Dorothy was born in Auckland in 1921.
She started school at Woodhill, a few miles south of Helensville — two teachers in those days. We walked to school mainly — across flats (which flooded), over a very hard-case swing bridge across the river, over the railway line by the station, and then over the main road to the school.
The road into our house came over a traffic bridge, downstream quite a distance. You then came back up the main road to the school, the railway station and a small store. We had a black horse called Dick and a very cranky Shetland pony — I can’t remember its name — which we used to ride.
Don had started Secondary School at Helensville. I think he went up on the train, which was a very important means of transport.
We came to Taipuha — in 1927, I think — on the train. Dorothy sat on my precious collection of birds’ eggs on the way up from the station to the house.
There was no electricity and about one mile of metal road up from the station in those days.
School was in the hall — I think 10 kids — I was the only boy in 1928. Mrs Fraser was the teacher. For many years the railway was the only reliable transport. Cream was carted per Tommy Heatherington to the station from Ruarangi by two-horse carriage. All livestock was driven to the rail. Everybody had pigs, in those days of skim milk, and getting baconers over the bridges took the whole district, and a lot of skill, patience and at times brute strength.
Dorothy’s first horse was a pony that Dad won by guessing its weight at Paparoa A&P show. When he went to some do I was taken down to Paparoa to ride it home. It took hours, it was only half broken, and I had a terrible job getting it over the bridges to Mareretu. That pony and I never became friends. At a later date it put me in hospital in Whangārei for a fortnight.
Dorothy was always keen on horses and riding at the shows. She played hockey, quite well I understand, at high school.
Dad started killing sheep in the 1930s in a Depression that seemed to go on forever. He then built a slaughterhouse and butcher shop, and killed cattle and pigs as well. 90% of the meat was delivered [not sold in the shop]. There was a big relief camp in Taipuha for quite some years — 80 men in it. They ate a lot of meat. Dorothy would’ve helped in that operation. Cattle were bought — at the Waiotira and Paparoa Sales, and privately — for many years, all driven to their destination. She and her horses would have been in on that.
It must have helped when Cliff became the local butcher. Her local knowledge and experience must’ve been a better grounding than working in the Post Office.
I went to work at Papatoetoe at the end of 1935, so I lost touch with goings on at Taipuha.
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