Lots of words & a few photos.

Neil's trip to S.A. Feb. 2013

Lots of Photos - few words


Sunday, to adelaide.

Monday. Mt Gambier & Mt Schank.

Tuesday, Mt. Schank.

Wednesday, The Mount,Adelaide & Bills.

Thursday. Big day, Dad's birth place, Jo Hartley's, Christines & Margaret.

Friday. Morphett Vale, Range Road & Victor Harbour.

Saturday. Kangaroo Island mob, Henley, Cherryville & Prospect.

Sunday, North Adelaide Baptist Church & Uncle Bill's.

This page is a summary of the week-long trip to South Australia undertaken by Neil Badger in February 2013. Information gained on this trip will be used to hopefully enhance this web-site over the next few years.


Photo links




I had noticed when doing some work on the family tree that Uncle Bill was going to be 88 this year, this came as a shock, it certainly didn't seem nearly 25 years since the David Badger Centenary Reunion in Mt Gambier. We had communicated regularly, if not often, over the intervening years and there was much that I needed to know and Bill was my last chance to obtain first-hand information. Additionally I ascertained that my mother's best  friend from 8 years of age would be 95 this year. I had promised to visit her for many years, and now the time has come. A convenient window of opportunity arose when my daughter, Julie, wanted me to do some baby sitting a week after my niece Sarah's wedding in Sydney and we were due to go to Melbourne immediately afterwards. So I resolved to leave Megan to drive back home after the wedding and I would fly to Adelaide.


Upon my return I would perform my grandfather duties and then meet up with Megan at Wendy's and fly to Melbourne from Newcastle. This meant that I would have a week in Adelaide, giving me time to go down to Mt Gambier to catch up with Lloyd's kids. The recollections of my father Donald Gibson, were prompted by a request from them for some information about their father's childhood. We were brought up in the "children should be seen and not heard" period and had little knowledge of our family history. Most of our conceptions came from scraps of conversations overheard when parents thought we were asleep or otherwise occupied. My purpose in this visit is to try to resolve some of the issues that have occupied our minds since childhood. Issues such as the premature deaths of my Grandmother, Maggie Knox and Uncle Arch's wife Helen, resulting in my father, two uncles and two aunties being brought up by "the aunties"

Sunday, to adelaide.

Sunday, to adelaide.

I arrived in Adelaide just after lunch, collected my bike and rode down to Glenelg.
I had booked into what I thought was a quaint
little boarding house, but was in fact a
backpackers hostel. After unpacking,
 I headed out again and rode up to The Grange, looking for the Henley Beach property of the Aunties. I found a few possibles and took photographs front and back so I could compare the rooflines to old photographs.
I cycled back to Glenelg, and as I arrived there I considered whether I should put the bike straight into the car boot, at which point I remembered that I was supposed to have returned via the airport and collected my rental car. Wearily I headed back up to the airport.  I had been unable to get my "not so" smart phone to come out of aeroplane mode and it wouldn't do anything, so I left it at the hostel, hence I had no idea who I had booked my car through and none of the operators had a car in my name. After a deal of confusion I organised one and drove back to Glenelg. I circled the hostel for some time looking for a parking spot, spiralling out in ever increasing circles of frustration, till eventually finding a spot about four blocks from the hostel.
I was sopping wet as it had been an extremely hot Adelaide summer day and I had ridden considerably further than I intended.

A hot shower sounded like a good idea, looking around I remembered it was a backpackers and I should have provided my own towel, aargh, undaunted I showered anyway and used my shirt to remove excess water. This served the dual purpose of getting me partially dry and the shirt partially washed. Feeling like a new man, I headed down to the bar with my phone and Ipad, determined to sort out the problems, or at least email all my contacts to advise them of my arrival and my communication difficulties. After two refreshing Coopers I had sent the emails and turned the phone off in frustration, I headed out for something to eat and watched the sun set over the gulf from the Glenelg Pier. Sunday night in Glenelg is very busy, back in my room it was still about 100 degrees and on opening the window, the local rock scene was blasting it out at about 150Db's. After a disturbed night's sleep I arose about 5.30 and went for a walk looking for some breakfast. There was a small goods shop that had a packet of  muffins  and a jar of Peanut Butter, ah heaven, back to the hostel and a breakfast of champions.
Just as I got back to my room it started to rain quite heavily, bringing some relief to the intense heat. I moved the car closer to the hostel, packed it and was on the road a few minutes after 7.


Monday. To Mt Gambier & Mt Schank.

A couple of wrong turns and it was an hour before I was heading up the Glen Osmond Rd.
It is a somewhat better road than we used to travel so many years ago, however there is a paucity of road signs, especially to Mt. Gambier, I think I was at Tailem Bend before its first mention. It drizzled most of the way to Keith but then it fined up. I wasn't sure if I was meeting Rosie in town or at Janice's place so I drove into the middle of town and then set about finding her. It was organised that Garry would come and find me and lead me back to their place, which was accomplished without any dramas
Garry & Janice, Christine & Keith, Rosemary & I chatted,
had lunch and chatted some more until Rosie had to go and get her glasses and I thought it was time I headed out to Mt.Schank. Unsure of the directions after a fifty year gap, Chris & Keith volunteered to lead me as they hadn't been out there for quite a while. A bit more chatting and then Keith & Chris had to head for Gawler and we had a beer followed by dinner with a bottle of red, and a bit more reminiscing.

Tuesday, Mt. Schank.


Dawn breaks over the milking shed, fortuitously we don't need to be there,so Geoff and I shared an early breakfast as he had work to do and I had childhood memories to revive.Geoff headed out to feed the cattle and I ventured forth camera in hand.

The milking sheds lie idle, the tennis court abandoned, Geoff & Fran have added a couple of rooms beside the lounge and renovated the kitchen and they have flowers and natives surrounding the house, but apart from that little has changed over 50 years.
After a walk around the sheds, inspect the boat, the caravan and the Schank Hilton and a lovely lunch of smoked salmon, Geoff went off to dig some postholes and I went down to Port McDonnell. I went down the backroad and was surprised by the amount of irrigation in use in the area. The stench of rotting seaweed told me I was near the coast and then, there it was, the sea a magnificent shade of turquoise a stark contrast to the brown baked earth of the south east.
I headed along the coast looking for Lloyd and Thelma's holiday cottage, Geoff had told me it had been knocked down and a new McMansion built in it's place. It seems odd in the thousands of miles of coastline  that we need to knock down a house barely in its prime,
but I guess that is progress.
From there I proceeded along the coast to the old lighthouse, the coastline is unique and it is a mystery to me why we never looked at it on one of our family trips. There are also a number of museums and houses of interest in the area however I did't have time to investigate them.

I headed back up the main road to the Schank, I had wanted to reproduce the photo from the top of the tank stand, looking over the house yard to Mt Schank, however the pine trees are massive now and completely block any view.
Hence, I had decided to  climb Mt Schank and take the reverse photo. We had never been allowed to climb it as children, Uncle Lloyd said there were too many Tiger snakes, whether this was true or he just did't want to climb it we will never know. There is a path right to the top now with sodden earth filled steps of the steeper sections. Three steps from the top, with the view expanding before my eyes, I didn't watch the steps, tripped and came down hard on my artificial knee, visions of bits of steel poking through the skin filled my head as I imagined a night evacuation from the top of the hill. What wuss, a little blood a grazed knee and back to the hiking.

The farm from the Schank.
A slight break in the trees for the driveway and a spot of colour for the house or a shed.

I headed back to the farm for a much appreciated baked dinner and the we settled down to read the story of Uncle Neil (Neil Thompson Badger) that Christine had produced. Lloyd had kept a box in his bedroom at the Schank until his death, children were not allowed to see it and I never heard my father mention it. This box contained all of Neil's flight logs and various letters pertaining to his Air Force career, hyperlink here. This information answered a lot of questions that had gone unanswered for many many years. I had always felt that there was a feeling that Neil would have survived the war if he had not flown with the Americans. In conversation with Uncle Bill after reading the info on Neil, he said that the American commanding officer had a policy that any F.O.'s coming under his command had to do at least one flight as co-pilot,

Wednesday, The Mount, back to Adelaide & Bills.

I headed back to Janice's for morning tea and a bit of a chat before heading back to Adelaide. We floated the idea of a 100th birthday for Donald Gibson, somewhere up the river and invite all the cousins, that would be January, 2015. The trip to Adelaide was uneventful and I hit town about 5pm. I drove down Glen Osmond till I reached the expensive motels and then went back to something I could afford. After checking in I went out in the road to see where I was and found that I was on the corner of Glen Osmond and Connyngham. I went back in and checked Uncle Bill's address and he lives on Connyngham, a few hundred yards up the road. I was taking him up to Gawler the next day so I decide to walk up and check on arrangements. Five hours later, armed with a pile of Badger History Homework and after a tea of soup and a meat pie I headed back to the motel.

While there Bill suggested I should call in on Margaret Creeper (nee Farr) on my way down to Victor Harbour. He handed me the phone & said call her. This I did only to be told she didn't live there anymore and to try her sister Helen, but she added that Helen's husband Richard had just had a serious prostate operation. We tried to ring Helen, with no success so we presumed she was in Adelaide with Richard. Bill then suggested I ring Don Pritchard as he could well know Margaret's whereabouts as the Kangaroo Island clan were pretty close. This I did and after Don's surprise at hearing from me after nearly sixty years we had a nice chat. I then rang Margaret and again after a stunned silence for a few seconds we had a good chat and she offered me her spare room for the next few nights, which I readily accepted.

He also had me ring Jim Badger, Jim & I had been designated Family Tree perpetuators by our respective fathers at the Mt. Gambier reunion. We had both assisted out fathers in computerising their family trees. We were both fired with enthusiasm at the reunion, however, the cold light of reality set in when we arrived home nad little had been done by either of us until a few years ago. Rapid changes in computer technology and software had made the maintenance of our old records impossible and the prospect of restarting was daunting. Jim has managed to coopt his brother, Philip, into re-entering the 1400 names, whilst I had gone down this web-page path. Hopefully the two will come together in some way and become a meaningful resource for the following generations.

Thursday. Big day, Dad's birth place, Jo Hartley's, Christines & Margaret.

Set off reasonably early looking for Dad's birthplace, whilst avoiding the Clipsal traffic.


I found the house and chatted with the owner who said the house was about 102 years old, which means it was less than 5 years old when Dad was wrapped in a blanket and placed in the fuel stove to help him survive his premature birth.

From there I went up to Kensington Park to see if I could  find the house over the road from the Penfold's place. This is a likely contender. Need to see if we can ascertain the Penfold’s actual address back then.

 I was due at Jo Hartley's place to meet Rosemary, Auntie Jessie's daughter and Margaret, Auntie Flora's daughter for morning tea. ( Mellors, sisters of Maggie Knox Thompson, David Magnus's wife.) . Not sure how Jo avoided being in this photo, she could have been one of the Worthley girls.

Rosemary was instantly recognisable, bearing the unmistakeable Mellor features.More photo swapping and yarn telling and then it was back to Bill's and up to Gawler for afternoon tea with Christine. On the trip up and back Bill took the chance to force feed me with more history.





Chris showed me her quilting workshop and many, many quilts and Keith arrived home from his second last day of work and we picked his brain on the means of establishing exactly which house had belonged to "the Aunties". We always say "the Auntie's" house although it was occupied by Uncle Charlie & Auntie Sis, along with Auntie Nance and originally when purchased Uncle Arch was going to live there as well, but he died just before they moved in.
I got Uncle Bill back home about 6.30 and rang Margaret to let her know what was happening. It turns out she was with Helen, just around the corner, so we agreed to meet at the corner of Wattle & Fullarton, ASAP. As I drove to the appointed spot I questioned our rendezvous technique, we hadn't  discussed what cars we were driving and we hadn't seen each other for about 50 years. When I arrived and parked about three cars from the corner on Wattle I noticed a message on my phone saying "on Wattle, white Commodore with roo bar". I looked around and could see no Commodore, so I sent a reply saying "so am I", and prayed there wasn't a Wattle street and a Wattle road not far from each other. I walked up and down the middle of the road trying to make it obvious that I was looking for someone and shortly I was rewarded with an attractive young lady waving to me from the safety of the footpath. It turned out to be Margaret and we repaired to a local hotel for a bite to eat. We filled each other in on the happenings within our families since we had last met which sadly included the death of one of Margaret's twin boys just prior to his 40th birthday from a brain tumour. Satiated, we headed back to Margaret's unit, which was the next block along from where I had initially parked my car on Sunday night in Glenelg. We talked until after midnight before hitting the hay.

Friday. Morphett Vale, Range Road & Victor Harbour.

I  had been unable to contact Auntie Joyce, who is not an Auntie, but was my mother's closest friend from the age of 8. As it transpires it was my fault, a little while ago Joyce had been having trouble with prank calls so she had a silent number installed. I had put the new number in my phone, but written the old one on the contact list that I had taken with me.  When I found they were different I decided that I hadn't got around to updating my phone yet, so I deleted the correct number that was in the phone and replaced it with the old number, needless to say, she didn't answer my calls.
 So I decided just to head on down there, after all, she is 95, how much partying is she likely to be doing.

On the way I was to visit the Morphett Vale church that was built by David Badger. In my father's book there is a picture of a church standing tall out in the countryside so I figured I would have no trouble finding it. Well that is not quite true, I didn't even consider the possibility that I would do anything other than drive straight to it. Morphett Vale is now the largest suburb in the state with a population of 23,000 and an area of 12.76 square kilometres and the church was nowhere to be seen, in fact I had trouble even finding Morphett Vale in the Adelaide - Mclaren Vale conurbation. My troubles were exacerbated by not knowing if I was looking for a Baptist, a Congregational or a Uniting church.

Suffice to say that I was not looking for an Innerware shop, and had no idea what an Innerware shop was, but was pleasantly surprised by what I found.
Eventually I found the church/shop, took a few photos and had a good chat with the shop assistant,  who was sympathetic to the plight of the church as her mother had been married there. The church is heritage listed and in need of repairs, the trees are gone and it is sandwiched between two motor bike shops.

From there it was on to McLaren Vale and beyond, Range Road at the top of the Willunga Hill. ( Quite a bit if history to go In here.lloyd, Neil , Thelma etc.)
I found the old Montarra Hall and the plaque to Neil  and down the road opposite is "Badgers Road".

A dilapidated  chimney on Range road. Montarra Hall & the plaque.
Neil's plaque Badger's road

On to Victor Harbour, found Auntie Joyce at home and we chatted for a few hours about my mum & dad's early days together. (Joyce had introduced them to each other  - probably as a result of her working with Dad at the Congregational Union in Sydney.) .
Don was a lay-preacher and was preaching one Sunday at Auburn Congregational Church and Mum set eyes on him and was very taken with  this handsome young preacher.
Joyce had gone to Lidcombe Congregational Church bur when she was 8 the family changed to the Auburn church where she and Olga became best friends. She laughed at the fact that she always made friend with tall people, Mum had a reputation, along with her sisters, for being tall slender beauties,. When I started dating, some of my early partners were Congregational girls and their fathers generally remembered the fabled William’s sisters of Auburn Cong. Joyce stood about 4 foot 10 and is even less now. Joyce ended up marrying a Congregational Minister, Gordon Branson who came from South Australia.
Their lives mirroring ours for many,  many years, each has one son & three daughters, all born within a few months of each other and two given the same names. Joyce did say that she questioned why Mum left school at such a young age and went to work as a seamstress, however I think it would have been for the money. I remember Grandpa telling me that during the depression he would walk from Auburn to the city every day looking for labouring jobs. We  had fish & chips for tea and then I headed back to Glenelg. This time Margaret & I  did not talk quite so late into the night.

Saturday. Kangaroo Island mob, Henley, Cherryville & Prospect.


Margaret had arranged for the Kangaroo Island clan to meet at her place about 9, which they duly did. Kelly & Jill arrived at the same time and I wondered which was which, until Kelly smiled and I immediately recognised her from old photographs of us all together in 1959. Don could not make it as he had to work, well someone has to.
We chatted till lunchtime and after they left Margaret decided to come with me up to  find the Henley Beach house and then go up to Cherryville. With the help of Google maps, Max had helped us locate the Henley house just north of Marlborough St. on Seaview Rd. The houses on Seaview had been renumbered at some stage in the intervening 50 years.
We headed up the Montacute Rd. and remembered how scary we found that trip  when we were little, it is a very curvy road but the precipitous cliffs of my imagination were greatly exaggerated. On arriving at Cherryville you now come in along the top road which ran past the back of the house, and the old road along the front of the house is a very narrow dirt track. It seemed much further from the road to the house than either Margaret or I remembered but in later discussions with the owner we remembered that there was a driveway that came off the bottom road and ran parallel to the bottom road and ran down to the stone sheds. This driveway is still there and that is where we used to park our car, but nowadays it just looks like a path through the gardens.
We went back down to the old one room school which is still there and parked the car. We walked up and could see that the stone sheds had been converted into accommodation and a separate letter box to the main house, so we continued on to the main house. We knocked on the back door but received no answer but music could be heard for somewhere.

We went around the front of the house and found the owner, Michael in a state of deep relaxation listening to a Mozart opera in the shade of one of the old fig trees. He welcomed us warmly and after some discussion it was established  that  he was the same man I had met when I called in after the Mt Gambier centenary celebration for David Badger in 1990, 23 years earlier.

His son wandered up and he lives in the old stone sheds, which they call "the lofts", he is responsible for the gardens. Margaret was talking to him whilst Michael took me inside to see the steps to the cellar of which I have no memory. The kitchen, which I remember as being huge, was quite small and the steps down to the cellar took up a significant part of the kitchen.

I believe that the steps must have had a drop down door over them doubling the useable space in the kitchen. The kitchen door to the east entered a lounge room with access to the front door, I feel that this was a hallway when we used to visit.

To the right of the hall were two small rooms and similarly to the left with two further rooms beyond these into which we were never permitted to go. Michael felt that the ceilings had been lowered by two to three feet, and considering how cold it used to get up there it is not surprising.

There is a huge glass living room on the western end of the building now. The long drop toilet is long gone but the tennis court still remains.

We headed back via the Old Norton Summit/ Magill Rd., stopping to take photographs of the Governor's summer mansion at Marble Hill, destroyed in the fires of '54, along with the majority of David's cherry trees and almost burning his house.
Uncle Bill told me that he and Don had gone up to Cherryville to help and were stopped by police who were not allowing anyone through. Don explained that they were going to help his father and Bill showed them the provisions they had packed as emergency rations and the police then let them through.

It was late afternoon when we arrived back in Adelaide, but we still had a few hours of daylight so we decided to check out the numerous addresses that I had in the Prospect area. There are a number of one way streets in the area now so for simplicity of navigation we went to 29 Bosanquet Ave first. ( for non Adelaide people they pronounce this boz-an-key.) This was the house that Uncle Gip had built for himself and Nancy when they got married, which unfortunately never happened. We parked out the front and I took a few photographs and then went up to No. 23 which was where I thought Uncle Bill had said that Gip and his sister had been living prior to embarking on the construction.
As we walked back down to the car a young girl appeared and then her mother from No.31, the little girl passed us and looked at the gate into No.29 and called out  that it was open. I was near enough to her to comment that the gate was in fact open and followed up by asking her if she lived there. She confirmed that she did and I explained that our Uncle had built the house, she then called out to the lady from No 31, Dorothy, to come and hear the story.
This lady had lived in No 31 for 60 years, which meant that she had just missed out on meeting all our relatives, but she knew all about them. The owner of 29 was interested to know if we could tell her of the original configuration of the house. Margaret had visited the house as a child but she was only seven when they moved to Kangaroo Island and not all that interested in architecture at that stage. I then remembered that Uncle Bill had lived there for many years whilst studying at University, so I went out to the car and got my mobile phone and he then talked me through the house and I passed on the info to the current owners. The owner brought out some original property deeds and was reading them out to Margaret and I heard him mention the name "Richard Sedgwick Kitson", this name sounded familiar and I checked with Uncle Bill and he confirmed that it was in fact Uncle Gip. There was also a story about a pantry which Margaret had shut herself into, hiding until her much loved grandfather  was seated as she was scared he might fall. This had already happened on two occasions when she had been alone with him and as a child this had been quite frightening.  Once he was safely seated she recalled coming out of the pantry to take her seat.

After Uncle Gip's death the house went to Auntie Nance, she owned it till March 1953, about the time they moved into Henley Beach, at which time the house was sold to the Sandercocks, who in turn left it to Dorothy, the afore mentioned neighbour.

At the time that Uncle Bill lived there the 5 room house had :-
Grandma Annie Badger (Nee -McDougall), Gibson's wife.
Auntie Nance - Annie Gibson Badger - her eldest child and Uncle Gip's fiancée Uncle "Gip" - Richard Sedgewick Kitson, Auntie Nance's fiancée.
Uncle Charlie & Auntie Sis - Charles Burnside & Jessie Emmeline (nee Badger).
Uncle Arch - Archie Maxwell Badger & his daughters :-
Nancy Badger -
Helen Badger -
Dougla Brown - Uncle Bill.

From there we went to the next inter section and turned left, one block away was Prospect Primary School, where many, many relatives attended. A couple of blocks further and we were at 15 Vine Street, where Margaret & Kelly lived till they moved to Kangaroo Island.
Margaret out the front acknowledging what a good climber she must have been to sit on this fence.
The back o the property still has the 12 foot high stone fence that acted as the rear wall for the shack that the "little man at the end of the garden" lived in. Margaret could not remember who he was or why he was there, she just remembered that on Sundays they would take him down a plate of the Sunday Roast. She also recalled a mob of police charging through the front door looking for an S.P. bookie and disappearing out the back.

Five blocks further and we were at 1 Graham Place and the home of Auntie Jessie. Just as we pulled up I noticed a lady back out of the drive, I walked to the middle of the road and flagged her down to warn her that I would be taking pictures of the house. She asked why and I explained the relationship and she pulled over and parked and insisted on showing us through the house. Jeanette was especially interested as to what was at the end of the hall, she said that  when she bought it there was a hole knocked through the wall into the lounge room and it was used as a bar, she had filled that in and knocked a hole through into the kitchen and used I as a pantry, but she would love to know what it was originally.

1 Whinham St.
On the list but we can't remember why.
Maybe Max Pritchard put it there.
3 Methuen , which is the same street as Whinham.
Again not sure what it's connection is.

 Sunday, North Adelaide Baptist Church & Uncle Bill's.

North Adelaide Baptist Church.
I cunningly arrived at 5 to 11 to avoid the service. The minister came out first and I chatted with him and checked it would be OK to take some photographs inside. There were many Badger and Mellor names on plaques and windows. As I was coming up the aisle to the last window a lady was going down and inquired as to my purpose, I explained that I was a Badger and a man a bit further up the aisle spun around and descended on me. "Mrs Badger sat in this pew here" he said pointing out her seat, " I know because I sit right here behind her and she has had to put up with my singing for forty years". The pews are all numbered so imagine my surprise when I saw that her pew number was 56. ( the number of our house in Epping Ave. and also the range of numbers visible when visiting Uncle Bill).
They then invited me over for a cup of tea and introduced me to a few people, one of whom had worked with Sir Geoffrey for 35 years. I then explained that I was also related to the Mellors and they pointed out a few of them to me.
When the minister introduced me to the congregation there was an audible gasp at the mention of the name Badger.
I chatted with one "Mellor" , Kathy Bawden , a descendant of auntie Jessie's husband Ken's brother , Robert (I think).
She asked after Rosemary and I was able to say that I had had morning tea with her on Wednesday and she was doing fine.   Kath Mellor of Cobb Cottage fame and kindergarten pre-eminence would be their auntie.

Below are two windows and an honour roll bearing the names of many of our ancestors.( 3 Badgers, 3 Mellors, a Brown & a Pritchard.)

I took my leave after an hour or so and promised I would return in the not too distant future and even make an effort to make the service.

I then headed back to Uncle Bills as there were a few things that we had heard that I needed to double check with him. After telling him the K.I. version of their Grandmother's death which was that their was an infection going around so they held the weekly church service outside to minimize the risk of spreading the infection, unfortunately the mosquitoes outside were even more deadly and many people became ill & died. Uncle Bill decided that it was definitely viral meningitis that had caused Helen Woodroffe's death.

Maggie's death is not so clear, Margaret remebers a conversation between her mother and my father whilst driving somewhere as a child that implied that she had died as a result of pregancy or childbirth. Jenny Badger has always been of the opinion that it was childbirth related, I must check with her to see why.

I asked him if people were not concerned about David travelling around with a woman that was not his wife and he said that it was quite common then for a man to take a housekeeper.

We chatted about Sir Geoffrey and it was generally accepted that he was a good bloke, however there was some concern over his wife. Uncle Bill showed me Sir Geoffrey's two books which Bill said had been meticulously researched.

Bill was keen to go with me and show me 15 Arthur St. & Watson ave , rose park.

Also the lower north road, ovingham, which is now Churchill Rd. this is where Uncle Charlie went after Arthur St., with the twins ?
He also drew a mud map showing how I could find the graves of Uncle Gip & Gibson & Anne.

After lunch of a cup of soup and a meat pie we realised that we had run out of time and I had to get back to glenelg to pick up my luggage and head for the airport. Just then there was an almighty roar and an F18 screamed overhead. The traditional opening of the Adelaide round of the V8's. I headed for the door and as I was leaving I pointed out an F18   circling to the south, it banked and turned and headed for the track going straight over Bill's unit. The whole village were out in the street watching and I made my way out through throngs of waving spectators and I reciprocated with a royal wave.
I wended my way back to Glenelg on now very familiar roads, collected my stuff, said goodbye to Margaret and headed out to the airport. I arrived at the departure gate with about three quarters of an hour to spare, so settled down to check emails and wait. After a while a flight came up on the board, but it was not ours so I just kept reading, quite some time later I realised that that flight had still not gone, odd, I was just heading across to the information counter to see what was going on when I heard myself paged (again), there had been a gate change, I was supposed to be on the plane three gates away, frantic rush, admonishing glances and I was in my seat and we were heading back east. Why they do not display a gate change at the superseded gate is beyond me, if I had missed that plane I would have been in trouble, as ,with the Clipsal now finished, the following flights would have been chockers.

There endeth my week in Adelaide, I had achieved all I had set out to and much more, I have a bag full of photos and stories for the web page and reacquainted myself with relatives that I had not seen for 25 to 50 years. My thanks to everyone that took the time to see me and I hope you can get as much out of my trip as I have.


Neil's Trip in Pictures

Arrive in Adelaide, book into B&B, search for "the Aunties" house. Somewhere between Glenelg & Grange.
This was what I had to go on, interesting roof lines, lower than the road with the front divided into four with the southern most being narrower than the rest & the curvedinterior window frame. That and the relevant positions of the Henley & Grange jetties.
Not the house but it could well have been the inspiration for this design.
Off to the Mount, first stop Janices' new mansion in Mt.Gambier.

Janice, Rosie, Neil, Christine - hardly aged at all in the 23 years since we had seen each other. Keith & Janices dining room & outlook. Now off to the Schank.

Keith & Chris guided me out there, little faith in the city boy from back east.

Keith & Chris head for Gawler and I head off for a nostalgic walk around, meaningful to those that have been there, a farm to those that haven't.

Nostalgic look at the old place, meaningful to those that have been there, a farm to those that haven't.


A few signs of a bygone era. The old stock whip on the milking yard fence, Geoffrey's superannuation invested in ancient farm memorabilia.
Nostalgia - 50 years on. How it was on the left, how it is on the right.
Same boat, reckon they may have got their moneys worth.
The milking shed.
I wanted to reproduce this shot, but the house isn't even visible from the tank stand let alone Mt Schank. Best i could do was peak around the edge of the hedge.
The driveway
The hayshed.
The tennis court.
The "hoon" on the motor bike.

Dick & Dora at the Port McDonell beachfront house.

I left Geoffrey to an afternoon of fencing & I headed down to Port McDonnell to find the beach house and discover what the fascination was with Port McDonnell.

I smelt it long before i saw it, but the colours of the ocean made up for the horrendous pong.
I played toursit for the afternoon, reading up on penguins and shipwrecks.

View of Mt Schank & distant Mr Gambier from the coast.

Heading back I decided to climb Mt Schank, we had never been allowed to as children, "Too many tiger snakes in the bracken:"

And bracken there was a plenty, but luckily a gravel path now takes you all the way to the top. Looking back to the coast from whence I had just come. Note massive irrigation circle in foreground. These were everywhere.
The inside of the Mt., with the farm visible in the distance.Splash of white through the trees and a smal gap in the "hedge" for the driveway.

The next day, up early, final nostalgia trip, bit of a chat, then back to Adelaide.

Adelaide, busy day, found the house Dad was born in, caught up with Auntie Rosemary & Auntie Margaret, took Bill to Gawller to see Chris & Keith and then caught up with my cousin Margaret for the first time in 50 years.
Dad was born in the above house and placed in the fuel stove to keep him warm.
Auntie Roosemary & Auntie Margaret Auntie Rosemary , Neil Badger (Me) and Auntie Margaret
Uncle Bill (Dougall) Brown & Christine (The Quilter) Poulton  
Next Day, Morphett Vale, Range Road & Victor Harbour
Headed South from Adelaide looking for Morphett Vale & a free standing church. Probably should have done my homework on the expansion of Morphett Vale.

Eventually I found it, sandwiched between two motor bike shops in an area akin to Parramatta Rd. in Sydney. I had no idea what an Innerware shop was, but I was very pleasantly surprised, although I doubt that the Rev. David would be all that impressed.

Then it was on to Range Road where David Magnus Badger had a farm at the start of the Second World War, where Lloyd met Thelma and the last home for Neil.

Rest area, halfway up the Willunga Hill, the road, visible in the foreground, would be a far cry from that experienced by our grandparents.
A view out over the McLaren Valley from Range Road, near this old shed & chimney which was probably there when Grandpa lived there.
Memorial stone to Neil Badger at the Memorial Hall, signpost left in to aid others to loacte the hall. Stone has raised letters which are almost completely worn away, serious consideration should be given to replacing/restoring the stone.
Just down the road there is an intersection and the sign for those who are struggling to read it says.
Badgers Creek Winery on Badgers Road, this could be a venue for our Centenary reunion, if we can just find a suitable thing to commemorate. My Auntie Joyce, life-long best friend of my mother and still going strong at 95.
The next day - Nostalgia overdose.
Kangaroo Island reunion with Helen ( Kelly), Jill & Margaret. Joined by Max, unfortunately Don was working.
With the aid of joint childhood memories & google maps we located the old Henley House & Margaret and I went out there and took these photos. Possibly not the greatest renovation to a beautiful house.For those to lazy to read the stories , Margaret's grandfather, Arch, was due to move in there with our Aunties in 1952 but died while they were doing renovations to accommodate him. Many Christmas holidays were spent in this house by the Sydney & K.I. mobs.
Then it was up the hill to Cherryville, the road was nowhere near as scary as Margaret and I remembered, maybe we took a different road. The old one room school is still there and parts of the house have not changed. Even to having a bloody reat dog wandering around, although it wasn't an Airdale.
An arty shot of the lower path and the old fig tree with Mt Lofty in the background. OK, a lot of imagination helps. Just to prove they are there, the steps down to the cellar in the kitchen. I have absolutely no memory of these, perhaps they were hidden from young children.
Avid golfers, the new owners have turned the small cliff behind the kitchen into a formidable golf green. Access to the house is now via the little lane that used to run past the back of the property. This is now the main road.
The tennis court is still there and the ruins of the Governor's mansion can still be seen. I was surprised at how much rubbish had grown up in what used to be cgeery orcgards and only a few months later a massive fire swept through the area once again threatening but sparing the lives of the Cherryville inhabitants.
We still had some daylight left so it was down to Prospect and a search for old family homes.
First up, Bosanquet Ave, built by Uncle Gip for he and Auntie Nance and a pivotal house in the upbringing of a generation.XREF HERE.
Great Grandma Annie's bedroom. Other front room
The hallw ay from the frontdoor. Back bedroom.
Margaret out the front of her childhood home. She has vivid memories of sitting on top of that fence.  
Auntie Jessie's house.  
Two other family homes for which I can find little evidence of occupants.
Sunday Morning, where else but the North Adelaide Baptist Church.
There are many relatives honoured around the church, here is a link to a page which will give further details to our families long involvement with this church.
Uncle Bill browsing Uncle Colin's Explorer book.
A fitting end the gravestones of Annie, Gibson & Gip in the Dudley Park Cemetry.