Taylor (Pip) Marie

**Fast Facts**
Type of person	Individual
Date of birth	1931

I was born in Central India, in a town called Indore, in 1931.

My father, Albert, was in the British Army in India, and when discharged, started his own garage. My mother was Phyllis Susan [nee Morey]. Albert was her 2nd husband. I was the youngest in my family of four sisters and one brother. My next sister was ten years older, my brother twenty years older. My early years were spent in Mhow, a British Military cantonment.

I have no recollection of being unhappy. We were not rich by any standards, but my siblings spoiled me, my father adored me and my mother was very tolerant. All the Indians I encountered, from first to last days in India, were kind, hospitable and loved children.

As we were not rich, my father was a “chota” sahib, (“small” sahib), not a “burra” sahib (“big” sahib), but I never felt the lack of anything. From my very earliest memories I was only interested in animals. I had a native nurse when very young, called Ayah, who spoiled me as much as anyone. I was always finding and bringing into the house, (with her collusion) animals, usually sick ones, as they were easier to catch. There were plenty of wandering dogs, usually diseased, as well as squirrels and even rats. The animal I found and brought in would have to be pried from my grasp, and I would have to be bathed and disinfected, protesting loudly, of course, as Rabies was rife in India, and my parents had to be careful.

I remember a friend’s dog licking my grazed knee - I was so thrilled, I ran to tell my parents how kind and dear the dog was. All hell broke loose! The dog was rushed to the vet, to check for rabies, and I was started on a course of anti – rabies injections, fourteen in all, two a day. I resolved then to never tell my parents anything about animals again! I was five years old.

We had our own pet dog – my father loved animals too, but though I loved all our dogs, they were not enough to fill my need to interact with animals. From an early age, my father taught me to ride a horse (he had been in the Cavalry in England) and I learned to love the Indian horses which you could hire to ride. (Why I disclose my interest in animals is to link my youth with my present situation, as will become clear).

My father eventually gave up his garage and joined the Ford Motor Co in India. In this position he travelled a lot and my mother and I travelled with him. We therefore lived in different cities, mainly in North India, and as I was educated in Convent schools, I would attend the Convent school in that city. When travelling, we would stay overnight in “dak” bungalows, or “posthouses”, unfurnished, so we slept in bedding rolls. I learned to love curry and rice, and even at a young age, became a connoisseur of curry. We would eat very hot curry, a small amount at a time, with lots of rice. This is how the Indians eat it, because rice is cheaper than curry.

My time at school was very happy and the nuns were excellent teachers, skilled at keeping their students interested in learning. The final years we were in India were close to Indian Independence and I learned a lot about Mahatma Ghandi. In the last year I was in India I was a boarder in an American Missionary School in the Himalayas, in a town called Murree; 9000 feet high and snowbound from October to March.

Even at a young age I could appreciate the beauty of the Himalayas, the animals, especially the monkeys, who would come whooping down through the trees in the morning outside the dormitory windows. I remember looking down into a valley where two rivers ran alongside each other, a slow one and a fast one; one blue and one brown.

I did not want to leave India but the British were leaving. One of my sisters had married an Australian, so my parents decided to come to live in Australia to be with her, and also because they deemed England would be too cold after so many years in India. So my sister sponsored us and we came by boat. When we landed in Fremantle, I thought we had come to a city of gangsters, because I had never seen white men in felt hats before, only in movies. Then we came to Melbourne and I was still feeling forlorn and strange. We were in the city on a tram, and everything stopped. All traffic stopped! Buses, trams and cars! People were gathering at shop windows where radios were blaring. It was 1948. My mother, very apprehensive, directed my father to find out what was happening. “Its World war 3”, she declared! So my dad obediently went to find out. “Phyll”, he said to my mother, “It’s a horse race.” She didn't believe him and hit him with her handbag. But he insisted, and right then and there was born my love for Australia, and Australians, a love which has grown stronger each year. “This is a good country,” I thought, “where everything stops for a horse race.” It was the Melbourne Cup, of course!

I went to school in Melbourne and enjoyed a different sort of schooling. I made some good friends, one of whom loved exploring Melbourne, and she showed me all around the city, the byways and parks.

Then we moved to Warrnambool – my dad changing jobs – still in the car industry. I met more fun friends at school and home. We were renting a small farm house near the river mouth. Neighbours and I had access to an agisted pony that we were permitted to ride. We had no bridle, reins or saddle, but the pony was very accommodating (as they are) and we enjoyed each other’s company whenever we could. I loved it there.

Then my father was transferred to Geelong, and we moved there. And then we settled. For the first time we had our own home. My parents bought a small weatherboard house. We were all very happy. My dad loved gardening as well and at last we had a garden. My mother was marvellous, she fitted in anywhere. I finished school, got my Leaving certificate, and started work. I was in a photographic studio, retouching negatives, to remove lines and blemishes, and colouring the studio photos, printed in sepia tones because there was no colour photography then. And then somehow, in my early twenties, I had the opportunity to start nursing training at the Geelong hospital. Nurses in those days learnt all their skills in the hospital itself. There was no University course back then. It was a wonderful experience. Geelong hospital had the usual variety of patients that all hospitals have, with a large proportion of trauma, from accidents on the Geelong to Melbourne road, and mishaps suffered by the Geelong football team.

We were instructed and supervised carefully from first year to final year. We were in groups called schools, and we faced tragedy, happiness and horror. The Polio epidemic hit, but we supported and helped each other, and the trained staff, though strict, were not too severe, but understanding. The friends I made then, in the 50’s, I still correspond with, and my best friend has come to live in Tanunda.

Sadly, before I finished my training, my father died. He was 48 years old. So I finished my courses, worked a further year as a staff nurse, and then, when I was in my early 30’s, my mother and I moved to Adelaide, where one of my sisters was living, and where my brother and his wife had also emigrated to from England.

So I came to South Australia. My mother and I settled in a house in St Peters. It had a big mortgage, but we managed. I loved South Australia from the very beginning. I had the privilege of being accepted by the Royal District Nursing Society to work as a District nurse. They sent me to Adelaide University and after 4 years I graduated with a DipT Teaching degree.

What a marvellous period in my life. I was working with highly professional nurses practised in nursing and professional skills. I met people in their own homes, who were courageous, caring and informative. I learnt, for example, about weather, from old retired farmers. I learnt about gardens, I saw the love they had for their pets, and I met some beautiful dogs who looked after their owners.

Working in different parts of Adelaide revealed different ways of life. In West Adelaide for example, on market days, they were always waiting to go to the market when I arrived. They knew all their neighbours and would direct me to those who needed me first. There were stray cats everywhere that would wait to be fed, in certain places, at corners, back streets, in drains. I remember relieving for holidays, a district nurse for holidays who came from a more wealthy family than mine. I faithfully followed her instructions as to where to stop and feed the cats waiting, but they wouldn't eat the minced beef I gave them. I rang her up in desperation, even though she was on holidays, and asked her what she fed them. “Oh, anything,” she said, “Any old smoked salmon or steak you have left over.”

At the age of 60, I eventually left District Nursing, as it was the compulsory retirement age. I started work in a hospital. My mother was aged then and sadly I lost her too. I then allowed myself to feel that my dream may soon become reality. I wanted a hobby farm, with a variety of animals, and I wanted to strive for self-sufficiency. 25 or so years ago, I bought a ten acre block, with a loan from the bank because land was not expensive at that time. I had worked in Gawler as district nurse, relieving a nurse on holidays, and I loved it. With the help of a good friend, gradually sheds, stables and fencing were built, and then a house. I sold my house in St Peters to pay for it all. Mine, and the blocks next to mine, all about ten acres, were very bare. I wondered how I could leave leafy St Peters for a bare block in the country. But the Council gave all of us trees, which we planted. And the trees grew. The blocks are not empty anymore! I had two dogs and two cats which came with me from St Peters. A friend gave me a horse that needed shelter, and another friend placed two goats with me, one of which I milked. Stray cats wandered in, and then came more animals, including sheep and goats that had been left on a block of land that had been sold, with no food or water. Horses that were too old to race and a pony from a family disrupted by a broken marriage were also welcome.

I had a donkey that was destined for the abattoirs and orphaned lambs that farmers did not have time to rear. The farm gates always opened for animals arriving in utes, trailers and cars. Every animal has a story, and every animal has a name.

More horses arrived, some ejected because they did not perform as required. One had an injury that the owners deemed too expensive to be treated by a vet.

Gradually children came to ride and I purchased a pony that became the centrepiece of the rides. I taught many children on this very willing little Welsh grey. Children from schools, kindergartens and play groups came to visit and interact with the animals. Intellectually impaired young people were brought by their carers in special groups and it was truly amazing to see their positive reaction to the animals. So grew my mission to which I am passionately dedicated.

“The Little Hills Hobby Farm” exists to rescue and care for farm animals and birds, that for some reason have nowhere to go, and to teach children to respect animals. I have been very fortunate. I have had, and still have, caring and tolerant family and friends, a wonderful period of working in nursing, a profession which is satisfying and fulfilling. I found teaching to be a delightful and soul searching occupation. Interaction with children is as joyful as interaction with animals.

So now, having retired at 80 years, I can spend my days in devotion to my mission. My family has promised the farm and it’s ideals will be continued on should something happen to me, but at the moment I’m pretty healthy, according to my doctor, so perhaps I shall be like Noah, who was 120 years old when he began to build his ark, then took seventy years to build it! Who knows, a little David Attenborough may come through one day, or a little Jane Goodall, someone in the next generation who cares. That is my powering hope!

Right now, the farm is balanced, the sheep keep the area clean, manure is collected and taken by those interested, I grow vegies, and the poultry give me eggs. Since living in South Australia, I have enjoyed performing in the Gilbert and Sullivan Society productions, usually singing in the chorus and having parts in the more comedic roles being presented. This association continues to this day.

I was proud to be awarded Gawler’s Citizen of the Year in 2009 and in the same year to be awarded the State title of Citizen of the Year. The ceremony at Government House was lovely.

Being on the pension, I find finances difficult, re animal food and bills, but I am investigating resources, so hopefully all will proceed positively. I am in love with Gawler and I'm proud to be part of the matrix in this wonderful town. I hope I can continue to be a positive part. My happiness is in my animals.

Please click here to see photos of Pip Taylor.