The Book of Me - Getting back on the bike

I have fallen disastrously behind with my entries in The Book of Me Blogging Challenge but I am determined to get back on my bike and catch up.

To that end I am entering all of the prompts I have missed into Blogger as drafts and I hope that I can catch up with them over the coming months.

Today's prompt on Technology is right up my alley so it will be a good place to rejoin my Book of Me Journey.

Judy Russell in her superb keynote addres at the recent Rootstech Conference emphasized the importance or recording our personal history for future generations. Watching Judy's presentation online from my cruise ship gave me a bit of a wake up call and reminded me to get back into blogging my stories.  The Book of Me activity devised by Julie Goucher gives one such an opportunity.

It's never too late to commence this activity so how about joining in and sharing your trips down memory lane?

The Book of Me, Written By You – Prompt 12: The Year You Were Born

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The  Book  of Me, Written by You activity. 

This week’s prompt is The year you were born 

What happened:

• Historical
• Films
• Music
• Books
• Television

Or use any other historical (well known or otherwise) event.

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For this post, for which I am rather late, I turned to the Australian resource Trove found a few images from the year I was born and from them created a collage. In the process I learnt a little about how to use GIMP.

What year do you think it was?

The Book of Me - Week 9 - Hallowe'en

This week’s (Week 9) prompt is Halloween. You can view the video for the prompt here on Youtube

Have you ever participated in a Halloween event?
When was it?
Where was it?
What did you dress as?
Trick or treat?
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This is another lazy week for me as I blogged my thoughts about Hallowe'en last year. So I will edit that post and paste it here:

Dishing lollies out to grandchildren in 2011

I am a Bah Humbug when it comes to Hallowe'en and the practice of Trick or Treating that has crossed the Pacific in recent years; the Australian fascination with Trick or Treating only seems to have appeared this century. I feel that we have enough Australian traditions that we don't need to import any more, especially those that involve hastening the ruin of kids' teeth and adding extra grams to their chubby little bodies.

But when it comes to the grandchildren...... there are just some things one has to do.

Hallowe'en 2011 saw me donning my academic gown and a witches hat, buying a cache of sweets and waiting for the doorbell to ring. As our driveway is a hundred metres long children do not randomly call at our place so I knew who it would be when the doorbell rang.

I answered in my best witch's voice and frightened my poor two year old grand-daughter; her five year old brother thought it quite funny. As can be seen from the photo above the poor little one was still not sure of herself when we posed for a photo after I distributed the lollies.

I was pleased to hear that these grandchildren won't be Trick or Treating this year - they are leaving this activity to people on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

The Book of Me - Week 8 - Time Capsule

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The  Book  of Me, Written by You activity. 

Prompt 8: Time Capsule

1. You can choose who to create the time capsule for as that will influence what you put (or would put into your time capsule)
2. The creation of a time capsule
   a. you can do this in the literal sense or
   b. you can simply write what you would place into your time capsule and why. It is much more fun to create though!

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When I saw this prompt I immediately decided that I would pass on this activity. 

I was still writing the posts on my grandparents and decided that I wanted to devote my time this week to working on those two posts. Although I have published them I still have heaps to add.

My intended audience for the Book of Me activity is my family and the time capsule I will leave behind for them is a houseful of stuff that is important to me. The collection of stories I tell in this activity will also be a sort of time capsule for them, when I am gone they will realise that they didn't ask many questions but I will have left some answers for them . Added to this will be folders of files and a huge digital archive. 

I think that will be enough for them to cope with.

The Book of Me - Week 7 - Paternal Grandparents

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The Book of Me, Written by You activity.

The prompt for week 7 is Grandparents

What were their names?

Where were they from?

Were they related? – Cousins perhaps

Where were they born, another Country or state/area

Photos

What did they do?

Did you know them?

What was your relationship with them?
If you didn't know them have you researched about them?

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I am going to cheat a little bit with this post as I will paste in bits and pieces I have written in earlier blog posts. 

I remember two of my grandparents and  met three of them. I adored my two Nannas and spent many happy childhood hours with them and their extended families.

My Paternal grandparents were Thomas William Curry and Mary Tierney, my maternal grandparents were Frank Duncan and Ethel Jane Pusell. So that's the vital statistics out of the way. 

Having started writing this post I have realised that what I have to write is way too much for one post so I will write separately about my two sets of grandparents.  You can read about my Maternal grandparents here.

CURRY/TIERNEY

My paternal side is 100% Irish and with a bit of Irish thrown in from my Mum's side that makes me more then half Irish and goes some way to explaining why I have the gift of the gab.

Thomas (Papa) William Curry, twin to Daniel, was born in Cowra, New South Wales to Thomas Curry and Catherine Molloy. Thomas' father died when he was seven and his mother who remarried died in 1904 so young Tom was orphaned at twenty. His extended family lived in the Cowra district so hopefully they supported this young farm worker.

Thomas  met Mary (Nana) Tierney from Dungog in his home town of Canowindra where Mary,a dressmaker, worked in the local hotel. What took Mary to Canowindra I don't know and I guess I'll never find out. Tom and Mary had a quiet wedding in Sydney (I haven't been able to locate any photos) and returned to Canowindra where they brought up their family of three boys and two girls. My Dad, Allan John, was their first-born. Papa Curry managed two local properties, Fairview and Benevento, in Canowindra and the family grew up on the farms. 

Tom and Mary Curry and Family, 1925

After my grandfather retired the family moved to Brighton-le-sands in Sydney and that is where my memories kick in. I can't remember my grandfather as he died when I was an infant but I have many recollections of my Nana Curry.

Mary Tierney 1887-1977

Mary Tierney was born in the town of Dungog to John D'Arcy Tierney, a carpenter, builder and sometime undertaker, and his Irish wife, Mary Kealy. Nana had two sisters, Jane and Eliza, and a brother, Patrick.   

Nana was a gentle lady with snowy white hair that she wore in a bun and she seemed terribly old to me when she was about the age I am now. She was a devout Catholic who was proud of her Irish heritage, I remember kneeling beside her bed and reciting my prayers with her when I went to stay with her. We would always include this prayer:

There are four corners on my bed,
There are four angels at my head.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed I lay upon.

Before my Aunts left home I would sleep with Nana in her high double bed with her statue of Our Lady looking down on me. I was pleased to find out recently that Our Lady is now residing in a glass-fronted cabinet in my cousin's home. 

We used to visit Nana's home by train and bus every Sunday for lunch. Sometimes, after Uncle Kevin bought a television set, we would stay on to watch Leave it to Beaver before making our way home. I remember watching Princess Margaret's wedding on that TV in 1960. Uncle Kevin had a car, one of the early Holdens (FJ or FX), so after lunch all the family might pile in to go for a drive to watch the planes taking off at the nearby Kingsford Smith (Sydney) airport or down south across the Taren Point Car Ferry towards Cronulla Beach. As we lived in a a flat my dinky, scooter and bicycle with training wheels lived at Nana's. I spent many happy Sundays tootling up and down the garden path and the footpath in my vehicles.

My patient Aunts and Uncles played games with me, I especially loved playing Scrabble and was thrilled to get a set (that I still have) as a Christmas present; I play Scrabble to this day but online. Two memorable gifts I received for Christmas or a birthday from the Currys were my Kodak Box Brownie Camera (and a developing kit) and a reel to reel tape recorder. I had great fun with these items, taking photos and interviewing family members. Mum wouldn't have been too happy when she discovered the damage to the carpet under my bed (my darkroom) that was ruined by the chemicals I spilt.  I was the first and only Curry grandchild/niece for seven years so I had a lot of attention. 

Our trip to Brighton was made easier when Dad got his first car. Uncle Kevin was relieved of his chauffering duties but we continued our drives to visit Aunty Lil and Uncle Tom at Sans Souci and Aunty Mary and Uncle Ed at Mortdale.In summer we would sometimes go the the Ramsgate Baths for a swim or we would swim on the beach or in the baths at Brighton.


Nana would cook us a baked dinner or corned beef and vegetables for Sunday lunch. I don't know how the extended family all squeezed around her table that was just 4 feet in diameter, I have had Nana's dining suite for 25 years and use it as an auxiliary table. Every time I walk past it I am reminded of family Sundays at Brighton. For the first sixteen years of my life (until I started getting a social life) I visited Nana nearly every Sunday.

Caramels

Nana loved feeding me egg flips that she believed to be very healthy, these drinks were made from milk, a raw egg and vanilla essence and after a shake and stir of the ingredients nutmeg was sprinkled on top. I remember them as quite sweet and delicious. Nana used often give me sweets to take home, they were always the same caramels. I sometimes wished for a bit of variety.

Nana, who lived to the ripe old age of 89 spent the last few years of her life in a nursing home. She had an enormous impact on my life.

With Nana Curry on my Wedding Day

The Book of Me - Prompt 7 - Maternal Grandparents

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The Book of Me, Written by You activity.

The prompt for week 7 is Grandparents

What were their names?

Where were they from?

Were they related? – Cousins perhaps

Where were they born, another Country or state/area

Photos

What did they do?

Did you know them?

What was your relationship with them?
If you didn't know them have you researched about them?

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I am going to cheat a little bit with this post as I will paste in bits and pieces I have written in earlier blog posts. 

I remember two of my grandparents and  met three of them. I adored my two Nannas and spent many happy childhood hours with them and their extended families.

My Paternal grandparents were Thomas William Curry and Mary Tierney, my maternal grandparents were Frank Duncan and Ethel Jane Pusell. So that's the vital statistics out of the way. 

Having started writing this post I have realised that what I have to write is way too much for one post so I will write separately about my two sets of grandparents. You can read about my paternal grandparents here.


DUNCAN/PUSELL

My grandmother, Ethel Jane Pusell, was born in 1899 in a small hamlet Thompsons Creek near Burraga, New South Wales, the daughter of James Pusell and Mary Jane Aspinall. James, a miner, had quite a few run-ins with the law. His father and namesake James Pusell was a convict who had been transported to New South Wales. I wonder if my grandmother was aware of her convict ancestry.

One of the very few childhood tales that I remember from my grandmother is that when she went to school in Burraga she horrified the nuns by calling the town buggery. Although she could read and write Ethel's skills in this area were basic; as a child I wrote letters to her relations in the bush for her.

The Pusell family moved to Cobar in the early 1900s, no doubt this was for the Pusell boys to gain employment in the newly opened mines.

Ethel  married a miner, John Bertram (Bert) Chatfield, at the age of 15 and six months later gave birth to her first child, John William (Billy) Chatfield. When 25 year old miner, Bert Chatfield, set off to war he left behind his pregnant 17 year old wife and young son, Billy.

Bert probably did not know that he had become a father of a daughter, Nellie, who was born on 4 April, 1917 and lived for just two weeks. I wonder if Nellie's birth was premature or if she died of some other cause. Ethel had always told me that she had lost twin girls; although there is no official record of two births I have a copy of a family letter that confirms this.

I cannot imagine how bewildered my grandmother, young Ethel, must have felt when she received news that her husband was Missing in Action and subsequently listed as Killed in the Field. 

I do not know when Ethel heard of her husband's fate but on 24 July, 1917 she wrote the following letter to the Army

 She had received the devastating news by 19 February, 1918 when she wrote to the Army to see if any personal effects belonging to Bert had been found.

I presume that Ethel lived with her parents until she met her second husband, Frank Duncan.

Twenty-two year old Frank (Sonny) Duncan, Service Number 4767, joined the AIF in Dubbo, NSW as a Private on the 2nd November 1915. Previously Frank, the son of Frank and Harriet Duncan, had worked around Cobar doing various labouring jobs on farms and in the mines.

Frank embarked from Australia in March 1916 on HMAT The Star of England and landed in Egypt in April. Details of Frank's undistinguised service record in Egypt, France and Englaand can be found on his digitised WWI military file at National Archives of Australia site.

Frank returned to Cobar in 1919 where he met WWI widow Ethel Chatfield (Nee Pusell). They were married in 1922 and produced five daughters. 

My grandmother Ethel Jane Pusell had a new house in which to raise her family. When  Frank  returned from the war he was able, through the Soldiers Settlement Scheme, to gain a grant of Crown land on which he built a house for his bride, Ethel.The 32,000 acres of land on which the simple timber house was built on the property "Elsinore" was 40 miles west of Cobar NSW. In 2013 this is a remote area,  90 years ago it was extremely remote. Cobar, the nearest town, was a long carriage ride over rutted, red, dusty roads. Sydney and the coast was 700 km away. Life was tough, there were droughts, bushfires and loneliness.


When it came time for the girls to go to school the family moved into town and Frank continued to travel out to the farm.

My grandmother never complained about her lot in life; the stories she told of her early life were laced with the good humour with which she would have faced life at "Elsinore".

Frank and Ethel had a shop in Cobar and Frank also had an ice cream/catering van that he took to local events where his catchcry was ""Try our home made pies - warm your belly for threepence". The girl behind the wheel in Frank's van, is his daughter Lillian.

Once the girls grew up and were seeking employment the family moved to Sydney where they settled in Kensington Road, Kensington. Frank worked for the local Post Office.

Frank and Ethel, 1948

Not long after World War Two broke out Private Frank Duncan, Service Number N74211 enlisted in the Australian Army in Sydney on 10 Aug 1940 . Frank's term of service in 2 Garrison Battalion was less than one year. Frank, aged just 53, died at home in Kensington in August 1948.

One wonders if the conditions Frank faced when defending his country and The British Empire contributed to his early demise. Frank was an ordinary bloke, a bit of a larrikin, the "Dadda" who gave his girls a happy upbringing and a secure home environment. He contributed to the charmed life I lead in "The Lucky Country." I am sorry that I never got to meet my grandfather. 

 I do have many happy memories of that house in Kensington Road, of times spent with my grandmother and the extended family. I remember the large back bedroom where my grandmother and the girls slept. I remember Christmases with the keg in the backyard for the men and the piano in the living room with my Aunts singing "Ta ra ra boom de ay". I went to ballet and tap lessons from there each Saturday. My

Ready for ballet - at Nana's in Kensington

grandmother and aunts used all put money in a jar in the kitchen to cover the cost of my lessons.

My grandmother was a domestic worker who went out each morning to "do for the Faiella family" up on the hill. She suffered dreadfully from rheumatism and would have to take to her bed for an afternoon rest after work each day but she never complained, she just rubbed linament on her aches and took a Vincent's APC powder for the pain. 

When I was about six my grandmother, my great Aunt Annie and Arthur Johnson, the boarder,

Kewpie dolls on a stick

moved down the hill to a large flat above some shops in Anzac Parade, Kensington where Nana lived for about the next twenty years. Nana continued to work for the Faiellas who had a toy and novelty business. Prior to the Royal Easter Show Nana used to bring home piece work from the Faiellas who sold dolls and novelties on stands at the Show. It was all hands on deck to thread elastic through net skirts, put the skirts on the Kewpie dolls and then put the dolls on sticks.

As my mother went back to work when I was eight or nine I spent a lot of time in the school holidays with Nana and Annie. We used to eat bread and butter with sugar and drink lemonade from the shop downstairs. Nana was fond of devon and I was regularly sent to the shops to buy six penneth worth of devon and a tank loaf of bread. Nana cooked great baked dinners and delicious pasties while Annie was the cake maker. When I married Nana taught me how to make a boiled Christmas pudding in a cloth.

For entertainment we would watch Nana's stories on the TV, she loved Days of our Lives and Bonanza. No-one was allowed to talk while these were airing. We played lots of cards for money, Nana had a jar of pennies that we used for our stake, poker and gin rummy were the games she taught me. Nana used go out with her mates a couple of nights a week to play Housie (Bingo).

Ethel - Christmas 1981

I met so many of Mum's country cousins at Nana's place. She was always hosting someone from the bush who was down for a few days in the big smoke. If only I had been able to record all the stories they told! Sadly I can only remember snippets of the many tales I heard.

The very first time my parents left me at home and went off on a holiday I came down with a wisdom tooth problem. I packed bag, hopped on the bus and landed on Nana's doorstep. Although she had a house full at the time Nana made up a bed, tucked me in and looked after me. Nana was my first port of call when I needed help. Eight years later when I was pregnant with my second child and bedrest was ordered my 80 year old Nana used to come over to my place on the bus from Coogee to iron, cook and help me with my toddler.

When Nana moved to a flat in Coogee she still went to Housie but she also became fond of poker machines and would travel up to Randwick Labor Club to play the pokies once or twice a week. There was always a meal, a cuppa and a bed for anyone who dropped in to Nana's place at Coogee.

By the time she died at 89 Nana had moved to a nursing home and her memory had faded.

I was privileged to have a beautiful, generous and happy grandmother for 39 years of my life.

The Book of Me - Prompt 6 - Journals and Diaries

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The Book of Me, Written by You activity.

The prompt for week 6 is Journals and Diaries

Do you keep a journal or diary?

How far back do they go? What do you record?

Where do you keep them?

Do you always buy the same one or vary them?

Have you inherited any?

Do you intend to pass along your journals or destroy them?

Pictures

Do you have a favourite?

What do you use to write with – biro, pencil, ink or fountain pen?

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This post is relatively easy for me as I blogged on this topic in 2010 in a post titled Recording my life's stories. I am pasting that post below and making additional comments in italics.

Do you keep a diary?

I have a couple of shelves of hard copy diaries in my garage. (now in my study). There are work diaries and personal diaries. I started recording a personal diary around 1980 but missed a couple of years in the eighties.

Around eighteen (21 ) years ago when I first acquired a PDA I decided to move to an online diary as I realised that I could move entries from my PDA into a file on my computer, enhance these with anecdotes and keep them as a diary. In those early days there weren't many pieces of  journalling software around and I don't think blogs were around either. I decided to keep my diary in a simple spreadsheet. Today it is still in that spreadsheet and still using the headings I set up all those years ago

Diary Headings

It's not meant to be pretty just functional.

I started by importing all of my PDA calendar entries into the spreadsheet then I  transcribed all of my diary entries; these triggered memories so I was able to add more detail to the dry dates and facts. Once this was completed I was on a roll. I then added entries for events prior to the days when I kept a diary. I added dates and memories of family events, looked at my dated photographs and recorded the stories these told me. My kids let me look at their old school diaries and calendars; these provided more dates and memory prompts. I have since gone through some (most) of our old credit card bills (and cheque butts) and added details of important purchases.





From time to time family members make a comment about an event in the past and their recollections of it.  I note these on either a scrap of paper or a note in my phone (I mostly use Evernote now) and put them in the diary as time permits recording the source of the comment. I always record my sources, not in a formal academic sense but with labels like Aunt May, 1983 school diary, Letter from Fred to Sue, Current, Photo etc.






When my Dad passed away I discovered where my hoarding genes came from. He had kept every receipt from every purchase he had made. I added these and the memories I have related to these purchases: our first refrigerator, our first radiogram, our first television, holiday dates. One of my dear friends had saved all the postcards I had sent to her, when she knew that her days were numbered she gave these back to me. I have added all of the text to the diary; these entries demonstrate in my words the awe and excitement I had when visiting distant lands. I have since acquired the postcards I have sent to my parents and inlaws and some from other family members, these too have been transcribed.



I cannot remember when all my friends got married or had their 21sts or when their kids were christened but I have vivid memories of some of these events. Whenever I come across someone whose wedding I attended I ask when they got married and add this to the diary. I then record my memories of the event. A friend lent me his collection of newsletters from our Church youth group, I have added details of the outings we had during these years. 





As technology has developed I have added entries from other sources. My daughter's emails from boarding school tell of the fun times she was having. My Facebook wall posts (and tweets) are wonderful sources of my thoughts and activities at a particular point in time. Each month I import my outlook calendar into the diary.

Whenever I travel I record my doings on a spreadsheet on my smartphone as I go and import this into the main document on my return. As I would like to access OurDiary from multiple devices I tried using a Google Drive spreadsheet but it was very sluggish and crashed repeatedly so I am still using Excel. When I plan my travel I start a Google spreadsheet using the same columns as OurDiary, as I travel I add to this and it becomes my travel diary that I can access from multiple devices and offline as well. When I return home I copy the entries into OurDiary.



The diary now sits in a folder called OurDiary (backed up weekly) into which I paste scanned images of tickets, invitations, programs etc. I hyperlink to these from the Excel spreadsheet. I also add hyperlinks to information about people, places and events. I once started to transcribe old letters and didn't get far but now I scan and hyperlink them.



What started out as a simple spreadsheet has now grown into a multimedia resource that spans my lifetime. This diary is much richer than a simple paper based diary as it combines information from a range of sources to give a picture of our family and work life. When I finish digitising my photos I will add selected ones into the folder. Whether it will stay in Excel or migrate to some other product I don't know.




Hopefully some of my descendants will be interested in our family life and gain enjoyment and enlightenment from Our Diary.

The Book of Me - Prompt 5 - Your Childhood Home

This week Julie Goucher of Angler's Rest asked us to respond to the following prompt in The Book of Me, Written by You activity.

The prompt for week 5 is Your Childhood Home

When did you leave home?
Where was it?
Where did you move to?
Was it rented or owned? – with parents/Grandparents
Was it inherited
What was it like – describe it – each room.
Were there a favourite room?
Is there anything you particularly remember from the house?
Pictures
The road & area
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My first home was just a room in a house in Kensington Road, Kensington opposite my maternal grandmother's home. I think while my dad was at work my mother and I spent most of our time across the road. In post war times housing was in short supply in Sydney so finding self contained accommodation was a challenge.I have absolutely no memories of this place.

As it happened my father's two younger sisters had moved from the country to Sydney and were renting a one-bedroom flat in what was then a fashionable area, Kings Cross. They must have taken pity on their brother and his family as they gave up their flat for us and moved back into the family home with their parents.I believe we moved here when I was about one and we stayed till I was around nine. I remember our Wedgwood blue kitchen, the dark Jacobean furniture, playing in the park with my little friends, being scared witless by local identity Bea Miles and being spoilt rotten by elderly, childless next door neighbours. I don't have any pictures of the flat but I was able to find a current photo of the building on a real estate site and it looks pretty much how it did when I was a child.

Kentwood Court, Kings Cross

When my parents were offered a Housing Commission home in Malabar I was nine, they had been looking to purchase a home closer to Sydney but decided to buy this house at Malabar that was 8 miles from Sydney's CBD and a 1 mile walk to public transport. I think it was quite a shock for my mother who was used to having the city on her doorstep to move to a house where the closest shop was a mile away instead of the 50 yards was used to. My father purchased a car very soon after the move to Malabar.

I loved having my own pretty pink bedroom and a yard to play in; there were lots of young families in the street so even though I was an only child there were plenty of playmates. We seemed to have a lot more freedom than children do these days and I remember being able to go with my friends to swim in the rock pool at Malabar or in the safe beach down at Little Bay.There was a lot of vacant land in the vicinity so we kids were able to build cubby houses and explore to our hearts content.

The thing that I didn't like about this house was that it was in an unsewered area and we did not have a septic tank, ours was an old-fashioned dunny. I was especially spooked when I had to visit our outside loo at night

Our little house at Malabar before the garden grew

Even though she was a country girl I don't think my mother never got used to living at Malabar. When I was in high school I returned to the inner-city school that I had attended when we lived in Kings Cross, I had to catch three buses to get to school. When I was 14 we moved again. This time it was to a brand-new home unit (apartment) that my parents bought at Randwick, a suburb that was only 4 miles from the city and much closer to transport and services. 

I loved living in a home unit with its modern bathroom and inside toilet and we even got our first telephone connected, that was teenage heaven.Although it was a small building there were half a dozen other kids my age in residence, we quickly bonded and had a wonderful time just hanging out or getting sunburnt at Coogee Beach that was only a 15 min walk away. When I left school and started socialising our convenient location made it easy for me to travel about and get home safely. A taxi fare home was only two dollars from busy Peters Corner. 

Although our living room wasn't huge Mum always seemed to be able to accommodate and feed the groups of friends I brought home from the beach or our youth club for a meal. My teenage years at Randwick were very happy.

Geniaus aged 16 in the garden of our home unit block

I don't have any photos of the exterior of the Randwick building but I do have some pictures taken on the last day that I lived there, my wedding day.

With Dad and Mum in our living room on my wedding day

Book of Me, Hangout on Air

 A month ago I wrote that I was ready to Hang Out, that is to take part in Google Hangouts and Hangouts on Air. Since that time I have dabbled. I am particularly indebted to Julie Goucher of the Angler's Rest blog for being a playmate.

Brave soul that she is Julie, who is the instigator and author of The Book of Me, Written by You activity, decided to take the plunge and host her first Hangout on Air in which she would lead a discussion on the project. Together with Tessa Keough and Thomas MacEntee I joined Julie in her first Google Hangout on Air.

Thanks to Julie for including me and to Tessa for her encouragement and advice before, during anda fter the session. Unfortunately we lost Thomas part way through the session. A couple of potential panelists commented that they couldn't find or join the Hangout; Julie has already advertised another hangout and distributed instructions for joining so these issues should be addressed. I was nervous and found myself tongue-tied a couple of times during the session, I am impressed at how well Julie performed in her first Hngout on Air.

If you want to hear what we said about The Book of Me, Written by You activity take a look at the video of the Hangout.