George William Allen CRAMPTON (jnr)

m

Emma Jane Annabella STONE

However George knew little of this, and only with the move to Eugowra did he realize 'Newlands' would never he part of his future, but always his roots.

Working on farms in the Eugowra district as a farmhand, fencing, bagging, hay stacking and timber cutting, George developed into a toughened, six footer which aided him in his football days. He excelled at Rugby ' the game made in Heaven', though years later when his son was playing Australian Rules football, he said ' I wouldn't walk across the road to watch a game of Rugby today.' It is a pity he wasn't around to see the dramatic changes that turned it into a faster, free flowing game.

At this time giant, concrete wheat silos were springing up along railway lines throughout New South Wales and George was party of the team that was building these.

The teams would go into a town and set up their tents in the rail yards and then proceed to build the silos, whilst the wives and children tried to carry out their normal routines. Thelma was in 21 schools throughout her school years. This not only highlights the traumas that she would have faced as a 'silo kid' but it illustrates the speed which the silos were built. No pre-mix concrete, pumps or prepared reinforced steel in those days

Quandialla - 'that's' where I got chicken pox and Dad caught it too' ; 'that's where Colin stood on my celluloid doll and Mum used the pieces to start the camp fires. I never had a doll after that'. Euabalong - ' that's where the teacher washed Colin's mouth out with soap and water for swearing, because Trotsky Power told her he had. Colin belted him after school' ' Trotsky (Stan)'s old man must have been a communist, for him to have that nickname.'

Colin arrived 19th April 1933, and what an arrival it must have been for Emma, 12lbs (5.33kgs) and at 6 months he was 28 lbs(12.44kgs), but this didn't slow him down. I suppose if you have dirt floors you would soon learn to stand.

In the mid 30's there was a lull in the erection of silos and George took to trapping rabbits and shopping foxes. Boy could he trap and couldn't Thelma whistle up those foxes.

Using a whistle, made by her Mum, from a 'Log Cabin' tobacco tin lid, she would sit up on a rise and whistle them within shooting range for her Dad. For those ignorant in the art of fox whistling, the noise emitted was similar to the squeal of a rabbit caught in a trap. One day whilst they were concentrating on the lower ground spreading before them, a fox came up behind the tree where Thel was sitting. Dead fox!

" Told you, you can't play football, if you get injured how will we feed the kids"

" Oh Em" "

"Don't oh Em me"

"Well if I can't play football, you can't play tennis" and proceed to demolish her tennis racquet against the verandah post.

Calmly Em took in the scene, a soon to be deflated George, standing truimphantly with the broken racquet and without a trace of anger, she turned and returned to the kitchen with a quiet " Well that was stupid, now you will have to buy another one". And he did. She who must be obeyed.

Just 10 months apart Edgar & Beryl went everywhere together, however within a few years they ceased to exist. At one of the many towns the family called home in Victoria, a neighbour reckoned they looked like a couple of pikkininies (little aboriginal children) running around and rechristened them 'Ginny & Timmy'.

1939 saw the silo team head to Victoria, the first of William's descendant to set foot in Victoria since the 1860's

The schedule in Victoria included:-

Rainbow, where Tim contracted a heriditary form of paralysis (though no other relative has ever contracted it) which the doctor said ' ...it's his teeth! and the team also constructed the Lalbert towers.

Muroa, Jeparit,

South Melbourne, where the family lived in a terrace house in Kerford Sth, South Melbourne, what luxury, and Tim decide to do a balancing act on the first floor window ledge.

Boort & Cannie Ridge,

Ultima where Tim got strychine out of a tin and smeared it around his mouth. Talk about cat's lives. And it was here that Thelma left school and worked at Nind's General store.

Kerang & Dunolly, where the team was all packed to head for the next town when someone said 'Where's Timmy?" Under the house, in empty drums, in open pits, old tanks, they looked every. His mother decided to take another look in the house; opening the broom cupboard a cheeky little 4 year old popped out with a " hahaha , you couldn't find me."

Ultima. Family lived at Woorineen and George rode his single gear bike back and forth each day; 16 miles one way.

In 1944 the family moved to Rutherglen which was to be there last move and after the completion of Yarrawonga, there were no more silos.

This was always the fate of the waiting wife throughout history.

In the late 1940's when Tim was working at Buscall's Summer Cafe, and his father working on the Kiewa Hydro Electric scheme, he received telephone call to urgently get his mother to the telephone.

This time it was George who was injured. His eye lost with a nail rebounding from green timber.

In the late 1960's they shifted to Kyneton where Emma became a carer for her Aunty Em Joyce.

George was a great gardener, his roses without comparison in Kyneton and there was never a day that fresh vegetables came from the garden.

He was awarded a life membership of the Kyneton Historical Society for his work at the Museum, across the road from their house.

As Tim tell's it:

" Being a cocky teenager who considered himself a good billiard player, I was looking for a game at Jackie O'Keefe's Billiad Saloon, in Rutherglen, and with no one inside I decided to see if there was anyone passing by. Lo and behold, Dad was passing. Never having seen him play nor knowing whether he could, I challenged him to a game.

'No'

'Come on, 100 up'

'Oh... okay'

I broke. My first shot. My last shot.

100 up, Dad racked his cue and left the Saloon.

I never saw him play billiards again.

He had nothing more to prove."

" Having come home from a euchre(cards), Mum let forth about the cakes, supper being a big part of the evening, and especially those of Mrs T.

' I don't know how she every wins prizes at the Show. I wouldn't feed her stuff to the pigs!'

Naturally we couldn't let her go unchallenged.

'Go on Mum, you show her, you enter'

'What for? anybody that knows how to cook could beat her stuff'

'Go on Mum','Go on Mum'

Weeks of nagging and the cooking started.

13 entries, from sponges, to fruit cake to home made butter.

Result 12 first prizes.

She never entered again. Why should she. She had nothing more to prove and besides, food was for eating, for the best judges, her family, to eat.

Oh, which one didn't she win.

Fruit cake.

My wife makes the most beautiful, rich fruit cake and me, being the inconsiderate bastard that I am ( I don't believe that but you will), when offered a piece of Mum's fruit cake would reply, ' No thank's Mum, I only eat Marj's fruit cake.'

But I like to think she took it as all good fun."

He died of cancer on 2nd Oct 1978.

Emma lived on at Kyneton till the 1990's when she moved back to Rutherglen due to failing health, caused in part by an inexperienced driver going through a Stop sign, and hitting her car when she was delivering Meals on wheels. This combined with diabetes which resulted in the loss of a leg made it necessary for her to enter a nursing home.

Determined to be near her George she returned to Kyneton, and despite her frailness, her determination saw her travel to Melbourne for her grandson, Stephen's marriage, just five months before she passed away on 22nd Oct 1997,lucid and determined to the very end; she was 'The Matriach'.

Emma was buried beside George at the Kyneton cemetery.

The following is the Eulogy to a non descendant of William Crampton, however it is included as she was my Mum...Tim C

27 October 1997                                                                                        

I won't tell you Nan's life story. You know that already. But what was it about this frail old woman that makes people want to travel half way around the world to say goodbye?

Each of the generations here remembers Nan differently. The photo on the order of service shows her children's memory of a Mum - hard at work. As one of her grandchildren I remember her as a big, warm Nan, in an apron, the kettle on the woodstove and all the time in the world. Uncle Timmy claims she was always able to calm the most overwrought child. Her great grandchildren remember her as a very old lady - Somone to cuddle and talk to.

Aunty Thelma's memories of Nan go back well over 60 years to the thirties and a country in the depression. Like the Drover's Wife from the reading Nan struggled to raise her family.

When Pop went into the bush to trap rabbits to support his family, Nan packed up and camped out with him. Nan and Pop lived through hard times, but they stayed together and raised a family. They had their rows, but you can tell when people love each other and Nan and Pop loved each other. They lived in many towns and many houses and camps.

My earliest memories are from the early 60's of Nan and Pop in the cafe in Rutherglen serving us ice creams and milk shakes.

When I was 7 or 8 Dad was in hospital. As always Nan was there to help and she came to look after us. At one stage Nicholas told her she wasn't the boss of him and couldn't tell him what to do. He soon found out that she was and she could.

Nan and Pop moved to Kyneton when Aunty Em was old and it was here that they could finally do the things that they enjoyed. Nan contributed to the community and became a life member of Kyneton's Elderly Citizens and she and Pop played cards each week at the Club. Nan played Euchre and 500 with us, but Crib was the grown-ups game and you knew you were grown up when as a teenager you were allowed to sit around the table in the dining room and join in.

They had their own favourites in what became a show garden. Pop loved his famous roses and when he died Nan cared for them for him. Even when it meant watering them from a wheelchair that sometimes tipped over. And in the end Kyneton was Nan's home and she came back to Kyneton to come home.

Memories of Nan often seem to come back to food. Cooking was an important part of her life and she was a good cook.

It was Nan's mastery in the kitchen that made her the boss there. Make no mistake - she ruled the kitchen with an iron rod. And Pop and the rest of us wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

There was an apple pie in the oven for every visit and one to take home. Breakfast was bacon and eggs fried in dripping. There was nothing new age or politically correct about Nan's cooking - her food tasted good. When she visited she came loaded with Apple pies, lamingtons and jelly cakes. And when Pop's strawberries were in season there was strawberry jam. Christmas was roast pork, roast lamb and roast turkey and a plum pudding big enough for her children, their wives and husbands and all of her grandchildren. The children had a separate table of course. She sent us the recipe in England because I couldn't imagine what Christmas would be like without her pudding.

She was a strong woman and until the last year's of her life Nan was physically strong as well. When she was 70 Dad and Uncle Timmy were showing off with high kicking feats. She brushed them aside and kicked the top of the doorway. That nonsense out of the way it was back to the kitchen.

Early in her 70's - it must have been 1977 - she was delivering meals on wheels for the "poor old things" when an unlicensed driver crashed into her. Her strength pulled her through her time in hospital, but suddenly we realised that Nan was an old lady. She hid the frailty as best she could.

The apple pies were still there and she didn't slow down, but a lot of the physical strength had been stolen from her.

She'd have none of this though. When the woodman delivered her a load of easy to split soft logs she complained that he was taking advantage of a poor old pensioner and saving all of the good redgum for his other customers. The woodshed was an almost magical place as a child where you would go and help Pop to cut wood and marvel at the dusty treasures and sharp tools. As Nan got older each visit would start with a quick hello then it was off to the woodshed to cut up your quota of wood. That finished, it was back to the kitchen for coffee, cake, biscuits and a chat. When the cut wood ran out Nan would struggle up and cut it up herself.

What was it about this woman that made people love her so much? Her children, her grandchildren and her great grandchildren.

One reason was that each of us was her favourite. She would make whoever was with her feel that they were special. All of her new family members from Ian to Wan Li were made to feel just as special as the rest of us and Nan became their Nan.

She liked to talk and sitting in the kitchen and the dining room in Piper Street she was a good listener too.

Later when she'd lost her physical - strength you didn't notice when you were sitting there on the end of the bed talking to her. She was still the same as ever.

She was interested in our lives and what we had to tell her. Nan could always be relied upon to keep us up to date with the goings on of other family members.

I asked one of my children why they loved her and the answer was simple. Because she was nice. She was a kind old lady. She liked to talk and I liked talking with Nan about me and her and she smiled a lot.

Can you think why she was special? "No. Just because she was."

And when I asked what he would tell you if he were up here instead of me, that was simple as well. "I'd just tell them that I loved her."

And to the matriarch of her extended family I guess that that's what I've been trying to say.

Goodbye Nan.

We love you.