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I had to add this little preamble because something has gone wrong with the software. For some reason the side panel does not display unless I add this fixed "Welcome" post to the top. The mysteries of computers and computer software. Perhaps I should stick to playing my accordion. Last night a neighbour hammered on the door. It was already past midnight! Luckily, I was still awake and playing my accordion — I'm only joking; we live on seven acres and our only neighbour is the river.
My recent contacts with the scion of the once mighty South Seas Island traders Breckwoldt & Co. reminded me again not only of my time in the islands but also of my time spent in Hamburg in the cold winder of 1967/68.
Near my office on Neuer Jungfernstieg
I had returned to the old country when the Deutsch-Südamerikanische Bank promised me employment in their head office in Hamburg and an eventual transfer to one of their many branches in South America. And so I started with the Banco Germánico de la América del Sud, as I preferred to call them to practice my recently acquired basic Spanish.
I was assigned to their "Hauptbuchhaltung" which was full of German-speaking Argentines who had fled their bankrupt (and corrupt) country and were more keen on practising their German on me than letting me practise my Spanish on them. I began to have my first small regrets.
I had taken a furnished room "auf Untermiete" with a family in out-of-town Kiwittsmoor. The room was supposed to have "Zentralheizung" but only ever heated the "Zentrale" of the house, leaving me to shiver under a thin blanket during those long cold nights of the German winter.
My room was so tiny that I had to store the sea chest, which I had brought back with me from Australia, in the basement, necessitating many trips up and down the stairs. Gradually, letters from friends left behind in Australia began to arrive. Addressed in hastily scribbled English to "Mr. Peter Goerman", they aroused a sudden deference in my landlady who voiced her surprise that someone so young was already a "Dr." I could correct her mistake before she could increase my rent.
I boarded the train to the city when the sky was still pitchblack in the morning and returned when the sky had turned pitchblack again in the evening. Of course, I travelled during peak-hours which meant it was standing room only for what seemed like an eternity but what GOOGLE Map tells me was a 'mere' forty minutes to and from the Binnenalster.
In my short lunchbreaks the sky would turn itself into a foggy grey, and it was during one of those lunchbreaks as I descended the bank's marble steps to get some frosty fresh air when two directors bailed me up.
Wasn't I an employee of their bank? Yes, I was! Well, then it was not for me to descend those marble steps but to use a humble sidedoor around the corner. Well, that was enough for this not-so-obsequious employee of theirs: I walked up those marble stairs and tendered my resignation.
Two more bank jobs, one in my hometown Braunschweig and the other in Frankfurt, which was conveniently close to its international airport, and before another German winter could catch me with my pants down in another unheated rented room, I was on my way to South Africa and, six months later, back to Australia. No more Endstation Kiwittsmoor!
Weekend after weekend, throughout the summer months, this elegant houseboat moves from its private mooring two-hundred metres upriver to this public mooring two-hundred metres downriver, directly opposite Riverbend.
Its permanent mooring is between the other two houseboats to the right
Like the legendary Flying Dutchman, it silently moves downriver, with never anybody to be seen behind its tinted panoramic windows. Then, at the end of the weekend, just as silently, and with seemingly no-one on board, it moves back up two-hundred metres to its private mooring.
It is said to belong to an erstwhile — how I have been waiting for a chance to use that word! — prospective buyer of "Riverbend", who sought us out in 2011, salivating while saying, "We want lots of land!"
They then decided that $2 million for a substantial two-storey brick home on 7 acres of totally private waterfront was too much, and bought what could only be described as a nicely converted fishing shack on 1900 square metres of land for $950,000 just across the lane from us.
But they didn't stop there: a few months later, they bought the last remaining vacant block next to them for another $750,000. Now they were the owners of a converted fishing shack on 3800 sqare metres of land, all at the price of $1,700,000 versus "Riverbend" for $2,000,000.
But they didn't stop there either: tired of — what? — life in the country or the ever-gossiping neighbours, they sold up again: the fishing shack went for a mere $750,000 and the vacant block for a low $500,000.
So what's he doing now moored off "Riverbend"? Bemoaning his loss of $450,000? (before stamp duty, commission, and legals) Or bemoaning he didn't buy "Riverbend"? Like the Flying Dutchman, we will never know.
Yesterday was the first day of autumn, so perhaps last weekend was the last we saw, or rather, not saw, of him until the start of next summer.
The BHP share price ended last week at $58.41, up by 28% from last year's closing price. It's now at the highest price the miner has ever traded at in its 140-year history as a listed company. In short, BHP shares are on fire — and there's another 20% to come, according to one analyst.
On Wednesday, Jason Fairclough of Bank of America put a 12-month price target of $68 on BHP shares. What's most exciting about this analyst's tip is that the guy has form. Last month, Fairclough was the first expert to suggest the shares could go into the high $50s in 2026.
Fairclough put out a note in mid-January tipping that BHP shares could rise to $56 within a year. His previous target had been $49. At the time, five other analysts had also recently updated their price targets.
All of them, except Barclays, were tipping the late $40s range for the BHP share price. Barclays' price target was $50.12. Over ensuing weeks, Goldman Sachs raised its price target on BHP shares to $57.70, while Morgan Stanley increased it to $56.50. And Fairclough went to $57.
BHP shares cracked the $50 mark for the first time in two years on 27 January. Then the mining share hovered between $49 and $52 for a couple of weeks. Then came BHP's 1H FY26 report and a $4.3 billion silver streaming deal, both announced on 17 February, which added serious fuel to the mining stock's fire.
The iron ore and copper mining giant reported a 28% profit increase to US$5.64 billion for 1H FY26. The news made the brokers go back to their models to update their price targets. Fairclough lifted his target to $60. Then, on Wednesday, he lifted his 12-month target to $68.
Most of my blog posts are about me, myself, and I, so this one about Fredy Kocher should come as a welcome surprise to you. At twenty years of age, Fredy Kocher and his friend Gerry boarded the maiden voyage of SS CANBERRA on June 2, 1961, bound for Australia and in search of adventure.
Leaving behind the mountains of Grenchen, Switzerland, Fredy had longed to travel the world and Australia offered the perfect doorway to explore life in an entirely new land.
He had a loving family, a good job, many friends and skied every winter, but the call of travel saw him set forth and embark on this next exploration.
Upon arrival to Station Pier in Melbourne in the darkness of night on June 27, the pair spoke little English between them but were met by immigration officials and directed to board a train to an unfamiliar destination.
When daylight finally broke, the surroundings of Bonegilla felt otherworldly: the eucalyptus trees were foreign and the orderly line of P-style army huts and large buildings of the Migrant Reception and Training Centre resembled a strange new village.
Fredy's registration card at Bonegilla
Fredy soon acquainted himself with the familiarity of other Swiss, German or French migrants. They gathered to amuse themselves with playing guitar, singing, exploring the surroundings and sharing their hopes and dreams.
Time passed quickly through card games and hut decorating as a new life began to take shape for the young man.
Every new beginning comes with adaptation, and for Fredy one notable adjustment was the food at Bonegilla.
Coming from the superb home-cooking of his mother, he was a little shocked to find salads with no dressing and there was always the persistent craving for fish and chips or a hamburger. This led to the occasional hitchhike to a nearby service station that was equipped with a café to satisfy these small cravings.
In his earlier youth, Fredy had been gifted a movie camera which ignited a life-long passion for filmmaking. While still at school, he worked as a projectionist at the local cinema in Grenchen, so it was no surprise that his camera joined him on his travels to Australia.
Fredy’s camera captured the daily life at Bonegilla’s centre in 1961– filled with moments of guitar playing, polishing footwear, laughing with new friends and the companionship that would endure for a lifetime. Notably many years later, Fredy went on to become the best man to one such friend he met at Bonegilla.
With a job as a fitter and turner on the horizon in Sydney, Fredy departed Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre on July 12, 1961, after almost two weeks of immersing himself in life at the centre.
What was supposed to be a two year stay in Australia blossomed into a lifelong love affair with the country – with Fredy becoming an Australian citizen in April of 1967.
Fredy and his future wife Mim
Life took him to many parts of Australia, from Sydney to Griffith and Melbourne, where he fell in love with his wife, Mim. Together, they had two sons, Nicholas and Alexander, and celebrated 59 years of marriage. Their family increased to include two daughter’s in-law and five grandchildren.
“Fredy had many fond memories of his time at Bonegilla – it made a huge impression on him,” Fredy’s wife, Mim, shared.
“It was a time of hope and excitement for the start of his Australian adventure.”
As his Australian story continued to flourish, Fredy became known for his creative spirit and culinary talents, winemaking expertise and skills as an air-conditioning engineer. He continued to make films and often travelled back to Switzerland to share stories of his new life with his homeland family.
Fredy passed away in 2025 after almost 85 years full of adventure, joy and enduring love for his family.
Fredy passd away without reclaiming his immigration papers from the National Archives. Perhaps his family will.
Bonegilla was Fredy’s beginning. It sparked a deep affection for Australia and a lifetime of discovery, friendship and belonging. For Fredy, and for thousands of migrants like him, Bonegilla was not just a temporary stop, but a starting point where a foreign land grew to feel like home.
These memories became the foundation for a life defined by curiosity, connection and gratitude for the journey that began at Bonegilla.
Fredy returned to Bonegilla in 2021 to reconnect with his past. The footage he captured during his time at the centre in 1961 still lives on today.
Fredy making his pilgrimage to Bonegilla
What a great story — and not a single me, myself, and I in it, except to say that I, too, came to Australia and passed through Bonegilla, but four years later and one year younger, and I didn't leave a loving family nor many friends behind. As for skiing every winter — I never stood on a pair of skies in my life! And I have yet to make my pilgrimage to Bonegilla.
Ich wanderte im Jahre 1965 vom (k)alten Deutschland nach Australien aus. In Erinnerung an das alte Sprichwort "Gott hüte mich vor Sturm und Wind und Deutschen die im Ausland sind" wurde ich in 1971 im Dschungel von Neu-Guinea australischer Staatsbürger. Das kostete mich nur einen Umlaut und das zweite n im Nachnamen - von -mann auf -man.
Australien gab mir eine zweite Sprache und eine zweite Chance und es war auch der Anfang und das Ende: nach fünfzig Arbeiten in fünfzehn Ländern - "Die ganze Welt mein Arbeitsfeld" - lebe ich jetzt im Ruhestand in Australien an der schönen Südküste von Neusüdwales.
Ich verbringe meine Tage mit dem Lesen von Büchern, segle mein Boot den Fluss hinunter, beschäftige mich mit Holzarbeit, oder mache Pläne für eine neue Reise. Falls Du mir schreiben willst, sende mir eine Email an riverbendnelligen [AT] mail.com, und ich schreibe zurück.
Falls Du anrufen möchtest, meine Nummer ist XLIV LXXVIII X LXXXI.
This blog is written in the version of English that is standard here. So recognise is spelled recognise and not recognize etc. I recognise that some North American readers may find this upsetting, and while I sympathise with them, I sympathise even more with my countrymen who taught me how to spell. However, as an apology, here are a bunch of Zs for you to put where needed.
Zzzzzz
Disclaimer
This blog has no particular axe to grind, apart from that of having no particular axe to grind. It is written by a bloke who was born in Germany at the end of the war (that is, for younger readers, the Second World War, the one the Americans think they won single-handedly). He left for Australia when most Germans had not yet visited any foreign countries, except to invade them. He lived and worked all over the world, and even managed a couple of visits back to the (c)old country whose inhabitants he found very efficient, especially when it came to totting up what he had consumed from the hotels' minibars. In retirement, he lives (again) in Australia, but is yet to grow up anywhere.
He reserves the right to revise his views at any time. He might even indulge in the freedom of contradicting himself. He has done so in the past and will most certainly do so in the future. He is not persuading you or anyone else to believe anything that is reported on or linked to from this site, but encourages you to use all available resources to form your own opinions about important things that affect all our lives and to express them in accordance with Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Everything on this website, including any material that third parties may consider to be their copyright, has been used on the basis of “fair dealing” for the purposes of research and study, and criticism and review. Any party who feels that their copyright has been infringed should contact me with details of the copyright material and proof of their ownership and I will remove it.
And finally, don't bother trying to read between the lines. There are no lines - only snapshots, most out of focus.
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