The Farm On Robert's Plateau

By Trevi Formea

The experiences of an Australian girl who is invited by her girlfriend to work on a dairy farm in the last millennium. Relive Rosie's experiences, as she matures from a naive teenager into a young woman, finding her future along the way. How Vaunie's invitation to work on a dairy farm was an experience never to be forgotten. Rosie and Vaunie hadn’t seen each other in eighteen months and had a lot to catch up on. It was 1967 in Queensland and life was different then. Little did Rosie know, that the experience of living on the land was not what she had expected - nor thought it to be, and she was soon to learn some harsh realities of life . . . . . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trevi Formea
• Release date: Apr 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311828972

Trevi Formea

TREVI FORMEA is the pen-name of Jo-Anna Rose.She is an Australian 'Baby Boomer' raised in the southern suburbs of Brisbane, Queensland, and was born the youngest of four children (refer: A BABY BOOMER - At any age).In 1966, when 'Trevi' was 15, she won an essay competition which posed the question - 'What would you do if you were cast away on a deserted island with Elvis Presley?' The competition was organized through the then popular but now defunct magazine - EVERYBODY'S. The first prize for each state Australia wide - was a week for two, all expenses paid including air-fares, to beautiful Brampton Island Resort situated in tropical Queensland's Barrier Reef. Trevi was their youngest contestant and her essay impressed the sponsors and judges so much, that they 'awarded' her with a special 'junior' category equivalent prize. Trevi took her mum with her on the holiday.Trevi was raised a Catholic, but disillusioned after 33yrs, went searching for the truth in other religions, including Mormon and Pentecostal - finally becoming a Lutheran, to which she has remained to this day. Having had four weddings and a funeral, her third marriage in 1996, was the shortest lasting only 29mths (refer 'KUKLA MOU - The Little Greek Princess'). Trevi was suddenly widowed at 47 years old, with her two youngest daughters Renee 16 and Jackie 6 to raise. Her youngest Jackie, suffering from Asperger Syndrome (refer 'JACKIE PETER PAN').After relocating to Russell Island in Queensland's south-east corner in August 2002 with Jackie - then 9 yrs old and her 4th husband, Trevi took on the position of reporter with their local paper 'The Island Spirit'. Not only as their only ace reporter but managing advertising and their paper formatting. Trevi has also had miscellaneous poems and stories published through the island's 'Writer's Circle', as well as various short stories in other popular magazines including 'That's Life' in 2000.In March 2013, Trevi met a local couple (Dennis and Jeannie) who were new 'indie' authors/writers themselves, and together they introduced her to 'self-publishing' on e-readers, encouraging Trevi to publish her stories through smashwords.com. A whole new world for writing opened up, and Trevi became a die-hard fan of and contributor to, the delights of modern technology.The 'BLUE LABEL' series are mostly based on Trevi's own life experiences growing up and throughout her life. They can be either read as a 'Stand Alone' story, or as part of an ongoing expanded autobiography. The simplistic design of her cover serves as a visual aid for easier recognition for older readers. Trevi stayed single for 9yrs living an idyllic lifestyle on Russell Island, where she cruised the Pacific with Jackie at least once a year. Other members of their home included Burmilla cat 'Bobby' and 'Bella' - the wonder Labrador ref:- BOBBY MEETS BELLA - (yet to be published).On October 23rd 2016, a man from an internet dating site, sent Trevi a 'free kiss e-mail' and after exchanging multiple emails, texts and phone calls to each other, they finally met. They were instantly attracted to each other. In June 2017, Peter proposed to Trevi and eventually encouraged her to put her home on the market. After selling his townhouse in August 2018, Peter moved to Maryborough, Queensland, where they bought a large 80yr old 'Queenslander' house, desperately in need of attention and 2 kms west of the town's centre. Jackie & Trevi would visit Peter for a week at a time and after selling their home on the island in April 2021, Jackie and Trevi moved the last of their belongings off the island, travelling over 300kms north to Maryborough, a regional township, which was once the northern port for free settlers in what was then New South Wales. Before Queensland was separated from NSW in 1900 and called Queensland. Trevi's grandparents landed there from Ireland in the 1800's but that's another story - (ref A BABY BOOMER AT ANY AGE).On the 2nd February 2020, Trevi and Peter were married in the Chapel of Life across the road from their home by Elvis - AKA Trevor Turner (a personal friend & Elvis impersonator). They themed their wedding to the 50's era and invited their guests to dress accordingly and join in the fun. Jackie gave Trevi away dressed as BAD SANDY from Grease and the Bridal party arrived in a white1954 FJ Holden stretch limo. The groom and his men arrived in an old Black and White Holden taxi, complete with original fare meter. Their wedding was just before the Covid19 pandemic struck. Since then, they have been enjoying retirement whilst steadily restoring their 80yo home to her former glory, adding some modern touches without detracting from her original beauty. Not too bad an effort for a couple of septuagenarians.If you have enjoyed any of Trevi's e-book stories, please feel free to write a review. Thanks for reading.

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THE FARM ON ROBERT’S PLATEAU

by

Trevi Formea

Copyright 2013 Trevi Formea

ISBN 978-1-3118289-7-2

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To my daughter Christina, who always urged me on and believed in me. To my dear friend ‘Suzy’ who remarked to me when I told her I was writing Well it’s about time you did it. - And finally my youngest daughter Jackie, who painstakingly listened while I read each draft aloud to her – editing mistakes along the way. To all the above beautiful ladies - I give my eternal appreciation and love.

Prologue

The invitation to work on a dairy farm from my best friend was like a dream come true. Vaunie and I hadn’t seen each other in eighteen months and had a lot to catch up on. It was 1967 and life was different then – things were always changing. Our letters kept us informed on each other’s life but there was a lot more happening. Little did I know, the experience of a month on Robert’s Plateau, was about to make me grow from a naïve sixteen year old girl into a young women. Living on the land was not what I expected - or thought it to be, and I was soon to learn some harsh realities of life . . . . . . .

THE FARM ON ROBERT’S PLATEAU

By Trevi Formea

Chapter 1: The Swinging Sixties

On my thirteenth birthday in March 1964, I began to realize that life was changing. Not just for me but everyone else too.

I was facing my final year in primary school and about to embark on life as a teenager. Gone were playing with my dolls and cats in my make-believe world. Now I was beginning the ‘evolving years’ from 13 through to 18 – when a child learns how to become an adult and hopefully also learn how to be responsible. The prospect of a career and my future adulthood was looming. From this moment on my life was about to change forever.

Mum had told me in January she didn’t have the money to buy my text books for the new school year, and so I had to pay for them from my school bank account by draining it of the Five Pounds 14 Shillings and sixpence ($11.45 ) that it held.

My parents had been married during the Great Depression (1937) and it appeared that the Depression lasted a lot longer for us. I’d been born the youngest child of four children with two older brothers and a sister. John was the eldest and 12, then came Ursy 9 and finally Chris – who was five years older the following month. We lived 5 miles (8kms) from the Brisbane GPO on the bus route and side of a steep hill.

Even though we lived close to the capital, we still had outhouses down the end of the back yard. Finally by 1965, the last of the sewerage lines in Brisbane were finally being piped through back yards. Connection was compulsory and BCC gave households a year to connect their new ‘toilet’ to the sewer system. You either installed a toilet into your existing bathroom, or built a room 1500 x 900 especially for it. Many homes in Brisbane were suddenly building little ‘outhouse’ extensions by their backdoor to comply with regulations. Although a flushing toilet suite in the home became a modern day fixture - many people still had to ‘go outside’ to use it.

Daily living was affordable and most dreams were attainable with well planned household budgeting and strict savings. We could freely water our gardens and were given alternate lawn sprinkling days, three times a week. Our mail deliveries came twice daily weekdays with a Saturday morning delivery by a postman riding a pushbike, and every convenience store on his route where his pick-up spots for more mail to continue his delivery.

I began work as an apprentice dressmaker on my 14th birthday the following year in the city and commuted half an hour each way daily. But I looked forward to my 15th birthday, as it meant I could go to the discos in the city. New dance crazes were sweeping the world and by extension - our nation. Rock n Roll and Jiving were out. Now each year we rushed to learn the dances as seen on TV shows like Bandstand – just to be ‘in’ and not be ‘square’.

There was The Twist, The Stomp, The Monkey, The Swim, The Shoulder and The Skate to name a few. We danced to Chubby Checker, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, The Monkees, The Seekers, and Donovan. There was also the Two-step, for the slower love songs and it seemed every teen knew that dance.

Discos like ‘The Scene’ and ‘Uncle’s’ were commonplace and teenagers fifteen and over would flock into the city with their friends by using public transport of bus, tram or train, very few teens were driven there by parents – unlike today. We listened and danced to the latest singles of the Top 40 in deafening stereophonic sound, amid an explosive rainbow of flashing lights pulsating to the beat. Speaking to your friends involved shouting at the top of you voice just to be heard.

Uncle’s was probably the more popular of the two discos. Its big attraction was the use of in-house telephones on each table. The tables there were round and had an umbrella roof antenna housing built into them. Atop each umbrella was the table number.

By dialling the house prefix first, then the umbrella’s number, teens could talk anyone at any table in the room. Great for boys or girls who were shy and liked someone, but it was very hard to get a line through to be able to do it, as there were only a certain amount of lines available. Every hour or so the Disc Jockey would halt the music and request all teens to hang up their phones. Then he’d announce that those who hadn’t been able to call a table - could do so now.

Another favourite place for teens to hang out was The Cave. It was a below ground coffee shop fitted out in a cave-like atmosphere, with fake rock walls, ceiling stalactites and subdued lighting of a purplish pink hue – very eerie, yet very inviting.

You would go to the Cave after discos with your friends and grab hot and cold drinks, pan-toasted sandwiches, hot chips, cakes and meals. The Cave didn’t close until 1.00am and it also played background music which were more subdued and sedate love songs. After all, they only wanted you to dine there - not dance there.

We had social groups who were called either Mods or Surfies. My friends and I were neither – I guess you could refer to us as ‘Morfies’, as we copied whatever appealed to us of the other two, whilst keeping up with the latest hair trends. The sixties also announced the arrival of the Bikini, the Mini skirt and The Pill. And I found myself wearing the bikini, mini skirts and flared pants.

In my fifteenth year, decimal currency was introduced. The impending conversion was heralded on radio and television by a jingle to the tune of ‘Click Go The Sheers’ and everyone was soon brainwashed into knowing the exact date of the switch over - the 14th February 1966. Gone were the pounds, shillings and pence of our childhood - now it was just dollars and cents.

It was also the dawning of the ‘Age of Aquarius’ touted by ‘Hippies’ - or flower folk, whose men wore beards and grew their hair long like their women and the new clothing style of ‘Uni-sex Wardrobe’ began. Perhaps it was to ‘hide’ from authorities as a lot of guys shunned war. The Hippies avoided being recruited at all costs.

The 1960’s hippie counter-culture movement involved a variety of social concerns and beliefs. Their if it feels good - do it attitudes included little forethought, nor concern for the consequences of their actions. The Hippies’ primary belief was that life was about being happy, not about what others thought you should be.

Most lived in communes - dissatisfied with what their parents had built for them. They rejected middle class values, opposed nuclear weapons and the Vietnam War. They embraced aspects of eastern philosophy and sought to find a new meaning in life.

Hippies professed to be all about peace and love, smoked pot (marijuana) and floated, or went on trips of L.S.D. (lysergic acid diethylamide) while openly practicing free love. They gave their children flower, fruit or nature names, often re-naming themselves in the process.

Their wardrobe was made of psychedelic cotton or cheesecloth. Loose comfortable caftan tops with braiding and flared pants. They also wore happy-beads around their neck. They gaily painted their VW Kombi or Bongo Vans - which were homes to some, in psychedelic colours and patterns too, the colours seen on one of their ‘trips’. ‘Bubble writing’ adornments also adorned their vehicles with anti-war slogans.

Hippies rejected traditional institutions. They called them The Establishment, Big Brother and The Man. They believed that the dominant mainstream culture was corrupt and inherently flawed, and sought to replace it with their idea of a Utopian society – a perfect world.

Their public demonstrations against National Service Conscriptions were supported by placards reading ‘MAKE LOVE – NOT WAR’ drawn in flourishes of colourful bubble and flowers were as common place, as their wardrobe. Back then, citizens had the right to demonstrate outside Parliament House in Brisbane, or march down the streets in a protest - if it was believed that the government were being unjust.

Government conscriptions into National Service for twenty year old males for the Vietnam War came twice yearly. Ballots were conducted for males with corresponding birthdays and were recruited via an official letter. The ‘draftee’ was then required to attend an appointment with a medical and intelligence test into their capital city.

This had been going on for two years when my brother Chris was called up for ‘Nasho Service’ just after his twentieth birthday. My dad – was an ex-commando of WW2 and had fought for the entire duration of it – six years. Doing his tour and coming home for Rest and Relaxation and then signing up for an additional stint in another area of the forces. Dad wanted to qualify for a War Service loan so he could buy mum a home – the home I was born in to.

John like dad, had a brilliant mind, and would stay working at the Telegraph as a typesetter (guys who set up the printing machines by placing the letters backwards) until he enlisted for the Vietnam War in 1967. At the age of twenty-eight and a father of three, he joined the Army as a silk screener – or map maker in Vietnam. John had hoped to be able to qualify for a War Service home loan for his wife and family, just like dad.

To say that Chris was concerned about his impending appointment with the Army would be incorrect. He wanted to do his bit like dad and John, but he was more indecisive. Chris attended his early morning interview as directed by his official letter, and into Victoria Army Barracks in Brisbane city for his pre-enlistment appointment.

Late that afternoon around tea time, Chris arrived home off the bus, smiling and very pleased with himself. What happened we all asked – are you in. When do you leave? Chris began to relate to us all the details of his appointment and what had transpired.

Chris was of average weight and was 181cms tall and very strong. He had passed his physical with flying colours. But when given the intelligence exam, he failed dismally because of the head accident he had as a small child which affected his comprehension.

I believe that was the only time in his life, that Chris was ever grateful for being dense - he had dodged a bullet and he knew it!

* * * * *

Chapter 2: My Friend Vaunie

It was back in 1964 and two years earlier when I first met Vaunie. Vaunie was fourteen when we first met. She was attractive, 166cms tall, slightly over average build and busty. She had mid brown shoulder length hair and hazel eyes, which were framed by brown circular lens spectacles – just like the ones her dad wore.

A local girl Donna, who was Vaunie’s school friend – used to regularly tell Vaunie about this good looking guy who lived around the corner from her. Eventually, when Vaunie’s curiosity got the better of her, she asked Donna to take her meet ‘this hunk’ that had captured Donna’s heart and mind.

That hunk was my big brother Chris, who was eighteen and five years older than me. It