Many years ago, in the 1930s, a young woman left her (Victorian) country home and set out for Melbourne to become a nurse.
Her family was very proud of their daughter and sister and presented her with a leather-encased travel clock to have with her in her new place of residence.
They had her initials embossed on the clock’s leather casing: “I.L.B.” for Iva Lillico Blackwell.
Journeying to Melbourne, (seemingly so far away in those days) she left behind a fiancé, who promised to stay true and with whom she corresponded by letter as they planned for their wedding day.
Sadly, the young nurse contracted a virulent disease from the big city hospital where she was working. At first the doctors thought she would recover, but Iva ‘took a turn for the worse’, succumbed to the dreadful illness and died, leaving her family and fiancé bereft.
Her little clock has been in my possession for many years and now I have made the difficult decision to sell it.
How could I?
Perhaps I’ll think it through again, first.
I choose to comment on social issues and write creatively on a variety of subjects - for a variety of audiences.