As I milked a cow, a cheeky face popped up over the farm fence. ‘You’re the girl for me! I’m coming back to get you, Freda,’ he said with a wry smile, setting my heart aflutter.
The flirtatious fella was Frank Weidenbohm. He’d been working cutting sleepers for the railway, and was staying nearby during his latest post.
I could never have imagined we’d end up sharing 80 years of love.
Brought up in Pappinbarra, NSW, I’d longed to see the world. In 1941 I