The first time was 1942 when Darwin was bombed by the Japanese in World War II.

My boarding school, thousands of miles away in Melbourne, was hastily moved to Croydon, then the depths of the country and now a suburb of Melbourne.

Seventy years intervened before second evacuation.

A few weeks ago my concerned family arrived at my nice little unit in Griffith NSW this time and informed me that as I was old (I did know this having celebrated my 86th birthday) I was in danger of falling victim to the coronavirus which had a particular penchant for old people.

I should remove to Goolgowi, this time.

My daughter, her husband, assorted grandsons and a dog of very mixed ancestry, live on a farm near Goolgowi.

At first I was not eager to leave my comfy flat, nice neighbours and the close proximity of an excellent cake shop, but, as was pointed out, my neighbours were self-isolating and the cake shop closing.

I packed up my undies, pills and library books and prepared for my second evacuation.

Arriving and urged to make myself at home I was given the dining room as a bedroom.

On the spacious verandah, me and the multicultural dog have taken possession of an old arm chair and I see a grandson approaching with a gin and tonic.

On my first evacuation I had no offers of such sustenance.

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