As Frank had lived such an exciting life, I had  the idea to create a website for him and kept a journal which now comes in handy.

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I’ll try to recall the daily conversation we had together, where we surprisingly never ran out of interesting conversation themes. Usually we were sitting on the veranda gazing at our beloved Lake Munmorah, admiring the different moods of the lake and enjoying a glass of wine before lunch or the customary whisky with water at 5 pm sharp.

 

For me this was quite a new experience, but I took to this pace of life like a duck to water, especially, once I acquired the taste of whisky. But there were rules; one would never ever have more than two glasses. 

           

Frank taught me a lot of things, including that I should enjoy life without looking back on the day and feel guilty if I could not show how productive I had been. A totally new outlook  for me.

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He introduced me to politics; a subject I always shied away from and also to religion or rather atheism.  He encouraged me to write letters to the Sydney Morning Herald voicing my opinion and "woe and behold" some of them even got published.

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I learned to play scrabble and can report that at times I was able to beat him. Needless to say he never lived down those occasions.

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I learned the most important thing in "navy talk": It’s a "ship" ..............and not a "boat". I met a whole generation of wonderful "old salts", all with their traditional values, appreciations and courtesies towards women. They all made me feel very special and welcomed me with open arms. As a professional counsellor I was very angry that they had to cope with their horrific war experiences on their own without any official support.  It’s only since the Vietnam war that this has been addressed.

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Frank was the most wonderful husband a woman could ever wish for. I cherished every moment we spent together. A cancer operation made any time we had together even more special.

 

There was one subject Frank failed miserably though. He tried and tried, but could not get me interested in cricket or for that matter, not in any sport. Even the threat of being bashed over the head with a cricket bat could not produce any interest.  Mind you, I do know now who Bradman is, and lately the name of Shane Warne seem to stick.

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Another subject he only half succeeded was classical music.  Previously I never had time or the opportunity to listen to classical music, but I learned to appreciate some violin concertos and most definitely enjoyed visits to the Sydney Opera house listening to Emma, Frank’s grandniece, playing the flute.

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Emma, Frank’s grandniece seemed to have inherited his mother’s and sister's talent. She is the senior flutist in the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and Frank had the thrill of hearing her play in Tchaikovsky’s No 1 Piano Concerto, where the second movement begins with a solo part for the flute, and he was euphoric at the thought that it was part of his own flesh and blood that was sounding those crystal-clear notes in the Sydney Opera House.

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Coming back to various conversations, one always gives me the giggles. Frank could   never understand the need for a new dress, hairdo, make-up or other female things.  He never objected, but just remarked it must be a "silly bloody hat syndrome" which originated, when he was staying with his sister and brother-in-law in St Ives and his sister came home with a new hat.  With the blunt frankness that brothers have with sisters, he said: “That’s a silly bloody hat.” Marcia replied: “Frank, you don’t understand women. Sometimes women have to go out and buy a silly bloody hat".

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Frank was crazy about pugs. They even came before cricket!!!!!.  At times we would “baby-sit” the two pugs of some friends when they had to go away on business.  As I was crazy about Great Danes, we compromised of having no dogs at all.

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