Please dear readers, understand that in my description of the Women of Llewellyn, I am describing them as I saw them at the age of six up to fourteen, with the brutal unfeeling eye of a young girl who did not have any patience or appreciation of their life or what they had endured!
Our next door neighbour was Kay Dallimore. She never raised her voice and always had a slight smile on her face. She was kind and loved my mother. I remember her hands with short blunt unpolished nails - the hands of a nurse. My mother wore nail polish all the time - like her, I paint my nails, and always when I do my nails, I remember my mother. Later in life, when she was unable to do her own nails, my sisters would put polish on them for her. I never did but when I would see one of my sisters carefully applying the polish, I would sigh and think how wonderful they were to do this for my mother. Perhaps one day my daughters will have to paint my nails - although I have told them repeatedly that when I am no longer able to go and get my roots done, or get myself to a salon for a mani/pedi, they have my permission to 'pull the plug'.
Mrs Dallimore had seven children - a small family by my standards. Her husband Larry, loud, brash and my tormentor! He would tease me about the church as he was not a Catholic - theirs was a 'mixed marriage'. He would make jokes about priests and cardinals and my head would spin with visions of him going straight to hell for his blasphemy. The Dallimore children became close friends of my younger siblings while I, being older, was of an age to be a babysitter!
Their house was the mirror image of ours but somehow seemed to be better. They were not as 'poor' as we were so there was always a tinge of jealousy when I thought of them. They had a little record player that I would use when I babysat - 45s as they were called - and I would play records over and over.
Across the street was Kay Egerton - I cannot recall how many children they had but I know that they were even poorer than we were. Her husband was Lou and I picked up my mother's negative opinion of him - the unspoken message was that he did not measure up. Kay Egerton was fiercely loyal to him and I admired that she never ever complained about him. They sold their house and moved to Georgetown. We went to visit them once - they had purchased a farm house and it had flies! I was obsessed with the flies and couldn't get out of there fast enough! How shallow I was........
Peg Newton also lived across the street. She was a 'war bride' and had met and married Bev Newton in England during the war. She was ontologically scarred by the deprivation she had experienced during the war in Britain. She would carefully check over each and every shopping receipt against what they had bought - although I didn't appreciate it at the time, I later came to understand how wise she was. I recall her saving butter wrappings and using them to grease pans - a tip I later used! She had a huge scar on her neck from a burst gland - things children notice and fixate on!
Then there was Mrs Hill. I always thought of their family as being 'hillbillys'. Where this came from, I have no explanation. She had long grey hair and it seemed that there was always some crisis in their household - either with the husband or the children - Keith, Roy, and Irene - there may have been another brother but I cannot recall his name.
There were the Harrisons - the husband was Wilf (I thought the name weird until I realized my own father's middle name was Wilfrid) but I do not recall her name. She had long red hair which I heard my mother curtly and dismissively mention being due to her husband liking long hair - harrumph! Two boys - Bobby and Gary - Gary a bully - and Bobby, sweet and gentle. Gary tormented me and my younger sister and one day, fed up with his constant attacks on us and feeling all righteous, I punched him and miraculously managed to connect with his nose giving him a glorious nose bleed. His mother came over to complain to my mother, and although she went through the motions of saying how awful it was that her daughter had been so violent, I knew she applauded my bravado when she smiled at me after Mrs Harrison had left.
At the end of our street, on Islington Avenue, was Mrs Mitchell. I thought of her as Marmy from Little Women and saw her daughter Heather as the embodiment of Beth from same story. I do not recall her ever saying a word but she exuded a calm and spiritual manner that greatly impressed me.
These women embodied the spirit of their time. They cared and nurtured their children and served not only their families, but one another. I know that every woman on that street would drop whatever they were doing to come to the aid of each other. Over the years, their kindness and support helped my mother through a very difficult time. It was with sorrow and a huge sense of loss, that my mother left our home on Llewellyn when the area was rezoned to extend Islington Avenue.
While I had few regrets at moving, I know that I am so lucky to have experienced the community that was Llewellyn
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