Australia explained

 

We are the people of a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional wanker. We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand), and although we live in the best country in the world, we reserve the right to bitch and moan about it whenever we bloody like. We are One Nation but divided into many States.

First, there's Victoria, named after a queen who didn't believe in lesbians. Victoria is the realm of cafe latte, grand final day, and big horse races. Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that "it's liveable". At least that's what they think. The rest of us think it is too bloody cold and wet.

Next, there's New South Wales, the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing queens. Its capital Sydney has more queens than any other city in the world and is proud of it. Its mascots are Bondi lifesavers that pull their Speedos up their cracks to keep the left and right sides of their brains separate.

Down south we have Tasmania, a State based on the notion that the family that bonks together stays together. In Tassie, everyone gets an extra chromosome at conception. Maps of the State bring smiles to the sternest faces. It holds the world record for a single mass shooting, which the Yanks can't seem to beat no matter how often they try.

South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders. It's the state of innovation. Where else can you so effectively re-use country bank vaults and barrels as in Snowtown, just out of Adelaide (also named after a queen). They had the Grand Prix, but lost it when the views of Adelaide sent the Formula One drivers to sleep at the wheel.

Western Australia is too far from anywhere to be relevant. Its main claim to fame is that it doesn't have daylight saving because if it did, all the men would go to sleep on the bus on the way to work. Western Australia was the last State to stop importing convicts and many of them still work there in the government and business.

The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations the size of Europe, kangaroos, jackaroos, emus, Uluru, and dusty kids with big smiles. It also has the highest beer consumption anywhere on the planet and its creek beds have the highest aluminium content anywhere, too. Although the Territory is the centrepiece of our national culture, few of us live there and the rest prefer to fly over it on our way to Bali.

And there's Queensland. While any mention of God seems silly in a document defining a nation of half-arsed sceptics, it is worth noting that God probably made Queensland, as it's beautiful one day and perfect the next. Why he filled it with dickheads remains a mystery.

Oh, yes, and there's Canberra. The less said the better.

We, the citizens of Oz, are united by highways, whose treacherous twists and turns kill more of us each year than murderers. We are united in our lust for international recognition, so desperate for praise we leap in joy when a rag-tag gaggle of corrupt IOC officials tells us Sydney is better than Beijing. We are united by a democracy so flawed that a political party (albeit a redneck gun-toting one), can get a million votes and still not win one seat in Federal Parliament. Not that we're whingeing, we leave that to our Pommy immigrants.

We want to make "no worries, mate" our national phrase, "she'll be right, mate" our national attitude and "Waltzing Matilda" our national anthem (so what if it's about a sheep-stealing crim who commits suicide?) We love sport so much our newsreaders can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who's winning.

And we're the best in the world at all the sports that count, like cricket, netball, rugby league and union, AFL, roo shooting, two-up and horse racing. We also have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies, and the worst dressed Olympians in the known universe. Only in Australia can a pizza delivery get to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in Australia do we have bank doors wide open, no security guards or cameras, but where the pens are chained to the desk.

Stand proud Aussies - we shoot, we hoot, we vote. We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime. Even though we might seem a racist, closed-minded, sports-obsessed little people, at least we feel better for it.

I am, you are, we are Australian!

 

P.S We also shoot and eat the two animals that are on our National Crest!!!! No other country has this distinction!

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Another perfect morning at "Riverbend"

 

But not for long: the forecast is for very strong winds and temperatures in the mid-40s. Still, we went for our usual walk before the heat set in - and then suddenly the heat was on: I remembered having left the porridge bubbling away on the stove! It was a jogtrot all the way back.

The house was still standing and the porridge still edible, and I'm now reading the last chapter in "The Mess They Made - The Middle East after Iraq", aptly named "Crawling from the Wreckage". It's required reading for anyone who is still harbouring doubts about America's duplicity.

Padma is right now washing her hair before attending this morning's Mini Market in the Church grounds. I can't quite see the connection between the two but that's women for you. Anyway, judging by this flyer, it's going to be a pretty plain affair.

Googlemap Riverbend

 

As close as realas

 

We have another inspection on Sunday. No inscrutable, bottom-fishing Chinaman this time, but a no-nonsense Australian couple who've just sold up in Bungendore and want to have a look at this place.

I said, sure, you can have a look, warts and all, as we won't be going out of our way to make the place look any better than it already is. Take it or leave it. If it doesn't sell this year, it'll sell for more next year after the water and sewer has been connected and the new bridge is built.

There was a time, years ago, when I knew exactly where I would go and what I would buy if this place ever sold. Now I'm not so sure, and the two places I looked at then, have since been sold (in fact, after having been on sale for several years, they've only just NOW been sold: in August and September 2020). Anyway, why would I want to be in a hurry to leave this place? I have never before felt so settled and comfortable.

In the meantime, I've checked with realas.com which is operated by the good people at the ANZ Bank, and their HIGH CONFIDENCE prediction of $2,113,000 isn't all that far from my asking price of $2,225,000 (and they based their valuation on a land size of 3617 square metres; what if I told them it's over seven acres, i.e. approx. 30,000 square metres?)

Anyway, thank you for your vote of HIGH CONFIDENCE, realas.com!

Googlemap Riverbend

 

On Walden Pond or Golden Pond?

 

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

So wrote Henry David Thoreau in chapter "Where I lived, and What I Lived For" in that famous book everyone claims to know but few have tried to read, and fewer still have read from cover to cover, "Walden".

It is an often-quoted classic about an urban dweller moving to a rural place to live a better life (albeit temporarily in his case). It is an age-old dream, beginning with Epicurus (340BC to 270BC) who moved from Athens to the countryside so he could grow vegetables and live simply.

It gained momentum again through the COVID-19 lockdown which has shown just how cramped and uncomfortable life can be when you can't get out of the house. And if everything is closed, what is the point of being in the city and paying a higher rent or mortgage anyway?

So, if you can't get away from the city, and if reading Thoreau's "Walden" is heavy going for you, why not watch Katharine Hepburn and Henry Fonda in "On Golden Pond"? I can't give you the full-length movie, but the opening title music should be enough to whet your appetite:

Googlemap Riverbend

 

And Quiet Flows the Clyde

 

Nelligen is such a tiny town, we don't even have a town drunk which means we all take turns. And yet, this morning's walk up Braidwood Street, through Maisie's Lane, past the tennis courts, up Currawon Street, along Runnyford Road and down Reid Street left me tired out.

What better way to recover my strength than to sit on the jetty in the early-morning sun with a cup of lemon-and-ginger tea while the river - and a gentle stingray - quietly glide by. Wasn't life meant to be like this?

Googlemap Riverbend

 

My Word!

 

There was a time when "My Word!" was probably the most widely-heard radio show in the world. The major part of the programme was a quiz on words and quotations, during which Frank Muir and Denis Norden were most splendidly partnered by Dilys Powell and Anne Scott-James.

A pink bowtie, aristocratic lisp, and an air force colonel manner formed the public image of Frank Muir, and as soon as he started his slow delivery - as slow as that of an inexperienced gynaecologist -, you were treated to his incomparable erudite wit, word play, and brilliant puns.

Image my delight when I found in my favourite op-shop a copy of "You Can’t Have your Kayak and Heat It", a vintage volume of tall stories and outrageous verbal slapstick drawn from the "My Word!" programme.

 

 

If only radio and television were of this quality today. I’m still waiting for pink bow ties to come back into fashion. I remember it all as sunlit and pleasant days because that's what nostalgia does. My word!

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More "Words":
# 83   |   # 109
# 84   |   # 108
# 85   |   # 107
# 87   |   # 111
# 88   |   # 116
# 89   |   # 118
# 90   |   # 121

 

It's still a Work-in-Progress

 

The renovation of the spare outside bathroom-cum-laundry (there are two inside the house) is still a work-in-(very slow-)progress. Mind you, everything is fully functional, except for the shower but I can hold out until Christmas.

The washing machine is almost new, having only recently replaced a previous model which was mobile, fully automatic, and 5-ft-6 tall.

I'm not sure yet what to do about the walls. Seeing that most of the business conducted here is in a unclad state, I may leave the walls the same. However, just in case, I penned a brief reassurance to Padma:

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Darryl versus Goliath

The Today Show celebrates 20th Anniversary of "The Castle" in 2017

 

The quirky Kerrigan family lives together in a makeshift home they built themselves, with great pride and bizarre attention to detail, a few yards from the edge of Tullamarine Airport.

When a building inspector condemns the building and reveals that the government plans to use their land for an airport expansion, Darryl Kerrigan (Michael Caton) and his brood recruit hack attorney Dennis Denuto (Tiriel Mora) and prepare themselves for the fight of their lives.

This timeless comic snapshot of suburban life Down Under remains absolutely un-budgeable from its perch as the most widely adored Australian film of all times. Filmed in a crazy 14 days in 1997, "The Castle" has stood the test of time and, twenty-three years later, is still responsible for some of the great Aussie catch phrases:

"Tell 'im 'e's dreamin'"
"We're the luckiest family in the world" and "How's the serenity?"
"This is going straight to the pool room"
"You're an ideas man"
"When it comes to violation, they don't come any bigger" and "It's the vibe of the thing"

 

 

Where was it filmed and what happened to the house? In 2017 it was sold and transported to Beechworth, Victoria. See for yourself:

 

 

There's no FREE full-length movie on YouTube, but here's a taste of it:

 

 

Go and buy the DVD. It costs around $10 (there's even a Poolroom Edition!) If someone is selling it for $15, tell 'em they're dreamin'.

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Fact is stranger than fiction

 

Which is why I read more current affairs books than (say) Leo Tolstoy (although, who could not be taken in by his opening line in "Anna Karenina", "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way"?)

I made a quick dash into town for some plumbing stuff, and dropped into my favourite op-shop on the way where I found Gwynne Dyer's "The Mess They Made" as well as the 10-part "Band of Brothers" (running time 700 minutes) and an oldie but goodie, "Elephant Walk", with Elizabeth Taylor and Peter Finch, which means I'm all set up for the weekend.

It's a Goldilocks day outside, so I may sit on the jetty and make an early start on "The Mess They Made" while waving to the tourists passing by.

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Other books by Gwynne Dyer which are available online:
With Every Mistake
War
Don't Panic
Crawling From The Wreckage
After Iraq
Canada in the Great Power Game

 

Could you spot me?

 

Australia’s most important job for the next 25 years is to increase its population to a point that will guarantee security from attack and full national development."

So said Immigration Minister Arthur Calwell in 1949 and set a target of 150,000 new migrants for that year. It was felt that our under-populated country needed more people to defend ourselves from the “teaming millions” in Asia and for economic growth. Immigrants from Britain and from former Allied countries and displaced person camps in Europe were encouraged to settle here, initially in jobs and locations dictated by the government, and were provided with education and training.

In Berlin in 1949

In 1949 I was still too young to answer Arthur Calwell's call ...

 

In Australia in 1965

 

... but by 1965 I'd worn out my first pair of Lederhosen and my parents' patience and was ready to respond to this promotional advertisement:

 

 

Could you spot me? I'm the one mit Sauerkraut auf den Lederhosen!

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Keep calm! It's still a bargain!

# 19 Sproxton Lane from the air

 

Have you dreamed about that iconic absolute riverfront holiday home? Well this perfectly positioned large residence on the banks of the Clyde River may be the answer to your dreams. The tightly held area of Sproxtons Lane features a small group of absolute river front properties, with its own deep water wharf and a boatshed with launching options for a decent size tinnie. Just tie the cruiser up and step onto your own backyard."

So runs the advertisement for Number 19 Sproxton Lane, half a dozen houses up the lane, which listed the property for sale at $1,350,000. A couple of months and 944 page views later, it's now UNDER OFFER and, if my sources are correct, at very close to the original asking price.

That's for a relatively modest house (actually, two modest cottages joined by a common flat roof) on a narrow 20-metre wide, 1,770-square metre strip of land - for more information and photos, click here.

Compare that to Riverbend's large double-storey full-brick residence, freestanding full-brick library, guest cottage, workshop/laundry, pond house, three-bay horseshed, and two more pavillons, all tucked away from the neighbours, on over seven acres, for a touch over $2 million!

Keep calm! Riverbend is still a bargain! Just form an orderly queue!

Googlemap Riverbend

 

P.S. Yep, it definitely sold, on 23 November 2020, for $1,300,000!

P.P.S. The very remote property "Hawksbay", totally burnt out during last New Year's Eve bushfires, also just now sold for $1,250,000 - click here.

 

The Appointment in Samarra

 

There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra."

Samarra, of course, is now a modern Iraqi City that was founded in 5,500 BC and was a key Mesopotamian municipality until the Muslim Conquests in the 7th century AD. Located on the east bank of the River Tigris 78 miles north of Baghdad, it reached its zenith in the 9th century when it became the capital of the Caliph Abū Isḥāq Muḥammad ibn Hārūn al-Rashīd.

This ancient Mesopotamian tale first appears in the Babylonian Talmud and came to Western attention with its retelling by British writer W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) in his 1933 short fable "An Appointment in Samarra". The speaker, of course, is Death, and what she seems to say is that you can’t outrun Death, but you can sometimes move your appointment closer.

Death is both unpredictable and inevitable. We can neither foretell the time nor alter it. This is the point of Maugham's story and the teaching in Marcus Aurelius’ 'Meditations': "Perfection is to live each day as if it is the last, without agitation, without apathy and without pretence."

I drink to that!

Googlemap Riverbend

 

Twenty-seven Years of Sundays

 

On the 23rd of November 1993 the purchase of "Riverbend" from Peter Alan & Alma Rose Freame was settled.

Mr & Mrs Freame had bought "Riverbend" on the 4th of September 1989 from Judith Gertrude MacPherson who - with her late husband Robert George MacPherson who passed away on the 27th of May 1989 - bought it on the 17th of July 1967 from Adelaide Neate.

Adelaide Neate née Schofield who was born in 1888 at "Orange Grove"
which is the adjoining rural property. Her father was Nelligen's ferryman.
Later she also became owner of the "Steam Packet Hotel"

Adelaide Neate of Orange Grove is the first recorded owner of the whole of "Riverbend". She acquired legal ownership on the 2nd of July 1956 by the simple expedient of swearing on a stack of bibles that she had occupied the land since 1942 and paying the outstanding council rates of £47.5.10.

However, according to an old parchment title deed (referred to in Delves & Wain's letter as "the title deed ... which you might like to retain for historical purposes"), a minor by the name of William Abraham Benjamin Richardson acquired allotment 2 of section 2, being a parcel of land three roods and twenty-three perches in size, on the 25th of July 1864. That equates to approx. 3,600 square metres, or just under an acre, of Riverbend's present-day seven-plus acres.
(A rood equals 1012㎡; a perch equals 25.29㎡; 40 perches make up 1 rood)

On the 21st of March 1941 William Abraham Benjamin Richardson sold this suburban allotment to Adelaide Neate, then of Greenwell Point, and already a widow.

Adelaide Neate sold it on the 1st of July 1952 to a Canberra public servant by the name of George Frederick Thomas. Then things get a bit murky because on the 2nd of December 1958 the retired Robert George MacPherson of Harbord shows up as the registered proprietor. Phew!

Anyway, I am now the proud and undisputed owner of Lots 1 through 7 of Section 2, plus Lot 1 DP 126109 (which is the old access road that runs along the back of the seven lots), plus Licence 199309 for a jetty 9.6m x 1.3m, sliding ramp 4.5m x 0.5m, and pontoon 5.0m x 2.5m (with supporting arms 6.0m long).

I paid a fair bit more than Adelaide Neate's £47.5.10 for all that and, after twenty-seven years, am the second-longest owner of "Riverbend" after William Abraham Benjamin Richardson (who's also the owner with the longest name ☺).

Twenty-seven years of Sundays! Maybe there's something in the water - or maybe it's just old age! ☺

According to war records held with the National Archives in Canberra, Adelaide Neate's husband James Wilkins Neate, born on 13th April 1883 and a bricklayer by trade, joined the Australian Imperial Force on the 26th of April 1916, served in France as a gunner, was invalided out suffering from broncho pneumonia, and returned to Australia on the 31st December 1918 aboard HMAT Sardinia, after which he was discharged on the 16th of February 1919 due to medical unfitness.

Here's a letter written by Adelaide Neate, dated 14th October 1917, which confirms that she already lived at "Orange Grove" at that time: