Memoir by: Andrew Joseph (Joe) Carseldine (Grandson, April 1914-July 2011)
Sarah Agnes Carseldine nee: Protheroe (13-3-1856 to 16-8-1929)
My grandparents. Joseph and Sarah Agnes Carseldine (nee Protheroe) lived at `Fairfield’, Bald Hills, the family farm where Joseph’s parents, William and Mary Ann Carseldine had settled in 1858.
Grandpa died suddenly on 5th June 1919 from influenza. After the end of World War I, an influenza epidemic swept Europe causing many deaths, it was said as many as were killed in the War. Australian troops returning from the war brought it to Australia, Grandpa being one of the victims.
Then on 2ndApril 1920, Uncle Vern (Vernon David Carseldine, born 10.10.1896) was tragically drowned at Bribie Island together with Wallace McCallum, and Eric Beer. This left Grandma with no male to help run the farm. My father, Percy James Carseldine (27.2.1889 – 29.6.1964) a blacksmith by trade, decided to leave his trade and take over the working of the farm.
Our family had been living in Flower Street, Northgate and we moved to ‘Fairfield,’ Bald Hills (then a rural, mostly dairying area 11 miles north of Brisbane) in October 1920. I can well remember the movement that day. Two men arrived at the Northgate house with an open wagon drawn by two horses and loaded our possessions. Dad, Mum and we three kids, me (Joe), Harold and Vern (who was then 4 months old) preceded them in our horse and sulky.
From then on, our family settled down to farm life. Dad running the farm, and Mum and Grandma running the household.
One of Grandma’s interests was the vegetable garden, from which we had a constant supply of seasonal vegetables throughout the year. We also had fruit trees growing; peaches, ordinary white fleshed and china flats, guavas, Seville oranges, bush lemons, and persimmons. Grandma was an excellent cook. She made a variety of jams, pickles, and chutney, so the pantry was always well stocked. I can still remember the taste of her Steamed Peach Puddings! She would line an enamel basin with pastry, add peaches and sugar and cover with pastry top and then she would steam cook it. Another of her specialities was Pumpkin Pie, which was just as delicious as the Peach Pudding. Her scones made from buttermilk were another unforgettable delicacy
Each year the Church would hold a Fete, which included cooking and needlework competitions, and about 1923 I was reading through the various categories of the competition, when I noticed that the prize for a plate of scones, was the princely sum of two shillings and sixpence (25 cents today).
So, I asked grandma would she show me how to make scones, and she agreed. Things went smoothly and the scones came out of the oven beautifully cooked, and I started to go outside thinking my job was finished. Grandma asked,
“Where are you going Joe?”
“Oh, I’ve made the scones I’m going out to play,” I replied.
“Oh no you’re not” said Grandma, “The cooking isn’t finished until the dishes are washed up!”. However, `my’ scones won first prize, and I felt like a millionaire.
When the pie melon season arrived, it was time to make a stock of melon and lemon jam. We would sit round the kitchen table and night, Grandma and Mum cutting up the melon, and Harold, my next younger brother and I were recruited to take out all the seeds from the melon. Then the prepared fruit was left overnight together with the lemon seeds in a cloth bag, so that the pectin would infuse throughout. Next day it would be cooked, cooled, and bottled, with melted bees wax being poured over the top of each jar to preserve it.
While Mum was preparing dinner at night, Grandma would bath us. Vern, number two brother, was always a problem at bath time, Grandma would have to fight him to remove his clothes for the bath, then he would refuse to get into the bath. Then, after finishing the bath, he would refuse to get out. Grandma always won!
One thing I always looked forward to, was Grandma reading story books to Harold and me, after we got into bed. There was no electricity in those days, so she would read to us by candlelight, such books as David Copperfield, Treasure Island, Children of the New Forest. She would read a chapter to us each night, and I think this was the main stimulant to my lifetime love of literature.
When the cows produced more milk than could be sold, Dad would separate the milk and send the cream to Caboolture Butter Factory but retain enough to make our own butter. Grandma always supervised the butter making. Each Saturday morning, Harold and I were given the job of turning the handle of the churn to make the butter. After the butter was made, Grandma would work it by hand until all the buttermilk was removed, and the salt added as a preservative. Scones would then be made from the buttermilk.
As the dairy herd increased, Dad had to build a new milk room to house the milk cooler and cream separator. Grandma’s younger brother, Uncle Charlie Protheroe was a builder, so Dad had him build it. As he and his family lived at Eight Mile Plains, on the southern side of Brisbane, transport was a problem, so he stayed with us for about a fortnight while building the new dairy. He smoked a pipe, one of the foulest smelling pipes one could imagine, which he loaded with strong dark plug tobacco. When he wanted to light up, Grandma would chase him out of the house to the wood heap, where he would sit on the chopping block and tell us kids tall stories.
Grandma had a friend Miss Matilda McIntyre (Aunty Tilly) an elderly Irish lady who lived somewhere in Brisbane, she would visit occasionally and stay for a few days to a week at a time. She could neither read nor write. She is shown in the photograph with Grandma, peeling the potatoes. This was taken by Uncle Vern about 1914. A pet sheep we had in the early twenties, for some reason took a dislike to Aunty Tilly. The earth closet in those days (being the dunny) was situated in the backyard some distance from the house. Whenever Aunty Tilly visited it, the sheep would be waiting at the door when she opened it to come out. She would call out “Joseph, Joseph, come and catch ta `sheap’”
After a few occurrences of this, when she got the call to visit the dunny, Mum would come to tell Harold and me to tie up the sheep, but somehow or other, the sheep would not be tied very effectively – and the inevitable call would come – “Joseph, Joseph etc”. From then on, the instruction would be to lock the sheep up, not tie it.
Grandma had a lifelong friendship with Mrs.Skerman, and I can remember about 1927 Dad driving the T-Ford, with all the family aboard to Skerman’s house for Grandma to spend a week with them. The Skermans had come to Queensland in 1867 and settled on the North Pine River and established a dairy farm there. David Protheroe and family arrived in Brisbane from Wales in 1871 and selected land adjacent to Skerman’s property, thereby becoming neighbours.
Grandma could speak the Welsh language fluently, and wanted to teach me, but callow youth that I was, refused. This was a decision I have often regretted.
All her life she suffered from attacks of asthma, some severe enough to keep her bedridden for a few days at a time. I remember her telling Mum once that she wouldn’t wish it on a dog.
Although Fairfield was her home, she would spend short periods with other members of her family. She was with her eldest daughter Alice Neville when she contracted her last illness and died on 16thAugust 1929. She was buried in the family plot at Bald Hills Cemetery (Bracken Ridge)
The best Grandma anyone could ever have.
Grandma (left) and Aunty Tilly
Family in Model T Ford 1927 before conversion to Milk Van
Photos at “Fairfield