Dawn Waterhouse is a fascinating person, for all sorts of reasons.
She was born Allison Dawn Calthorpe in 1923 and grew up in what is now known as Calthorpes' House on Mugga Way in Red Hill, a house, completed in 1927, that has become a museum, its way of life frozen in life for the generations who came after to understand the early days of Canberra.
Dawn, who turns 99 in December, was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM) last year for services to community history.
And, even as she approaches her 100th birthday next year, she is still giving back to the community by sharing her memories of the significant events of the national capital, but also the everyday happenings that helped shaped the city.
Most recently she spoke at the Wesley Centre in Forrest about the humble blowfly, significant not least because her late husband, Doug Waterhouse, invented the fly-repellent that became that Australian icon, Aerogard.
Flies, especially the little house flies, were a constant in her early life, but seemed to have all but disappeared, displaced by modern development which concreted over saleyards (did you know there were some on Northbourne Avenue?), paddocks with livestock and even chook pens in the backyard, all places which attracted flies.
"I'm really sad about that, but what do you do?" she said.
The little room at the Wesley Centre, with soaring gothic-style windows, was packed with people who wanted to hear her story.
"I was stunned," Mrs Waterhouse said of the crowd, as she also revealed more about her own life.
She last week told the audience of history buffs she was born in 1923 in a little cottage in Queanbeyan.
Her father Harry Calthorpe, after World War I, had been a recruiting officer for the local district and loved the area.
But her mother Dell, a Sydney girl, was not so enamoured by country life, Dawn saying she was someone who probably considered the Blue Mountains the bush.
Dawn, who has a lovely sense of humour, said her parents were invited to a Sunday picnic, before she was born, and her mother couldn't get over the flies that accompanied the event.
Yet no one else seemed to mind. They simply ate a "fruitcake and a fly" and got on with it.
Just before young Dawn turned one, the government opened Canberra to more development, releasing blocks for residents and businesses, which would have the luxuries of running water, electricity and sewerage.
Dell Calthorpe wanted in. "That's where I'd like to be," she apparently had declared.
Dawn told the gathering she'd never revealed this particular snipped about her family, but her father was believed to have responded: "Holy smoke woman! We've only just settled in Queanbeyan".
"You know who won," Dawn said, a twinkle in her eye.
Their house on Mugga Way was completed just before Parliament House was opened in 1927, and her mother loved it, living there until shortly before her death in 1979.
Mrs Waterhouse said her mother had instructed the house's architect to ensure the doors and windows were "well-sealed from flies". She didn't account for the chimneys. The house had five and "the flies came down".
Mrs Waterhouse said her mother would swat the flies, put metal domes over dishes, nets with beads on them over jugs - but still the flies came. Someone suggested putting sticky coils on the ceiling but she didn't want to spoil the new ceilings.
Dawn remembers being asked to walk to Manuka to get some chops from one of the three butchers there at the time. No matter how quick she was getting in and out, the butcher would always yell out, "Don't let the flies in!".
"It was just amazing how aware we were of them, all the time," she said, of the persistent insects.
During her school days, "one of the joys of her life" was to go to work with her dad, who was a stock and station agent, going out to farms and enjoying meeting country folk. And get covered in flies.
In 1944 Dawn married Douglas Waterhouse, an entomologist at the CSIRO where Dawn worked as a laboratory assistant.
She started in the locust section but was soon seconded to the blowfly area.
"I thought, 'This is going to be interesting. I know a bit about blowflies'," she said.
Her first job was to crutch a sheep, shearing or scrapping off maggots from the animal. It didn't bother her at all.
Dawn loved watching her husband's fly experiments, which sometimes included him sitting in a tent at the CSIRO being covered by them.
His fly repellent took off after being used on Queen Elizabeth II during her visit to Australia in 1963 so she could play golf without flies landing on her.
Mortein got the recipe for free, as was the CSIRO's policy at the time, and marketed it as Aerogard.
The CSIRO never received any royalties, not did the Waterhouses. And they didn't expect any.
It's clear Dawn misses the flies, as much as they were annoying. They represent a long-gone, simpler time.
We've made it a whole lot easier for you to have your say. Our new comment platform requires only one log-in to access articles and to join the discussion on The Canberra Times website. Find out how to register so you can enjoy civil, friendly and engaging discussions. See our moderation policy here.
