Preamble

During the past few years we have gathered some of the photographic history of my parents, Enid and John O'Rourke, and their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We all have copies of As I Recall, reminiscences written by Dad of his childhood and young adult life. It occurred to me that there are other stories that are part of the oral history of the family. Some of these are toasts and tributes at significant occasions in my parents' lives. I will endeavour to track down some of these and record them. They may provide further insights into their lives, seen from the perspectives of friends and relatives.

Eulogy for Enid

Eulogy by Monica

I am honoured, on behalf of my brothers and sisters, to pay tribute today to my mother Enid Therese O’Rourke. We are all grateful to see so many family and friends gathered to say farewell to a woman, who in her 91 years of life, touched so many. She was strong of spirit and gentle in nature. She had great expectations of all of us but without pressure. But her pride in our accomplishments was enough to motivate us to persist and succeed.

Some of you know that for much of this year I have been on an extended driving holiday in the southern states. In that time I occasionally saw a wonderful phenomenon that was unfamiliar to me – the sunrise! When I heard that Mum had had a stroke, I was in Adelaide and drove home over the next four days. Not only did I see the sunrise on those days but I was conscious of the long shadows cast by the early morning and late afternoon sun as I drove home. Reflecting on these shadows, I thought of how many lives had been touched by the shadow of my mother.

Mum was born Enid Therese Hardy in Mackay in 1920. In those days her morning shadow fell forward on her parents Annie Roderick and James Hardy and her four sisters and two brothers, all of whom have passed on except Aunty Claire who would have loved to be here today. Enid spent all her growing-up years in Mackay and worked there as a young adult.

It was there at a dance at the Catholic Club that she met John Toomey O’Rourke. They had a two year engagement because her father refused to let her marry an unemployed farmer at the end of the depression. She was asked to wait till she was 21 – and in those days kids were more likely to do as their parents asked! They made a handsome couple and I cherish a photo of them both in swimsuits from neck, not quite to knee but certainly with a short leg – yes Dad too! Apart from dancing, Mum played a bit of sport – vigoro at school and later tennis.

They started a family which eventually consisted of 13 children, all of whom are here today – including Margaret who has just staggered off a 36 hour trip from Canada. In the early years of their marriage Dad was in the armed forces and away for long periods of time, some of which she spent at Traveston with Dad’s family and I know Granny and Grandfather were very fond of her and Mum of them.

As the family grew, she moved to Nambour, Caboolture for nearly ten years and then to Scarborough. Dad always said that they got married, had thirteen kids and Mum never worked again. Amazingly enough, she did find time for years to play social tennis and was in the Gerard Majella Mother’s group. It was not unusual for a young mother in the parish to arrive at home, overwhelmed by the demands of a new baby or a difficult child. After drawing on Mum’s considerable experience, the new Mum would wipe away her tears and know that she could cope, knowing also that the advice Mum gave was tried and true.

I guess the way we all turned out as adults was due in part to her attitude to life, her child raising philosophies - and her good strong tennis arm. Although we always said she couldn’t hit the side of a barn, her aim was good enough to fell Rod one day. He was obviously in strife and raced away down the back steps to escape Mum. She just happened to have an empty jam tin in her hand. One good lob and he was down! She then had the embarrassment of taking him to the doctor for stitches in his head. If that happened now, she would have ended up in jail for child abuse. Or maybe not, because then someone would have had to look after her energetic brood. Would you wish that on someone?

Someone once referred to her as a feisty little thing. There was certainly not much that she couldn’t turn her hand to. I remember her climbing up on to the roof to rescue me. I had decided to get up on the high tank stand – because the boys used to! I climbed up the wall below, shimmied up between the tanks onto the roof – and there I stayed, too frightened to come down. Mum got a ladder and followed me up. She managed to talk me back to the tank stand but I wouldn’t come any further, and there I sat for two hours till Dad came home. Meanwhile Mum calmly went back to the kitchen to prepare tea. We learned to be self-reliant - though we might not have been very bright.

That stage of her life was probably the noon or midday of her life. Her shadow was focused on family. In fact, I am not sure she even had time to cast a shadow in those days. Or else she moved so fast and so constantly that the shadow didn’t have time to fall. She was always busy. She made most of our clothes, cooked and cleaned and, in the evening, for entertainment, she folded the washing. We used to say the rosary every night, and on wash days before we started the rosary, we each had to take one end of a sheet and fold it. We left all the little bits for her – dozens of undies and hundreds of socks to sort and fold. And you know she actually folded socks. I can show you how if anyone wants to do it. Myself, I just roll them into roughly matching pairs.

Every morning we scurried off to school after breakfast and arrived back at 12.30 for lunch. It was easier for her to set the table at home and have us back for lunch than to cut seven or eight or more lunches. Dad had a cut lunch, wrapped in a white linen serviette, every day of his working life. I am sure that whichever of my siblings was allocated the serviettes when Mum gave things away still starches and irons them for everyday use. I know it wasn’t me. I very generously allowed someone else to have them.

Meals were an important part of the day. There was always a tablecloth for every meal and cutlery set properly and we were reminded of our manners. As the crowd around the table grew, we also learned to sit and eat with our elbows close to our bodies, not stuck out to the side because there was always another small body close on each side. That was despite the specially made, extra long, red laminex table that always seemed able to squeeze in one more person.

Without ever having it spelled out exactly how to do it, we knew that we had to have a good education. If we had a question of any sort about education or a career we were referred to Uncle Ted. Between him and Mum and Dad, we were set on the right track. But as they say, you can be on the right track but if you don’t move you’ll get run over. We all settled into our careers with the requisite initial qualifications. The inspiration of our parents was most obvious in our continuing education. Almost all of us went on to get added qualifications usually with night study and distance education either specific to our work or to allow us to move forward. Tony estimates an additional fifteen degrees, diplomas, grad dips and masters qualifications as well as ongoing certification within certain careers. That was on top of the best education my parents could afford to give us, at considerable personal sacrifice.

Yet none of this ever seemed to be a problem. I rarely saw Mum hot under the collar. She was incredibly calm in most situations. I think most of our neighbours must have wondered how she remained sane and I’m sure some of them were surprised she didn’t want to murder us all at times. She insisted she never felt that way. (I really think she had a fairly flexible memory for some things!) I do know she was able to make the most of what we’d now refer to as ‘Me Time’. She always had an afternoon rest and was able to lose herself in a book or a crossword or a jigsaw puzzle.

As well as our own tribe, there were constant visits from aunts and uncles and cousins. Aunts Pat, Rena and Moya are here today and a lot of cousins who were our partners in crime. Mum always had a cuppa on for the adults while we kids ran wild together – playing hidey in the linen cupboard and under beds and telling ghost stories in the dark. We did things when our cousins were there that we would never have done at any other time. Mum took it well – she probably realised that the cousins just let us astray! Yes her shadow fell on the wider family or maybe they moved closer into her shadow.

As we slowly but inevitably left home, Mum and Dad became even closer. Unless one of them was in hospital or something equally unusual they didn’t spend a day apart in 67 years until Dad had to go into a nursing home. We saw their love played out there on a daily basis as Mum spent most of the morning and all afternoon with Dad for nearly two years.

When he died in 2007, I think something died in Mum too. Her daily routine was shattered and, although the wider family continued to grow, the man at the core of her heart had moved on. From them she gradually faded away. She spent most of those four years without him in care, here at St Joseph’s and then at Penola. The care she received in her twilight years was wonderful and it is lovely to see the Sisters and Penola staff accompanying Mum today on her last journey. Her journey into the darkness of the night was made with the certainty of a new day dawning with her beloved John.

Friends and family here today and the many who have sent messages of condolence are all part of the history of Enid Therese Hardy O’Rourke. As a family we are very grateful to you all for being here today but most especially for being part of the life of our mother. You will remain in our hearts as I hope Mum remains in yours.

Her evening shadow had lengthened over the years to encompass her 13 children, 31 grandchildren and 30 great-grandchildren – and those in the future who won’t know her in person but will be influenced by the family values which she has passed on to three generations. Her shadow is the shadow of love and we continue to live in its shade as she rests now in peace.

Goodbye Dad - Monica

 

Like Denis, I am honoured to speak on behalf of my mother and my brothers and sisters. I think that is appropriate for us to talk today as family members. If any word were to characterise Dad, it would be the word family.  Everything he has done during the 67 years he and Mum have been married has been for the family.

 

All through my school days, Dad worked for what is now the Dept of Primary Industries. With a constantly growing family, a single salary was never enough. (And of course Dad always said that Mum just had 13 children and never worked!) So to supplement that, he usually had a patch of bananas or pineapples where he worked after work and on weekends. Talk about knocking off work to carry coal! Mum slaved just as hard and most of the family did what they could. Even Trish remembers working all day picking beans – when she was 2 years old. With my instinct for self-preservation, I generally volunteered to look after the little ones and not dirty my delicate hands.

 

In those days, workers had only two weeks holiday and Dad made sure that we got away whenever he could afford it. We spent a lot of holidays at Tewantin and Noosa (before it was fashionable). What I remember clearly is the emphasis Mum and Dad placed on their relationship. Usually we had a week all together at the beach and then Aunty Mag came and looked after us while they had a few days away together. Dad and the boys spent a lot of time fishing and I have very clear memories of the odour of sea and salt and smelly bait. My brothers can tell you stories of lessons they learnt from Dad about boating and fishing.

 

Some of his fishing stories have no doubt been embellished by time. However he was a great storyteller. (And on that note, I have recently had Dad’s reminiscences reprinted and there are books at the back for any of our relatives who would like one).  Most people who have read his As I Recall say that whether or not they shared the same experiences, the stories sent them off on similar journeys of memory. Dad had a keen eye for the incongruous and his sense of humour is one of the memories I will carry with me. Right to the end, he had a quick wit and I often heard him chiacking the staff at the nursing home. Last year I was talking about trying to learn Italian. When I said my accent was terrible and I had trouble rolling my ‘r’ s, immediately his mouth twitched into a grin. I had to add, when I pronounce words, not when I walk down the street.

 

We have been incredibly blessed to have had Dad in our lives for so long. His children have appreciated him in their adult lives, his grandchildren are all old enough to remember him and some of the great-grandchildren will have memories to treasure. But it is not only his immediate family who benefited but the wider family as well. As Dad’s brothers and sisters passed on, he tried not to lose touch with his many nieces and nephews. Even those he didn’t see often were important and he liked to keep up with what they were doing. His door was always open and unexpected visitors were a treat for him and Mum. I’m sure he will always be remembered as a devoted family man and, in every sense of the word, a gentle man.

Monica

 

 

Memories of Dad -Denis

 

Good morning and welcome to this mass in celebration of the life of John O’Rourke.  I am Denis O’Rourke, the oldest of the large family of John and Enid.

John Toomey O’Rourke was born at Gympie in 1916.  The Toomey name was his mother’s maiden name.  He grew up very happily on his parents’ dairy farm at Traveston 15 miles south of Gympie along with five brothers and three sisters.  He completed his secondary schooling at Nudgee College in 1931 with a Junior Certificate just as the Great Depression wrought havoc on the country.

Jobs were virtually non-existent and Dad always said he endured six years, on or near the bread line, with only sporadic work.  He met Mum in Mackay in 1938 and they married in October 1941 while he was in the Armed Services.  So began a wonderful relationship which lasted 66 years. 

Dad joined the Queensland Department of Agriculture and Stock as an Advisor in Horticulture in Nambour in 1947 but moved to the Caboolture office the next year.  He originally focused on banana production and later on pineapples and small crops.  I know he was very comfortable in this job mixing easily with the farming community and he remained a country boy at heart.

Dad was always a hard worker and on weekends he farmed in succession two blocks of bananas at Cobble Creek and Narangba and later a block of pineapples at Elimbah over a ten year period.  This quickly paid off the family home as Dad had a strong aversion to owing anyone money.  It also supplemented the budget as his family grew.  Dad never considered Bankcard a sensible option!

After living in Caboolture for some 12 years, Mum and Dad built a home at Turner Street Scarborough in 1960 so the family could be closer to secondary schooling.  Here they lived happily for over 40 years and in retirement enjoyed caravanning, the gem fields and a quite a number of holiday trips. At one stage you never knew where they were!  In 2003 they moved to the BallyCara Retirement Village also at Scarborough.

I have a wealth of happy memories of family life at Scarborough.  The home was centred on a large kitchen always warm and welcoming with a large combustion stove and a red laminex topped kitchen table.  The table seated eight in comfort but many more with a little effort. Here family members and visiting relatives enjoyed Mum and Dad’s company and the famous J T cups of tea – hot and strong and suitably sweet.  Everyone was welcome, everyone was equal and everyone was encouraged to have an opinion.  I think Dad was ever mindful of how tough life had been in his youth and he was very sensitive and non-judgemental to the problems encountered by his children.  You knew you would get help and support but especially, quiet, sensible advice.

He loved the company of his many grandchildren [and great grandchildren] and he would never hear a cross word against any of them.  Dad enjoyed their company and always wanted to know what they were up to and delighted in following their growth to adulthood.

Now Dad had a great sense of humour and loved a good yarn and he had an enormous collection of stories a few of which he set down in his book appropriately named “As I Recall” which he wrote in 1990. I will share one of my favourites.

 

After effectively hitching a ride with Queensland Rail for some 700 miles from Traveston to Cunnamulla with all of 5/- to his name, Dad got a job with a rabbit-fencing contractor 120 miles west of Cunnamulla.  The job came with some perks – accommodation, rations and hot and cold running water.

Now the free accommodation was a camp tent – freezing in Winter boiling in Summer.

The free rations were all the mutton you could eat but you did have to catch and slaughter your own beast.

For hot running water you walked up the artesian bore drain----for cooler water you walked down the bore drain! It was muddy, untreated, very mineralised and shared with numerous sheep, kangaroos and other assorted animal and birdlife.

 

I will leave you with three observations-

-   The O’Rourke family never went camping

-   The O’Rourke family never, but never, had mutton on the menu

And Dad’s comment on the current topic of recycled water would probably be:

 

     “Get over it, it probably won’t kill you.”

 

Thank you.

John's 90th Birthday

HAPPY 90^TH BIRTHDAY, JOHN O’ROURKE (by Monica)

In a family of talkers, it seems odd that the quietest, shyest one should get to talk at the most important functions. I fought hard for the honour. And this is an important weekend, as Dad celebrates his 90^th birthday.  I know that Dad is delighted to see so many of his family and friends gathered around.

I was fortunate to grow up in a family where family was always the focus and always talked about.  I have clear recollections of Dad talking about his parents and grandparents and his life as he grew up. The stories he told about My Grandfather (his father) related to community life. It tickled my fancy when I was a kid to hear about grandfather being asked for a quote to move postholes, when he had the only truck in the district. His answer was: so much a dozen and you load them. No wonder we are all appreciate quick wittedness. He talked about Granny (his mother) and her kindness and generosity. I certainly remember how open hearted she was to her grandkids - and how we repaid that when we visited. How many of you here were guilty of hoeing into the bread so that she’d have to make fried scones instead?

As I look around here today, I see family members of almost all his brothers and sisters. When he talked about Norah, Dad always said how unjust it was for her to have to leave school early and help look after the house. He was always determined that none of his girls would miss out on the opportunity to have a good job or career. Norah must have been very like her mother in temperament and Dad has talked about her looking after an orphaned koala.

When I think about Flo, I don’t think just of the successful chemist but the young fellow who was called Aunty Flo at Nudgee, when schools were the breeding grounds for nicknames. Dad, when he followed along, became Little Aunty.

Dad always had a soft spot for Maurie and believed the weeks he spent with Granny leading up to her death, gave a peace of mind, which balanced out his years of restlessness. I can’t say I really knew Maurie well but he returned to Traveston from time to time so Rod and Cherie knew him much better.

We had a lot to do with Ted and his family as we grew up but my favourite memory is one of Dad’s stories. The family were gathered with visitors one day when the young Ted rushed into the house yelling, I’ve swallowed an elephant.  I’ve swallowed an elephant.  They should never have put such small toys into Easter eggs!

My memory of Len is totally my own. I don’t know why we were at the farm at the same time as Len but I do remember when he gave me a small red chilli from a shrub in the house yard. I also remember how angry Dad was with him for that. I also know why my favourite flavour is, no not chilli, it’s ‘bland’.

Although I was relatively young when Frank died, I think of him as the young postman riding a bike uphill and down through Gympie after he left school. He had always been encouraged to do as much as he could despite the heart problems which he endured for his entire life.

Bet was also a favourite of Dad. Although she was much younger, she seemed to follow him around when he was a young adult. When he came home from work she would sometime stand behind him while he was sitting reading the paper and would brush or comb his hair. Once she spent ages, doing his hair and chatting. When he went out to dinner, he discovered that she had arranged his hair in rows of kiss curls. I do know that he would have had endless patience with her, as he always does with children.

Anyone who has read his reminiscences will know his story about Pat getting lost at Mrs Griffin’s. For me, stopping off at the Powells in Cooroy on the way to Traveston was always an important part of a trip, for quick a cuppa and a chat. This cuppa and chat took ages because I know Dad can talk and got the impression early that Pat was quite a talker too. Nothing I’ve seen since has contradicted that.

This was the heritage he has carried into his own family. I look back at early photos of him and Mum, and later ones too for that matter, and realise why we are such a good looking family. I’m not going to go through and talk about each of us. I’d be here for days – and besides everyone would want right of reply! I think it is quite amazing that all 13 of us are still alive – and so are Mum and Dad.

After the hard life of growing up on a dairy farm and being always broke, Dad really moved into adulthood with the depression. Many of the stories he tells come from this time when he was a young bloke, doing the blokey things with his mates – the fishing and outings, movies and cards.

He was then fortunate to get work surveying at Cunnamulla where he learned to be broke in a different way. He talked about learning to find his way home following the angle of the shadows – and also driving in circles at night while the moon moved from being directly behind him to right in front!

Eventually he ended up in Mackay where one of his more interesting jobs was shovelling sand in the river. Because of the fast flowing river, sand built up very quickly and caused problems for boats coming in. When the tide was low, Dad was one of the lucky fellows who stood in the water, stirring up the sand with a shovel so that it would drift away with the tide. It is a job like that which brings home the futility of life!

Dad met Mum at the Catholic Club in Mackay where they were both keen dancers. When I was at primary school, we always had a St Patrick’s day dance. I was always thrilled to dance with Dad as he was a wonderful dancer and so light on his feet.  However before that, he had danced his way into the heart of Enid Hardy who remains his beloved partner. Together they went on to have thirteen children, thirty-one grandchildren and, to date, thirteen great-grand children.

The attributes which marked his early life were repeated in his own family.  A hard worker, Dad paid his home off in a very few years from a meagre income, after-hours slaving over a pineapple or banana patch and a tribe of kids who were more hindrance than help. The house was always freshly painted and in wonderful condition. His lawn was his pride and joy. I was constantly amazed that the bowls club didn’t hold their competition in our back yard. Every other competition was held there- running, tennis practice, fisticuffs and climbing the mango tree. I’m sure the mango tree was one of the features which sold the house a couple of years ago. There were so many photos taken in the tree that it could almost be called the family tree!

Dad is probably the only person I know to dig a hole to bury dirt. He says that the area along the car runners was filled with concrete scraps and stones. However, he dug a deep hole in the back yard, took out some fresh dirt for the front yard and buried the dirty dirt –deep! He has also raised eyebrows by walking around the yard in the rain, with an umbrella, watering the lawn. He knew and we knew that he was watering in fertilizer which needed to be soaked.  People going by didn’t know that!

We were encouraged to do our best academically. I have never done a count but if his children and grandchildren lined up all their degrees and diplomas and certificates, it would be an impressive sight. Of course, some of us celebrated our freedom at tertiary studies by having the first year socialising rather than studying! But we are quick learners and the second year put us back on track – with very strong encouragement!!

Mum and Dad have an enviable record of marriage – 64 years and still going strong. We have tried to emulate that and although some of us were not so wise in our choice of spouse, we still have the model there and we are trying to pass those same values along to our own children.

Many of the images of Dad that come to mind are the small ones – making porridge in a huge saucepan over the wood stove in Winter, bread toasted in the coals at night as visitors sat around the kitchen table with tea and hot toast, walking around with a baby lying along his arm with the head firmly held down by the elbow. A couple of months ago I could have demonstrated this with Krista’s little Cory, the youngest great-grandchild.

The last few months have not been kind to Dad health wise and he is far less mobile than he would want to be. However, those who have visited with him recently know that he is still in good form, sharing his memories of different stages of his life.  His great sense of humour has never deserted him. Many times in the past few months he has told stories which have had him laughing so hard that the tears were running down his cheeks. If there is a funny side to something, he is sure to see it. I have been trying to learn the Italian language and told him one day that I had trouble rolling my r’s . I knew immediately, when the corners of his mouth trembled that he had a picture of a different kind of rolling r’s. 

Ninety years is a wonderful milestone and I am proud to stand here today and honour Dad as he celebrates this birthday. But a life is more than a number of years. A measure of life is the number of other lives that are touched and enriched. As I look around I know that there is not one person here today whose life has not been enhanced in some way by knowing John O’Rourke. Some of us owe him everything because we wouldn’t be here without him. Others, aunts and cousins, relatives and friends, have all been part of the tapestry of his life. Your presence here today is an acknowledgement of that.

90 years Dad! That is wonderful! And just remember as you celebrate today, that birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live. Happy Birthday, John O’Rourke.

Toast at Keith's Wedding

Toast to the Parents of the Groom

There are three kinds of toasts – the corselet type which covers everything, the French knickers type which covers the essentials and the uplift toast which touches on the high points.

This toast is usually proposed by a long term friend of the family and I wondered why friends had been overlooked. Then I realised that, if you are lucky enough and you do the right things, your family become your best friends.

We are fortunate that Mum and Dad have obviously done the right things because, as a family, we are close. We don’t live in each other’s pockets – which must be a very cramped existence in more ways than one (and the moths do need room to move). But I feel that we are like spokes of the wheel, moving outwards, keeping our distance, living our own lives – but still attached to the hub for strength and support. And that support has always been there.

For the past 45 years, their lives have centred on the family. They’ve coped with more than the usual number of kids and catastrophes without too obvious signs of insanity. I’ve been looking closely. It has been said that one person in five is at least slightly crazy. If Mum and Dad are okay and they seem to be, that leaves three of us. I know I am crazy to be doing this and Keith has a rather glazed look about his eyes today so look around. There is at least one other amongst us.

Mum does mention the year we all got measles, mumps and chicken-pox (one disease after the other, one child after another) as the year she nearly went insane. Then there were the dreadful years when we each got a drivers licence and a car or, even worse, a motorbike. I think now that the worst and possible the best time of the year must be Christmas. We all went off singly and then, like Noah’s Ark, came back in twos, then in threes and fours. We are delighted to welcome Kerri into the family today as over the years my other sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law have been welcomed. They have all become important to Mum and Dad. And now the grandchildren are an increasing source of pride.

I have known Mum and Dad all my life. Because they have always been there, it is easy to forget that there was a life for them BC – Before Children. Dad, John Toomey O’Rourke was born in Gympie and lived on a farm, educated at the tiny Traveston School and then Nudgee College. Mum was born, Enid Therese Hardy, in Mackay where she lived for the first 21 years of her life. In the aftermath of the Depression, Dad was on the road looking for work. By co-incidence, he ended up in Mackay. Mum was working in Marsh and Webster’s, waiting to be rescued from a life of drudgery. They met and married and had thirteen children and, according to Dad, she never had to work again in her life. It really was fortunate that they did meet or this wedding would be a quiet affair – without the groom.

But they both worked, and worked hard, over the years to give us the best they could. They’ve taught us by example the value of a good education and the satisfaction of good honest work. We’ve been encouraged to take that extra step and be prepared for whatever is around the corner. But they have also shown us the value of recreation and family life. Many happy weekends were spent at my grandparents’ farm and the ritual Sunday drives usually ended at relatives’ places where we got to know the wider family well. I remember too our holidays at Beachmere and Noosa and Tewantin. What stands out in my mind is having a week or so away and then Mum and Dad going away for a few days together. The more cynical of you may say it was to recover from us all running wild on the beach.

But more, it reminds me of the Story of Ruth: ‘I will go where you go and dwell where you dwell.’ Mum and Dad have taken seriously their wedding vows to love, honour and cherish. In the ups and downs, the joys and disappointments of life, they have been important to each other and to us. We don’t say it often enough but we are proud to be their children. Ladies and Gentlemen, I ask you to rise and join me in a toast to the parents of the groom.

Ladies and Gentlemen…..to Mum and Dad, Enid and John.

50th Anniversary - Jim Hardy

50^th Wedding Anniversary Jim Hardy

Enid and John were Bridesmaid and Best Man at my wedding over fifty years ago. Unfortunately my love, Eileen, passed on about six years ago.

I come from a family half the size of the O’Rourke family. I had five sisters and one brother. My brother died very young and my sister May died in her late twenties. The other four are all here tonight, Agnes, Monica, Enid and Claire, helping to celebrate this occasion. I think they take after our mother who lived to the ripe old age of 90. Our father died in his early fifties and I am the only male member of the Hardy clan to live beyond their fifties. So I am very glad to be here tonight.

My four sisters between them had twenty-four children of which Enid contributed more than half with 13. I must congratulate Enid and John on their large family, the way they have educated them. They all have good jobs and lovely families. Enid and John, you did a great job. Congratulations on your family and your long life together.