Chapter Six
Family
A Quite Wonderful Day · Pat · Ian · Nicole · Five Grandchildren
At the centre of everything Alec MacKelden did was his family. He wrote his memoirs not for any public audience but for his children, grandchildren, and perhaps their children: "to establish a link with the past." The title he chose for those memoirs says everything: "A Quite Wonderful Day."
Patricia Snowdon — "Mummy"
Alec met Patricia ('Pat') Snowdon of Redcar, Yorkshire at a Town Hall dance in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire in the late summer of 1941. She was a corporal in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF), stationed at Hemswell Bomber Station.
He recalled the moment with characteristic romance: "It really was a case of 'you may see a stranger across a crowded room' — we simultaneously caught each other's eye, smiled and within minutes were dancing together."
They became engaged in October 1941, were married on 20 June 1942 at St. Peter's Church, Redcar, the same day Tobruk fell to Rommel, and remained married for 66 years, until Alec's death on 21 October 2008.
Ian and Nicole
Their son Ian was born on 9 January 1944 while Alec was overseas on embarkation leave. They had just days together before he sailed for Italy. "I received a very welcome telegram informing me of the birth of our little son, Ian. I was understandably both delighted and relieved."
Their daughter Nicole (Niki) was born in April 1947 in Cheltenham. Both children were educated at leading Australian private schools, Ian at Haileybury College and Nicole at Presbyterian Ladies College, a priority Alec pursued from the moment he could afford it.
Five Grandchildren
Alec was devoted to his five grandchildren: Toby, Matthew, Claire, Edward, and Alexander. He wrote: "I would like to be around when you, my grandchildren, of whom I am very proud, grow to adulthood... In you! as long as memory lingers, I shall still live!"
The Homes They Made
From a modest terrace in Cheltenham to a waterfront home on the Gold Coast, the MacKeldens made a life together across three countries and six decades.
Cheltenham, England (rented)
212 Prior's Road, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire
"Our very own first home, a brand new council house at 28 shillings a week. We were in paradise. Three bedrooms, a sitting room, a kitchen — and an additional loo and bicycle shed outside. Twenty-six years old and it was all ours."
Cheltenham, Melbourne (owned)
56 Centre Dandenong Road, Cheltenham, Victoria
"Purchased for £5,900. Our first owned home in Australia. We were 35 years old, had been in the country just over a year, and had arrived with about £800."
Burwood
No. 3 Yeovil Road
"An acre of land with two 'en tout cas' tennis courts and a house built around 1930 that had served as a private tennis club. We replaced the nearest tennis court with a swimming pool, Grecian columns, a pergola and new gardens of Pine, Silver Birch and Poplar."
Beaumaris
'Trade Winds', No. 381 Beach Road
"Right on the beachfront. The views over Port Phillip Bay were unsurpassed. It even had an inside elevator to the top floor. The first celebration there was Ian's 21st birthday party."
Sydney
1 Anatol Place, Gordon
"Six bedrooms, three-and-a-half bathrooms, a 40-foot swimming pool and a 3-car garage. We had an English-style pub, 'The Pub', built in the basement for entertaining."
Double Bay
39 Ocean Avenue, Double Bay
"A three-bedroom apartment with a long balcony overlooking well-maintained gardens and the swimming pool. 'Apartment life — no gardening or other similar chores to worry about!'"
Pymble
'Amber Cottage', 56A Telegraph Road
"Three-quarters of an acre among trees, two hundred metres back from the road. Like something out of a children's story book. Mummy installed her Baby Grand Piano in 'The Music Room'."
Darling Point
13 Sutherland Crescent, Darling Point
"A large old waterside home, circa 1890, jointly purchased with Ian and Niki's families and divided into two spacious apartments. Twelve months of renovation before occupation."
Broadbeach
'The Breakers', Broadbeach, Gold Coast
"Their retirement apartment, a former holiday home they had long known, where they moved on leaving Sydney in 1987."
Runaway Bay
Bayview Tower, Bayview Harbour, Runaway Bay
"Part of an exclusive Gold Coast complex. 'Life in retirement has been kind to us, and now free of all commercial and charitable responsibilities, we are thoroughly relishing each and every moment of the time that remains to us.'"
"A Quite Wonderful Day"
In 1987, at the suggestion of his son Ian, Alec sat down to write his memoirs. He typed them himself, completing the main text at the end of 1987, with an epilogue added in 1996. They were privately printed by Bob E. Collins Hand Binder on the Gold Coast.
"All I hope — and pray, for each of you is that you may grow and mature and live in a civilised world where people and nations are finally at peace with one another, and that universal education has erased ignorance, poverty, disease and want from the face of the Earth. My blessings upon each of you — for in you! as long as memory lingers, I shall still live."
A Letter to Toby
Bayview Tower, Runaway Bay · 21 June 1999
In June 1999, nine years before his death and following a trip to Europe with his eldest grandson Toby, Alec sat down at his desk at Bayview Tower and wrote Toby a letter. He was 76 years old. It is, in many ways, the most personal document in this archive: a grandfather writing to his grandson not about the past, but about the future; not about what he had done, but about what he hoped they would do.
43 Bayview Tower · 21 Bayview Street, Runaway Bay, Queensland · 21 June 1999
My Dearest Toby,
I write simply to confirm a verbal request I made of you at sometime during our recent tour of Europe together. Without wishing to appear morbid, I am becoming increasingly aware of our limited tenure on life — and what will happen to my family when that tenure expires.
It has taken Nanny and I a lifetime of economising — spurning little luxuries we could have probably afforded for ourselves, to slowly accumulate what we plan to leave — because we wanted to provide our offspring with a financial 'leg up' in life that we didn't receive. So Toby, I come to our grandchildren — of which you are the eldest — and probably most influential! Nanny and I would be bitterly disappointed if the legacies to our treasured grandchildren were to be squandered on meaningless trivial possessions, when what we really intended was to give them a modest start in life.
We both feel that in your capacity as No. 1 grandson, we would like you to personally pass the message on to your brothers — and even your cousins.
Finally, when we leave, don't mourn for us — for as long as you remember us with love — we shall still live in your heart. God bless you — and may your life be as long, as happy and as wonderfully fulfilling as ours have been.
With all my love,
Poppi
This (abridged) letter was written by Alec MacKelden to his eldest grandson Toby in June 1999. He was 76 years old. He died nine years later, on 21 October 2008.
"Don't mourn for us — for as long as you remember us with love — we shall still live in your heart."— Alec MacKelden, in a letter to his grandson Toby, June 1999
The Letters — Poppi's Voice
Bayview Tower, Runaway Bay · 1996–1999
Over the last decade of his life, Alec MacKelden wrote regularly to his eldest grandson Toby: long letters on his distinctive Bayview Tower letterhead, annual Christmas newsletters to friends and family around the world, short handwritten notes dashed off between appointments, birthday cards chosen with great care and explained with even greater dignity.
Taken together, they form one of the most complete portraits of the man that survives: still curious, still witty, still warm, deeply proud of his family, quietly reflective about mortality, and entirely at peace with a life he knew had been, in his own word, quite wonderful.
What follows is drawn from that correspondence.
Christmas 1997
"Who was it said 'contentment is invariably just a Summer to be counted in brief snatches of sunlight'? For that just about summarises our 1997. The year began with the surgical — and painful! — removal of a tumour from Pat's neck. In August it was then my turn for surgery — yes, the dreaded 'prostate' — followed if you please by a Heart Attack in September. So it has been one of those years — wonderful at times, and a real old 'Annus Horribilis' at others. Never mind — we just thank the Good Lord that we are both still here to wish you every happiness for Christmas and the New Year."
Written in the same year he underwent prostate surgery and suffered a heart attack. He was 75.
Christmas 1997 — On Growing Old
"All of our young offspring's sporting and academic achievements of course continue to fill us with geriatric pride — tho' we become increasingly conscious that as each year closes, the 'past experience gap' continues to widen. We two of course grew up long before such things as radar, credit cards, split atoms, laser beams and ball point pens. Before dishwashers, tumble dryers, electric blankets, air conditioners, drip dry clothes — and before man walked on the moon. We got married first and then lived together — how quaint can you be? We thought 'fast food' was consumed at Lent, a 'Big Mac' was an oversized raincoat and 'crumpet' was something we had for tea. Oh, we must have been a very hardy bunch to have survived, don't you think?"
From his annual Christmas newsletter, distributed to friends and family around the world — always typed, always signed by hand.
May 1997 — On Love
"Remember always that we are here for you — and love you too deeply to express in mere words. God Bless. Poppi xx."
A brief handwritten note enclosing photographs. Short, unadorned, and entirely characteristic.
June 1997 — On 55 Years of Marriage
"On the 20th, Nanny and I will be celebrating our 55th wedding anniversary with ten friends at an Italian restaurant — 'Domani' at Main Beach. It seems but yesterday that we used to sit on your beds and read you stories — oh, such lovely wonderful memories we have."
Written just weeks after Pat's full recovery from surgery. They celebrated their 55th anniversary with dinner for ten. He was 74.
November 1996 — On Keeping in Touch
"It was so good to hear your voice on the telephone — and very kind of you to make contact with your old Nanni and Poppi. Please feel free to telephone us when you would like to have a chat — and reverse the charges! We see all too little of our grandchildren — and time is passing so quickly. Why, it seems but a year or so ago that we took that lovely trip to California together — that was fun, wasn't it?"
Written the day after a telephone call from London, on the eve of Toby beginning a period of paid training overseas. He was 74.
November 1996 — On Money
"Well dear boy — we wish you well 'on the slopes'. I do hope you will be able to save a little from what you earn — for you have a long way to go, and wherever you may be, the one common currency is MONEY. Now God Bless you — let us know how you are from time to time. We shall look forward to hearing from you!"
Classic Poppi — wisdom wrapped in warmth, signed off with an exclamation mark.
January 1999 — On England
"At our age we are acutely conscious of the odds that this trip will almost certainly be our last to the dear land of our birth. You know it is sometimes difficult to believe that we have spent by far the major part of our lives as Australians. I also hope to attend two Regimental re-union lunches during our all too brief sojourn in London — to once more renew with much affection the quite miraculous bond that so long ago welded a disparate group of callow young men into an insoluble Band of Brothers."
Written in January 1999, planning what he knew would almost certainly be his final trip to England. He was 76. He attended the reunion. One of the few surviving officers present died a few weeks later.
Christmas 1999 — On Time
"Just a little homespun philosophy before we leave you — it is well for us all to remember not to wait for a crisis to occur to discover what is really important in our lives. Regrets over yesterday and a fear of tomorrow are the twin thieves that conspire to rob us of today. Yesterday is already history — tomorrow remains a mystery. But today is a blessed gift — which is why we call it 'The Present'."
From his final Christmas newsletter. He was 77. He and Pat had just returned from a tour of Europe with Toby — Venice, Rome, Florence, Salzburg, Vienna, Paris, Cannes, Monte Carlo. He described it as the highlight of the year.
Christmas 1999 — On Australia
"No complaints — we have been so singularly fortunate in life."
A postscript, handwritten, after the Monarchists prevailed in the Australian Republic referendum. Five words. The whole man.
September 1999 — On Living
"Moving in together has become totally acceptable to society these days — in ours of course it was considered a worse crime than joining the Labour Party! We only have one life — and upon reflection it seems incredibly brief. So live it to the full — we pass this way but once."
Written to Toby and his future wife Kirsten, on the occasion of their first home in London together. Characteristically, Poppi found a way to make it funny, then meaningful, then wise — all in three sentences.
Toby's 21st Birthday
For You On Your 21st Birthday
…you can't have your cake and Edith, too!
Dearest Toby — This is not the card we would have chosen — the selection up here was perforce limited. Nevertheless we eventually picked it (a) because it was humorous, and (b) because it contained one of life's never to be forgotten 'Truths'! May today be the most Happy of many many Birthdays — in a long and very successful life — and remember always that we your Grand Parents treasure your existence. All our Love and Blessings, Always and Ever — Your Nanni + Poppi xx.
A mildly risqué card, chosen from whatever the Gold Coast newsagent had available, and explained with impeccable dignity. The selection, he noted, was 'perforce limited.'
On Toby's Graduation From University
Dear Toby — little could we have dreamt twenty two years ago, how proud our first born grandson would make us! We have watched your progress over the years with love and gratitude. Perhaps, only at some time in the future will you fully realise how much joy you have brought to all who have loved and cherished you throughout your life. A day to remember and treasure, Toby! With all our Dearest love — Your Nanni + Poppi xx.
Written on a graduation card. He had watched Toby grow from the first-born grandson into a young man he was proud of. He said so plainly.
In every letter — however short, however cheerful, however full of family news and gentle teasing — the same note sounds beneath everything. He loved his family. He was grateful for his life. He was not afraid of what was coming. And he wanted, above all, for the people he loved to know it.
"Remember always that we are here for you — and love you too deeply to express in mere words."
He signed himself, always, the same way:
God Bless.
Poppi.
The Final Years
Gold Coast · 1999–2008
In the summer of 1999, Alec and Pat made what he described in his letters as almost certainly their final trip to England: a last visit to old friends, a regimental reunion lunch with the few surviving officers of his 1st Battalion, one more day in Canterbury.
On the way home they toured Europe with their eldest grandson Toby: Venice, Rome, Florence, Salzburg, Vienna, Paris. Alec was 76, and still very much himself: curious, warm, funny, engaged with the world.
Shortly after that trip, he began to change.
Over the following years, Alec developed Alzheimer's disease, deteriorating slowly but steadily through his late seventies and into his eighties.
He had been a man of extraordinary physical vitality: a former Army PT instructor who had run daily into his seventies, who swam most mornings, who his grandson could not keep pace with on a run until the age of nearly twenty.
He had survived a bullet in the lung at Anzio, jaundice on the Gothic Line, tuberculosis after the war, prostate surgery and a heart attack in his mid-seventies. His body was formidable. It was his mind that finally failed him.
The burden fell almost entirely on Pat, who cared for him through her own eighties, quietly, without complaint, as she had done everything else throughout their 66 years together.
He had written in his memoirs, addressed to his grandchildren: "In you! as long as memory lingers, I shall still live." In the end, memory was what left him first.
He died on 21 October 2008 at the Gold Coast, Queensland. He was 86 years old. He and Pat had been married for 66 years.
A Quite Wonderful Day
"It is said that it is not until the evening has finally descended upon us, that we begin to appreciate how truly splendid the day has been. Looking back, I can only say that for Mummy and I, it really has been 'A Quite Wonderful Day'."
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Documents & Sources