This (shipboard) life

I was almost four years old when we migrated from England in 1952 as Ten Pound Poms.

‘I was almost four years old when we migrated from England in 1952 as Ten Pound Poms.’

I was almost four years old when we migrated from England in 1952 as “Ten Pound Poms”. We sailed to Tasmania, as my father had a job waiting­ for him on a farm there. It would undoubtedly­ have come as a shock to my mother­, who had lived in London all her life.

I had always been a very independent child but, for some reason, on the journey out I ­became a real pain as far as eating was ­concerned.

Children ate at a ­different time from the adults. Maybe it was the large dining room with hundreds of other children and the clatter and noise that freaked me out, but I had gone from eating everything given to me to being really fussy when we were on the ship.

Of course, parents went down with their children to supervise. I did not want to eat anything­ unless Mum had cooked it.

So Mum’s ­solution was to speak to the stewards­ and she went to where the galley was and brought out my food, pretending she had cooked it. At the time, I was oblivious to this ruse.

My brother, who was four years older than me, made friends on the voyage and ­explored all over the ship. They made friends with some of the crew who gave them treats. I wanted to be one of them but all I became was an annoying younger sister and I couldn’t ­always keep up.

They delighted in teasing me and running away and hiding from me, then jumping out and laughing when I became confused and upset. However, their favourite way of upsetting me was to pretend to throw my hat or other possessions­ overboard, and then when I cried and stamped my foot they would produce it and laugh at me for being a sook.

One beautiful, sunny day on the voyage we passed the Cocos-Keeling Islands and many people were on deck to watch. My brother was standing with his friends by the rail and I was there with them, as usual, with all the parents standing just ­behind us.

All of a sudden one of David’s friends whipped the hat off my head and pretended to throw it overboard, as they had done many times before.

Well, it must have been the last straw for me because as quick as a flash I grabbed his hat and threw it with all my might over the rails, and said: “Well yours has gone too!”

Everyone watched as it gently glided down to the water and bobbed playfully on the waves. The culprit then sheepishly returned my hat, althoug­h his hat really had gone for good.

I did not get into trouble; I think all the adults felt that he deserved it. But the result was that they didn’t tease me after that.

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