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It was December 1954 and I had left school. Oh, the thrill of being away from that place (although, to be honest, I had always loved learning) and to be on the verge of earning some REAL money at last.

"It's time you went out to work" said my rather chauvanistic father. "Girls don't need too much education. They only end up getting married and having babies."

Boy! Twenty odd years later and I gave him an argument he would never forget but back then it suited me well to leave school behind and embark on a career in the real world. After all, I was 15, nearly 16, and I needed to put my rather dubious clerical skills to work. I could type, but not well, book-keeping was easy, and shorthand was something I decided I could well do without.

In 1954 there was virtually no unemployment and even an office klutz like me could pick and choose their job. By the end of the day I had had three interviews, was successful at all of them and had the luxury of choosing which one I wanted. I chose the last one, mainly because they were offering the highest wage. It escapes me now just what the rate was but it seemed a lot at the time.

My employer was a plumber and I had sole charge of the office. The office consisted of an uninsulated corrugated iron shed in which I cooked all that summer before freezing, huddled over a one bar heater, the following winter.

Did I mention that I was terribly, terribly shy? I was! So shy that when the time came on that first day, to go into the workshop and face all those MEN, I froze and just couldn't do it. Big Bill, the foreman, took pity on me, made the tea and came and escorted me to my place. He must have had words with the other plumbers too, because nobody teased me, there were no off-colour jokes and everyone was a little stiff and unnatural. They soon relaxed and became their natural selves.

Times changed and within weeks I was breezing in and out of the workshop, giving as good as I got and cursing roundly when I sat in some soldering spirit that burned a hole in my dress.

I did the accounts, the banking, the wages, typed letters, kept the books and stayed on, alternatively freezing and roasting and never catching a cold, for nearly five years.

Eventually I left and went to work for an accountant in a nice warm office with five other girls. We became life-long friends and I caught horrible colds every winter. I learned about tax returns, did wages for three different companies, leaned my way around Gestetners and Burroughs book-keeping machines and found that practically nothing I had learned at school was of much use. We had a dear old girl in charge of the office, an old maid we called Poppy, who took a dislike to me. I got really miffed the day I heard her say that I walked like an elephant. "What do you mean? You think I clunk along?"

"Not at all," said Poppy. "You may not be my favourite person but I was acutally paying you a compliment. I spent a lot of years in Africa and I always thought that elephants had the most graceful walk. I think you walk like a model."

I was slightly mollified and bought her a powder compact for her birthday the following week.

Dad was right, in a way. I did get married in 1960 and had a bunch of kids, Mum died and Dad came to live with us. He was still a male chauvanist but unlike my mild Mum I didn't let him get away with such sweeping statements as "Girls only get married. They don't need education."

We had glorious arguments and I actually think he enjoyed them.

After raising kids for a few years I went back to work and Dad's help was invaluable. He really thought that a married woman's place was in the kitchen but he realised that was an old-fashioned view and he was always there to peg out a basket of washing or peel some spuds and to be there for the children when they came in from school.

He was a valuable and loved member of our family and sadly missed when he quietly died one day
while reading his newspaper.

THE END

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