Kathleen was born in Pitt St, Auckland on 13 July 1907. Perhaps the family moved to Aratapu in Northland shortly after, because the next child, Leonard, was born in Aratapu the following year. Kathleen attended Aratapu School and later went on to Dargaville High School. Mum recalls being told that the kids from Aratapu were referred to as Aratapu Rats.

Bob with Kathleen

The family returned at Auckland in 1924, although not all at once. Kathleen worked for a while in a shop before returning to Auckland. Back living in Auckland she continued to live at home in Stanley Rd, Birkenhead and commenced work for a Mrs Hawkins who had a lollie shop in Hinemoa Rd.

In her younger days, there was a fellow by the name of Bob Clark who was sweet on her, and he would come calling at Stanley Rd on his motorbike. It was all in vain though because she brushed him off, and went through life without marrying or even having a boyfriend.

At the age of around 18 – 19, Kathleen took up the position of Matron’s Maid at Knox Home in Panmure, and she lived on the premises in a small room. This institution was like a retirement home, but was also referred to as a “home for the incurable”. It was built on land and with money left by Irish woman Elizabeth Knox who died in 1908. The original site has long since been flattened and sold up for housing, and the new Knox Home was built in Epsom in the 1970s. After a while, Kathleen gravitated towards the kitchen and in due course she became the cook, a job she held until retirement.

According to Mum, Aunty Kath was pretty mean to Nana, and would growl at her constantly about how untidy the house was whenever she went home on her days off. After Nana died, Aunty Kath gave some of the furniture away and burnt all the old family photos along with anything else she considered of no value or interest to her. A lot of family history went up in smoke. She also apparently had little sympathy for those she wasn’t fond of, with many an unkind comment made about others.

We used to visit Aunty Kath at Knox Home, and she would always be rushing about in the kitchen, because it was often during working hours. She worked seven days a week with only one day off each fortnight. When she wasn’t preparing meals, she would be making jam or something for the residents. A couple of times, Warwick and I caught the train to Panmure and walked up through the market gardens - or Chinamen's gardens as they were called in those days - to Knox Home. I remember once being fascinated by the new fangled fly catcher in the kitchen and spent most of my visit trying to swat flies and throw them through the grille onto the live wires where they would spark and fizz.

A resident identity was a fellow called Bobby. He was both physically and intellectually disabled, wore glasses with thick lenses like the bottoms of milk bottles, and used to get about in a wheelchair. Bobbie was always keen to see us when we went to visit and always talked about us having bantams with feathers on their legs. He had lived at Knox Home forever - probably been dumped there as a child, simply because he was handicapped.

Aunty Kath often used to visit us on her days off. She didn’t drive and would get the bus or train from Panmure. She had every second Wednesday afternoon off and alternate Wednesdays overnight. Not much by today’s standards. She would almost always bring a little something of us kids and I clearly remember once getting a toy grasshopper. Back in the 1950s and early 1960s, many toys were made in Japan from recycled metal, including cans. The grasshopper was such a beast. It had springy legs and a rubber sucker on its belly. You pushed it down on a flat surface until it stuck, then as the sucker let go, it would spring into the air. Such toys are worth a lot of money these days as collector’s items, but we didn’t know this at the time. On another occasion when she came to stay over - and this didn't happen often - I admired a little torch she had bought herself, and against my sincere protests, she just gave it to me. One less popular habit she had was to criticise how clean or tidy the house was, and she’d grab the nearest cloth and start racing around with it. Sometimes Aunty Dot would come to visit with Aunty Kath. Aunty Dot was a cousin, and she and Aunty Kath were great friends. Aunty Kath would sometimes take Warwick and me out, and once we went to see the pantomime “Aladdin” in Auckland, probably at His Majesty’s Theatre.

Once in a while, Aunty Kath would come to stay, sometimes looking after us while Mum and Dad went out somewhere. On one occasion, she had bought herself a new torch, and I had admired it. Straight away she gave it to me and simply kept her old one. Another time, when Mum and Dad were away for a couple of days, Aunty Kath stayed and looked after us. She boiled eggs for breakfast and after I peeled mine, I hid the shells in Warwick's bread. He didn't see this, and moaned about the crunching, but Aunty Kath made him eat it. Brilliant!

It became obvious that she could no longer take care of herself properly and in 1984, after some initial resistance, she moved into St Christopher’s in St George St, Papatoetoe; a private rest home and hospital. She stopped recognising people, starting with the less frequent contacts and eventually not recognising anybody. She wondered who all the people were in "her house" (the rest home). We would pick her up and take her out, or to Mum & Dad’s in Papatoetoe and within a few minutes she wouldn’t know where she was or who we were, and as a result she would become very anxious.

She would ask “who’s that boy?” when referring to Karyn (much to Karyn’s bemusement). Her physical and mental health spiralled downward and when I last saw her, she was just a tiny thing curled into the foetal position and completely unresponsive, shortly before she died at St Christopher’s on 26 September 1986.