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Tuesday, March 31, 2020

A voice from the past

 

Quite some years ago, in 2004 in fact, as I was listening to Radio National (which I do every night as I'm an incurable insomniac), I came across a segment called VERBATIM, in which the interviewer talked with a 92-year-old chap called Bill who has had an obsession with wheels all his long life.

The power of the engine didn't matter; whether it was trucks, bicycles or battered old 2CV Citroens, Bill had travelled Australia from end to end on all of them. Most of his travelling had been done in pursuit of work (and girlfriends) and his was the story of a labouring man with a taste for adventure and no desire to settle down.

For Bill, there had always been another river to ford or a python to wrestle or a murderer to evade ... and suddenly I realised that I knew that chap: he was Bill Skinner whom I had befriended back in 1977 when I lived on Thursday Island. Bill had driven an old truck up to Cape York and, daunted by the prospect of driving down that same rough road again, had come across to Thursday Island to book himself, his three dogs, and his truck onto the barge returning to Cairns in a few days' time. He had missed the boat going back to Bamaga and wandered the main street of TI aimlessly when we ran into each other. I invited him to stay at my house for the night and we talked and talked (and drank and drank!) well into the night.

We met again in 1979 when I overnighted at the Great Northern Hotel in Cairns on my way to a job interview on Mornington Island. Bill lived in Cairns at the time and I went to his house in Severin Street. His backyard was a junkyard! It was full of old things which Bill had kept or collected under some "it-may-come-in-handy-one-day" compulsion. To make even more room for all the junk, Bill had removed the clothes hoist to the top of the roof! Wash-day at Bill's must've been quite a thing to behold! He'd just "tarred" his unregistered WWII Willys Jeep in black paint all over as he was about to go on another trip somewhere. He only told me about it during a mad midnight dash to the local cemetery to dig up some soil for his garden - another typical Bill-escapade! - and the black tar spots stayed on my trousers for a long time!

In 1981, while I was in Melbourne working for Fluor Corporation and living at the Majestic Private Hotel in St Kilda, his daughter Roslyn and her husband dropped in, and visited me again after I had moved to Magnetic Island in the same year. I left Magnetic Island shortly afterwards for Papua New Guinea, Saudi Arabia, Greece, et al, but not so Roslyn who must have stayed on "Maggie" because I ran into her again inside the Picnic Bay Hotel when I briefly returned to the island in 1985. Later still, she must've been joined by her father because, according to this article, he celebrated his 100th birthday on the island in 2012.

I had lost touch with Bill quite some time before then, and even though he was as tough as old boot leather, I doubt he'd still be around to celebrate his 108th birthday this year. At the time his story went to air, I not only saved the above sound file but also wrote a short note to his address in Longwarry in Victoria. I didn't have to wait long for his reply. While he admitted that his memory was no longer what it used to be, he remembered his trip to TI and our meeting and, as he put it, "if I can find Nelligen on the map, I'll drop in some day." and, "I could easily drive up there, but thieves are everywhere here now and very cunny [sic]" and "I camp in a caravan every night hoping to catch the thieves - with a 3-inch piece of pipe!!!" It sounded just like the old Bill Skinner!


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Friday, March 6, 2020

All I want is the truth

 

John Lennon was right, and so is Peter Switzer who wrote, "My media mates are bullshitting the Coronavirus and it’s a disgrace. I really don’t want to write this, but my sense of social obligation and my fear that the infodemic about the alleged pandemic means I have to criticize my mates in the media.

But I guess as an experienced player in the space who was schooled by an old-fashioned regime, I have to scream that this Coronavirus bullshit has to stop! The excrement that has been passed off as news has resulted in actual fisticuffs in supermarket aisles over toilet paper, for God’s sake!" (to read the full article, click here)

Anyway, the toilet paper shortages have been dealt with - see below:

 


Googlemap Riverbend

P.S. While we are on the subject, and for your personal edification, let me tell you that it was the Chinese - who else? - who invented toilet paper in the fourteenth century, and the Bureau of Imperial Supplies began to produce paper for use by the Chinese emperors. However, it wasn't until 1857 that the first factory-produced toilet paper was made, by the American Joseph Cayetty, who named his product 'Therapeutic Paper' and sold it in packs of 500 sheets. Before the invention of toilet paper, different areas of the world used many different things. Public toilets in ancient Rome provided a moist sponge on the end of a stick, while the wealthy used wool and rosewater. In Viking-occupied England, discarded wool was used, while in the Middle Ages this had been replaced by hay balls. In Hawaii, meanwhile, coconut husks were used - ouch! -, while the early Eskimos used snow and tundra moss. Wealthy people around the world often used hemp and wool, with lace being used by the French royalty. British lords used pages from books (which reminds me last time I went to Bali I got through six Jeffrey Archer novels; I must remember to take enough toilet paper next time). In the United States, newspapers and telephone directories were commonly used, as were other books. The Old Farmer's Almanac was actually printed with a hole punched through the corner of each page so that it could be hung in outhouses, and the Sears catalogue was widely used until it was produced with glossy pages, after which its use as a hygiene product became unpopular. This just about exhausts this subject short of also telling you that it was my job as a small boy in Germany to cut into quarters the pages of the daily newspaper, DIE BRAUNSCHWEIGER ZEITUNG, for aforementioned use by the family. I took a fiendish delight in shuffling the quartered pages before hanging them on the nail on the wall so that no one could ever finish reading the complete article which may have accounted for some of the groans emanating from the toilet. Now you can go back and worry about the coronavirus again!

P.P.S. At close of trading today, all the banks are down: ANZ -4.73%, CBA -3.67%, NAB -5.54%, WBC -4.05%. These drops make BHP's drop of -3.68% look almost benign! Oh, and WOW (Woolworths) went UP +0.72%. Must be all that toilet paper they've been selling! :-)

 

Thursday, March 5, 2020

Why is "Riverbend" so cheap?

 

I've been repeatedly asked this question by people who've looked at properties like 145 Beach Road, Sunshine Bay, for sale at 2.3 to 2.5 million. "Why should Riverbend's stately home on a full seven acres on a peaceful bend in the Clyde River cost less than a mere 745 square metres on very busy (and noisy) Beach Road, albeit with a very modern home and overlooking the ocean?"

 

 

Here is 145 Beach Road's 745 square metres from the air:

And here is just one-third of Riverbend's seven acres from the air:


A = Main House, B = Guest Cottage, C = Workshop/Laundry/Outdoor Bathroom/Carport,
D = "Pizza Hut", E = "Horseshed", F = "Clubhouse", G = Library

 

The house at 145 Beach Road, Sunshine Bay, was built eight years ago after the current owners had bought the existing property in June 2010 for $760,000, tore it down and spent a small fortune on 'this architect designed, custom built home' which explains its pricetag of $2.3 million. It doesn't explain Riverbend's far more modest - and negotiable - price of $2.25 million for a whole seven acres of riverfront.

 

 

I take your question on notice and get back to you!


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Monday, March 2, 2020

These photos say it all!

 

My second day in splendid isolation. I've padlocked the gate - FROM THE INSIDE! - and left the toilet seat up - PERMANENTLY! - ; I have breakfast just before lunch and lunch at dinnertime; I read a book when I want to, and watch a DVD instead of TV. In short: BLISS!

 

 

It took me a bit longer than Denys Finch Hatton, but after twenty years of married life I no longer enjoy being alone quite as much as I used to.

As a regretful Denys says to Karen in OUT OF AFRICA, "You've ruined it for me, you know."

"Ruined what?" she asks.

"Being alone," he replies.


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Sunday, March 1, 2020

My friend Stanley

 

Padma has made a beeline on V/Line for Melbourne to visit her sister whose son is studying at Monash. She was going for just one week but I suggested two; after all, I need a holiday too!

The fridge is stocked with a huge pot of congee, another full of chilli con carne, and a third of chicken curry (boiled soft within an inch of its life to assist with my impaired swallowing), all of which should see me through the first week. In week two, it's back to ALDI and the occasional barramundi sans chips at the Soldiers' Club, all of the foregoing washed down with a glass of Chateau de Cardboard, thanks to Thomas Angove.

For brain food, there's a whole pile of as yet unread books (including such oldies as Thor Heyerdahl's "The RA Expedition"), a stack of DVDs ("Educating Rita", "La Gloire de Mon Père", J. Bronowski's 11-hour epic "The Ascent of Man", and scores of others (I may even sit through the three hours of "Doctor Zhivago", if only to listen to Lara's Theme again).

 

Stanley, not on the shore of Lake Tanganyika but the Clyde River,
waiting for me in front of the new boathouse under construction

 

As for companionship, there's always my friend Stanley!


Googlemap Riverbend