I never met my Uncle George who died in the war, four years before I was born. But I do remember how everyone talked of him as being such a lovely person, quiet, strong and family-oriented.
My Auntie Tibbie proudly placed a wreath at every Anzac service in his honour. I think being the oldest in the family and him the baby, his death broke her heart and she never wanted him to be forgotten. Their father had died in 1922 and when George died his mother Isabella was in her 50s and running the orchard with the other two brothers. Tibbie the older sister became more of a mother to her brothers. Uncle George and my father looked very much alike with my father being the thinner one. George was a bigger version, my mother said.
I am placing some photos here, which I will eventually go through and write about. I have collected so much information about Uncle George I still have in the cupboard to sort, I need to take time to do him justice.
George on left, Sarah(Ray, Bill, Isabella (Tibbie), Jim Pearce at Peebles Scotland about 1911.
