KEY POINTS:
The day of the crash was eerily quiet out in leafy Titirangi. We couldn't really believe it. I remember calling the members of my share club, wondering if we should sell our paltry portfolio. Some of us were married to businessmen and it was decided it would be best to just sit tight and wait until things come right.
I was keen on the sharemarket.
My mother, who had been investing since the 1950s and built a sizeable portfolio, had left us all parcels of Brierley shares in her will. She was canny with money. A trained book-keeper, she'd always said, "Ron [Brierley] knows how to invest my money better than I do." She was probably right.
Although we drank many bottles of wine and laughed a lot, the share club was quite serious. Some of us were saving for a holiday, others for some decent clothes, others for security: a running away fund.
We scanned the papers, invited sharebrokers out to address us - and were rather surprised they came. We listened to them carefully and bought Brierley - of course - Ceramco, Chase Corporation, Progressive Enterprises, Rainbow, Goldcorp ...
I can't even remember the names now and most of those companies disappeared after the crash. As did we.
After six months there wasn't enough money in the kitty for a bottle of wine for our share club meeting.
After a year we sold what was left, hanging on only to our "blue chips" - our Brierley shares.
Three years later we decided to sell them too and take ourselves to dinner rather than to Italy as once planned.
And despite all Mum's early lessons, I have never bought a share again.