The Autobiography of Simon Henderson

My paternal grandfather was Reverend Kenneth Thorne Henderson (1891-1965). I never met him, but he seems to have led an interesting life. A third generation Australian, he became Headmaster of the newly-formed Trinity Grammar School in Sydney at the age of 21. He married my grandmother, Charlotte Mary Tickell (known as ‘Sharley’ 1892-1988), in 1915, the year that his two brothers were killed at Gallipoli (one in the landing on 25th April and the other at the charge of Cape Helles on 8th May, in which one in three Australians was killed). Following his ordination in 1916, he became a Chaplain in the 1st AIF (First Australian Imperial Force), based in the trenches of the Western Front. He wrote about his experiences in a book ‘Khaki and Cassock’ published soon after he was invalided out of the army in early 1918 and became known for his pioneering work in the field of radio where he became the ABC’s first Federal Supervisor of Religious Broadcasts.

I did meet Sharley, my grandmother, but only the once. I remember her as being kindly, but I don’t have a photo unfortunately. My most vivid memory of her was when she left after a week’s stay in London. I was crying and she said to me that crying was good for me and the reason why women lived longer than men was that they cried more. She lived to the age of 98; I remember that she broke her leg the year before, running for a taxi.

I remember my maternal grandparents only a little better. This is a photo of them with the first four of their seven children (my mother was their 7th):

My maternal grandfather had the rather grand name of Davenport Fabian Cartwright Blunt (1888 - 1965). He was Under-Secretary at the Treasury Department. He had an office in 11 Downing Street that overlooked the garden in No. 10. He was apparently quite scathing of seeing Churchill breakfasting around 11.00 every morning with a large whisky or brandy. My only strong recollection of him was that I liked the smell of his pipe and he was quite bony to sit on. And yes, he was distantly related to a certain Anthony Blunt and the family resemblance is striking, though not in this particular photo. My mother always maintained that when Anthony Blunt died, she was offered some of his paintings which she turned down (a story that my niece, the family historian, thinks unlikely).

My maternal grandmother was Edith Harris, about which not much is known. She married at the age of 21 in 1911. I have a copy of their marriage certificate, in which her father’s profession is listed intriguingly as “theatrical manager”. She died soon after her husband, so I didn’t have much chance to get to know her, but I remember she loved parlour games at Christmas, was very competitive and had a reputation for cheating with a smile on her face.