On Anzac Day

People probably don't now that I am quite an emotional person - you may not see me cry but I do frequently.  Anzac Day is one day that always brings tear to my eyes.  Today I chose to ride my bike to the Beachmere celebration.  As I watched those that were marching the few hundred meters from near the Uniting Church on Moreton Ave, to the memorial area on the corner of Beachmere Road, the tears came fogging up my glasses.  I hadn't seen much more than the police and SES folk manning the roadway.  I could see the military vehicle which was to lead the procession, and the horse.

The horse was a gentle horse that didn't mind posing for photos with children, and stood silently throughout the service, though I noted he "rested" each leg occasionally.

The horse's name is "Tom".

There are a whole range of things that "set me off" crying.  Marching/military music is one - I do love listening to it, and I recall as a Girl Guide how I enjoyed marching to the music.  I do think of the events of all the wars - at the moment I remember that just under 99 years ago, my mother was born.  She will celebrate her 100th birthday the same year that the centenary of Gallipoli is celebrated, should she survive that long.

I also think of my father - who is no longer with us.  Both my parents were in the forces when they met in 1943.  My dad didn't talk much about his army life - except in the very latter years.  His story is rather strange as he was posted to Alice Springs and worked in a camp with the US services.  He tells that he and others were struck with serious dystentary and they were transferred out to a military hospital in Melbourne.  His story is that the food and sewerage were transported on the same truck - food came into the camp and the sewerage shipped out - and if true, it would not be surprising that dysentary resulted.  He was discharged as unfit for service as at that time he had expected to do overseas service.  The next day he re enlisted - but was not permitted to leave Australia.  He was always angry about this.
My father  Colin Watson, is on the far right.  

My mother, Joyce (Ragless) Watson
I came home and baked some Anzac Biscuits and took some into my neighbour.  Here is a story on the history of these biscuits.  History of Anzac Biscuits.

Di’s Recipe

110 gms butter or margarine
1 tablespoon golden syrup
2 tablespoons boiling water 
1 ½ teaspoons bicarbonate of soda
1  ½ cup rolled oats
1 cup of plain flour
1 cup sugar

(the real recipe has coconut in it, but I don't like coconut)

Melt butter and golden syrup in a saucepan on the stove on gentle heat, then add boiling water and bicarbonate of soda.  Pour into mixed dry ingredients and mix well. Put teaspoon of mixture onto greased tray,   Bake in slow oven (150 degrees) for 20 minutes until golden brown.  Store in airtight container when cool.


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