Life went on in many ways as it had before, but now I felt truly John's wife even if the law would not allow us that privilege. Time passed and soon we were looking forward to Mum and Dad visiting us from England. I had kept them informed of what had been happening, including my operations, but not in any great detail of course; and also how I had been taking flying lessons, although when I told them I'd be collecting them in Brisbane and flying them to our home, I don't think they quite believed me.

They were due to arrive towards the end of November, so I was surprised when Mum rang in September to tell me that Dad hadn't been too well, and as a result they thought it best to delay their trip for a while. I was quite shocked as I had no idea anything was wrong.

“What's wrong with Daddy, Mum? Please tell me straight. I know I'm a long way away, but I'd feel much happier if I knew, and then I can decide what to do.”

“I'm sorry Darling, we should have told you, but we didn't want you to worry,” said Mum. "About four months ago, Dad started getting very tired. I finally persuaded him to go to the doctor and it turned out that one of his cardiac arteries was nearly blocked. He had to undergo a procedure, I forget what they call it now - an 'angio' something, and they managed to open up the blockage and put a little metal tube into the artery to keep it open. He's on some medication now and seems a lot better, but we still feel that he should take it easy for a while. It's very disappointing, but we hope we can come out to see you next year.

It's times like that that makes you face your own parents' mortality, and it's a strange feeling. They have been there all your life, and to suddenly face the possibility that a time is approaching when that will no longer be the case, is rather frightening. There is a book by Australian author Geoffrey Blainey called “The Tyranny of Distance” which describes how the distance and isolation of Australia from the northern hemisphere have shaped our history and national identity. It's moments like the sickness of my father that brought that home to me in a very personal way.

In due course a letter arrived from Dad, trying to reassure us that he was feeling much better. A great deal of the letter was devoted to his much anticipated attendance at the Ashes test match at Lords in late June when he was the guest of the Secretary of the M.C.C. He thoroughly enjoyed it of course, even though Australia won. The tone of the letter was reassuring and I had every hope that we would see both Mum and Dad in Australia the following year.

In the end, my parents left their trip until late the following year. They had decided they would like to spend Christmas with us, and there was the added incentive of avoiding much of a cold English winter. In the meantime, I kept up my correspondence with them and was pleased to hear that there were no more worrying health issues.

The day they were arriving, I flew down and landed at Archerfield, the smaller Brisbane airfield now used for small commercial and private aircraft. It was only a short taxi ride to Brisbane Airport, and I was there in good time. My first sight of my parents surprised me a little. It had only been two years since we'd seen them in England, but they looked older, especially my father. I was surprised at how much effect his heart problem had had on his general appearance. I put my feelings to one side as I greeted them and gave them both a big hug. They told me I was looking wonderful and obviously the life here agreed with me. Once they collected their suitcases, I explained that we had to go to another airfield where I had left our plane.

“So you really did mean what you said about flying us out to where you live?” Mum asked.

“Of course.” I replied. “I'm sure you'll find it a lot more pleasant than taking a train trip for about twelve hours. The first thing any English visitor has to get used to is the distances here. We live about six hundred miles from Brisbane, that's about the length of Britain, north to south. Travelling by train it would be an even longer trip. This way we'll be there in a bit over three hours.”

When we arrived at Archerfield, they looked a little dubious when they saw the Cessna, but I reassured them that even though it was a fraction the size of the Boeing 747 they had just flown half-way around the world in, it was just as safe. Safety has always been my number one priority in flying and maybe that's why I'm here today. I know there are occasional circumstances which even the best and most experienced pilot can't handle, but there are also cases where the pilot takes a chance, or worse, the customer persuades the pilot to do so. I have never flown unless I was one hundred percent sure that the plane and the weather were perfectly suited to a safe flight. 'Better a day late in this life than thirty years early in the next' has always been my motto.

I offered Mum or Dad the chance to sit beside me in the co-pilot's seat, but they declined and I did not push it. Perhaps they were concerned about distracting me. I think they started to relax when they saw me go through my pre-flight checks and communicate with the tower to get clearance for take-off. Soon we were in the air, and I made a broad sweep out over the ocean and then turned inland. After a while I could see that they had relaxed and were looking at the countryside far below. I pointed out a few of the local landmarks for them, and in no time the three hours had passed and I was indicating the ring of hills surrounding our homestead, as I gradually lost height and prepared to land. I taxied up to the hanger, and John was there to meet us with the Land-rover. He greeted Mum and Dad with a hug and a handshake and asked how the flight was.

“Err — very good. Both of them.” said Dad, and he winked at me.

John drove us back to the homestead, Mum and Dad looking around them with great curiosity.

“How much of this valley is your land, John?” asked Dad.

“All of it and more,” replied John. “MacKenzie Station is just over one thousand square miles or two thousand five hundred square kilometres.”

I think my parents were stunned, unable to imagine farming on this scale.

“We looked it up once, out of curiosity. It's about one and a quarter times the area of the county of Oxfordshire where you live. But we're not the biggest station by any means. Some are about four thousand square miles in area.”

Arriving at the homestead, I showed Mum and Dad their room, which I'd spent quite a bit of time making ready for them, including painting the walls and ceiling, and I was pleased when they commented how nice it was. Evening was approaching, so I gave them a light supper, and then they went to bed, very tired after such a long journey and their new experiences. The next few days we let them get used to the new time zone, and also the temperature which was quite a contrast to the chilly November in England that they had just left. I showed them around the property, making sure they wore hats and had plenty of water to drink, remembering how I had felt when I first arrived in Australia.

“You manage all this?” asked Mum quite dumbfounded.

I laughed. “Oh no. John manages the property. I manage the homestead and handle the finances. We're a good team if I say so myself.”

I took them to Heyward's Crossing on the fourth day, so they could see our local township.

“If you've ever read Neville Shute's book 'A Town Like Alice', that's the sort of thing we're trying to do here — help develop the town and provide the sort of facilities people enjoy in the big cities. All the local property owners are chipping in and I think we're making good progress.”

Mum stopped at a new-looking building.

“That's our own baby,” I said, “The new library. Would you like to see inside?”

Mum loved reading so she replied enthusiastically “Oh yes!”

“Hi Lesley” said the girl on the desk as we walked in.

“Hi Jean. These are my parents, out visiting from England. I'm showing them around.”

Jean said “It's nice to meet you. Enjoy our new library. We're so proud of it.”

Mum stopped at a plaque on the wall which read.

“Mary Brodie?” asked Mum.

“John's first wife. When I first arrived here, her big collection of books at the homestead was really the only source of entertainment and information that I had apart from the radio. It seemed appropriate to name the library after her. It's not just a place to borrow books. We're organising study groups and talks in conjunction with the local school. It's still growing.”

'John's first wife' I thought to myself. In reality his only wife, although I thought of myself as his wife now, and had done for some time. So did John.

We walked down the main street and inevitably called in at the hotel. We entered the lounge bar where Dad and I enjoyed a cold beer and Mum had a mineral water. I had a feeling she thought it wasn't really ladylike to drink beer in public, and probably it wasn't back in England. It hadn't been so many years since women in a public bar were frowned upon in Australia, but gradually things were changing. The lounge bar was more 'upmarket' though, so that's where we sat.

The Australian test team was in England playing for the Ashes in 1972. Dad had attended the Lord's test match as the guest of the Secretary, and of course John couldn't wait to hear all about it. Meanwhile the Sheffield Shield competition was taking place in Australia, and Dad and John were keen to attend a match between Queensland and South Australia starting on 17th November, so I flew us all down there the day before and we booked into our hotel. John and Dad intended to spend the whole time at the cricket of course, sitting in the members' stand, but I knew that Mum wasn't particularly interested, so we spend a wonderful four days of 'mother and daughter' time together, visiting the shops, parks and cafés, and generally having a great time. I took the opportunity to ask Mum how Dad really was.

“I've remembered now what he had done,” she said.”It's called an angioplasty, and they inserted a stent in the blocked artery. He really has been feeling a lot better since, but obviously you can see a difference in him.”

“Well yes I can, but I hope it's just the effect of the heart problem. Is he getting regular check-ups now?”

Mum laughed “Your Dad comes from that generation of men who had to be at death's door before they would see a doctor, but yes, now he does see the error of his ways and gets a regular check-up.”

I laughed.”Well some good came out of it them, and please, in future if anything happens I would much prefer to know about it than not know. And you, how are you feeling yourself?”

“Oh I'm fine. Just the odd aches and pains that come with age, but nothing to worry about, and yes, I do see our local doctor from time to time.”

John and Dad certainly enjoyed the match, even though South Australia won. After it was over, we had a boat trip on the Brisbane River and a pleasant lunch at one of the riverside cafés.

We had persuaded Mum and Dad to stay long enough to experience a typical Australian Christmas, so different from back in England, especially as far as the temperature was concerned, for this was now high summer in Australia, and getting hotter all the time. They were somewhat amused to see that we had Christmas cards with snow on the pictures, as well as the ones with bush scenes.

A few days before Christmas Day, we attended a 'Carols by Candelight' service at Hey's sports oval. Started years before in Melbourne, these concerts had spread all over the country, from the big televised occasions to events held in tiny towns like ours. It certainly helped bring the spirit of Christmas to the outback. The sight of the flickering candles in the cool night air with the stars blazing above us is something one can never forget.

On Christmas Day morning, Mum and I cooked a turkey for the traditional Christmas Dinner, which we ate in the cool of the evening. We exchanged some presents, ate too much and probably drank a little too much as well. It was wonderful to have a family get-together, and the thought crossed my mind that with them living so far away, I wondered if we would ever have another Christmas together. In January, they returned to England, although I tried to persuade them to stay longer until the weather started to warm up in England, but I suppose the truth was they were homesick. We promised to come and see them again, if not that year, then the next.