'tis folly to be wise

There's probably some psychological term or reason for it but  I've never been much good at remembering names and faces; and putting names to faces.  It's never bothered me, the War Office reckons I'm rude. Well if I am I don't mean to be I just can't see much point in it half the time.

I've got a pretty good memory, I like to think of it as being an amazing one most of the time, kind of like a giant filing cabinet stuck inside my head with all the right drawers sliding into place and one huge drawer labelled UI overflowing and bursting at the seams. The drawers labelled "Names" and "Faces" seem to get stuck and/or else I can't find the key, so I don't go there often.

Back in 1965/66 I remember walking along William Street in Melbourne I was with a young woman who was working at the AMI plant at Fishermans Bend (I can't recall her name she was a lass from New Zealand who, like me, enjoyed doing the 'Age' crossword), and the company used to put a bus on for the staff who needed or wanted to go into the city at lunch time; and I bumped into another young man and young lady going in the opposite direction.

This young lady greeted me with the nice big smile of a long lost friend and said "Hello Brian" or words to that effect and being a polite sort of chap used to being accosted by young ladies in the street, said "Hello"  back. She looked at me in some state of shock and said something like "You don't recognize me" and I mumbled something feeble like your face is familiar  and she piped up "I'm your sister Carole"!

True! I hadn't seen her for a few years (probably 6 or 7) I'd kind of become estranged from my relatives and had had a battle with the bottle after the breakup of my marriage. She must have been a girl of around 14, 15 at the most, the last time I'd seen her, and now here she was a young woman in her early 20's. They change, well that's my excuse.

She introduced me to her friend as Robert something or other and I can recall that quite clearly; why? I'd never met a Robert before, Bob yes and it's easy to forget somebody named Bob, I had a dog called Bob, but this was something new Robert. I much prefer people to be called by their proper given name.

Now if that doesn't convince you as to the veracity of the opening paragraph of this little blurb nothing will.

And yet there are many people I remember and can visualize only by their nickname which seems to be contrary to what I've said.

Perhaps it's a form of indolence on my part, I don't set out to be rude or ignorant but mostly I can't see the point or necessity in remembering the name of every Tom Dick or Harriet  I come across just to be able to say I have a great memory for names and faces of people I'm never likely to meet again.

Then again I'm probably an ignorant,  self centred egotist. Yet I get the feeling I'm none of those!

The Third American

Little is known about the third American aboard the Endeavour. 

John Thurman

It is assumed that John Thurman was from the colonies but nothing much is known except that he was impressed at Madeira when Cook put in for a supply of a few thousand gallons (not litres; gallons!) of fine Madeira wine, as this wine was known to travel well and would only improve as the journey progressed.

Young Mr. Thurman was around 20 years at the time, and it appears he was impressed from a sloop out of the colonies. Now the sloop, being a man-o-war had to be British, at that time the American colonials relied on the Royal Navy to protect their shores and them from any aggressor (read French) as they had no navy of their own until sometime after the revolution and the Declaration of Independence.

It's quite possible that Thurman was American by birth and had joined the navy voluntarily as did Lt. Gore and Midshipman Matra, but more likely I think to have been pressed into service when the sloop was in port in one of the colonies.

Thurman didn't have much of a life, he enjoyed 12 lashes, twice which wasn't bad considering, there was around 80 men aboard who were eligible for punishment by the cat-o-nine-tails, and for the entire 3 year voyage Cook ordered one of six lashes. 21 of 12 lashes and 3 of 24. This was pretty light for that period. Poor Thurman got a double dose!

And to top it all off he died from dysentry on the 3rd February 1791 whilst the ship was en route between Batavia and  the Cape of Good Hope. He was or course consigned to the deep.

It wasn't  much of a life for this young man; was it?

Lt. John Gore RN

John Gore 

Lieutenant John Gore was the most senior of the three American born seaman/sailors aboard the "Endeavour" on Cook's first voyage in 1768. Not too much is known about Gore's early life. 

He is believed to have been born in Virginia around 1729/30. He joined the Royal Navy in 1755 as a Midshipman, which is/was an advanced age for a Midshipman; usually they started around the 13/14 year mark. (see Blog Lt James Cook aka Capt Cook).

In 1760 he took the lieutenants exams, and was appointed Masters Mate aboard the HMS Dolphin, and circumnavigated the world twice before being called to serve upon the "Endeavour" , he became invaluable to Cook on the voyage because of his experience and knowledge of Tahiti and also the Pacific Ocean.

Being an American he was pretty handy with a gun (and they hadn't had their 'Revolution' yet) and became the first person recorded as having shot and killed a person of Maori descent whilst the ship was charting New Zealand; he then went on to become the first person to shoot and kill a kangaroo whilst charting the east coast of Nieuw Holland (Australia).

Cook called on Gore to join him aboard the HMS "Resolution"  for his third and final voyage to the Pacific to try to find the 'Northwest Passage'. For this voyage Gore was  first lieutenant to Cook; and it was he that eventually  sailed  the ships of the expedition home to England with the news of the death of Cook in the Sandwich Islands; Hawaii!

It was 1780 by the time Gore brought the ships home and he learned that his country of birth had declared its independence. He stayed on in the Royal Navy and was promoted to Post-Captain for his achievement in bringing the ships safely home. He died 10 years later at Greenwich, in Captain Cooks old rooms aged 60.

His son John also joined the Royal Navy and rose to the rank of Rear Admiral, he also became one of the first free settlers in New South Wales, Australia in 1834.

Cooks forgotten men - Matra/Magra

James Mario Matra (Magra)

Matra was one of  three American born members of the ships company aboard the “Endeavour” on Cooks voyage of 1768/1771.  Born in New York in 1746 he settled inLondon.

He signed on as a midshipman for the voyage. He became lifelong friends with Mr. Joseph (later Sir Joseph) Banks, the leader and financier (he put up the £10.000. required ) of the expedition to chart the ‘Transit of Venus’ of 1769 from Tahiti.

It was Matra who put forward the  proposal to set up a penal settlement in  New South Wales. He also had plans for ‘loyal’ Americans to leave the newly formed United States of America, to join in the settling of the new colony.

Not being averse to a little bit of money he petitioned the King to change his name back to Magra to enable him to cash in on a Corsican inheritance. His father migrated from Corsica to Ireland and then on to New York where he changed the name to Matra.

James Magra was British Consul at Teneriff in the Canary Isles and later Tangier, Morocco. He didn’t marry ’til late in life; he was 47. He died in Tangier at age 62, he left no issue.

He is vaguely remembered in Australia by the township of Matraville situated on Botany Bay.

James Cook RN

Lt James Cook RN

It’s safe to say, I think, that most, if not all people with a smattering of history or interest in it, have read or heard something about Captain Cook and his voyage of discovery aboard   “HMB Endeavour“.  At the time of his epic voyage he was but a lowly lieutenant (pronounced leftenent; we English are a weird lot but at least we know how to speak and pronounce our own words) but as he was given command of the ship he was the ‘Captain’.

Now that I’ve got that little lot sorted I thought perhaps I’d write a little about some other members of the ships company. The Royal Navy’s have ships companies or complements never crew, and that’s something else sorted! And to start I’ve selected the youngest man aboard when the ”Endeavour’    sailed, one Isaac George Manley.

Those of you inclined to Google every unfamiliar name like me will find that Wikipedia have got a little about  young Isaac but the information is incorrect as to his position on the ship; they state that on the voyage he ‘ as a teenager had been a naval officer with Capt. Cook on the first voyage of the ‘Endeavour’ ; nothing could be further from the truth.

Young Isaac signed on at the ripe old age of 12 years as the Master’s servant, couldn’t get much lower than that; as an indication of what his job entailed;  first job in the morning was to empty the Masters chamber pot. The senior members of the ships company and Mr. Bank’s party had the use of chamber pots, the  seaman and Marines used the “pissdale’s” (that is the correct term for the urinals dotted about the upper deck of the ship) and it was the job of lowly seaman like Isaac to empty them.

Now the Master is not to be confused with the captain, he was not a commissioned officer as such but his work did encompass commissioned officer duties; in fact he did much more than the officers; barring the captain; and is well worthy of his own post.

During the voyage home to England Isaac was appointed Midshipman (5th February 1771) and then went on to a fairly successful career in the Royal Navy, seeing fighting service against the French slowly climbing through the officer ranks eventually rising to the rank of Admiral of the Red. But not successful enough to warrant a knighthood.

He died in 1837 aged 82; the last surviving member of Cooks first great voyage of discovery.

Pride & Prejudice

Last Thursday, being a particularly nice day Coco and I decided to annoy the War Office by relaxing in the garden, me with a book and Coco with some poor little lizard which he teases before devouring.  I sometimes wonder how he would have fared had he been with us when we lived in Manly; we had a delightful family of three 'Blue Tongue Lizards'  every summer which were quite large and looked fearsome.

He may well have thought twice before having a go at them, but then again he probably wouldn't;  he's a silly dog, he sometimes thinks he's a fair bit bigger than what he actually is and he  is as game as Ned Kelly!

Undoubtedly the W.O would have found something for me to do had I have stayed in the house so I opted for the most pleasant option; and Friday likewise being a pleasant day we did the same thing over again.

For a change I decided to read Pride & Prejudice, I hadn't read it for a month or so, and I keep going back hoping to find that there are not three volume's but a fourth that I've somehow missed.  It only takes me a few hours to read this work now, I find I know it so well that I turn the page, glance at it and then go onto the next and I'm right up there with the story the whole time.

There are many parts that I do enjoy reading slowly savouring each word or situation and on these I take my time, and why not, there is so much that is delicious!

So it was not until late Saturday afternoon/early evening that I put the book down; disappointed! Still no IV chap i.

I sometimes feel that Miss Austen just wanted to stop writing and couldn't be bothered finishing the story off properly. After all she gave us three volumes in great detail and then when we're down to the nitty gritty she knocked the lot off in a few pages; a couple of very small chapters. I feel cheated!

Try as I might I can find no reason for her not to have a volume IV, there is so much unsaid in those final two chapters that could have filled at least a IV and possible a V.

Perhaps Miss Austen was becoming sick of the story after all she had been fiddling around with it for some years, although I do believe that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was her favourite creation, so the question is still why did she just stop and let the story peter out like it did.

Was it because she was a maiden lady who really didn't know enough to write about a young recently married lady. There most certainly were a great many taboo's   on spinsters in her day, not least I suppose those imposed on the daughter of a clergyman.

Yet she did know and understand about marriage; witness  the first two paragraphs of Vol. II Chapter xix, so why did she teaze (Miss Austen's spelling) us?

So whilst I'm pondering all this my mind drifted off to the 1995 BBC production of Pride & Prejudice. I think we can all pretty well agree that this was the best production of this story to date, but it was/is still lacking.

There were some silly parts/scenes that could have been left out well and truly and not spoilt the program because they did nothing to enhance it in the first place.

The one that most comes to mind immediately is the ridiculous swimming in the pond scene, absolutely ludicrous having no relevance to the story whatsoever; just a bit of masculine fluff to tickle the ladies fancy.  Absolute nonsense, as was his fencing scene.

Come on now can anybody really imagine Mr. Darcy waving a sword/foil or epee? I can certainly see him with a quill in his hand, but a sword? Really!

The BBC are usually so spot on but with this production they just missed out. Important scenes are twisted and mutilated so much so  that they bare no resemblance to the story whatsoever.

Take for example the "Introduction"; in the book this is a delightful scene. Elizabeth spotting Mr. Darcy through the window, coming along with his sister Georgiana to introduce her and  meet the love of his life and Elizabeth in a tizzy; Mr. & Mrs. Gardiner all curious and  suspicious all at once, and then knowing what was going on in Mr. Darcy's mind.

What a delightful scene that would have been! I never tire of reading that chapter and I would not have tired of watching it on screen as all the actors involved were superlative and yet we missed out on Mr. & Mrs. G!

As usual I'm carrying on a bit so to cut this short, the finish! I always stop the program once the happy couples are seated in their carriages, which is all a bit silly really. 

 Then they had to be kidding. "The Kiss"!  Ludicrous I blush for Miss Austen.

Why for the final scene could they not have done something more in keeping with the story. It finishes with "With the Gardiner's they were always on the most intimate terms......." doesn't this suggest a final scene of say Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner in their phaeton with a couple of little ponies trotting off around the park and Mr. D & Mr. G wandering down to the lake for a spot of fishing, chatting away and the camera's moving back until there are just the dots in the distance which  fades out; just as Miss Austen's great novel fades

My dog and me

They may be old, tired and worn ( just like me) but the expression, adage or saying; call it what you will,  about being either a 'Cat' person or a 'Dog' person holds true, I sincerely believe this.

And I'm a dog person, always have been and I suppose at my age it's impossible to change even if I wanted to. I don't mind cats, we even had one once when I was a boy, black as the 'Ace of Spades' he was and his name was Nigger. Back in the late 1930's early 40's this name was quite common and acceptable for a black pet.

Nigger was a good cat and great mouser and when the war started the ARP had a station in the junior school grounds just up the road from where we lived, and they were overrun with mice apparently. So to help the war effort we let them have our cat

.

Trouble was the ARP men and I suppose women too, didn't believe in giving any food to Nigger he had to live on what he could scavenge by way of mice or whatever else he could catch. Whether they ever gave him any milk or not I don't know but I remember them giving Nigger back to us and he was in very poor shape emaciated scrawny and on his dying legs.

We never had another cat.

As you know I have a dog named Coco; (I'd never have called him that but that was his name when we rescued him a couple of years back) and I love him to bits.

He likes to sleep in his little bed in a nook in our bedroom, he likes his bed and I take it with us and plonk it down close to where I am, (although he's not too keen having it out in the garden). At this moment he is curled up in a ball close by, one eye watching me and obviously wondering when I'm going to have breakfast and if he's going to get any; he's very fond of the food I eat.

I particularly enjoy the early mornings. I'm an early riser and this suits Coco. Before my feet are in my slippers he's up and having his languid stretch and waiting at the bedroom door.

He's very good at this time and lets me know I'm the master by standing back and letting me leave the room first, I get this privilege once a day; from then on he's the boss.

Actually the reason he is deferential to me at this time is because he's hungry and wants his breakfast, so as a dutiful master I feed him and then wait quietly on his sofa while he eats. When finished Coco comes over for his quality time No 1 of the day I give him a rough rub which he loves and then we retire to the garden so that he can check that his territory is in order and to , (as Kate Shrewsday so delightfully put it when describing her dog Macaulay's toiletry habits), dump some ballast.

Tour of inspection finished it's time for Coco to have a nap, he enjoys napping and does it at every opportunity. He also likes to play with his toys, bark, chase birds, catch little lizards, (just for a snack mind) he also likes to eat and does so every chance he gets.

And he watches over me constantly.

After all his needs have been attended I then like to take my shower and get cleaned up before I have my breakfast. Now Coco doesn't like me to shut a door and close him out so I leave the bathroom door open  a few centimetres and he will lie down across the doorway and snooze.

However, if he feels I'm taking too long  he pushes the door open and comes into the bathroom to check me out. If I happen to be under the shower, still, then he looks at me in amazement, I think he wonders why I'd do anything as silly as standing in the rain. He hates the rain.

He may if the mood takes him then sit and watch me complete my ablutions then again he's more than likely to push the door wide open and depart.

I'm glad the War Office is a heavy sleeper, and that I'm a dog lover.

The First Tuesday in November

Now I don't want my American chums (of whom there appears to be very few left) to think I'm going to ramble on about the elections which seem to be invariably held on the "First Tuesday In November" for some reason. And if you want to know why follow the link at the bottom of this rant.

There is something of far greater moment that occurs here in Australia every year without fail on the "First Tuesday In November" and has done so since 1875, the "Cup" for all Australians and for non-Australians "The Melbourne Cup".

However , the first "Cup" was  run on the first Thursday the 7th November 1861;  at that time our American cousins had something more important to worry about. In 1873 the Victorian Government Gazetted the "Melbourne Cup" as a public holiday.

And so it has been ever since. This is probably the only public holiday gazetted for the sole purpose of attending a horse race in the world.

Somebody got their priorities right!

The first time I went to a "Cup" was in 1952 when Dalray won, the following year I was serving Australia, after a fashion, I was doing my National Service Training in the Army stationed at Puckapunyal (and how's that for a load of useless information - one might even call it codswallop).

I went again in '54, '55 & '56 was the last time I attended. I found a different interest in '56 which you can read about in an earlier post if you're really that interested.

It was always great fun at Flemington Race Course/Track on "Cup" day, back then the crowd went for one thing and one thing only. To see the running of the Melbourne Cup!

Fast forward 30 -40 years and up to the present the "Cup" is celebrated throughout Australia and by Australians around the world trouble is it's no longer about the race and the horses it's about women in their silly hats and frocks, and the parade of the horses takes second place to the parade of said women in what is famously called "Fashion's in the field" what an exciting piece advertising jargon that is! 

I wonder how long it took some brilliant ad exec to come up with that load of twaddle.

Not to be out done the men (excluding what are delightfully called the 'A lister's' of course) get done up in the silliest, most outrageous get ups imaginable, get to the track as early as possible, and then proceed to get sloshed before the race starts.

Not drinking in the bars, no; drinking from their Esky's /beer chillers stuck in the boot/trunk of their cars/automobiles that are parked in the one of the many car parks.  (Don't you just love the way I give you the Australian & Americanisms?). 

Where are the police when you need them.

Anyway to cut this rant short I really don't take much interest in the "Cup" anymore, I can remember the last time I selected and backed the winner. It was 1973 and I was living at Shay Gap and a few of the men were going into Port Hedland for the day, that was where the nearest  TAB / betting shop was located and I gave one of the blokes $10 to put straight out on Gala Supreme and nobody was more surprised than me when the bloke came back and gave me my winnings.

So yesterday being the "First Tuesday in November"  at around 2 or 3.00pm I am reliably informed that a race was run and won in Melbourne by some excited young lady wearing a funny hat and a short frock or it may have been a long one I really don't know or care. For those who don't believe what I said about funny hats and things check out this link:  http://www.smh.com.au/photogallery/lifestyle/fashion/10-best-dressed-celebs-at-the-melbourne-cup-20131105-2wyh4.html

By the way there was another race for horses.  One of them won everybody cheered and went home to get ready for next year!

 http://history1800s.about.com/od/presidentialcampaigns/f/electionday01.htm

James Spader & the Westpac Chopper

Last night around 8.30 I switched on my TV, I watch “The Blacklist” with James Spader. I rather enjoy watching this actor, he always has a delightful supercilious air about him. There’s no difference in his acting in this program as in “Boston Legal” which I found quite amusing; until it deteriorated into trite trash.

In “The Blacklist” he looks completely dapper. immaculately attired, (something he wasn’t in “Boston Legal” that was left to his sparring partner; Denny Crane aka Captain Kirk aka Wm. Shatner) and when stepping out the pictures complete when he dons a hat.  Will this start a revival? I hope so but it’s a bit late for me.

I always wore a ‘Trilby‘ and remember my first, my maternal grandmother gave me the money at Easter 1950 to buy my first hat. This was as a birthday present and she thought I should be suitably attired when I started work in the ‘City’ , I bought the Trilby in preference to the “Bowler” for the simple reason I was starting as a junior clerk and a “B” was for the seniors. Not only that I couldn’t stand the “B” .

For the next 10 years or so I never went out without a titfer on my head. The old adage “If you want to get ahead; get a hat!”

Enough of that nonsense back to “The Blacklist”. How long I’ll stay with this program I don’t know. I think the story lines are over the top to say the least.

What will keep me watching of course is Mr Spader’s character Raymond “Red” Reddington; ( Hey that’s a pretty clever nickname for him “Red” how did they come up with that?) and his relationship with the programs lead actress Megan Boone who plays the part of  Elizabeth Keen. And Raymond being Red naturally calls her “Lizzie”.

I think perhaps that Lizzie will turn out to be Red’s daughter, that’s why he takes such a keen interest and knows so much about her, Red’s pretty smart and he’s kept his eye on her all these years. I wonder if I’ll keep watching that long? I’m inclined to get bored quite easily with the repetition of this type of program.

Don’t you just love the way they go running around searching in broad daylight or a well lit room with their torches on and wearing rubber glove? Hilarious.            

To get back to the start of this little diatribe, I switched on the TV and of course the program hadn’t started. The commercial stations here have woken up to the idea that running late is a good idea, to keep a captive audience tuned to their network.

So I got to see the last few minutes of a ‘doco’ about the ‘Westpac Rescue Helicopter‘, which of course I didn’t mind, I sometimes see this machine along our coastline on some errand of help or mercy.

Then the credits rolled (you note I have the right jargon) and at the end there was a request for donations to help keep the “Westpac” helicopter flying by writing to or sending… I was gobsmacked!

Could this be real? I’d seen it with my own eyes and knew it to be so, and yet just two hours earlier during the business report on the same channels news it was reported that Westpac Banking Corporation had recorded a record profit of 7.1 billion dollars $7.1000,000,000.00.  an 8% rise over the previous year and they were giving their shareholders a special dividend.

The CEO was very pleased with the result; and will probably be more than pleased with her bonus; how many millions this year? But she’s worth it!

And here they are asking for donations to keep their rescue helicopter flying (do they claim this as advertising I wonder), their logo and name displayed prominently .

The sheer unmitigated gall of this bank leaves me speechless!  

"The Bloke That Ran The Boozer At Shay Gap"

It's a bit of a long story, how I got to Shay Gap and I won't bore you with it here, I'll bore you some other time; some other blog.  For now I'll keep it brief.

The  man that I'd worked for and who'd taught me how to run a pub had to retire; his ticker wasn't the best and the publicans life was killing him.

I stayed on at his hotel in Waroona down Bunbury way in Western  Australia, and showed the new licensee the ropes and got him acquainted with the locals, it was a one pub town, no clubs so it was the town centre and meeting place. Once the new bloke had settled in I decided it was time to move on. This is way back in 1973, forty years ago. How time flies! :(

An ad for a bar manager in the "West" (the only morning newspaper in Perth) caught my eye. It was for an experienced manager to take over the 'Wet Canteen' of a mining town up in the Pilbara.

All I knew was that the Pilbara was way, way, up north but why not?

So I rang Poone Bros., these were the people that ran the mining towns in the early iron ore boom times, and went up to Perth and had a chat with their 'Personnel Officer' back in the good ol' days when the term "Human Resource Manager"  hadn't forced its way into the language. I'm a person not a resource!

We had a bit of a chat I told him what I'd been doing and he told me what the job entailed then added that I'd probably know more about it than he did anyway so when could I start.  I told him I was ready to go in a couple of days.

I called into Poone's a couple of days later picked up my papers and plane tickets and headed out the next day for Shay Gap way up there on the edge of the Great Sandy Desert about 70-80kms north of Marble Bar, the hottest town in Australia, and one of the hottest in the world.

Nearly 1600 kilometres north to Port Hedland, the sea port for the iron ore shipments, then inland I think it was on a Cessna 421, (I recall it was a small twin engine 8 seater) for the 180-190km to "Shay".

Wow! Here I was some 1800km from civilization miles from anywhere stuck in the middle of a desert. What the hell had I let myself in for?

A Toyota Land Cruiser was there to take me into the township, so I collected my gear said cheers to the pilot and off we went in the Cruiser in the searing heat, with the air-conditioning full on, i.e. we had all the vehicle windows down.

I was greeted by the Shay Gap Township Manager, another Poone's man, Poone's ran everything except the Police, (one sergeant), bank (one bank, the ANZ) and post office, which in those days was run by the government.

He gave me a complete run down on the town then took me to my accommodation. It was literally out of this world. Shay Gap was truly a space age town.

This town was unique, in the fullest sense of the world. There's never been a town like this before or since. It was designed by the Perth Architect, Lawrence Howroyd, who studied the way the Arabs lived and survived in the searing heat and winds of the desert and came up with the concept that became Shay Gap.

The buildings were all connected to one huge air-conditioning system pretty much in the centre of town (it wasn't a very big town, more on this later), there were no brick or timber buildings, every house, every building was moulded, don't ask me what the material was it looked like moulded fibre glass or the material used  to make surf boards; it had that look about it; all windows were double glazed and moulded in as well. 

The buildings were pretty much airtight once the doors were closed.

My accommodation consisted of a quarter of an hexagon building. Each unit  was self-contained except there were no cooking facilities and they were for single male staff /managers.

We didn't need cooking facilities as all our meals were provided in the staff dining room. We did have one building set aside for recreation and meeting purposes where it was possible to make a cup of tea/coffee, toast a bit of bread everything we needed including a laundry. No laundry facilities we were responsible for doing our own.

But these buildings were fascinating; my unit, everything inside was moulded the wardrobes cupboards writing desk all seamless and moulded and spotless. Straight out of "Star Trek" except "S.T" hadn't been thought of back then.

The bathroom minus a bath was moulded except for the lavatory, I'm sure if Mr. Howroyd had been able to mould that too, he would have done so.

Speaking of lavatories the sewerage system was a new style vacuum system that used  plastic type pipes, when the lavatory was flushed there'd be one huge 'whooshing' sound as about a cup of water flushed the pan and sent the pans contents into oblivion. (I was reliably informed by the man who should know that at the end of each day the amount of effluence that came out of the pipes was not enough to fill a milk bottle. 

Then again he could have been having me on I suppose).

There was three other types of accommodation in town. The buildings for the larger 3 bedroom family homes, which were like two giant moulded shoeboxes the top one set at 45° , a smaller one storey moulded shoebox probably one bedroom and the single men's quarters, which resembled a glorified moulded jail block.

Probably a jail cell would have had more room than the single men's cell, they were very basic. A bed a cupboard/wardrobe small table and chair and that was about all. Still the men worked twelve on / twelve off seven days a week alternating between day and night shift every fortnight; they were really just a sleeping room.

The picture I'm attaching will give you some idea of the buildings, you can see the double storey cell block, the double decker 45° houses, you  can see the larger amenities blocks which housed the store and post office, the 'Club' and the mess and 'Wet' canteen. All in all it looks very bleak, but it wasn't and I shall tell you more about "Shay" in the coming days and or weeks; I came to love this place and the people that made it and made me "The Bloke That Ran The Boozer At Shay Gap'; I was once asked by an old chum to write a book entitled just that!

A task beyond me.

Shay Gap Western Australia

Like many other people I like to go surfing the 'net just to see what comes up that may well have some meaning for me.

Well yesterday I struck it lucky, I came across a site called Bingley Rural, "Good heavens" said I "have I stumbled onto the Netherfield Park website?" (those that know me know I'm an ardent Jane Austen devotee and of her  'Pride & Prejudice' especially); but no such luck.

What did grab my attention though was a post entitled 'Tyke down under' so I read this load of 'old cobblers' because that is what it is.

It's written by a man who calls himself and I quote, a "ten quid pom" to give authenticity to his tale of self aggrandisement; there is no such thing as a ten quid pom, the Australians are a bit more poetic than that!

We are "ten pound poms" (notice the nice ring that has to it), I know because I am one. I landed on the not so sunny shores at Station Pier Melbourne on a cold wet blustery Saturday, 7th April 1951, we should have docked two days earlier but the storm raging in the Great Australian Bight kept us riding it out, outside Port Phillip Heads. 

Welcome to sunny Australia.

Back to Tyke down under; he carries on about many things but one that caught my eye was his rant regarding the West Australian mining town of Shay Gap.

I won't say that the writer is a stranger to the truth but I will say he doesn't let the truth stand in the way of a good story but what he has to say about "Shay" is a figment of his imagination and to make him look the tough pioneer and 'good guy' to his chums back home in Bingley Rural.

In fact what he says about Shay Gap is so much rubbish and codswallop that I've decided to write some posts in the hope of setting the record straight after the tykes scurrilous attack on a fine little town and the many men and women like me who lived and worked there.

So for those of you interested keep watching!

Where there's smoke..

There's fire; so goes the old adage.

For the past two mornings I've awoken to a smoke filled sky. The sun desperately trying to shine through casting a ghostly glow through the haze. 

The smell of the eucalyptus hangs in the air. Yet there is no sign of the fire. For the nearest bushfire is some 80 kms, and maybe more, to the west: the smoke and the smells that travel with it are being borne along on the strong high westerlies yet drifting ever so slowly over the coast across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand some 4000 kilometres away. Yes it will probably reach that far!

Soon tired, exhausted men and women; young and old will get some rest and all things will get back to normal. But not for some, the many who have lost everything, their homes and prized possessions will pick up the pieces and start all over, again and wait. For the fires will not go away.

NaBloPoMo

What a pity this is “National” not “International” BloPoMo: seems kind of selfish and insular to me.

There are plenty of non American Bloggers that I follow,

This is after all the time of the WWW not the AWW.

I woke up a grumpy old man this morning.
:)