BORN in Fitzroy, where her mother was awaiting her birth, Maimie's first memories are of Goschen in the Mallee - "the smell of dust and pepper trees" - the memory of "terrible dust storms invading every nook and cranny of the house and always flies everywhere". Ever after she has enjoyed the smell of pepper trees but can do without the dust and flies! She was named after both her grandmothers (Catherine) and after a favourite cousin of her mother's (Mary McDonald) and was to be called Mary, but her young tongue couldn't manage this and she was ever after known as "Maimie". When the family moved to Poowong, Maimie went to school there, making friends that have lasted throughout her life. When Maimie eventually went to Balder Grammar School in Kew the headmistress there said she had the worst educational grounding of any girl she'd had and spent many extra hours helping her catch up. Maimie says the headmistress was a wonderful teacher and person and she did well at school from then on. During the first world war Maimie helped the family at home and was involved in voluntary work with the War Effort and with the Kew Presbyterian Church. Her father, Fred, used to help collect the wounded from the hospital ships, in his F.N. car and then they were paraded around the city streets on the way to the hospital. The house in Kew was always open to their servicemen friends. After the war and when the family had moved back to Poowong, Maimie started her nursing training at the Melbourne Hospital, but she stopped this when Allan died and returned home to "Myrambeek" to help there. After the trip overseas with her mother she was married in 1930 to Norman N. MacLeod and moved, with him, to Portree, in Skye, where they lived for three years and during that time June was born. Small town life in Skye was very different from Australia, but the people there were friendly and she enjoyed getting to know the McKay cousins better. The scenery was very impressive, but Maimie missed the trees and hates the snow - "especially when it started to melt". Eventually she left Norman there and returned to "Myrambeek" with June, whom she thereafter brought up on her own. After war broke out in 1939 and as her father had died, Maimie was left to run the farm with whatever help she could find. She was one of the first in the district to employ a land girl - Irene Ryan, and the two women coped with approximately three hundred and seventy sheep on the property. Later, to the disapproval of some, she took on an Italian P.O.W. Actually, this was a great help and August DeAngelis today, with his family, is a valued friend and citizen. When the P.O.W.'s went back to camp she was again without help and caused some amazement by taking, this time, a German internee, without any previous farm experience. Herbert Possart proved a funny man and a great worker and he helped turned "Myrambeek" into a well cared for and attractive dairy farm. During the war Maimie was on many committees in Poowong Hall, School, Red Cross and Comfort Fund to name but a few and she continued to be very active after the war and even when nursing her mother for so long, she was still involved in local affairs. Girl Guides was another great interest. She had been a Lieutenant in the Poowong Company in the 1920's and in the 1940's became the District Commissioner and continued as such for many years. When Herbert died in 1964, Maimie let the farm and moved to South Yarra to be near June and Vin and the children. At this time she had a big operation for cancer and is a firm believer in letting people know that it can be cured if caught in time. During all her life Maimie had been involved in Presbyterian and then Uniting Church activities and had always been interested in ecumenical affairs. When the Presbyterian Church allowed women elders, she was among the first to be elected (at the Prahran Presbyterian Church) and celebrated that, and her seventieth birthday, together. She lived next door to June and her children, to whom she was a great help and comfort, though she complained bitterly at times of failing memory, at eighty-one, she was still hale and hearty