning Mary had experienced three contractions, she knew she was in a pretty pickle but had enough sense not to panic. Setting Eros down in the corner to play, Mary lay on the bed with a hot water bottle resting on her stomach, the warmth was supposed to slow the contractions and relieve the pain, perhaps it was an old wives tale, but it was worth a try. The clock ticked away slowly and the heat of the day, along with her predicament, caused Mary to sweat profusely. Her pains continued to occur, gaining in strength as they did and she was left to ponder her options.
If she went to hospital she couldn’t take Eros with her, but she certainly couldn’t leave her on her own, she started to pray for Elsie to return and as if by some form of magic there was a knock on the door and Elsie’s head appeared.
‘Oh my God dearie, you do look to be in a bad state, you’d better get out of that bed and scarper off to hospital as quick as you can. Just you leave the girlie to me, come on now, up you get and away you go.’ said Elsie.
Experiencing an overwhelming sense of relief Mary rose from the bed and donned her coat, picked up her hospital bag and headed for the corner tram stop, only to see a city bound tram leave the stop just as she arrived.
Now there was further delay, she had to wait for the next tram to arrive and when eventually it did, Mary struggled to climb aboard for the ten-minute trip to the corner of Elizabeth and Lonsdale Streets.
Alighting from the tram, she was faced with the difficult task of walking up the Lonsdale Street hill to the Woman’s Hospital. She made it to the corner of Swanston Street and with fifty yards to go she doubted if she was going to get any further. Forcing herself to put one foot after the other she finally entered the hospital’s main entrance. The hospital staff, seeing her predicament, quickly washed and gowned her, then wheeled her to the delivery room and placed her on the delivery table.
A seriously painful contraction jolted Mary into awareness; this was it, the baby was bound to arrive within minutes and she could no longer afford the pleasure of dreaming about her past. It had been a good mind’s journey, interrupted only by a doctor or nurse tut-tutting over her and urging her to push harder. But at this point Mary knew it was all about to change and she called for help.
Nurses strapped her feet high and wide, and in the belief he was helping, the doctor pushed and prodded her stomach. The pains became more intense as the baby’s head forced her pelvic bones wider and wider.
At five thirty on the afternoon of Thursday the 24th of January 1936, Mary gave birth to a boy child. She heard the doctor slap the baby’s bottom, quickly followed by the child’s cry as it gulped in its first breath.
Mary counted her baby’s fingers and toes and felt great relief that the child appeared to be in good health with all external appendages correctly placed and sufficient in number.
Beau and Mary had earlier decided if the child turned out to be a boy then they’d name it Edwin, and for their own safety they would never be able to reveal the reason why. The birth was recorded at the Victorian Registry of Births and Deaths by Alexandria Alfred Day, he as the father and Mary Ethel Day as the mother.
Edwin Day officially became a member of the Australian population. However, this was no great earth-shattering event; after all, it was just another splinter in history’s arse as it slid down the banister of time.
The Wrapper
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