Stroll down memory lane
Pat McDermoptt has shared her life and soul with us for 30 years-and is deservedly our most loved columnist.
When the little McDermotts were young, we frequently went on road trips. Sometimes it was only to the dentist or to the shops.
Yet at least once a year we drove hundreds of kilometres to visit grandparents or to holiday in beachside flats. The kind with plastic covered mattresses and no tin opener.
And whether the journey was long or short, by car or by airplane, or whether the trip had been wonderful, unbearable or somewhere in between, we faithfully observed a family tradition every time we rounded the corner into our own street at last. The man of the house (MOTH) would start singing a very old children’s song and because he has a terrible voice, the rest of us would join in.
“Here we again, happy as can be, all good children, jolly good company!”
Sometime the singing was enthusiastic and very loud. Sometimes it was a slow dirge, as you’d expect after a long, hot drive in a car with six other people. Yet sing we did.
And whatever our mood, however weary or “over it” we were, the song helped. By the time we bounced up our driveway, everyone felt better. The toilet, television and cold drinks were tantalizingly close. And best of all, there was no need to sit jammed up against your siblings for one more minute.
Family life must be the greatest “road trip” of all. You never know what’s around the corner. One moment the journey’s fun, uplifting and exhilarating. Then, for a few days or weeks or even half a yer, it’s just plain boring. And when you’re over being bored, you can always be tired, anxious or sad instead.
I’ve been a mother for what seems like forever and, perhaps like you, the experience has driven me mad with worry one minute and made me indescribably proud and happy the next.
This column marks 30 years of Family Matters. If you are a long-time reader, you’ll remember it was called Patter and before that Pat’s Chat.
Let’s take a quick stroll down memory lane. My first job as a journalist in Australia was as a sub-editor on The Daily Telegraph and The Sunday Telegraph in Sydney.
Then I moved to Cleo magazine, where I used my maiden name, Pat Nigra, for serious stuff, the fictitious Deiber o’Connor for sexy stuff and Trisha McDermott for funny stuff.
When I joined The Weekly a few years later, the then editor, Dawn Swain, suggested I write a light-herted but truthful column about raising a family in Australia. So, this column marks 30 years sine what is now family matter began.
And now there’s a book called, amazingly enough, family matters. Choosing the columns to be included was tough. I felt I’d been asked to pick my favourite child when every mother knows each one is your favourite.
He we are again, happy as can be” and after 30 years, we’re still good company. I hope to share your friendship for many years to come.