Paddy Green
You’d never peg Healesville resident Paddy Green for 100. With a shock of thick white hair and bold round glasses framing her steely blue eyes, she looks more like someone who might invite you in for tea and end up telling the best story you’ll hear all week.
Once you get past grappling with the concept of what someone having witnessed one hundred years worth of Australian history should look like, Paddy will take you by surprise once more when she whips out her dry, yet killer sense of humour.
And don’t think you will get away with not paying your utmost attention when visiting Paddy. She will be the first to call you out (good naturedly) on any slip up in sentence structure or misunderstanding.
Now that you have, I hope, some understanding of what kind of person Paddy Green is, I will move on to describing my delightful, insightful encounter with her.
As I alighted the stairs of the retirement home, past the many skeletons and ghouls that adorned the walls for halloween, I had no idea what to expect from my interview with Paddy Green.
Would she be able to remember her time with her husband and children? Would she be receptive and up to the task of engaging with my questions?
Of course, not five minutes later, I quickly realised my fears were completely unfounded.
Upon entering Paddy’s residence, I was immediately asked who I was and what I was doing there. After establishing that I was the journalist ‘here to interview her about her son’s book,’ I was promptly offered to take a seat next to her and begin my ‘questioning.’
A Mouse at Moresby
At 100, Paddy Green has lived long enough to see her family’s history come back to her in a way few do. This time, it arrived between two covers.
The freshly published book A Mouse at Moresby was a recent gift to Paddy from her step son who is also the book’s author, Tony Green.
Tony wrote about his father, and the man Paddy (somewhat controversially at the time) married in her fifties, a wartime photographer named Irvine whose lens captured both the chaos and the quiet of World War II.
Though Irvine died in 1997, the Mouse at Moresby book has brought him back to life for Paddy.
From attending basic training in freezing Ballarat to photographing air raids in Port Moresby, Irvine and his photography played a large role in reconnaissance efforts during the war.
Along with capturing much of his World War II experience through the lens of his camera, Irvine also left behind a series of memoirs and diary entries, depicting his inner thoughts and personal encounters.
These memoirs are featured in ‘A Mouse at Moresby’, a copy of which now rests in the hands of Paddy Green.
Seeing as Paddy was not married to Irvine during the war, her step-son’s book gave her an understanding of Irvine’s experiences for the first time.
“He never talked about the war. I never knew that side of him. Probably because of the trauma,” Paddy said.
“This book brings him back to life. It really does. But I didn’t know him then,” she said.
“I miss him so much. Every day, you know, I think about him.”
Paddy’s first encounter with Irvine was arranged by a friend of hers.
“When I first met him I thought, ‘oh, he seemed nice, but he’s plain as a pig,’” Paddy said.
“Not that I’m one that worried about that, but when he rang me again I said ‘I am sorry but there will not be a second date,’” she said.
“Anyhow, I went to work and I was thinking about him all day. I realised that I really liked him so I rang him and it went from there.”
Paddy married Irvine after a few months.
“He asked me to marry him but he said he didn’t have much money,” Paddy said.
“I said, ‘well, money is not everything’….But I didn’t realise he was absolutely broke!”
Describing her first marriage, before Irvine, as toxic, Paddy noted how paradoxically loving and wonderful her marriage with Irvine was.
“I left my first husband despite my parents advising against it. It wasn’t what was done back in the day,” Paddy said.
“I am so lucky to have had the years I did with Irvine. They were just wonderful.
“Losing him has left a hole in my life. I know he wouldn’t be alive now because I am so ancient. But I still get teary when I think of him.”
According to Paddy, Irvine was quite reserved.
“He wasn’t much of a smiler, but when he did, it was just lovely.
“He had a great sense of humour and we did laugh together,” she said.
Paddy noted that Irvine died peacefully and with a smile on his face.
“We had just had breakfast and he wasn’t feeling to flash so I said, ‘go back to bed love.’ I’ll do the washing up.”
“I came in to him in bed and I threw the tea towel across my shoulder and said, ‘I suppose I have got to do the washing up myself.’ He laughed,” Paddy said.
“I went out to do some gardening and when I came back Irvine was dead. Our dog was sitting on his chest and he had a smile on his face. He died happy.”
As Paddy closed A Mouse at Moresby, she wiped a tear from her eye.
“We had a wonderful relationship. Just absolutely marvellous,” she said as she dipped a biscuit into her coffee.
After a moment’s pause, she turned to face me, and clutched my hand.
“Well Gabriella thank you for coming, it has been lovely meeting you, but now I would like to drink my coffee.”
You are most welcome Paddy. It was lovely to meet you.
