MARION ROSS BLAKE (nee MACKENZIE)
6 April 1950 – 26 July 2007
Breast cancer shortened the life of our beloved Marion, but she will live on in our hearts and our memories
forever and will be sadly missed by her family, friends and all who knew her.
Throughout the 6 1/2 years of her illness she was incredibly brave and faced the battle against breast
cancer with great courage and optimism and with dignity and grace. She was an inspiration to so many of
us, who admired her ability to smile in the face of adversity. At no time did she ever complain, nor was
she ever willing to surrender to this disease.
During Marion’s first visit to a radiation oncologist, he told her that this should not have happened to her.
Lovely and slim, she had always taken good care of herself - eating well, never smoking and rarely
consuming alcohol. She was aware of the disease and was vigilant in her self-examinations. The regular
annual mammograms she had had over many years did not detect the tumour. She discovered the 10mm
lump herself, in December 2000, only 10 months after a routine mammogram. At the time of diagnosis, no
cancer cells were detected in the lymph nodes removed from under her arm and her prognosis for the
future was excellent. Unfortunately, as we now know, the cancer had already spread to her bloodstream.
By May 2002, the cancer had metastasised to her liver and sternum. Marion was just terribly unlucky.
Early Years in Killarney (1950-1968)
Marion Ross Mackenzie was born at the Royal Brisbane Woman’s Hospital in Queensland, Australia on 6
April 1950 and was the eldest of five children of Bruce and Leonie (Pat) Mackenzie of Killarney,
Queensland. Her parents met by chance when her father, on service in New Guinea during the Second
World War, received a government war parcel from Australia, which had been prepared by her mother, a
young Tasmanian nurse. She had left a note in the parcel so he corresponded with her and, after the war,
they met and married in 1947. As there was a six-year gap between Marion and her next sibling, she was
of great assistance to her parents in the upbringing of her younger sisters and brothers, Heather, Vivienne,
Donald and Jamie, and was like a second mother to them. Her nurturing nature was evident from an early
age.
Marion was born with a congenital cataract in her left eye, which became divergent. An operation was
performed when she was nearly three years of age but she could never use this eye for vision and often
closed it whenever the overall lighting level was bright. A cosmetic operation, to correct the divergence,
was carried out in March 1973.
Marion’s happy childhood years were spent in Killarney, where father Bruce owned and operated, in
partnership with his brother, Ferrier, movie theatres, a farm and a general store, known as “Mackenzies’
Emporium”. Ferrier and his wife Joan’s son, Sandy, who was of a similar age, was her constant childhood
companion and they were often mistaken as brother and sister. Her fondness of musicals, such as “My Fair
Lady”, grew from her weekly attendances at the cinema.
Marion was educated at Killarney State School, until Grade 10, and completed her senior education at the
Warwick State High School. She excelled at English and French and received academic prizes for these
subjects. Memorable holidays were usually spent at the Mackenzie family holiday home “Mackross”, at
North Burleigh beach on the Gold Coast in Queensland. Her loving parents installed in her the high
standards and good manners, which she maintained throughout her life.
Her father’s six week round the world trip in 1962, with his brother Bill, encouraged Marion’s sense of
adventure and desire to travel. As a young girl, she travelled several times to visit her maternal
grandparents in Tasmania. Her cousin, Julienne Harnett, recalls the two of them sleeping in a room on the
verandah of their grandparent’s East Devonport home and having to go to bed really early, when the sun
was still up, as Marion was supposed to rest her eyes. They had to top and tail but the mosquitoes kept
them awake. Julienne also remembers that they were both fascinated with their grandmother’s English
accent, as she was born in London. Unusual accents were a novelty in Australia in the 1950’s. Julienne
also recalls their grandmother taking them on the little ferry into town wearing their best dresses with hats,
gloves and patent leather shoes. She said they were allowed to go to the cake shop, where they could
choose one cake each to eat.
-2As a member of the Killarney Girls Brigade, Marion also travelled by train to national camps in Adelaide
and Perth. Another Girls Brigade member from those days, Jill Mogridge, studied nursing and married a
doctor, Geoff Beadle, who became Marion’s oncologist in 2002.
Leaving Home for Brisbane (1968-1975)
In 1968, Marion moved to Brisbane to study at the Dawn Moore Secretarial College. Her parents arranged
for her to reside at Lady Musgrave Lodge at 35 Astor Terrace, Spring Hill, which was originally founded,
in 1891, by an early Queensland Governor’s wife, Lady Musgrave, to house homeless migrant women. In
later years, it housed girls from country areas, who were working or studying in Brisbane. It was at Lady
Musgrave Lodge that Marion met many of her close life-long friends, including Cherry Peters and Roslyn
Franklin, both of whom she later lived with at Wigan Court, 59 Bonney Avenue, Clayfield. After
completing the secretarial course, she went to work on Wickham Terrace at her uncle Bill Mackenzie’s
oral surgery practice.
By 1970, her desire to live and travel overseas led to a position with Trans-Australia Airlines at Brisbane
Airport, which allowed her to obtain air travel concessions. In September 1972, she took her first overseas
trip to Papua New Guinea where she stayed with Susan and Denis Riley, who kindly allowed her to use
their vehicle for touring.
In October 1973, she went on a round the world trip visiting Hong Kong, the United Kingdom, Europe,
North America, Hawaii and Fiji and, in 1974, she arranged a trip, with her air travel concessions, to the
United Kingdom and Europe for her parents.
Departing Australia for the United Kingdom (1975-1980)
In late 1975, Marion made another trip to Singapore, the United Kingdom, Europe, Spain and Morocco
with her sisters, Heather and Vivienne. While her sisters returned to Australia to further their education,
Marion remained in London. She stayed initially with Harry and Angela Wagstaff, who were family
relatives, at their home in Chingford. She continued to maintain a close family link with Harry and Angela
throughout her life.
After a variety of interesting temping jobs, which included editing a newspaper with Doug Disher (now
well known in real estate in Brisbane) and acting as a tour guide, she obtained a receptionist position at the
Victoria League at 18 Northumberland Avenue, near Trafalgar Square, and moved to the League’s student
hostel at 55 Leinster Square in Bayswater. She had been a member of that society in Brisbane where she
had met dear friends Wendy Morrish and Pamela Smith. She was also a member of the Britain/Australia
Society and the Royal Commonwealth Society. The Victoria League arranged trips at weekends to places
of interest and held functions for its members and Marion became actively involved in organizing and
participating in these activities. It was through the Victoria League that she met many of her English
friends, which included Joye Dodd, Bill Williams, Trisha Comrie, Mary Furlonge, Alyse Holloway and
Pauline Davidson.
Wendy Morrish arrived in London in early 1976, for an extended holiday, and had arranged
accommodation at a private bed and breakfast establishment, operated by Mrs Paula Jeffries, at 53
Westbourne Terrace in Paddington. In May 1976, Marion decided to move to Mrs Jeffries’ with Wendy.
It was at Mrs Jeffries’, at 53 Westbourne Terrace in Paddington, that I first met Marion on 22 August
1976. I only know the exact date because Marion noted it in her diary for that year. Although I had
forgotten the details of that meeting, she remembered them and told me some years later. I was very
impressed with her and decided she was a person I should get to know better. I had travelled to London
from Auckland, New Zealand via Asia and the Trans-Siberian railway through the Soviet Union. My
father and mother, who was also a member of the Victoria League, had stayed with Mrs Jeffries in 1975
when they were on a trip to the UK and Europe. She had been recommended to them by a family friend,
Ruve Wallace, who had actually taught my father in the 1930’s and had stayed with Mrs Jeffries on a
number of occasions in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Marion and Wendy had been anticipating my arrival as my
mother had written to Mrs Jeffries, asking if I could stay with her, and she had read the letter to Marion
and Wendy. On my arrival at Westbourne Terrace, I first met Wendy as Marion was away babysitting
-3Lady Crocker’s cat at her home at 31 Bressenden Place in Victoria. Apparently, Wendy tried to ascertain
my height in a doorway so she could inform Marion whether I was tall enough. The message Marion
received was that I was too short.
Mrs Jeffries was not very impressed with me at first, as I was not well dressed and had a backpack. I was
not the sort of clientele she normally had to stay and told Marion and Wendy I was not like my father, who
was always very presentable and was usually dressed in a jacket and tie. She also disliked me asking
questions and once when I enquired how the General Post Office emptied the coin operated telephone box
located inside her front door, she got quite cross with me. Sometime later, however, I happened to see her
empty the coin box herself. When she discovered that I was an engineer her impression of me changed as
she had the false idea that an engineer could fix anything from TV sets to plumbing.
At the time, I was using Mrs Jeffries’ as a base, whilst I ventured on trips to Europe and around the UK,
but Marion was living there. My room was on the same floor as the kitchen and her room was on a higher
floor. Marion would come down the stairs for breakfast every morning and I used to try to be there at the
same time so I could have breakfast with her. The stair floorboards used to squeak so I had forewarning
that she was coming. We used to chat over cereal, with watered down milk (a Mrs Jeffries’ specialty), a
boiled egg and toast. She would ask me what I had been doing and gave me advice on what to see, as she
was very knowledgeable about London. Mrs Jeffries also liked to chat with her and would sometimes send
me away telling me I was too early for breakfast.
In September 1976, soon after my arrival at Mrs Jeffries’, Marion and Wendy went on a trip to Scotland
with Charles Page and Stuart Pantall. Before their departure, Marion had a problem with a zip on her
suitcase and sought my advice. She was not pleased when I told her that her favourite suitcase had a poor
quality zip, which needed to be replaced, so she asked Mr Kaye, Mrs Jeffries’ long time companion and a
regular visitor to Westbourne Terrace, for help. Mr Kaye, who was a tailor, arranged for the zip to be
replaced with one of better quality.
Mrs Jeffries did not approve of guests cooking in their rooms or washing clothes in the bathrooms and so
one had to be discreet in such matters. I soon realized that she was also favouring Marion and Wendy as
she was providing them with an evening meal for the same rent. Sometimes, I would cook a meal on my
camping stove in my room. Marion warned me, however, that Mrs Jeffries knew I was cooking in my
room as she had discovered my camping stove and cooking utensils in my wardrobe during a routine room
search. Mrs Jeffries was not a person who respected one’s privacy and had the annoying habit of bursting
into your room without knocking, when you were there, or searching the room and examining the contents
when you were out. My parents also experienced this behavior, when they stayed with Mrs Jeffries, and
my father often recounted the story of how he dropped his trousers one time when she burst into their
room without knocking and she was so shocked that she never did it to them again.
During my stay at Westbourne Terrace, I often had discussions with Marion on various topics, one of the
most popular being the idiosyncratic behavior of Mrs Jeffries and speculation about her past life. It became
apparent, for instance, that Mrs Jeffries had never been married. Marion also informed me that she had
worked for many years at Harrods, hence the reason she had regular shopping deliveries from that store.
She also told me things that only a woman would notice, for example, Mrs Jeffries evidently washed
dishes under running water from the tap and seldom laundered the tea towels. She also had some
interesting sayings eg if it was cold she would say that she had put the “fire” on, which was an electric
heater with a light and revolving wheel behind a false flame façade.
In January 1977 and after many years at Westbourne Terrace, Mrs Jeffries moved from central London to
172 Gunnersbury Lane, Acton Town, and Marion and I both found alternative accommodation. She moved
to a flat at 12 Rutland Gate, Knightsbridge with Micky Scott, an elderly lady, and I moved to 57 Pymers
Mead, West Dulwich and then to 63 Perham Rd, West Kensington. We occasionally made contact by
telephone, but I did not believe I was high on her list of admirers. One time, I called in to see her at the
Victoria League, as a surprise, but she was occupied with other people and so I left without talking to her.
On 17 October 1977, I asked her out, for the first time, to dinner near Leicester Square and afterwards we
went to see the film “Valentino” starring Rudolf Nureyev. I held her hand for most of that evening and did
-4not let it go not even in the theatre. I also saw her home, which was an uncommon thing to do in London
when using public transport. This impressed her, so she informed me some years later but not at the time.
On that day, I was carrying a black bag with bright red handles and red strap reinforcing, which I liked
very much, as black and red were my favourite colours. When I found out a few years later that she
detested the bag, I disposed of it.
On 1 November 1977, I went for a job interview near where Marion was working at Queensland House, at
392 Strand, and we had lunch together. She had joined the staff at Queensland House in August and later
became the personal assistant to Sir Wallace Rae, the Agent-General and a prominent former Queensland
politician. In his testimonial for Marion, written on her resignation in May 1979, Sir Wallace Rae said:
“As Agent-General for Queensland in the United Kingdom and Europe, Miss Mackenzie came under my
notice as one of my confidential secretaries. In this area, her ability was well in evidence. In this exacting
and demanding role, she was able to acquit herself in a manner which could only be described as highly
commendable. She has a most refreshing personality, excellent in presentation, completely loyal and
trustworthy, indeed, one who possesses all the attributes so essential. As such, I have no hesitation in
recommending her to anyone seeking the qualifications necessary in a Private Secretary. Miss Mackenzie
will, undoubtedly, measure up. (signed) Wallace Rae Agent-General”
I purchased a Ford Cortina car on 30 November 1977, which was in her favourite colour red, and I hoped
it would allow me to have her company on trips to the country at weekends. In early December, I asked
her to join me and other members of my flat for dinner one night at Pooh Corner in Battersea, a popular
“value for money” restaurant at the time. On 19 December, she accompanied me to my employer Anthony
Hunt’s Christmas party at the London Room in Aldwych. It was at this party that we were photographed
together for the first time and the photograph was moulded into plastic so it could be attached to a key
ring. I then spent Christmas 1977 with my uncle Minden Blake and his wife Molly and their daughters,
Belinda and Robyn at Virginia Water, Surrey and New Year in Amsterdam, Holland, with my cousin
Margaret Broadbent and her husband, Roger, and their family.
Throughout January and February 1978 I saw her quite often but she had some doubts about me being
suitable for her, notably because she considered we had “followed very different lifestyles, which
wouldn’t mesh” and “our values were incompatible”. I still understood, therefore, that I was not high on
her list of admirers. On 5 February, Marion met my Uncle Minden and Aunt Molly for the first time
at their Virginia Water, Surrey home and, on the same trip, I took the opportunity to obtain some spare
parts for the car at a wreckers yard in the Surrey countryside. Due to the fact I had grease on my hands
when I needed to pay for the parts, I inadvertently left my wallet on the roof of the car and forgot about it.
When we arrived back in London, I discovered the wallet, which contained my recently paid wages in
cash, was missing and Marion and I immediately drove all the way back to the wrecker’s yard, arriving
there in the early morning hours. I searched along the side of the road outside the yard with a torch and, to
my delight, found the wallet with the contents intact. Marion told me at the time that she must have been
bringing me good luck.
We had a most enjoyable dinner at Toad Hall restaurant in Battersea on 18 February 1978 and it was here
that the first proper photograph of the two of us together was taken. She gave me her paper placemat from
that evening as a memento, upon which she had written:
“G J N Blake! 18 Feb ’78: A memento of an enjoyable occasion! Super food, candlelight, wine &
stimulating ‘debatable’ conversation! Who was there? Marion was! xx”
On 11 March she informed me that she did not wish to go out with me anymore because we were, in her
opinion, “incompatible” with “different tastes” and on 16 March, after much deliberation, I mailed my first
letter to her. She told me some years later that she was very impressed by this letter and thought it was so
well written that she had read it to Micky, her landlady, but, regretfully, had, inadvertently, lost it from her
handbag a few days after receiving it. She very much regretted her lack of tardiness in misplacing the letter
and often mentioned the episode for years afterwards. I knew at the time, however, that the letter had made
quite an impression on her as, soon after I had sent it, she mailed a self-prepared voucher to me for her
company on 26 March. The voucher, written on the back of her business card, read:
-5“This voucher entitles the bearer Geoffrey J N Blake to the company of Marion Ross Mackenzie on the
day of Sunday 26 March 1978 (Easter)”
We had a wonderful day on 26 March, visiting Oxford and Blenheim Palace, and that evening she cooked
me dinner for the first time. The meal was her favourite simple dish - salmon mornay. I quickly realized
that Marion enjoyed an active social life, had many friends, suffered from lack of sleep and seemed to be
always juggling engagements so I was not able to see her very often. I once told her, to my later regret,
that I was a patient man and would “wait in the queue”.
She enjoyed the theatre in the West End and had attended many performances since her arrival in London.
I had not been to the theatre so, on 4 April, she took me for the first time to see “Goodbye Girl” and on 18
April we saw Donald Sinden in “Shut Your Eyes and Think of England”. She laughed so loudly during
that performance I thought she was a bit of an embarrassment and told her so. She was furious at my
criticism so I made sure I did not make such a comment again.
The first birthday present I gave her, on 6 April 1978, was a framed Constable print, on the back of which
I had written an inscription. She thought the present was “lovely”, so she wrote in her diary. On 16 April,
we went to the Badminton horse trials and from this time onwards, she was part of my life, but not entirely
mine, for she still had other admirers. She also informed me that if I wanted to continue to be seen with her
I had to be “fixed up”, which meant I would have to improve both my table manners and my appearance.
My Aunt Molly had evidently told her that I had a “heart of gold but needed polishing”. She did not like
elbows on the table and advised me of her acceptable standards for using cutlery. She also helped me to
select shirts, jackets and ties that matched. I also realized that she had a good dress sense, liked nice
clothes and enjoyed romance, surprises and receiving flowers, matters that were not my strong points at
the time. The first flower I gave to her was a single daffodil in a pot, to ensure the flower lasted as long as
possible, but Marion was not impressed so I never again gave her a flower in a pot.
On 23 April, Pamela Smith, who was also living in London, accompanied us on a trip to Stratford-onAvon, where we attended a modern adaptation of a Shakespeare play, where motorbikes were ridden on
the stage, and we also visited Coventry Cathedral and Warwick Castle. On this trip, I told her that I
thought she was an extravagant person, another comment she did not enjoy receiving. At Warwick Castle,
she took a photograph of me walking on my hands, the only such photograph in existence. Over the next
few months, she changed my life and we made frequent trips in my car to the country, which were
organized by her, as she was very knowledgeable about the places of interest to visit. I soon discovered
she had a very good sense of direction, which I did not have, and could read maps. I often relied on a small
compass, which I carried in my wallet, to assist this poor sense of direction. One time, however, I was
unsure of her directions and used this compass to carry out a check. Her directions were correct and she
was annoyed by my use of the compass and told me not to use it again in her presence.
I also enjoyed shopping with her at her favourite store, Harrods, where Mrs Jeffries used to work, and at
Selfridges, Liberty, Heals, Harvey Nichols, John Lewis, Dickens and Jones, D H Evans, The Scotch
House, Fortnum and Mason and at the Rosenthal shop. She liked looking at quality table linen, china,
glassware and kitchen products. In addition to the compass, I also carried a small magnet in my wallet,
which I used once to check if a saucepan she was looking at was made of quality stainless steel and this
really impressed her. She liked to socialize and eat with friends at Cranks, Plexis, The Stockpot, My Old
Dutch and the Cork and Bottle.
In May 1978, Marion moved from Rutland Gate into the upper flat at 26 Belgrave Rd, Victoria, which she
shared with two English women, Ann Richner and Linda Foreman. In April, I left Perham Rd and stayed
for a period with my cousin, Belinda, in her flat at 38 Elvaston Place, Kensington and, in June, I moved
into a semi-detached house at 30 Woodstock Ave, Golders Green, which I shared with seven other people.
On 22 July, Marion held a party at her flat and asked me to take some photographs, as she thought I was
the best person for the job. She was very pleased with the result and I received the usual thank you card.
There were a number of dripping taps in her Belgrave Rd flat and she asked me if I could fix them-quite a
feat in a place like London as it was often difficult to find where to turn off the water. I duly purchased
-6replacement washers in anticipation of a suitable time arising for me to carry out the task but somehow,
due to her busy lifestyle, and preoccupation with other matters, a time could not be arranged. I later learnt,
from a letter she sent to me in December 1978, that she had deliberately stonewalled the installation of the
washers as she was acting under the false assumption that her rule “a good turn always requires a reward”
would apply. Tired of waiting, I sent the tap washers to her through the post on 29 July, together with a
letter in which I informed her that I was going to be too busy over the next few months to see her or to fix
the dripping taps and suggested she find someone else to carry out the job. I also mentioned that if the
washers did not fit then she could stockpile them for future use elsewhere and the “possibilities were
endless”. I did suggest, however, that we could perhaps meet one time before she departed from London
for her planned trip to Australia to spend Christmas with her family. The new washers were never installed
as a few years ago, whilst sorting through some personal effects, which had been in storage for many
years, I came across them still in their original packaging, together with the letter. I presume the taps are
still dripping.
Marion sent me a ten page written reply to my letter of 29 July 1978 and apologized for her busy lifestyle.
She went on to say that she was disappointed she would not be seeing me, was “rather alarmed” at my
“change of plan” and reminded me that I once said I would “wait in the queue”. She mentioned that it
seemed a shame she had “ruined things” and that I spoilt her “far more than she deserved”. She also said
she did not want to lose me and “end our association on an unhappy note” and asked me to reconsider my
decision and to meet in the near future to discuss the situation. We met a few days later and I did change
my mind but, on an evening in late August 1978, we had a minor disagreement in a London street and
parted company. A nearby policeman, on the beat, overheard the conversation and asked Marion if I had
been bothering her. She thanked him, but said no and then called out to me and ran into my arms. I then
knew that she was all mine. From that time on I saw her on a regular basis and, in September, I went on a
driving trip to Europe and wished she had been able to accompany me.
During this time, I often wore a blue and black anorak, which I liked and had found discarded in the loft at
Golders Green. Although Marion sometimes wore this anorak herself she disliked it, probably because it
had been worn by someone else, but, unlike the black and red carry bag, I refused to dispose of it until
1987 when I finally decided it was no longer useful and ceremoniously burnt it on a bonfire in Sydney.
Marion travelled to Australia in December, as planned, to spend Christmas 1978 and the New Year with
her family and, for the first time, I really missed her not being with me. We corresponded regularly and
often and she sent me a photograph of herself, on the back of which she had written:
“To My Darling Geoff. All yours and more. Fondest love Marion x”.
That winter in the UK, known as the “winter of discontent”, was one of the coldest in memory and was
also plagued by a succession of strikes by essential services workers. Rubbish was not collected and was
piled up everywhere and no one salted the roads so ice often formed on the asphalt making driving
difficult.
We had an enjoyable trip to the Grand National steeplechase at Aintree, England, in March 1979, with
good friends Pamela, Brett and Denise Taylor and Barbara Harrington, and I “officially” asked her to
marry me, at the duck pond on Sark, in the Channel Islands, on 13 April 1979. I had, in fact, actually
asked her to marry me two months earlier, on 13 February, just prior to Valentine’s Day, but we had not
told anyone and Marion had given me a written acceptance in the form of a postcard, printed with the
word “YES” in white letters on a blue background. She wrote the following on the back of the postcard:
“To: Geoffrey John Nelson Blake (status: Bachelor)
From: Marion Ross Mackenzie (status: Bachelor girl)
In acknowledgement of your verbal proposal of marriage on the evening of Tuesday 13th February 1979, I
wish to reply that my answer, as largely illustrated overleaf, lies in the affirmative. Indeed, it is with very
great pleasure that I accept the proposal to become your wife and, from this thirteenth day of the month of
February in the year one thousand nine hundred and seventy nine, let us consider ourselves affianced –
(signed) M R Mackenzie”
Marion had incorrectly assumed that I would follow “normal convention” by asking her father’s
-7permission for her hand in marriage but I explained to her that she was old enough to make her own
decisions and it should not be necessary to consult her father, whom I had never met. I also asked her what
would I do next if her father had said “no”. In addition, she did not want to announce that she was engaged
without a ring but I also explained to her that since she would the one wearing the ring then she should
choose it. My reluctance to “conform to tradition”, or act as Marion had expected, contributed, in some
part, to the delay in announcing our engagement.
A passer-by took our photograph by the duck pond on Sark to record the event. The tartan shirt I wore on
that special day has amazingly survived and is still in use today. Her engagement ring was purchased the
following day from A P Roger Ltd in St Peter Port, Guernsey and also on that day, whilst cycling, she
noticed a field full of jonquil flowers and insisted I take her photograph amongst them. I mailed a postcard
to her London address from Jersey as a reminder of the really enjoyable day we had on 14 April. The
postcard read:
“My dearest Marion 17/4/79
Just thought I might send you this as a small reminder of the really enjoyable and memorable day we had
on Guernsey. I hope you will remember this day for the rest of your life with affection. It is regretful that
we were not able to hire a car for the day and had to ride bicycles instead but, I’m sure you will agree, we
would never have passed that little shop in Commercial Arcade by the name of Roger, if we had had a car
that day. I do hope you will treasure the small purchase (in size!!) we made in that gorgeous little shop for
many years to come and it would be nice some day perhaps to go back to St Peter Port Guernsey just for
another holiday-don’t you think? Maybe in 25 years time. After all it means a lot to both of us. Much love
Geoff”.
Sadly, the return journey to Guernsey did not eventuate, as Marion was too ill to make such a trip in 2004.
She met my parents, Jean and Nelson, for the first time in May 1979, on their arrival in London for a
European tour. They accompanied us on an extensive trip, in a camper van, to France, Spain and Italy in
June and July and to the Cowes yacht regatta on the Isle of Wight. Only those who have driven in a
country in a car designed for driving in another country, on the other side of the road, will understand the
visibility difficulties of driving in Europe in a British car. I had previously driven there in a British car in
September 1978 so I was accustomed to it. The camper van, however, made driving much easier than in a
car due to the higher position of the driver, who could see over most vehicles except trucks. In Madrid, we
decided to park the camper van one day, during a busy period, in an underground car park, which had a
tight bend at the bottom of the one-way entry ramp. I was driving and as we were about to enter the car
park I realized that there was insufficient headroom for the van, due to the steep slope of the ramp, and
stopped at the entrance blocking the ramp. A stream of cars were following us down the ramp and they all
started blasting their horns in unison and refused to back up even though it was quite obvious we were not
going to go any further. Eventually, the police arrived and the other cars were forced to back up but I had
great difficulty reversing the van around the tight bend because it had to mount a kerb. We went to a
bullfight during the day in Barcelona and, while we were absent, our camper van was broken into and
ransacked in a busy shopping street. Our visit to France coincided with the 35th anniversary celebrations of
the D-Day landings in Normandy in 1944 and, whilst there, we purchased Marion’s wedding dress from a
shop in Avignon, called Michele Morand, and selected some Champagne for our wedding reception in
Epernay.
In July, I went on a trip to Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Finland but Marion was only able to
accompany me to Holland, where we stayed with the Broadbents in Utrecht. I witnessed the mid-night sun
in Norway and, at Tillander in Helsinki, I purchased a wedding present for Marion, a Lapponia sterling
silver bracelet, which she wore on her right wrist almost every time she went out for the next 28 years.
On 27 August 1979, we moved to 3 Billing Place, Fulham, courtesy of our English friends Pauline and Ian
Davidson. Two of our neighbours in that street were well-known English actors, Susan Hampshire and
Leonard Rossitor (Reggie Perrin), whom we saw quite often. Marion then accompanied me on a trip to
Ireland. Our arrival in Ireland coincided with the murder of Lord Louis Mountbatten by an IRA bomb in
Mullaghmore and the military were on the alert. We took the ferry from Fishguard, in Wales, and drove
along the south and west coast of Eire. Some of the places we visited were: Waterford, Kilkenny, Cork,
Killarney, Dingle Peninsula, Tipperary, Limerick, Galway, Cliffs of Mohar, Connemara and Donegal. We
-8also kissed the Blarney stone for good luck. As we approached the Northern Ireland border crossing, near
Londonderry, we could not see a soul anywhere but when we stopped at the barrier we were greeted by
British army soldiers, who emerged from hiding in the surrounding forest, wearing camouflage gear and
blackened faces with tree branches protruding from their helmets, pointing guns at us. They ordered us to
get out of the car, searched it for arms and bombs, and then asked us what our business was. When we
informed them that we were tourists they were, at first, suspicious as they had not seen any for years and
we were told that few vehicles ever used that road for security reasons. We were eventually allowed to
proceed but our passports were not stamped.
We were the only campers at the Belfast motor camp and no one showed up to collect the tariff. Due to the
“troubles” in Northern Ireland, no vehicles could be left unoccupied in the security areas, otherwise they
would be towed away and blown up. My ancestors on my father’s mother’s side, the Vaughans, came from
Dromore and we found the former ancestral home, Quilly House, and spent an enjoyable day with the
owners, the Pepper family. We only found out about Quilly House after Marion asked the Dromore
Cathedral cleaner, who seemed to be the only person who knew where it was, for directions. The Peppers
gave us the address of a Vaughan, Mrs Swenarton, who used to live in Quilly House, and we visited her
and her husband at their home in Donoughadee, County Down. She was aware that an ancestor had
emigrated to New Zealand in the 19th century. In Portadown, the Porters and the Walkers, who were both
connected with my family, entertained us. The Walkers owned a petrol station and had had a number of
scares with the IRA. On one occasion, armed men wearing hoods burst into their home one evening and
ordered the men out of the house and to lie face down in the garden. They thought they were going to be
executed but instead it was just a scare tactic. The Walkers knew who all the hooded men were anyway, by
their voices, as they were customers at their petrol station. We then drove south through Newry to Dublin
and took the ferry to Holyhead, in north Wales.
In October, Marion also accompanied me on a very enjoyable trip to Greece. We flew to Corfu then took
the worst bus trip of our lives to Athens on a sweltering and dusty day. We had to sit in the back seat
clinging to the seat in front the whole way, whilst engulfed in cigarette smoke. In Iraklion, Crete, we hired
a scooter, from Candia Rent-a-Scooter, to tour the island. The Candia manager insisted I have a test run up
and down the street but on the return run the scooter brakes seemed to fail and, in the heat of the moment,
I think I got confused over the brake and accelerator controls and then crashed the scooter into a row of
parked scooters, owned by Candia’s competitor and lined up across the street. I was badly shaken and
bleeding from the accident but Marion seemed to be the only one concerned with my welfare. Despite my
protests that the scooter was not in a safe working condition, the Candia manager insisted I was not
qualified to ride and must forfeit the hire charge to pay for the damage. When I informed him that I had
paid for “full insurance” and I would report him to the Greek Tourist Authority, because he was failing to
advertise the tariffs, he refunded our money and we took the bus. We also visited, by ferry, the wonderful
Greek Islands of Santorini, Navos and Mykonos and enjoyed the Greek cuisine and hospitality.
In Athens, we stayed, at my recommendation, at Fantas House, a very cheap hotel. We were disturbed
several times during the night by people knocking on the bedroom door wanting to go through our room to
sleep on the roof area because of the heat. The shower walls were also covered in slime. Marion was
furious with the place and we decided that we would only pay half the tariff. When we departed, there was
no one at the front desk to collect our money so we left without paying. Marion would remind me of our
experience at Fantas House for many years afterwards and I would tell her that one should not complain
about “free accommodation”.
Our memorable wedding took place at St Andrew’s Uniting Church in Creek St, Brisbane, on 10
November 1979. I sent her a short note prior to the service giving her some reassurance and hoping she
had a wonderful day. I also told her that in just a little while she would be mine forever and was not to be
nervous, as I will be near. I also mentioned that one of the reasons I was marrying her was because she
was a very adaptable, independent and capable girl. In addition, I informed her in the note that she was not
to worry about losing her name as mine was “almost as good” and she would have a shorter signature in
the future. We were late in arriving from London as the plane developed engine trouble and had a new
engine fitted in Kuwait. The airport terminal had guards everywhere as Iraq had just attacked Iran and we
were given a meal of cold lamb chops. Eight years later, we would return to the Arabian Gulf to live and
-9the same war was still raging. On our arrival in Brisbane, I met Marion’s parents, Pat and Bruce, and
sisters and brothers for the first time. Her Uncle Bill and Aunt Muriel made us very welcome by allowing
us to stay with them at their Wickham Terrace home, “Craigston”.
We returned to London after our honeymoon at Noosa, Queensland, courtesy of Marion’s Uncle John and
Aunt Wendy, and then moved, in January 1980, into the lower level flat at 26 Belgrave Rd, after staying
for a time with Mrs Jeffries at Acton Town. Soon after we were settled into Belgrave Rd, Marion insisted I
seek advice on a particular minor medical problem, something that annoyed her then and continued to
annoy her throughout our life together. I now know I have sensitive overactive nasal passages, which, at
times, produce a lot of mucus that has a tendency to dry out and become irritating and so I am a chronic
nose picker. She made an appointment for me to see Dr Dove, the black doctor I was registered with at the
time in West Kensington. After I informed Dr Dove that my wife insisted I see him about this problem, he
told me that there was no problem and I should “get another wife”. I replied that it was too early for that,
as I had only just got her.
Early Married life in Canada (1980-1986)
In December 1979, I applied, through a London newspaper advertisement, for a position with H A Simons,
I firm I knew in British Columbia, Canada and we decided to move there in June 1980. We flew the
Freddie Laker “no service bring your own food and drink” Skytrain airline to Miami, Florida for a 50pound airfare. You had to queue up at Victoria Station, London, to get an air ticket and the flight was
scheduled to depart when all the seats had been sold. They would then start selling seats for the next flight.
As the aircraft was approaching to land at Miami airport, there was a problem with the undercarriage and
the pilot kept circling the city. The passengers started to suspect something was wrong, when there was
repetitive noises coming from under the plane, and some started to panic. Just as the situation looked as if
it may be getting out of control, the plane landed.
We drove north from Miami along the US east coast to Boston, in a “driveaway” car, a Chevrolet Nova,
loaded with medical books and records belonging to its owner, a Turkish doctor by the name of Omer
Oruc. Dr Oruc gave us $50 to pay for the additional fuel consumption, due to the extra weight, and we
were allocated five days to deliver the car but we wanted to spend more time sightseeing. On the day we
were due to make the delivery, I telephoned Dr Oruc to inform him that we had been delayed due to
circumstances beyond our control, which included the low 55mph speed limit on the freeways due to the
oil crisis. He told me that if we did not arrive the next day he would “call the FBI”. We visited Cape
Canaveral, where a guide informed us that a large building housing the Saturn rocket held “several million
ping pong balls”, a rather useless piece of information we thought at the time, and we were told repeatedly
to “mind our step”. After driving through New York late at night, where a man in Harlem suddenly
prostrated himself across our windscreen offering to clean it and then refused to let go when told his
services were not required and another man imitated machine gunning us, we visited Newport and Cape
Cod before arriving in Boston to deliver the car.
We then travelled to Quebec, Ontario, Washington DC and New York before flying to San Franscisco and
on to Vancouver. We rode on VIA Rail in eastern Canada and on the journey from Quebec City to
Montreal many of the passengers, including us, had to sit on the carriage floor in the aisle, although we
had all been allocated seats. During the trip, the railcar struck a farm tractor a glancing blow at a railway
crossing. The railcar stopped and we all got out and were entertained by the heated argument, all in
French, that developed between the train driver and conductor and the farmer.
When we re-entered the US at Buffalo, on 4 July, there was no one at the border crossing but there was a
sign, which informed us that all government offices were closed on the 4th of July. I presume this does not
happen nowadays. We took the overnight Greyhound bus to Washington DC and had to sit in the back,
where we were kept awake by the water sloshing around in the toilet. The Greyhound bus terminal in
Washington DC was located in an area frequented with drunks and drug addicts and we had to manoeuvre
around such people to get out of the terminal. In Washington DC, we visited Jim and Gwen Dillehay,
friends of my parents, at their home in Potomac, Maryland and, in New York City, we stayed at the
YMCA, where Marion and I were given single rooms on different floors. Our sleep at night was disturbed
by the noise from guests throwing empty bottles and cans out the windows onto a tin roof in the central
-10courtyard. We climbed to the top of the Statue of Liberty on a very humid day and almost fainted in the
head, due to a lack of fresh air, and we attended the show “The Chorus Line” on Broadway. We were
fortunate not to be mugged near Times Square, on the walk back to the YMCA, where we had to break
into a run to escape some weird and threatening people. In California, we took our first helicopter flight
over San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz and had a very enjoyable day with Sydney and Carolyn Murman at
their home in Santa Rosa. Although Sydney’s parents were American, he was born in Sydney, Australia,
when his parents lived there, hence his name.
We initially lived in Vancouver, at apartment No 117 the Lamplighter 130 West Keith Rd, North
Vancouver, and then moved to Prince George, Prince Rupert and then Vancouver again, where I worked
on the Skytrain project and the 1986 World Exposition project. Soon after our first arrival in Vancouver,
Marion obtained a position with the Australian Consulate-General. In October 1980, I was transferred by
H A Simons to the Northwood Pulp Mill expansion project in Prince George, where Fiona was born, in
May 1981, at the regional hospital. Ross and Hamish were born at Grace Hospital in Vancouver in
November 1983 and November 1985 respectively. During Fiona’s birth, I was not allowed to be present
but a nurse came to see me afterwards and handed me a warm plastic bag and asked me to take it to
pathology. Inside the plastic bag was the placenta. For Hamish’s birth, I decided it would be nice to have a
movie film record of at least one of our children’s entry into the world. The obstetrician and nursing staff
were not very pleased with my request but eventually gave their consent.
In Prince George, we initially stayed in Gramas Inn and then rented apartment No 308 Village Towers
1245 20th Ave. In January 1981, we purchased a house at 4384 Allen Ave and endured several Canadian
arctic winters there. Marion was pregnant with Fiona when we moved to Prince George and she suffered
dreadfully from morning sickness, which seemed to go on all day. When we were staying at Gramas Inn, I
was working long hours and 7 days a week at the pulp mill and Marion was left alone, in an unwell
condition, in the motel, as we did not know anyone in Prince George. A friend from London days, Barbara
Harrington, stayed with us at Gramas Inn and Marion was grateful for her company.
On the day we were to move into Village Towers, I arranged for the delivery of our household effects only
to find that the incumbent tenants in No 308 did not know they had to leave. The matter was resolved and
we duly moved in a few days later. There was no way of controlling the centralized heating system in the
apartment so, although it may have been –30 deg C outside, it was like the tropics inside. We had to open
the windows to let the heat out - no concerns about conservation of energy in those days! At Village
Towers, the car had to be parked in the open in the car park, which was most inconvenient during
snowfalls in winter. The snow plow would clear the car park access areas and pile compacted snow over
the cars in the process, so digging out the car was a common chore. In addition, the car engine block had
to be heated when parked, using the out door electrical “plug-ins”, otherwise the engine would get too cold
to start. Furthermore, if the inside of the car was not also kept at a reasonable temperature, by a fan heater
powered by the “plug-in”, the inside of the windows quickly iced up with one’s breathing. One day when I
was driving to work the car had a terrible vibration, which disappeared after a few kilometers. When I
discussed this matter with someone at work, I was informed that the tyre flat spots had caused the
vibration as the tyres were frozen!
As Fiona’s birth loomed ever closer, I decided that I should obtain a Canadian driver’s licence, before her
arrival, as soon after I would have been legally required to have one (once residency has commenced, a
foreign licence is only valid for one year). I also decided to have a septaplasty operation on my nose,
which had become partially blocked due to football injuries in my youth. I passed the written driving test
and then took the practical test three weeks before Fiona’s arrival. I did not prepare for the Canadian
practical test in the same methodical manner that I had for the British driving licence test I passed in
London in1978 and, as a consequence, failed the test. My British driving licence was then confiscated and
I was barred from driving until I had passed the practical test. Marion had to drive me around until I had
arranged to sit the practical test again just a week before Fiona’s arrival. I made sure I passed the test the
second time but my British licence was not returned because, so I was informed, it was “no longer
required”. Since the British licence is one of the most useful driving licences one can possess, as it does
not require renewing and is valid until you are aged 70, I decided to take the matter further. I sent a letter
to the BC Transport Department in Victoria asking for an explanation for the confiscation and requesting
-11the licence be returned, as it belonged to me and not the British Columbia Government. In their reply, the
Transport Department advised that, in accordance with the law, the licence would not be returned and
would instead be sent to the issuing authority in the UK and cancelled! I then wrote to the DVLC in Wales
informing them of the situation and asking that they not cancel my licence and provide me with a
replacement. The replacement licence duly arrived but it was referred to as a “duplicate” licence. The use
of the word “duplicate” was to cause a problem when I presented this licence in order to obtain a Saudi
Arabian driving licence in 1987. The Saudis interpreted “duplicate” as being a “copy” and I had to obtain
a special letter from the British Embassy in Riyadh to confirm the validity of the licence. When I discussed
the matter of the licence confiscation episode with a friend and colleague at work, Jacek Zycski, a Polish
engineer, he informed me he did not hand in his Polish driving licence but gave them a useless expired
Polish identity card instead! Whilst the licence matter was ongoing, I was admitted to the Prince George
Hospital for the septaplasty operation. This hospital was extremely noisy during the night and sleeping
without a sleeping pill was quite difficult. I was put in a ward with a number of elderly gentlemen and one
night when I got up to go to the toilet I found another man in my bed when I returned!
In the summer of 1981, we had the worst lawn in the street at Allen Ave. There were only patches of green
grass and the rest was brown. Since I am not a gardener, it did not concern me that the grass did not need
to be cut for the few snow-free months but Marion, who always liked to have a presentable residence,
made some enquiries. She discovered that the grass did not recover after the winter unless a large amount
of fertilizer was applied before the onset of winter. I had to sow new grass seed that summer but we did
know what to do before the following winter of 1981-82, which was very severe in Prince George with
heavy snowfalls and temperatures falling to –40deg C. Snow was piled up everywhere and did not melt in
the garden until May 1982. There was so much snow that the road snow clearing operations were not able
to keep up with the demand and the minor roads, including Allen Ave, were not kept cleared so we had to
park the car on the main street. The moose from the forests also appeared in the streets searching for
nourishment. Our house was so well insulated it was cozy and warm in winter, without draughts, and cool
in the summer, just what was needed. It was heated by an easily controlled simple gas-fired furnace with
ducted air distribution to the rooms. The windows were double glazed for heat as well as noise insulation.
When a hot water tap was turned on, hot water appeared almost immediately. I wondered why we, in
Australia and New Zealand, could not build houses like Canadian ones. Our houses tend to be cold in
winter and hot in summer, just the opposite of what is needed.
Sadly, during the west coast of British Columbia storms in December 1981, a good friend of ours, Susan
Buch, whom Marion had met at the Australian Consulate-General in Vancouver, was swept out to sea in a
torrent of water whilst crossing a flooded stream after fleeing her home in Lions Bay, West Vancouver.
She was pregnant at the time and her body was never recovered. Susan and her husband Allan had kindly
invited us to stay at their home during a trip we made to Vancouver in August 1981.
In June 1982, Marion and Fiona made a trip to Australia and New Zealand and, during their absence, I was
befriended by one of our neighbours, a lonely German immigrant. We had previously had a disagreement
over grass cutting near the property boundary but one evening, after drinking too much, he decided to be
more friendly. He staggered over and noticed that I was doing carpentry work in the basement and peered
through the window, calling out and pulling faces at me. He showed me his house basement, which was
full of Nazi memorabilia as he had been a member of the SS during the Second World War.
Whilst working on the project in Prince George, the Northwood pulp mill expansion, I became friendly
with Mike Bakst, a Russian engineer. A few years later, when we were all living in Vancouver, we saw
Mike and his wife, Elena, quite often. In his school days in the Soviet Union, during Stalin’s era, Mike had
been involved with producing a leaflet advocating the worker’s right for a good life. He was arrested and
sentenced, in 1950, to 10 years in a labour camp in Siberia. After Stalin’s death, he was released early but
when the Russian author Alexander Solzhenitsyn published a book about Soviet labour camps, “The Gulag
Archipelago”, in the West in 1974, Mike, who was mentioned in the book, lost his job in the Soviet Union
and was unable to obtain any employment. He decided that the family would have to leave the country, a
risky operation, and, in the late 1970’s, they were able to emigrate to Canada as refugees.
I also became friendly with James Morrison, the safety officer for my area on the Northwood pulp mill
-12expansion, and then met him again in Prince Rupert a year or so later when I was working on the new
grain terminal. Marion also socialized quite often with Gwyneth, his wife, as the Morrisons lived just
down the street from us in Prince Rupert. Jim was a very interesting person to talk to and was one of those
people who knew where to get anything and knew all the important people in town. During his younger
days in the 1950’s, and unbeknown to us at the time, Jim had been a Royal Canadian Mounted Police
(RCMP) security service officer dealing with counter-espionage and was involved with the surveillance of
Soviet spies. He was rather an extravagant person and ran into financial difficulties. When he suspected
that a Russian double agent, code-named “Gideon”, was double-crossing the Canadians, he decided to
betray Gideon to the Russians for a monetary payment. Gideon was subsequently smuggled back to the
Soviet Union and “eliminated”. Gideon, who was a rather volatile character, was evidently the most
valuable double agent the West had had since the Second World War. When his betrayal was uncovered,
Jim was transferred from the security service to the regular RCMP. His past eventually caught up with him
there also and he lost his job in the police force. He then found employment as a safety officer on
construction projects. In 1983, when we were living in Vancouver, Canadian author John Sawatsky
published a book entitled “For Services Rendered”, about the RCMP security service, and the Gideon
affair was mentioned in the book, which code-named the betrayer as “Long Knife”. According to Jim, the
author threatened to reveal his name and attempted to blackmail him. There was a great deal of publicity
about the affair and Jim appeared in disguise on a national television program one night wearing a black
wig, which did not fit properly, and a false mustache, which kept lifting off, and admitted that he was
Long Knife. His name was not revealed on the program but to those who knew Jim it was quite obvious
that he was the person. Jim was eventually named publicly as the culprit and the authorities then decided
to charge him as a traitor for breaching the Official Secrets Act, 30 years after the event! During the court
case in 1984, Jim was shown on the television news every night striding to the court-house pushing
photographers out of the way. He initially pleaded not guilty but changed his plea to guilty during the trial
and, I seem to recall, received a suspended sentence because of his age. The legal costs, unfortunately,
financially ruined him.
In June 1985, we visited Jim and Gwyneth at their home in Squamish BC and travelled there, from
Vancouver, on the steam train the “Royal Hudson”. Jim warned us that the police were still tapping his
telephone line and keeping them, and anyone else they came in contact with, under surveillance. We had
lunch with them and their poodle dog, which also sat at the table in a special chair. Marion continued to
keep in contact with the Morrisons for many years afterwards until contact was lost.
In Prince Rupert, we initially lived at the Highliner Inn and then moved into a rented house at 643
Pillsbury Ave. We had earlier, however, signed a lease on another house but a few days before we were
due to take possession, we received a letter from the landlord’s solicitor advising us that the owner had
decided not to vacate and the lease was cancelled! After negotiating a suitable financial settlement for the
cancelled lease, we moved into Pillsbury Ave. At the Highliner Inn, which had just been opened for
business, we were informed by reception that there some “plumbing problems” but we were not told what
they were. One evening, whilst I was standing in the bath having a shower, these “plumbing problems”
became evident as the water suddenly changed from warm to really hot and I had to immediately dive
through the shower curtain, to escape the scolding water, and ended up on the floor with shower curtain
and rail on top of me. After that episode we decided to have baths. The Pillsbury Ave house had a strange
odour, which was exacerbated when the heating was switched on. We found out that the previous tenants
had secretly kept dogs in the house but, try as we may, we were unable to rid the house of the odour until I
discovered that the dogs had been kept in a special partitioned off area of the basement and they had
clawed the insulation from the walls and urinated on it. The removal of the saturated insulation solved the
odour problem.
In Vancouver, we rented the upper floor of a small cottage at 456 West 19th Ave. When we moved in, the
basement was separately rented to a young woman called Mia. She had a waterbed and played loud music.
The waterbed sprung a leak one day and water went everywhere and I helped her clean up. When she
moved out we decided to rent the basement as well. Fiona started her pre-schooling in Vancouver at
Christopher Robin School. One of our neighbours was a rather eccentric elderly gentleman by the name of
Gordie Benjafield, who, during the summer, used to watch television outside, with the volume turned up,
and wander around the garden wearing only underwear. He also rode a motorbike and quite often allowed
-13Fiona to touch and sit on it. When heavily pregnant with Ross (he was 10lb 10oz at birth) and whilst
accompanied by Fiona, Marion lost her balance one day on an escalator at Woodwards store in Vancouver
and toppled head first down the escalator, sustaining some nasty cuts, which could not be stitched due to
her pregnancy, and bruises. After the birth of Ross at Grace Hospital in November 1983, Marion entered
him in the Hudson’s Bay Company baby of the year show and he won it.
Whilst we were living in Vancouver, I took out Canadian citizenship and Marion and I attended a
ceremony, where I had to swear allegiance to Canada and sing the national anthem, “O Canada”. As a new
Canadian, I received an invitation from John Turner, our local Federal member of parliament, to attend a
barbecue. At the barbecue, Mr Turner welcomed us to Canada and shook our hands. Some time later, the
prime minister of Canada, Pierre Trudeau, resigned and John Turner became the new prime minister. He
was only prime minister for a short period, however, as he lost the next election to Brian Mulrony.
In October 1984, Marion arranged a wonderful family holiday in Hawaii, where we stayed at the Waikiki
Banyan. We had a medical emergency there when Ross literally flattened a thumb by jamming it under an
unfamiliar type of cupboard hinge in the kitchen of our apartment. The warm Hawaiian climate was a
welcome change to the cold and damp climate of Vancouver.
Marion made many friends in Canada, despite our many moves, and continued to keep in contact with
them all after our departure. They included Marleen Murphy, Sally Sutherland, Eleanor Rehaume, Dianne
Synnot, Carla Simpson and Colleen Dryden.
Departure from Canada for a new life in Australia (1986-1987)
After Hamish’s birth, we decided to leave Canada, due to the poor economic climate and lack of job
opportunities, and I obtained a position with Leighton Contractors on the Darling Harbour project in
Sydney, Australia. I left Canada first, in early 1986, to take up the appointment and Marion followed
several months later after arranging the sale of our house, which was rented out, and the shipping of our
effects. She accomplished all this whilst having to look after three small children, one just a baby - quite a
remarkable feat. At the time of my departure from Canada, I was actually working on an oil sands project
in Fort MacMurray, about 500km north of Edmonton, in Alberta, where the air temperature did not get
above -50 deg C the few months I was there. On the flight back to Vancouver, I was fortunate to be able to
spend a day at the huge West Edmonton Shopping Mall, a sight to behold indeed. I then had to change
flights in Calgary. The plane came into land during a heavy snowstorm and there was a very heavy thump
when it landed and it felt as if it was careering, out of control, along the runway. It was a rather frightening
experience.
In Sydney, we lived in a house at 78 Kissing Point Rd, Turramurra and Fiona commenced her formal
schooling at the Turramurra State School. The children spent a lot of time in our large back garden and
were fascinated with the multitude of insects and others creatures running around on the ground,
something they had not experienced in Canada.
Adventures in Saudi Arabia (1987-1992)
In late1987, during the Iran/Iraq war, we moved to Dhahran, in the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia, on
the Arabian Gulf. I accepted a position with Bechtel on the King Fahd International Airport project and we
were provided with a villa in the Monopoly Village compound, Al Khobar. Most expats live in compounds
in Saudi Arabia, which are like separate little villages with their own security and are outside the
jurisdiction, and prying eyes, of the religious police, the Mutawwa. The airport was a typical grandiose
Saudi project, which was far bigger and more expensive than needed. It took 18 years from the start of
construction, in 1982, to when it was opened to air traffic in 2000. King Fahd bin Abdul Aziz al Saud
made a visit, in 1989, to the project that bore his name and the visit was planned for months in advance.
Ramps were built everywhere, as the king could not walk up stairs due to a heart condition. Since the exact
timing of his visit on the day was not known, the Saudi security at the project devised three plans, A, B
and C, and the one implemented would depend on the time of the day he arrived. As expected, the king
was late and we knew by the time of his arrival that Plan C would be implemented, viz the king and his
substantial entourage would be taken directly to the presentation centre. There was a misunderstanding
between the National Guard, the king’s bodyguards, and the project security staff and the wrong plan was
-14implemented. The king’s motorcade sped through the gate at high speed down to the terminal building
construction site instead of the presentation centre. We received an urgent message, over the
communications radio, to evacuate everyone immediately from the terminal building into the desert. The
message came too late and the king emerged from his car to be greeted by construction workers and with
no red carpet. The National Guard was evidently at fault but the head of security at the airport was sacked
before the king had reached the presentation centre. This incident, however, was not included in the
coverage shown on the local television channel news that evening.
Most Saudi women wear the traditional long black silk abaya over their western clothes and their heads
together with a veil or mask to cover their faces, although the eyes are often uncovered. Young children
are only able to recognize their mothers by their shoes. Most non-Muslim women also wear the abaya, but
not over their heads. On a number of occasions, I had to fend off the Mutawwa, who tried to insist that
Marion cover her head. When we were in a shop one day looking at some goods on display, we heard a
loud voice cry out “woman cover your head” from outside the shop. When we realized it was a Mutawwa
and he was referring to Marion, I waved a greeting to him and Marion pulled the abaya over her head, as
she was always prepared for such incidents. Once we were out of sight of the Mutawwa, she removed it
from her head.
The two main Saudi public holidays (each of five days) during the year are taken after Ramadan and Hajj
and are known at the Eid holidays. We learnt that during these holidays some establishments, eg hotels,
allowed families to spent time together at beaches and swimming pools. At other times the men and
women were not allowed to swim together. At one of the Eid holidays, in 1988, we decided to spend a few
days at the Holiday Inn Hotel in Jubail, which had a private family beach. During our stay we took a dhow
trip into the Gulf and were the only expatriates on board. When the dhow was well away from the shore,
we were surprised to see all the Arab women remove their black abayas and start dancing to Arabic music.
When I made a move, however, to get out my cameras to record the unusual event, I was told in no
uncertain terms that photography was not allowed and I was followed whenever I got up from my seat to
go outside or wander around.
Soon after we arrived in Saudi Arabia, the king, who was out of the country at the time, announced that
income tax would be introduced in three weeks time at the rates in effect in 1975, when income tax was
abolished. Mass resignations of medical staff in the hospitals soon followed and so the king cancelled the
royal decree.
When we moved into the villa in Monopoly Village, the front and rear garden areas were just dirt and
Marion decided she wanted to have a nice garden of yellow flowers in the desert and hired a gardener. The
gardener, Thailan, went wild and planted flowers everywhere. The front garden flourished, and was indeed
a sight to behold, but the rear garden was not as successful. After several attempts to question Thailan
about the matter (he was actually petrified of speaking to me), I finally caught up with him and discovered
that the tap he was using to water the front garden supplied recycled effluent from the sewage tank in the
compound and the water he was using for the rear garden was drinking water from the laundry tap. I
bought him a hose so he could water the rear garden with recycled water and then the entire garden
flourished. I fail to understand why countries, which suffer from droughts, for example Australia, have not
realized the advantages of recycled water for irrigation and installed the appropriate infrastructure years
ago.
Ross commenced his schooling at the Dhahran Academy, which Fiona also attended. Since both the Iraqis
and Iranians were attacking oil installations and oil tankers in the Gulf, we had a number of security
scares, mainly from low flying military aircraft in the middle of the night, until the ceasefire was signed in
mid-1988. In December 1988, Marion helped organize a children’s Christmas show at Monopoly Village.
She was the master of ceremonies for the show and I was very impressed with her performance.
On a long weekend in May1989, we drove to Bahrain on the new King Fahd causeway linking Saudi
Arabia to Bahrain. There was virtually no traffic on the causeway and we wondered how such a costly
project could be justified. The only delay took place at Saudi Customs, on the return journey, as our car
was thoroughly searched for alcohol and any undesirable literature. I was told, when I first arrived in Saudi
-15Arabia, that it had the highest consumption of black pens in the world. Books, newspapers and magazines
were all censured by either simply tearing out pages or by using highlighter pens to black out anything
thought to be unsuitable, such as pictures of uncovered women, alcohol advertisements or any references
to undesirable countries eg Israel and South Africa. Even atlases were censured by tearing out pages that
showed Israel and South Africa and blacking out their names in the index.
At the time, taking photographs in Saudi Arabia without a permit from the authorities was a deportable
offence but, since I am a keen photographer and not easily willing to give up good photographic
opportunities, I accepted the risk and took some anyway but tried to be as discreet as possible. I did,
however, have a number of close calls with policemen. On one such occasion, when I was taking a video
of a street scene in Al Khobar, I accidentally filmed a policeman as I was turning the camera. He came
over to investigate and Marion recited a song to him about 1 to 10 in Arabic and he seemed quite friendly
after that. Most Saudi policemen do not understand English.
Driving in Saudi Arabia was, at the best of times, a hazardous adventure. It was quite normal to see drivers
disregard traffic lights, change direction suddenly without indicating, create new lanes between the marked
lanes at intersections, make u-turns by mounting and driving over the median strip, make a left turn at an
intersection from the right hand lane and blocking the other lanes in the process, bypass a line of traffic by
driving along the footpath and scattering any pedestrians or allow their young children to drive. Driving
was even more hazardous during Ramadan, the month of fasting, as Saudi drivers were tired and drove
faster and more erratically than normal, and some even turned their headlights off at night, which added to
the danger. It was not a pleasant experience to be involved in a traffic accident, as one often ended up in
jail until there was an admission of guilt, especially if the other driver was a well-connected Saudi. We
were on the receiving end of two traffic accidents, one in which we were hit head on by a child driver, who
was on the wrong side of the road. On another occasion, during Ramadan, I turned into a highway one
evening and failed to notice a car travelling at high speed, without the headlights on, bearing down on me.
The driver then turned on his headlights to high beam and tailgated me in a dangerous manner for some
distance and then tried to force me off the road until I gave him the slip by making an abrupt turn at an
intersection, taking him by surprise, and then making several other turns into side roads before stopping
the car and turning off the lights, all under the direction of my navigator, Marion.
In late 1989, I joined British consultant Scott Wilson on the Al Yamamah defence project with British
Aerospace and we moved to the Saudi capital, Riyadh, in the Central Province, where we lived in a villa in
the Ballast Village compound, and remained there until 1992. Whilst the family was waiting in Australia
for entry visas, my father, Nelson, died suddenly in Auckland, New Zealand, in March 1990. It was a great
shock and Marion joined me in Auckland for the funeral. Hamish commenced his schooling at the British
School, which Fiona and Ross also attended.
We were in Riyadh when Iraq invaded Kuwait on 2 August 1990 and on the night of 15 January 1991, the
day before the Gulf War started, I evacuated the family to Australia on one of the last civilian flights to
leave Riyadh. I vividly recall driving the family to the airport, which was packed with a sea of humanity
all trying to flee the country at the last moment. Little did I know when I arranged the flight reservations,
that control of the airspace would be taken over by the military at 12 midnight on 15 January and any
civilian flight that had not left by then would have to wait for military clearance to depart. Their flight was
delayed and, as a result, my family had to wait in the plane, on the airport tarmac, for over 7 hours. I
remained in Riyadh during the war, when it was hit with over 20 Iraqi Scud missiles. The months leading
up to the war, known as Operation Desert Shield, were anxious times indeed and many people could not
take the pressure and left. Although we were given all sorts of assurances from the embassies, the military
and the schools that things would remain normal, this was not the case and one did not know what would
happen next. In addition, false rumours were common and circulated quickly. The children came home
one day to say they had to take gas masks to school. They had been given a brochure and delighted in
telling me that they wanted the best gas mask, and most expensive, the NBC (nuclear, biological and
chemical). The military told us that Iraqi Scud missiles would be shot down before reaching Riyadh and I
recall a joke that was circulated showing a picture of the desert with cats scattered around lying on their
backs with their legs in the air. The caption on the joke read: “Scud missiles with chemicals can’t reach
Riyadh” inferring they would be shot down in the desert killing the wild cats which roamed there. When I
-16discovered that the Patriot anti-missile batteries were being set up around the Riyadh Airbase, where I
worked, near the city centre and their range was short, I realized that the missiles would, in fact, be shot
down over our heads!
We were also informed that the national crisis might lead to “local unrest”, with attacks on foreigners, so
we were instructed to “keep a low profile”, whatever that means, and to vary our travel routes to and from
work and for shopping. Parents also took turns to escort the compound school bus. When many people left
for Christmas 1990 and did not return, the schools became chaotic, due to lack of teachers, and programs
started appearing on the local English television channel about what gas and chemicals could do to the
human body, I decided that the family should leave. During the most intense time of the war, most foreign
governments ordered all dependents of their nationals out of the country. As there was no civilian air
traffic in the Middle East, the dependents had to travel by bus to Jeddah, on the Red Sea, then by ferry to
Egypt and military transport to Italy.
Just prior to the war starting, everyone went mad stocking up on food and torch batteries and purchasing
large quantities of plastic sheeting, tape and caulking to gas-proof their homes. During the war, there were
sirens wailing and explosions almost every night and I felt relieved that I had evacuated the family. We
were fortunate that we lived on the outskirts of the city, away from the centre where the missiles were
being targeted but, one evening, I heard a really loud explosion in the air, which seemed right above the
villa. The whole villa, which was timber framed, shuddered and, as I was lying in my refuge, the bath, I
pulled a piece of plywood over my head and waited for debris to fall on the roof. Nothing happened and I
found out the next day that the explosion occurred 3 kms from where we lived! A number of people I
worked with had missiles explode near to their homes and were in a state of shock afterwards.
Nonetheless, what we endured was nothing compared with what the Iraqis were suffering.
The Patriot anti-missiles were launched automatically by computer, two at a time, at any object in the air,
which was not emitting the correct IFF (information friend or foe) electronic code. The code is changed by
the military every day. The operator, however, can abort the launch by exploding the million dollar
missiles in the air. One day, while I was working at my desk at Riyadh Airbase, there was an ear shattering
noise and two huge explosions nearby and I fell flat on the floor. I learnt afterwards that a British
Aerospace executive jet, emitting an incorrect IFF code, was coming into land and triggered the missile
launch. The operator, realizing the error, exploded the missiles in the air just in front of the plane. The
traumatized pilots had to be sent home to the UK on medical leave.
During Desert Shield and the war, American military personnel, including many women drivers, were
everywhere in Riyadh. Military vehicles, driven by women, who were not “covered up”, were common on
the city streets even though women were barred from driving in Saudi Arabia. The Mutawwa seemed to be
absent during this period so a number of Saudi women decided to stage a demonstration, which are banned
in Saudi Arabia, by driving cars in a convoy around Riyadh. It is rumoured that many of those who took
part lost their lives in family honour killings. Marion and the children returned to Saudi Arabia, when the
war was over, to a city covered in a smoke cloud from the Kuwaiti oil fires, which blocked out the sun for
all the following summer.
The Gulf War had a profound effect on life in Saudi Arabia, in particular the coverage of news events,
which were heavily censored by the authorities. Prior to the war, there tended to be a news blackout by the
local media of important events, which may be deemed by the authorities to have a detrimental effect on
their control of the local population or on their morals. For example, a major accident with great loss of
life within the country or the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, which was not announced by the local media for
several days after it had happened. After the war, satellite television became available and dishes started to
appear on rooftops everywhere. A dish was even installed in Ballast Village.
Although the sale and consumption of alcoholic beverages is banned in Saudi Arabia (except nonalcoholic beer and wine), the country is awash with bootleg liquor. Real liquor, which had been smuggled
into the country, often in “diplomatic bags”, was also available, on the black market, at considerably
inflated prices. Most of the foreign employers, including British Aerospace, condoned the production of
bootleg liquor and all the expats seemed to be “brewing their own”. The locally produced spirit brew was
-17called “sid”, short for “sideki”, and was ghastly stuff, unless it was drowned in something else. The British
Aerospace single men’s compound in Riyadh, Al Romaizan, allowed bars, selling bootleg liquor, to
operate and barrels of liquor, for the bar supply, were openly wheeled around the compound. Al Romaizan
compound was a popular expat “watering hole” in Riyadh. When life in Ballast Village returned to normal
after the Gulf War, an unusual incident occurred in Ballast Village one morning on a Friday, the day of
rest in Muslim countries. A number of single men’s quarters were located on the other side of our back
garden fence and a fire broke out in one of them. Knowing that the Saudi Fire Brigade, and possibly also
the police, would be called to attend the fire, the men in these quarters had to quickly remove and hide
their illegal bootleg liquor and beer and spirit making equipment and decided to throw it over the fence
into our back garden. This incident did not go unnoticed by our children, who were watching television in
the living room at the time, and they then wanted to know what is was all about.
In January 1992, we attended the annual camel race at the Riyadh racecourse. We made sure we were
there early in case the Mutawwa showed up and started barring women from entering, as was their normal
custom. The camels were all lined up behind a rope but the race could not be started until the prince
arrived and he was late. They held up the start of the race for so long that the camels suddenly bolted
altogether, the rope gave way, chaos ensued and the race was abandoned, as camels were scattered all over
the racetrack, some with broken legs. I captured it all on video, at some risk as a security guard tried to
stop me by waving his whip, in a threatening manner, in my direction. Curiously, a proper race,
presumably from a previous year, was shown on the local television channel news that evening together
with a prize giving that never took place.
In March 1992, we attended the Al Janadriyah Cultural Festival and decided to see a performance of
Arabic dancing in a small stadium in the showgrounds. When we entered the stadium, I realized it was a
“men only” show and security guards quickly emerged to stop Marion and Fiona from going any further.
The guards were very apologetic, however, and arranged for Marion and Fiona to sit in the VIP section
amongst the Royal Family members, as that area was not restricted to only men. Because of the cameras
I was carrying, the guards mistook me for a member of the official press core, who had to have permits for
photography, and I was allowed to video the performance from the arena, without having to show a
permit, and I also appeared on the English television news that evening.
During our stay in Saudi Arabia, Marion organized some memorable family trips to the UK, France and
Portugal, Kenya, Zimbabwe and Hong Kong. On the trip to the UK, in August 1990, our stay had to be
extended as my sponsor in Saudi Arabia, British Aerospace, was banning families from returning to that
country, due to the security emergency. When sufficient American and British troops had arrived under
Desert Shield, the ban was lifted and we returned to Saudi Arabia. In Scotland, we attended the Braemar
Gathering and watched the Royal family attend Crathie church at Balmoral. We also visited Strathpeffer
and “Dochnaclear” (near Dingwall Ross-shire), the ancestral property of Marion’s great-grandfather,
Alexander Mackenzie, and chatted to Geordie Mackenzie, a crofter and distant relative, who lived in a
cottage adjacent to “Dochnaclear”. Bare-breasted women, including elderly ones, were everywhere on the
beaches in the Algarve, Portugal so the children received an early crash course in female anatomy.
We rented a car in Zimbabwe and toured the country as the roads were good and there was little traffic.
After our arrival in Harare, I quickly realized it would be difficult to obtain a good rental car in a
reasonable condition, due to the depressed economic state of the country. We witnessed quite a parade of
vehicles from several rental companies but all of those available had seen much better days and most had
bald tyres. My employer in Saudi Arabia, British consultant Scott Wilson, had an office in Harare and they
offered to help us with a vehicle. One of their clients had a new Nissan Skyline (new cars were very rare in
Zimbabwe) and agreed to make it available for our use provided we paid for it in foreign currency, to be
deposited into a bank in the UK (due to exchange controls, it was impossible to buy foreign currency from
the banks in Zimbabwe). I was not happy with this arrangement, as it was illegal, and there would be no
paperwork to protect us if we were involved in an accident or were checked by the police. Nonetheless,
there seemed no other choice so we accepted the offer. As we were about to leave for Harare airport on our
departure from the country, the owner of the car suddenly reneged on the deal for payment in foreign
currency and, instead, requested payment in local currency. We had to rush to a bank to change money and
-18had to carry the cash in a plastic bag as the bank had a shortage of the largest bank note, which was only
equivalent to $US2.
We did, however, had a wonderful time in Zimbabwe, although security was a concern and the hotels were
protected by high fences and barbed wire. We were fascinated by the animals in Hwange National Park
and enjoyed a flight over Victoria Falls. Since the pilot told us we would be the only customers that day
(there were shortages of tourists in Zimbabwe even in those days) he showed us the Zambezi River as
well. On the drive from Victoria Falls to Milibizi, on Lake Kariba, we left Victoria Falls later than
expected and then struck a section of unsealed road, which had many potholes, and our progress was
slowed to about 20kph. We ended up driving at night, which we had been forewarned to avoid due to
security concerns. Ross became sick during the drive, due to the weaving motion of the car to avoid
potholes, and I had to stop the car in the dark, in a bush area, in the middle of nowhere. While I was
attending to Ross, a group of natives with spears suddenly emerged from the bush and started to approach
the car. Marion told me to hurry up. I waved to the natives and shouted hello, to which they responded,
then quickly got back in the car and drove off. On the Lake Kariba ferry, we met a retired Rhodesian
Airways pilot, who described the many risky landings he did at Victoria Falls airport during the
insurgency against the Smith government in the 1970’s. He told us that several of the aircraft he piloted
during that era were hit with small arms fire. On the night before we departed from Harare, I drove the car
to a petrol station to fill up the tank. Before leaving the hotel, I had a rather large drink of what I thought
was orange juice from a bottle we had in the hotel refrigerator and did not realize that it was not juice but a
strong concentrated cordial. While I was out driving I became delirious and when I pulled out of the petrol
station, after filling up, I became confused as to which side of the road I was supposed to be driving on
(driving in Saudi Arabia is on the right but in Zimbabwe it is on the left) and turned into the right side of a
busy main road. I was immediately confronted with a barrage of flashing headlights and had to suddenly
pull over to the side of the road. It is a narrow escape and I was thankful I did not have a head on collision.
Return to Brisbane (1992-1994)
After our departure from Saudi Arabia in 1992, we lived for a period in Killarney, courtesy of Marion’s
parents, Pat and Bruce, and then moved into a house in Brisbane at 158 Crosby Rd, Ascot. The children
attended Ascot State School.
The Hong Kong Experience (1994-1998)
In mid-1993, I moved to Hong Kong and the family joined me in early 1994. We remained in Hong Kong
until January 1998, where I was engaged mainly on the Western Harbour Crossing project. On my arrival,
I lived for several months in a company flat in La Salle Rd, Kowloon Tong and then moved into the
penthouse flat on the 20th floor of Elegant Garden, 18 Babington Path, Midlevels. In mid-1996, we moved
to the 9th floor at Richmond Court, 111 Robinson Rd, Midlevels. The flat in Kowloon Tong was directly
under the flight path to Kai Tak Airport and, since it was located close to the runway, the aircraft coming
into land were very low and the constant noise was difficult to get used to. We ended up in Court over the
lease on Elegant Garden, when the landlord, a wealthy former refugee tailor from Shanghai by the name of
Mr Kong, tried to frighten us by serving a High Court writ to have us evicted, due to a legal technicality
regarding the lease renewal. They slapped copies of this writ all over the place including the car and the
post box. The legality of our lease renewal was upheld in the Court but we were obliged, by my employer,
to seek alternative accommodation.
We had a number of interesting incidents at Elegant Garden. Fiona was locked in her bedroom one day
when the door lockset broke. I had to tie a rope around my waste and creep along a narrow ledge on the
outside of the building, on the 20th floor, to gain access to the room through the window. Marion entered
the kitchen one day and was shocked to see a man outside the window clinging to bamboo scaffolding,
which was swaying back and forth. The scaffolding had been just erected that day from the ground on the
outside of the building for the installation of plumbing. On another occasion, when Marion was home
alone, a man came to the door and wanted to gain access to the roof area for maintenance. Once on our
roof, he lowered himself down the outside of the building in a boson’s chair tied to the heavily rusted
railing and with a complete disregard for his own safety. One day, the children discovered the lift lobby
and the stairwell outside our door were filled with smoke and we thought there was a fire. I ventured down
the stairwell to investigate and found a neighbour, two floors down, burning false money in an incinerator
-19for his ancestors in the after life. One morning, Hamish rang Marion from the reception on the ground
floor to tell her he had forgotten his lunch and was in a hurry to catch the minibus to school. Marion threw
the lunch from our 20th floor balcony but it must have landed on someone else’s balcony on the way down,
as it did not reach the ground, and Hamish missed out on lunch that day.
Most flats in Hong Kong have separate quarters for a live-in maid or amah, who is usually a Filipino. The
amah’s bedroom was often so small that it really only had enough space for a bed. At Richmond Court,
which was a relatively old building at 30 years of age, there were two amah’s quarters, together with a
separate amah’s lift at the back entrance, and an amah’s kitchen. In both buildings, the amah’s bathroom
had only a cold water supply and they were the only bathrooms I have ever seen where one could take a
refreshing cold shower whilst seated on the toilet!
In the typical Hong Kong flat lease, the landlord is only responsible for the shell and any maintenance
inside the flat is the responsibility of the tenant, even though the monthly rent could well be in excess of
US$5,000. The flats we occupied were old by Hong Kong standards and required frequent maintenance,
especially on the drainage and plumbing systems. The drainage pipes tended to block easily and the water
pipes were so heavily corroded internally (copper pipes was not used) that a booster pump was often
required to increase the water pressure. The toilet cisterns sometimes overflowed, due to corrosion of the
valve and float mechanism, as seawater was used to flush the toilets.
Hong Kong can be subjected to typhoons and periods of very heavy rainfall, which can cause slips and
mudslides to occur on the steep rocky slopes that can undermine building foundations. Soon after my
arrival, I was told that when a No 8 typhoon warning signal is raised, and announced over the radio,
everyone had to go home immediately. When I asked how I would know when such an event had
occurred, as I did not listen to the radio during the day, I was informed that it would be obvious since I
would be the only person still in the office.
Throughout the summer, Hong Kong is subjected to very high humidity for many months and precautions
have to be taken to avoid mould forming in the home. Mould will quickly grow on all natural fibres,
particularly leather and fabrics, and so wardrobes have to be heated to combat the growth of mould on
clothes and shoes. It was not uncommon to enter a flat to see the household’s array of shoes lining the
walls. Mould can also form on the walls in the flat, especially if there is little circulation of air. Many
people use de-humidifiers to reduce the moisture in the air but I installed ceiling fans to circulate the air.
When we went on leave, during the school summer holidays, I would let the fans run in the flat during our
absence otherwise we would be greeted by mould covered walls on our return.
We used to do our food shopping at the Welcome supermarket at the Peak, as the car parking was cheap
and you could wheel the groceries to the car, a novelty in Hong Kong. We would also walk to the Peak
sometimes, especially if crowds were expected, for a fireworks display or festival, and then walk home
again down paths through unlighted areas of bush. On one occasion, on such a walk home, Marion and
Fiona wanted to take one route and the boys and I wanted to take another route. We decided to meet up at
the end of the paths. When the boys and I reached the location we understood was the meeting point the
others were nowhere to be seen. After waiting for some time, we then walked up the path they were
supposed to have taken and did not see them. Fearful that they had been abducted by II’s (illegal
immigrants from mainland China, who were known to hide in the bush areas around the Peak) or even
Triads (criminals), we rushed down the path and at the first public telephone we came across I contacted
the emergency services. They were more interested in my identity card number, its expiry date and how
long I had been in Hong Kong than they were about my plight. They told us to go home and wait there but
while we were walking down the road, and to our great relief, we met Marion and Fiona driving in our car
towards us. There had been a misunderstanding over the meeting arrangement.
During our time in Hong Kong, we experienced the historical period covering the lead up to and the hand
over of sovereignty from Britain to China, which took place at midnight on 30 June 1997. The news every
day seemed to be dominated by the politics going on between Britain and China as the last Governor,
Chris Patten, made a belated effort to introduce democracy, prior to the hand over, after 150 years of
colonial rule. Some time before the hand over, the two sides stopped talking to one another and each
-20formed their own legislative assemblies. After the hand over the Chinese abolished the assembly set up by
Patten and installed their own.
Whilst in Hong Kong, Marion obtained a very enjoyable position, as a faculty assistant, at the West Island
Secondary School, which the children attended, and, taking advantage of living in Asia, she also organized
wonderful family trips to Malaysia, Sri Lanka and the Maldives.
Sadly, it was while in Hong Kong that Marion lost her mother Pat in November 1997. It was a great shock
and deeply affected Marion as she had always been close to Pat. She had communicated with Pat regularly
and valued her guidance and advice.
Return again to Brisbane (1998-1999)
After leaving Hong Kong in January 1998, we returned to Brisbane and moved into a house at 9 Wells
Lane, Toowong. This was really a nice place and first home we had lived in that had its own swimming
pool and, as a result, it was well used and enjoyed. We did, in fact, try to purchase the property but the
landlord refused to sell it. During this time, Fiona attended school at Somerville House and Ross and
Hamish attended Brisbane Boys College.
Living in Kuwait next to Saddam (1999-2001)
In late 1998, I moved to Kuwait and joined Salem Al Marzouk and Sabah Abi-Hanna on the Oil Sector
Complex project but due to air strikes being launched on Iraq by American and British coalition forces,
many from bases in Kuwait, Marion, Ross and Hamish could not join me until August 1999. In early 1999,
Fiona travelled to France to spend a year there on exchange. Kuwait is the hottest country in the Gulf, with
temperatures up to over 50 deg C, but it has a dry climate (due to the shammal winds from Iraq) and is not
humid in summer like the other Gulf countries. A peculiar feature of many of the buildings there was the
use of a header tank on the roof, which was exposed to the sun, to store the water. During the hot summer
months the water in the tank became so hot that it was normal practice to turn off the hot water heater and
use the hot water system as the cold water supply and the cold water system as the hot water supply.
In Kuwait, we initially lived in a flat in a building in Salwa, known as “Rainbow Red”, before moving into
the top floor flat at House 36 Street 7 Area 4 Mishref. This building was owned and rented out by the All
Real Estate Co, which was part of a deceased estate, where one of the beneficiaries was under aged 18. In
Kuwait, the Public Authority for Minors’ Affairs, a hopeless organization, which never bothered to
monitor anything, must administer such estates until the minor beneficiary comes of age. All Real Estate
also managed many other rental properties around Kuwait. The former driver for the company, a Somalian
by the name of Abdi Razzak, decided to seize the opportunity to become wealthy, through fraud and theft,
and arranged for himself to be appointed as manager. He then went about pocketing all the rental income
and also sold off the furniture, for a pittance, to some tenants, for cash, and failed to pay the bills. When he
knew the net was closing in, he disbanded the office and fled the country with his illicit earnings and there
was no one to whom to pay the rent for months. Abdi disappeared into lawless Somalia and was never
heard of again. The day before he fled, he came to collect the rent, a week early. He said they needed the
money for a “temporary liquidity problem” and if we paid early they would reduce the rent for subsequent
months. I drafted the necessary change in the lease, while he waited, and he signed it. We all noticed,
however, that he seemed rather nervous on that day.
When the new Minors’ Affairs appointed management showed up, they declared the existing lease, and all
Abdi’s transactions, to be invalid and tried to persuade me to sign a new lease, in Arabic, for a higher rent.
When I declined, they refused to accept rent payments or carry out any maintenance. Thankfully, however,
Abdi had previously given me the bank account number of All Real Estate so I paid the rent into that
account each month and held on to the deposit slips. Some months later, Minors’ Affairs informed us that
they were taking steps to evict us for failure to pay rent. When I advised them that we had been paying the
rent into the landlord’s bank account, and could verify it with deposit slips, we never heard from them
again.
The memories of the Iraqi occupation, in 1990-1991, were fresh in Kuwait and the remnants of Iraqi
-21destruction, together with unexploded military ordnance, were everywhere and one had to be careful
travelling in the desert areas. Over 600 Kuwaitis disappeared without trace during the occupation and were
called the “missing POWs”. There were numerous programs on the local television channel about them so
they would not be forgotten.
Whilst in Kuwait, Marion obtained a receptionist position at the Kuwait English School, which Ross and
Hamish attended. In July 2000, we all attended an enjoyable Mackenzie clan reunion in Brisbane. Also in
2000, Ross attended a Model United Nations Conference in Geneva, Switzerland and Hamish went on a
school trip to France. In addition, Marion arranged for us to have an interesting guided tour of the Grand
Mosque in Kuwait, as non-Muslims are not normally allowed in such places. In early 2001, we were
invited to attend a Palestinian wedding, which was one of the highlights of our stay in Kuwait.
It was at Christmas 2000, whilst in Kuwait, that Marion felt the lump in her breast. She travelled to
Brisbane for further examination and subsequently had a mastectomy. She returned to Kuwait after the
operation but we left a few months later.
Last Years in Brisbane (2001-2007)
I moved to Doha, Qatar in September 2001 and Marion, Ross and Hamish stayed at our apartment at
Surfers Aquarius on the Gold Coast, which we had purchased in August 2000, until January 2002. Because
of difficulties in obtaining dependent visas due to the 11 September attack on New York and an upcoming
World Trade Organization meeting in Doha, we decided that Ross and Hamish should remain in Brisbane
to complete their education. Ross started university studies in 2002 and Hamish completed his schooling at
Brisbane Boys College. Marion, Fiona and Hamish then moved into Foxton Street, Indooroopilly, in
January 2002 while Ross resided at Emmanuel College at The University of Queensland. In 2003, I moved
to Bahrain. Marion made trips to both Qatar and Bahrain, during the invasion of Iraq, and we spent some
special time together at my villa in the Asco compound in Doha and at my flat in the Nouf building in
Bahrain.
The cancer recurred in mid-2002 and over the next five years Marion underwent three regimes of
chemotherapy treatment and was also treated with Herceptin for nearly 3 years. During this time, Fiona
stayed at home taking care of Marion when I was away. Fiona researched natural remedies to supplement
conventional treatment and Marion, with such discipline, kept a strict diet of organic fruit, vegetables and
grains. She also took various vitamins and minerals as well as Goji juice, from the Himalayan berry of that
name. In July 2006, she appeared on a national Nine Network TV program, “News Extra”, about Goji
juice. Being so healthy meant Marion was able to maintain a good quality of life, despite all the
treatments, and she defied doctor’s expectations by remaining so well for so many years.
In September 2004, just prior to our 25th wedding anniversary, metastatic cancer was detected in her brain
and she became seriously ill and was hospitalized for brain surgery in October. She was planning to join
me in Kuwait that month for a trip to Egypt to spend our 25th wedding anniversary with our good friends
Vicki and Salah Ghoniem, who were also celebrating the same wedding anniversary. Regretfully, this trip
did not eventuate. After the surgery, she had radiotherapy on her brain and spent a month in hospital. She
made an amazing recovery and returned to lead essentially a normal life. She would always say that when
she was busy she completely forgot she had cancer.
In late 2006, scans again revealed the progression of cancer in Marion’s brain and, in early January 2007,
she underwent further radiotherapy. While this temporarily delayed the growth of the cancer, it was unable
to halt its progression. She became more fragile, unsteady on her feet and her movements slowed.
On 11 April 2007, Marion had a fall in the bathroom at night and fractured a collarbone. She suffered an
epileptic seizure on 6 May and was admitted to hospital for 3 days. She had another fall during the day on
22 May, badly fracturing her left wrist, and, because of her weakened condition, was hospitalised on
25 May for 3 days for the insertion of a plate. After that fall, we decided she could not be left on her own.
By June, she required increasing assistance, could no longer write properly, became forgetful and had
started to suffer from headaches, due to increasing pressure on her brain. On 20 June, a dear friend Anne
Maree visited us from Sydney and the last photograph of Marion was taken with her on 22 June.
-22From late June and through July, Marion’s physical condition rapidly deteriorated, but Fiona and I
continued to care for her at home. We used a wheelchair on the lower level of our townhouse and a
computer chair on wheels on the upper level to move her around and carried her up and down the stairs.
We are very grateful for the assistance of Dr Graeme Edwards, Marion’s sister Vivienne’s husband, and
Fiona’s boyfriend, Ben Buckley, during this difficult time. It became necessary to admit her to the Wesley
Hospital, in Brisbane, by ambulance on 25 July. She died suddenly, but peacefully, at 1.30pm on 26 July,
in the presence of her family.
The abrupt loss, two weeks before her death, of her ability to speak was a cruel and terrible blow. Not long
before the loss of her voice, she realized the end was near and she told me that she knew I would be able to
look after myself and “fix things” (repair the damage from her illness) after she was gone. In one of our
last conversations, she whispered to me that she did want to live. Almost until the end, however, she
continued to squeeze our hands and kiss us to demonstrate her love. It was terrible and agonizing to watch
the person we all loved endure so much suffering.
During the last 3 years of her illness, I only worked part of the time so was able to spend a great deal of
quality time with her. We did many things together and attended many shows and concerts, which she
enjoyed very much. These were precious times and I will cherish them forever.
Marion was able to see Hamish finish secondary school at Brisbane Boys’ College and begin his studies at
University. She proudly saw Fiona and Ross both graduate from The University of Queensland and obtain
jobs in Brisbane and Fiona’s admission as a solicitor. She was so pleased to see all three of them turn 21.
We will all miss Marion’s lovely written cards and letters and the carefully wrapped presents, as she
always made the extra effort to select cards and gifts and to send them at appropriate times. She made
people feel special by the caring and thoughtful notes she wrote, with her beautiful distinctive handwriting,
on the cards and the special stationery that she had chosen. I should know as I have been receiving cards,
letters and gifts from her for over 29 years. I had a birthday in October 2007 and it was the first time since
1978 that I had not received a card from her. It made me feel very sad. She was always looking in shops at
cards, stationery and wrapping paper and maintained a good supply in our home for any occasion.
Marion was widely admired for her organizational and conversational skills and, because she loved writing
and the English language, she was also much admired for her letter writing abilities. She was, however,
never able to fulfill an ambition to write professionally. If she had had more time from family duties she
could have written articles about the experiences we had in the many countries in which we lived. She
enjoyed crossword puzzles and was very good at them because of her very large vocabulary.
Marion would like to be remembered as elegant, ladylike and well mannered. She was also articulate,
gracious, capable and sophisticated. At only 15, she was described as “charming” by the principal of her
secondary school. Marion was a lovely, decent and caring human being in every sense. She was a giver of
unconditional love and was always considerate of others and their feelings before herself. She was very
intelligent, well spoken and cultured with a fashionable dress sense and poise and carried herself with style
and grace. She always tried to match her handbag and shoes. Her favourite colour from childhood was red,
but she liked all bright colours and wore a rainbow of outfits.
She also adored flowers, especially daffodils, jonquils and sunflowers, which were the flowers chosen for
her funeral service.
Many will also know Marion had a strong Scottish heritage, one of her favourite holiday destinations
being Scotland. She visited Scotland on many occasions and particularly enjoyed the atmosphere, the
traditions, the highlands and the heather.
During our married life, Marion believed her job and career were the raising of our children and she
carried out this duty with great enthusiasm and dedication and installed in her children the good manners
-23and high standards that she maintained throughout her life. She was an exemplary mother and really
enjoyed and excelled at motherhood. She considered that the welfare of her children was her priority and
she ensured that they were well looked after, well dressed, well educated and well loved.
Her creativity shone through at fancy dress parties and at the birthday parties she organised for the
children when they were young. They were bright, colourful affairs. These were memorable events and
fortunately are recorded forever on film and video.
Marion had a wonderful sense of adventure. She was descended from a line of adventurous women, as her
grandmother emigrated alone, in her early 20’s, to Australia from England around 1910. Marion loved
travelling and residing in new countries and places. This was fortunate, as we had 19 moves in our first 22
years of marriage. She also arranged many exciting holidays for us to many interesting places.
She was a loving and affectionate wife, mother, daughter and sister and was at her happiest when she was
with her large family or helping a family member. A modest person, she was highly regarded as a friend
and treasured her friendships. She always ensured she kept in contact with the friends she had met, not
only from her childhood and early adult years but also from her travels. I do not know how she did it as
she had so many around the world and she always seemed to remember their birthdays. She enriched the
lives of so many people and will be greatly missed and lovingly remembered by all who knew her. She
was indeed a remarkable person.
Above all, Marion can be remembered by her infectious laugh and wonderful bright smile, which lit up her
face. She had a happy personality with a positive attitude, which she maintained right to the end of her life,
despite her deteriorating health. When we lived in London, a colleague of Marion’s once informed me that
I was marrying a “peach of a girl”. She was quite right.
I have now lost my wife, best friend and confidant but I regard myself as very lucky for having a happy
marriage to such a wonderful person for so many years.
My darling Marion and I did make a good partnership for those wonderful 29 years we were together and I
will cherish and remember forever the happy memories of the wonderful experiences we shared and
enjoyed, many of which have been captured on the 9,000 still photographs, 7 hours of 8mm movie film
(1981-1988) and 130 hours of video recordings (1988-2007) taken during that time. I will so miss her
loving notes that were hidden in my luggage whenever I departed without her for overseas.
I now farewell my sweetheart, my ladymistletoe.
Geoff Blake 26 May 2009
It would not have been possible to compile the above eulogy in such detail, with regard to the events, the
places and the dates, without the assistance of Marion’s diaries, calendars and trip records, which she
maintained throughout her life. I recited a considerably shortened version of the eulogy at her funeral
service held at the Ann Street Presbyterian Church in Brisbane on 3 August 2007. Marion chose the
scripture readings and the hymns to be sung at her funeral before her death.
The eulogy should be read in conjunction with a selection of photographs taken during Marion’s life,
which can be viewed on website http://members.iinet.net.au/~foxtonblakes/marion. Her obituary, which
appeared in the Courier Mail newspaper in Brisbane and the Warwick Daily News newspaper, her funeral
order of service and her eulogy can also be viewed on the same website.