Irene was nineteen and heartbroken when her beloved grandfather died. The local minister, who had been visiting the old man during his last days, despite the Luftwaffe's frequent bombing raids, suggested that she take her mind off the bereavement by doing some volunteer work. Specifically, perhaps she might like to serve food to servicemen in a canteen set up in the local school?

Don was one of a few airmen who, having paused at a noticeboard in the mess-hall of his squadron building, answered a call for volunteers for Merchant Shipping Fighter Units. He was accepted and soon posted to the MSFU headquarters in Liverpool. The work promised excitement, autonomy, and plenty of travel.

So it was that Irene Addison served corporal Don Pritchard his meat, potatoes and tea one evening. That they caught each other's eye is not surprising; he was tall, blond, easygoing and, Irene thought, a little full of himself; she was dark-haired, clear-complexioned, with more than a touch of haughtiness about her. That they became husband and wife is more of a surprise. She was from a family of devout northern Methodists whose idea of fun was to go on a church trip and sing hymns together. His was a notorious family of boxers and petty law-breakers who terrorised their small patch of south London. But each was a rebel in their own way. Irene raised her parents' eyebrows by wearing stockings and lipstick. Don joined the Boy's Brigade at 13 and began to take note of its Christian messages. Between the extremes of their family backgrounds they found a common ground.

Don proposed to Irene in the queue for the fish and chip shop in the basement of Lewis's department store. She accepted, and later that evening, while watching 'Gone with the wind' she was bouyed along by a heady blend of excitement and completeness. They were married at her local church. The wedding photographs show them both grinning madly, despite the wind that was whipping off the Mersey that day. It was her twenty-first birthday.

When war ended Don began work in the burgeoning aviation industry. By this time they had two children, Derek and Rachel, and had moved to Bristol. But Don was drawn to travel further afield and was soon offered a job in Melbourne, Australia. He emigrated ahead of Irene and the children, arriving in Melbourne in February of 1951. There followed a year of separation while Don got himself established. The following February, with some apprehension at the distance to be travelled, and great sorrow at leaving her parents behind, Irene boarded the SS Moreton Bay with the two children, a pram, and a few cardboard suitcases.

She kept a diary of the journey. It shows that, by today's blase standards, she was an unaffected woman of twenty-nine. The first entries read:

Feb 8th Friday
We came on board & found our cabin. Derek & a 12-year-old boy were in the opposite cabin, with a man & his son. His wife & daughter were in with me. However we changed over cabins and now Derek & the boy are in with Rachel and me. It suits me better to have Derek with me. We had a nice lunch & the children had boiled eggs and jelly for tea. At the moment they are both in bed. They both felt dizzy, so I gave them an aspirin each. I feel ready for bed myself. It is 9.00 pm. We didn't realize the boat had started while we were having lunch. I got quite a surprise. Before dark we were out of sight of land. I still cannot realize that I'm on my way to Australia. The boat is rolling slightly; you can just feel the motion. So far my Quells are doing fine. I've still got my fingers crossed.
Feb 9th Saturday
Last night & today we have been in the Bay of Biscay. It hasn't been rough & the water is like blue ink. Just like it is in the pictures. At 11 pm tonight we will be out of the Bay. Derek has been very seasick, all over the bed last night & also in the Dining Room this morning & in various other places as well. He has been looking dreadful. However he looks better now & I think he will be OK in the morning. The sunshine has been lovely today. We sat on the deck in deck chairs. I still feel OK myself & Rachel seems fine too. A notice was put up today, to say that a trip round Algiers, our first port, is being organized. I think we will have a shot at it. I've often read about the Casbah. The food is quite good on board. There are a lot of grandparents travelling out, with and without their children. I can see Mum & Dad coming yet. I'm writing in the bunk & I'm rather tired, the children are all asleep, its time I put my light out.