THE FARM AT PRESTON
– (By Eileen Costigan, with some updating by Adrian Costigan)

James Christopher Costigan and Johanna Sullivan were married in newly-erected Sacred Heart Church, Preston (then part of the Clifton Hill parish and later the Northcote parish) on October 24th, 1894, and lived at first in Station Grove (now Claude St.) Northcote, where Mary Ursula was born on 20/12/1895. After several moves they took a dairy produce shop in Rae St. Fitzroy with James delivering similar goods with a horse and covered cart, where they stayed until 1906, and where the boys were born- Joseph Aloysius on April 30th, 1899; Francis Eugene on December 16th, 1902, and Eugene Ignatius on June 15th, 1905. These births in Fitzroy account for the loyalty of Frank and the girls to Fitzroy Football club, and as well the Sullivan twins had played football in the district.

In 1906 when Eugene and Lil Costigan/Sullivan went to Boranbola (N.S.W.) and left the Gower St. farm vacant, Grandfather Sullivan asked James and Johanna to live on the farm, where they took up residence in October 1906. They had a few cows, grew crops, and pastured some animals on agistment. In the following January, Kathleen Veronica was born, and on June 14th, 1909, Eileen Agnes. When Winifred Margaret was about to be born, Johanna was able to go to Nurse Hooper’s laying-in hospital in Darebin Rd., Thornbury, where Winnie arrived on April 19th, 1911, and Anne Monica on September 1st, 1912.

Mary and Joe attended a small private school, Mrs. Wayman’s Academy in North Fitzroy, until the Good Samaritans came to St. Brigid’s, where they attended until the move to Preston- where all were pupils at Sacred Heart school and where their young nephews starting school many years later, found photographs of scholarship-winning aunts displayed as inspiration on the walls of the school’s entrance hall.

Eugene and Mary Sullivan lived on the corner of Plenty Rd. and Gower St.- a large property running through to South St.- four blocks in all. The house- an extended version of the small timber house from the farm- faced Plenty Rd., the corner blocks being an orchard and vegetable garden, while behind the house was a large yard with fowl pens, clothes line etc..

Eugene continued his interest in the farm, visiting it almost every day and making his main job the trimming of the high box-thorn hedges which ran along the Gower St. frontage and the western boundary of the northern section, and down the ‘lane’ of the other section. Each section consisted of two 10-acre blocks, i.e., 40 acres in all, although at one time another 40 acres were owned- running further north to Wood St.-but this part was sold during the ‘land boom! and the money therefrom lost in the ‘bursting of the boom’ and the closing of the banks during the eighteen-nineties. At Plenty Rd. Grandfather had a large vegetable garden with many fruit trees growing in it as well, and he kept himself busy tending this garden together with his work on the farm. As he grew older he could be found most afternoons sitting in the woodshed smoking his pipe with Mickey the dog close by. After Grandma Sullivan’s death in 1912, Auntie Kate, the eldest of the Sullivan daughters, gave up her job as a priest’s housekeeper and came home to look after her father and youngest brother, William, who, however, married Florence Dowling on 2nd August 1913 and went to live in a single-fronted house in Gower St., one of a pair built and owned by Grandfather next to O’Connor’s. The land on which these houses were built was part of a large area that had been bought as a site for the church that Preston parish was to have. Eventually another site, the one in Bell St., was bought and the church built there. This left the Gower St. land unoccupied and some of the parishioners, especially Eugene Sullivan and Mickey O’Connor, bought several blocks and built houses on it- the O’Connor boys were builders. Previously they had a farm further down Gower St. from the Sullivan farm.

Actually, the main farms in Gower St. had been in the hands of the Walsh, Sullivan, Leahy (2 families), O’Connor, O’Keefe and Lynch families. However, the farms changed hands over the years, the O’Keefe’s dying and their children moving away; some of the Walsh connections going farming at Poowong in Gippsland, the Lynch’s dying and their house being burnt down (I remember that night. Great was the excitement!), and the O’Connors moving to their new house. Another family who had some land fronting Gower St. was the Healy family whose house fronted Patterson Street- the only house I ever was in that had an earth floor in the kitchen. There they lived- four ‘boys’ and Ellen- “boys” even though they lived on to their nineties. They also farmed a large area running west from the creek between Wood St. and Murray Road.

Next to the Sullivan farm was Walsh’s where they produced milk, continuing to run a milk round and sell milk at the dairy until the 1930’s. Their land was in three sections- one, with the house, dairy and sheds, next to the Sullivans, the houses not very far apart; another on the opposite side of the road nearer to Plenty Rd. actually up to Patterson St., and the third, further down the road opposite Leahy’s and backing up on the Lynch’s. The two Leahy blocks were small- possibly 5 acres each- the land had been sold originally in 10 acre blocks- hence all the farms were in multiples of 10, acquired section by section.

When Eugene Sullivan’s wife, Elizabeth (Lil) Costigan, died in 1913, their children were brought to Grandfather’s and Auntie Kate looked after them, Eddie being only a twelve-months old baby. When Uncle Eughie married Auntie Alice (some time after the death of Auntie Lil), Jack and Eughie (“Mickey” – who died in 1995), went to live with them at Wagga, while Auntie Kate kept Kathleen until she had finished school at Sacred Heart, Preston, and Eddie until he was a young man when, unable to get work in Preston, he also went to his father at Wagga.

Life on the farm in Gower Street went along fairly well-worn paths- ploughing, sowing crops, harvesting . A neighbouring farmer, Alan Black, did most of this work, while 3-4 cows were always in milk to supply the Costigans, Sullivans, the nuns and Father O’Grady of Sacred Heart (who would drink no other milk!), to the great disgust of the young Costigans who had to carry the billy of milk to the Presbytery and home again every day- a hated task especially when Fr. O’Grady sooled his ferocious dog on to bark wildly at the little girls, who were also used as messengers to the neighbours. It was more disconcerting when one had finished confession to be told “Tell Mrs. Walsh and Mrs. Healy I’ll be bringing Holy Communion tomorrow morning.”

James Costigan carried on his dairy produce round to supply an income for his family. He always had two horses, used on alternate days- always named Tommy and Nelly. Horses came and horses went, but the one in the inner stall was always Tommy and the other Nellie, no matter what! His cart was an enclosed wagon on four wheels, and great was the honour and joy on a school holiday to be given a day out riding with Dad, and visiting the convents and presbyteries and other customers and warehouses- Blackham’s and Holdenson and Neilson’s- where the weekly supplies of butter etc. were loaded into the cart and brought home. They were stacked in the “butter room” and, each night after he’d had his meal, James would cut the butter into one-pound and half-pound pats, and one of the young girls would stamp them with a special wooden cut-out stamp, wrap the paper around them, and place them on large trays which slid into slots in a large wooden cupboard in the back of the cart. In summer wet bags were spread over and round the cupboard to help keep the goods firm enough to handle.

Frequently on a Monday morning James would go off in the dray to Bradshaw’s paddock in Bundoora to cut down a tree and bring home firewood. During the holidays we went along sometimes to help pick up the wood and load the dray. The wood supply had to be kept up for cooking and washing and heating purposes. Every evening wood had to be brought inside by one of us and the wood box and chip tin had to be kept full.

The out-house or “parliament house” or “Auntie’s” was situated quite a distance from the house. A bricked path led to it past the small fowl/chicken pen. It was under a big peppercorn tree with a part fence to give privacy to the door. The container was a deep hole in the ground which was emptied out with a large shovel every week-end and the contents wheeled in a wheelbarrow to the manure or dung-heap out in the little paddock beyond the cow-sheds and out past a row of pepper-corn trees on the west side of the wood-heap.

On a big holiday like New Year’s Day all the things would be taken out of the cart- it would be hosed clean, and stools and up-turned butter boxes would be put in and away we’d go, plus baskets of food and drink, en route to South Melbourne or Albert Park beach, picking up the various relations on the way- Auntie Kate, Kathleen and Eddie from the corner, Auntie Maud (Harper) and her girls and Walter from Dundas St., Thornbury, the Eilers from Archbold St- and great was the fun and picnicking on the beach. Our Dad loved the hot sea-baths, and he and Uncle Michael Harper would walk along to the Middle Park baths where hot baths were available.

Other great outings were when our mother, Johanna, would take one or some of the little girls to Mass and then to Bell station- great excitement to catch a train, at first a steam train, but later an electric one- and off to Collingwood- then the long walk up to Foy’s and the shopping- perhaps new shoes or new clothes, once to Allans to have photos taken of the two little flower-strewers with their be-ribboned socks and baskets and the four girls, all in white dresses, the only non-school dresses, always kept for Sunday-best! In Foy’s Mother knew the shop assistants- after all, her mother had shopped there, and great were the efforts to skilfully engineer the route past the men’s wear- shirts and singlets and underpants, and past the dress materials, to the end of the tunnel that led under Smith Street from one store to the other- for at the end of the tunnel was the sweets department- and a possible purchase of boiled lollies!

Often there’d be a friend of Mother’s shopping in Smith Street that day- Mrs. O’Brien from Templestowe- or some other lady, who’d suggest we all have lunch in Foy’s restaurant where the great dish for us was a hot Foy’s meat pie!

Another stop was made, several times a year, after a cable-car trip to Bourke Street to visit the hair-dresser’s to have our hair trimmed and singed at Barnett’s. The little girls had long plaits of hair and these needed skilled attention from time to time. Of course, there was close attention paid to the heads each week with brush and fine comb so that the heads were never allowed to become dirty or retain “things” picked up at school. After all this the journey home would be by cable tram along Smith Street, and High Street to the Junction at Dundas Street, and then a long walk to Gower Street, though sometimes a call would be made at Harper’s in Dundas Street.

One of the highlights of school life occurred when Eughie, the youngest of the boys, got diphtheria, and we were quarantined. Several times a day we had to breathe in sulphur fumes from a dish of burning sulphur- a horrible experience; throats were examined daily and painted- but this was all compensated for by isolation from school- three whole weeks of holiday for us, marred a little, of course, by the need to do some schoolwork every day, and by the fact that Eughie was very sick in Fairfield Hospital. On the day he came home we were allowed out of school early and ran all the way home to be the first to see him. We thought he was very lucky as he was to be out of school for some considerable time. Mother’s brother, Uncle Tim, was at the time Parish Priest of Wonthaggi, and he took Eughie there with him to recuperate in the real country. I don’t think anyone thought of the coal-dust, for Wonthaggi was a mining town at that time. Mary Harper also had diphtheria, and she came to see us to recuperate- with plenty of milk and cream and fresh air.

Great was the mushroom time, and we actively hated the kids who came into our paddocks and beat us to our mushrooms. Lovely it was to find good mushies and bring them home to put on the top of the stove until they sizzled, and then to lift them off with a fork and pop them hot and juicy into the mouth. Fried mushrooms and mushrooms cooked in milk were favourite dishes.

Home-produced eggs were in plentiful supply for cooking and eating purposes. Hens had to be chased back into the fowl-pen and eggs gathered- a real chore because the hens persisted in seeking odd spots to lay their eggs, even though proper nesting boxes with clean straw and a china egg were provided in the hen-house. But, no! the contrary hens must lay on top of the hay in the hayshed or between the sheaves stacked there, or in the mangers in the stable and so on- anywhere but in the place provided. Frequently a hen would go missing and weeks later would turn up with a trail of chickens behind her- sure proof that someone had skimped on the search for eggs. For years I had the job of looking after the chooks and I hated them and having to put my arm in the dark spaces between the sheaves of hay in the hayshed- the fowls’ favourite laying spot. Whenever a clucky hen appeared it was promptly caught and put in the small chicken-pen- until the clutch was hatched and the chickens were able to take their place in the dangerous world of the paddocks and the fowl pen.

The surroundings of the farm provided great places for playing for the children and their friends – tennis against the brick wall of the house though there was a window halfway along which suffered very much from mis-directed balls. However, Allchin’s could supply the glass to replace the broken panes. As well, other games like hide-and-seek in the sheds, cricket in the big paddock behind the house where a cricket pitch was kept in fair order; tip-cat in the yard- a rather dangerous game hitting a piece of wood sharpened to a point at each end; rounders; alleys or marbles; cherry-stones in a hole; and numerous games that groups of children used to delight in from “Who’s going round my house tonight?”; “Kiss in the Ring”; “Drop the Handkerchief”: to “Oranges and Lemons” and its variant “Heaven, Hell and Purgatory” and so on. On many a moonlit night, especially Sunday night- hardly a Sunday passed without some group of friends or relations arriving- staying to tea- and then even adults would join in these round games. To go to Costigan’s on a Sunday-night after Vespers- Benediction and Rosary- and sing was a common practice. Mary was organist at the church and an excellent accompanist- and we had a piano, which had been purchased on November 13th, 1908, from W. C. Boulton & Co., Importers of Musical Instruments, sole importers of Steinmeyer, Schroeder and Schmidt pianos- a Steinway costing 27 pounds 15 shillings ($55.50); I still have the docket and receipt!

The old house seemed to have “elastic” walls. so often was it the resting place of relatives and their children – the young Coonans from Yea to prepare for the Sacraments until the nuns came to Yea, or when they were recovering from illnesses or down for the Show. We loved that because Uncle Mick Coonan (Auntie Mag Sullivan – Mother’s youngest sister – was married to Michael Coonan, and he was the greatest company and the most generous man we’d ever had anything to do with) would bring us to a day at the Show, a meal at a cafe opposite Spencer Street Station and a night at His Majesty’s at a musical comedy – pure delight for us who never – or hardly ever – were taken to the theatre. I remember my one visit – with Mary and the Martins to “Goody Two-Shoes”, a pantomine. After it I lived in a wonderful new world for weeks!

Another lot of long-staying visitors were Uncle Eddie Sullivan’s family. After Uncle Eughie sold out at Boranbola and went to live in Wagga, and because Uncle Eddie’s children were ready for secondary education, he, too, sold the farm and came to Melbourne, parking himself and Auntie Beat, Winnie, Nellie and Des at our place. It took him months to decide what to do next and where to do it – eventually running a cafe (today a milk bar) – the Clover Tea Rooms on Beach Road, Mentone, opposite the pier. At that time Uncle Tim was the Parish Priest at Mentone, and there was a Brigidine convent there where the three girls were able to attend. When they were at our place, Auntie Beat seemed to consider that music was more value than housewifery. The innermost thoughts of Mother and Mary were not publicly expressed! In spite of everything we enjoyed Auntie Beat – she was great fun.

Winter evenings round the fire were looked forward to, and I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed them, especially when Dad and Uncle Will could be persuaded to recite Banjo Patterson’s poems or Adam Lindsay Gordon’s or some other pieces of ballad poetry. “The Man From Snowy River”, “The Sick Stockrider”, “How we Beat the Favourite” and many another piece were demanded over and over again until the little ones had to be packed off to bed – amid many protests and, often, tears – but there was “school tomorrow”.

Whenever there was an “Appeal” on for the church or school, either a Queen or Prince and Princess carnival or the annual bazaar where our mother always assisted in running the produce stall, Costigan’ s house was the venue for a house party with cards and singing and dancing, raffles and gambling games, and a very fine supper, and a large sum of money to be handed to Father O’Grady as a result. (Probably the last ‘old-time’ Costigan effort for the parish was the 1935 Queen Carnival, when young Adrian Costigan, in his first year at Sacred Heart school under the redoubtable Miss Doran, ‘won’ the Prince contest as the highest male money-raiser and at the grand finale- the school ‘juvenile ball’ in the Preston town hall- was awarded a gold watch: which his father, Joe, wore for many years until his son’s wrist could accommodate it! The Costigan involvement in parish affairs continued until Joe’s death in December 1966 and the family’s final move to East Brighton the next year. )

The old stove was always in use- daily family cooking, scones and cakes by the dozens at week-ends and for church socials and bazaars- one famous week our mother made 43 sponges, each of which would be put on a “wheel” at 3 pence a ticket, 12 tickets per turn of the wheel! Also there were huge quantities of jams and pickles, sauces and relishes made each year, while every evening after dinner the big white enamel milk dishes were put on top of the stove to allow the milk to scald and produce scalded cream, and many cups of hot milk were spooned out of the dishes by scholars busy with homework, the cream being pushed back to get at the milk. (Pat Sullivan and Francie Harper remember fondly the daily baking of scones, cream sponges, pouring cream on fruit cake and hot buttered baked potatoes!- A.C.)

James Costigan was a great man for Mass-going. Whenever possible he went to week-day Mass, and always to two Masses on Sunday morning- driving Mother to 7.30 a.m. Mass, and home again to breakfast, and then off, walking to 10.30 Mass followed by the meeting of the St. Vincent de Paul society, and then late home to dinner- always hot roast dinner on Sunday. After dinner he would frequently take us- Eughie and the girls- for a walk down Gower Street, and across the Darebin Creek over the stepping stones or across the ricketty swing bridge – the boys loving to make it swing while the girls squealed loudly – and thoroughly enjoyed the fun- into Bamfield’s paddocks where we’d look for mushrooms in the season or just stroll along, or at other times just down through Healy’s paddocks to the Creek and back again. As we got older we’d sometimes go with Kath Sullivan as far as More Park, or in the other direction to Kupsch’s in Bell Street. (Nell Sullivan was married to Jack Kupsch), or they’d all be at our place.

At other times Eddie Sullivan and Charlie Pagan and Dan O’Connor would come, and great would be the fun of chasing the cows and calves. On one occasion I remember two of the lads had tied themselves one at each end of a long rope, and when one of the cows turned on them, one went up the paddock, and the other went the opposite way, and some of us fell off the fence laughing.

During the holidays we played outside. If the boys were home the little girls had to “fox” the ball when they played cricket in the paddock behind the house. Occasionally we were allowed to “have a hand”, the boys, to our disgust, always bowling us “grubbers” which would turn and twist and hit the wicket no matter how hard we tried to hit the ball with the bat. We would try to claim the first time “out” was only a “trial”, which the boys rarely agreed to. When the boys were not about the girls played in the “playhouse”. This had been the kitchen of the house built for the Doran couple and as it was built on a brick-paved floor, was not moved to “the corner’ when the rest of the house was. There we played “Mothers and Fathers”, making mud pies but soon, though, playing with water was prohibited. However, one would ‘keep nit’ while another would speed across the little paddock to the water-trough and back. Sometimes we’d play in the cow-shed and on the dray or in the hay-shed or chaff-house, at times eating handfuls of bran! Now and again we’d have a picnic lunch cut for us and a billy of lemon drink, and off we’d go across the paddock to a clump of pine trees and one old gum tree, and there we’d play and sit on the pine needles and enjoy our meal, and come home laden with pine cones for the fireplace in winter time. Other times there’d be plates of bread and butter and “hundreds and thousands” or “beef dripping” with drinks on the front veranda. At the beginning of the summer holidays there would be the harvesting with the setting of stooks of hay and riding home on top of the sheaves of hay stacked high on the dray, and then the sliding down the stack- rather scratchy on the backs of the legs!

Sometimes messages had to be gone – to Allchin’s at the corner of Bell Street and Plenty Road, or to Howard’s the bootmaker, or, after the trams came, to Ashton’s the butcher in Plenty Road near Wood Street. Many’s the time I had to go there at lunch time, running from school to catch the tram at Bell Street, hopping off at Wood Street, having warned the conductor (they all knew us) I’d be waiting to catch the tram on its way back from Tyler Street, tearing into the butcher’s shop, being served quickly if no-one was there, then racing back to the stop and on to the tram which, generally, was waiting for me. But every now and again, things didn’t go right, and then came the long run across the newly-subdivided blocks, through the place near the waterhole, and down the paddock, arriving home breathless, then off up the road to the tram stop, sandwich in one hand and a penny im the other to catch a tram – all in one hour – sounds impossible but ‘twas done on many occasions. Another great lunch-time feat occurred several times a year, generally after a holiday week-end when bread supplies failed, and one of us had the job of running home for a case of goodies for our lunch. These days the runner was let out a little early to get home for the scones and tarts and cakes which were not only for our lunches, but also for the nuns. The really big occasion for this performance was the day the Inspector came – Mr. O’Driscoll! (Inspector O’Driscoll was a long-lived legend of Melbourne Catholic education, and was still visiting the Sacred Heart school over twenty years later, when the next generation of Costigans – Joe’s children – were enrolled.) Very, very occasionally we were allowed to buy a little extra for our lunch – almost invariably we bought a “bird’s nest”, a type of meringue laced with long strands of coconut with a little yellow lolly as an egg!

Often one was sent to help Auntie Kate- generally the task was to do the dusting. I didn’t like dusting but I did like the opportunity to look at the things to be dusted; especially the bible in Grandfather’s room. In the back were written the birth dates of all the Sullivans, and so one was able to work out the age of each member of the family, especially of one’s mother! As well, the Bible was a book- and books had an amazing attraction for m e- and this was one illustrated with wonderful pictures – so the duster would be swished around very little and the bible read very much. Auntie Kate would always inspect the results of your work – and most times it had to be done again! But there were other compensations – a visit to the “little house” the walls of which were papered at frequent intervals with pictures from “The Leader”, a farmers’ weekly put out by “The Age”, and a reader had to keep up with the latest!

Above all else I was an inveterate reader – print fascinated me, and by the time I was thirteen I’d read all the books in the house, many more than once. Our older sister Mary and the boys had had scored well in the book prize field, especially Frank who seemed to be always dux of his class, collecting such prizes as volumes of Shakespeare, various poets, art books and so on, and, as well, there were history books and readers that they had used- all to be read by an avid reader – and read them I did. Joe used to say, “If you open one of those books, a worm will crawl out, and the worm was Eileen!” “Oh, Joe, you are horrible!” Another tale that was told about this passion of mine was that I was found one morning fast asleep in the drawing room (modern day lounge) with a book in my hand – and that was before electric light – and I’d had no light to see by.

Indoor recreation we had in plenty. Dad was fond of playing cards. Several times a year he’d invite three or four men friends from Fitzroy and Clifton Hill to play whist, as solo was called then. He was also very fond of crib, and I learned to play before I started school. Mother liked euchre- so many a game of euchre was played- and, of course, she went to most of the euchre parties for the church. Later, five hundred came on the scene and became very popular as six could play at a time.

More active games were played on the large dining table – table croquet and ping pong, especially a type of ping pong we called “perambulating ping pong” where any number could play hurrying one after the other round the table, picking up the bat and hitting the ball as you came to one end and then the other end in your journey round- a most enjoyable energetic and hilarious game, especially on a cold Sunday night.

Eventually a gramophone was purchased – by Eughie, if I remember correctly. It was for records later called “78’s” and a handle had to be turned to wind up the spring- then the needle was placed on the edge of the record and the sound began. We did not run to the earlier types, but the Roses of North Fitzroy had one that played records on cylinders. With the advent of the gramophone our knowledge of the latest songs and of opera and musical comedies grew. Frank at this time- the early 1920’s- was a student at Newman College, and loved music, and through him we became aware of classical music so that Melba, Caruso, John McCormack and many other great singers kept us spellbound as we listened to them. Then there were early jazz type songs and “Whispering Smith” and many others. With the introduction of the Charleston the passage carpet took a hiding as we danced up and down the long passage with great vigour and energy. At that time Bill Kupsch was courting Bessie Devers and she was in our opinion a top-class dancer, and most Sunday nights they would appear and dancing was on.

Joe was a great one for singing – he had a pleasing voice – and on Sunday mornings after Mass he’d put a record on in the drawing room and play it over and over until until he’d learnt the words and the tune. His favourites were some of John McCormack’s Irish songs. Joe would keep up this method of learning – punctuating it from time to time by forays into the kitchen where fresh scones just out of the oven and liberally buttered gave him strength to continue his singing! Sometimes, the spring would break, either from over-work or from being wound too tightly, then the gramophone would be taken to a man in the Eastern market (later the site of the Southern Cross Hotel) to be repaired.

After the end of world War I, in the late ‘teens’ and early twenties, the land to the north across Murray Road was cut up by developers and sold. At that time there was a wave of English migrants – the ‘Poms’ – and some of them bought blocks of land in that development . They usually began by building a shed and living in it, then gradually, a house would take shape. We disliked them very much – gradually the rails out of the fence along Murray Road disappeared. Grandfather and all of us were really “mad” about all this – then came the first fire.

The lady from the house nearest our paddock threw out a shovel full of coals into tinder-dry grass on a scorching hot, North-windy day just before Christmas – and the fire raced down through our paddocks, burning most of the dividing fences and the sheds were saved only through the efforts of the family- the school holidays having just started, the children were home and it was “all hands on deck.” This was the time we felt the scarcity of water. There were only three taps on the farm – one over the bath in the bathroom/wash-house; one inside the double gate to the yard – to provide water for the horses, and the third over a horse trough on the street edge of the little paddock. The main water supply for the house was the underground tank. So on the fire day, buckets were filled from the bath tap and the yard tap while Kathleen and I manned the pump in turns, and carried the buckets to Mother and Mary and Eughie, the only male at home. The Fire Brigade arrived but was fairly helpless as the water pressure in the one tap they could get at – the yard tap – was very poor. However, eventually our combined efforts contained the fire and a very weary Costigan family was able to relax. If I remember correctly, jam was being made that day, and Kath and I had to run in and stir it every so often.

One of the sheds was the blacksmith’s shed with a proper blacksmith’s fire – on a raised brick platform with a bellows that blew on the coals (charcoals). An upright piece of wood rose from the outer part of the leather bellows and was attached to a horizontal piece. Many a time when Grandfather or Dad wanted to heat a piece of iron to mend a shovel or ploughshare one of us would have the task of working this horizontal handle up and down so that the bellows blew air on the coals to make them red-hot and the piece of iron as well. It was strenuous exercise, but quite good fun to swing on the handle or jump up and down with it. In the centre of the shed was an anvil and on it the red-hot iron would be lifted with a long tongs and held firmly while it was being beaten into shape. Then the sparks would fly! Another instrument in this shed was a grindstone – a rough-surfaced wheel which had to be kept turning while Dad held the axe against the turning stone – one of us doing the turning with a special handle. Water was poured on the turning stone to help in the sharpening process. As well as these things there was a long bench with a vice clamped to it, and on which there was every type of nail and nut and bolt and pieces of chain that you could imagine.

Into the hayshed was stacked the newly-cut hay, and from time to time Standen’s(??) and later Alexander’s would come and take a load of hay to the hay and corn store in Plenty Road, near David Street, and cut it into chaff which was bagged and returned to the farm, being stored in the chaff-house. Here too were bags of bran- mixed with the chaff for the horses and cows- and pollard for the fowls. As each bag of chaff was opened it was tipped into a large piano box which had a lid to keep out the fowls if they should ever find their way into the shed. On the west wall of this shed was a small door through which the dishes of feed were passed out to the cow-bails, and in the south wall, two higher doors through which the food was put into the horses’ mangers. The floor of the chaff house was earth, but the stables were bricked as were the cow sheds to facilitate cleaning. There were another two horse stalls beyond the two in constant use by Tommy and Nellie. Then there was the big hayshed with a brick floor. Beyond the cow-bails (four in number) was a section where the dray was kept.