Monday, March 12 .....

It was a big night in Deloraine last night. During the afternoon, we noted a number of cars arriving at the auditorium over the way from where we are parked. This is where they play basketball so we assumed that there were going to be some matches and we were toying with the idea of wandering over to sit in.

However, more and more cars started to arrive and it was clear that the passengers were too well-dressed for a sporting event and, sure enough, a bridal car turned up. And not just any bridal car but a restored FJ Holden, accompanied by a swathe of other SI cars, all of the Holden variety. In Tasmania, vintage and veteran cars can carry an SI number plate which is cheaper than a full registration.

The bride was dressed, as expected, in white but with a wide blue sash and the bridesmaids were in pale green. The men were in dark trousers and waistcoat with open-necked white shirts. Of course, the guests were more interested in the special cars which soon tore off in a cloud of dust. Clearly they were only hired by the hour to get the bridal party to the Reception. It seems the catering was being done by the women of the Junior Basketball Club which is why we were confused when we recognised one of the mums who had arrived in the afternoon.

Having been denied the chance to see a game of basketball, and as it was unlikely we would be welcome at the wedding reception, we decided to have a long walk and get back in time to watch Waking the Dead on telly.

If the music was anything to go by, it was a good night at the reception but everything became quiet about midnight. At 9 o’clock this morning, the first of the gang arrived to finish the cleaning-up. Just another chapter in the life of a country town.

Sunday, March 11 .....

It’s been too long since we stayed in the caravan and I’m delighted to say that we moved it to Deloraine yesterday and plan to stay in it for a couple of days. We’ve set it up outside the Rotary Pavilion which gives us access to power and water without the pressures of the next-door caravan being too close. I had already set up an office in the Pavilion so I can get on with my Craft Fair work while I’m here.

We went to the TGIF night at the Windermere Cafe and all the talk was about the latest chapter in the saga of the proposed Gunns Pulp Mill which is supposed to be built on the Tamar River a few kilometres north of where we live. This is an extraordinary story of how people-power can overturn big business trying to run rough-shod over community rights.

Tasmania has always had the reputation of being led by the nose by big business. When we came here first in 1975, it was the Hydro Electric Commission which called the shots. Sir Alan Knight, the CEO of the Hydro, used to meet regularly with the Premier of the day to give him his instructions as to how the political process could enhance the needs of the Hydro. One of the Premiers was even called Electric Eric (Reece). Of course, it all came unstuck when they tried to dam the Franklin River in the 1980’s and the Federal Government stepped in to declare it a World Heritage Area.

After the Hydro went back into its box, Forestry Tasmania took over the reins as de facto government. It is set up as a state-owned business but has never paid a dividend. Instead, it gets enormous subsidies each year from a tame government. The situation, of course, is that Tasmania is a Labor state and the votes of the workers decide the policies of the government. The bed-fellow of Forestry is Gunns, which has made its money by selling cheap wood-chips to Asia. The CEO during the 1990’s and the early part of this century was John Gay who was born in Deloraine. He lost his job a couple of years ago because of his inept management of the Pulp Mill project and is now in court facing a charge of insider trading when he sold 35 million Gunns shares two weeks before they asked for a trading halt on the Stock Exchange and the shares dropped to 20c. They are now less than 10c.

The situation is that Gunns wanted to build a Pulp Mill which, on the face of it, is a good thing. Except they got it all wrong: wrong design, wrong location, wrong timber, etc. Of all the places in Tasmania to choose to locate it, the Tamar River was the worst. It’s an area known for its beauty, wineries, fine food, etc. A dirty, stinking pulp mill just doesn’t fit. The Tamar Valley also has a weather peculiarity in that smoke is held down in the atmosphere so that this area has the highest incidence of respiratory illnesses of any place in Tasmania. It’s the wrong place for industry.

The design they took to the government for approval was old technology. John Gay was so arrogant he thought that the government would accept anything. And he was right. The Labor Government, the Liberal Opposition and the Upper House all rubber-stamped it without any investigation. How corrupt is that? And it was left to the people of the Tamar Valley to take the fight up to big business. With the help of the Federal Government, the design had to be brought up to date. The timber required will now all come from plantations rather than old-growth forests, but the stumbling block is still the location.

This fight has been dragging on for years. Gunns, once one of the best-performing companies in Australia is broke. To complete this Pulp Mill project it needs an injection of capital but no sensible investor will touch it. The latest possibility was a company based in Singapore but the news came out on Friday that they are not interested. If Gunns management had any sense, they would have seen the writing on the wall and changed the location of the Pulp Mill years ago, or dropped the idea entirely. But they blindly pursued a dead cause and their CEO was sacked, a Premier (Paul Lennon) had to resign and Gunns shareholders have lost millions.

So, who does everyone blame? The Greens, of course, not the arrogant, self-serving robber barons, nor the compliant corrupt politicians, nor the poorly-educated rednecks who expect to continue doing the same job their fathers and grandfathers did, and bugger the environment. The Greens did play a role in this but the real force has been the local population of Tamar Valley residents who rose in defence of their lifestyle. Most of them wouldn’t vote Greens in a fit but, when the crunch comes, every intelligent person is an environmentalist.

Friday, March 9 .....

Happy Birthday today to our friend, Robyn and yesterday to our friend Karen. Of course, just a week ago it was Marilyn’s birthday too. I don’t have a poem for everyone but here is Marilyn’s birthday poem written by our friend, Jeff.

The Birthday Girl

O, Marilyn, Marilyn, where do I start,
This poem about you comes from the heart.
You came into this world a long time past,
You’ve had a whirlwind life; it has gone so fast.

You grew up at Russell Vale, down near the ‘Gong
And you loved to party while singing your song.
You loved to play games and you loved to dress up
Your childhood was happy and full was your cup.

You mastered the piano at just fifteen
And you became a teacher, talented and keen.
Your family life was the envy of all
Reflecting your life so far, you’ve had a ball.

Then tall, dark and handsome, there came a brave knight
Sir John the school teacher suited you just right.
A couple of years on, young Jamie was born,
A close-knit family and a brand new dawn.

Your affinity with kids, from small to teens
And organising skills that had to be seen,
Led to a position that you hold so dear
House Mistress in charge for many a year.

So now you organise Jamie and John
And anyone else who by chance comes along.
You love socialising and still like dressing up
And drink Lemon Tea from your favourite cup.

At holiday time you know what to do
From Dilston to London and Kathmandu
With envy we listen to places you’ve been
To emulate you, we can only dream.

You’re a whiz ‘round the house, everything’s clean
Spare a thought for your hard-worked washing machine!
A place for everything and put it back, please
And cover your mouth if you happen to sneeze.

So, Marilyn, from those who hold you so dear
A big Happy Birthday, I’m so glad we’re here.
Drink lots of bubbles and even get tipsy
Then kick up your heels like a merry old gypsy.

Wednesday, March 7 .....

We seem to have been waiting forever for last night. It was the Rotary Club’s 55th birthday and it had been decided that we would all attend dressed in Fifties gear. Dressing-up is not necessarily my thing but Marilyn was excited and statted putting her outfit together weeks ago. I decided the best I could come up with was to be Fonzie from Happy Days. The hair was just a bit too hard so I just had to depend on the goodwill of the other members to see me as a credible Fonz.

Sadly, when we arrived, there was only one other couple who had taken the trouble to dress up. They’re well into their eighties but she came as a St Trinian’s schoolgirl, with black stockings, short tunic and hair in pigtails. He was dressed as an Oxford University rowing cox – scarf, boater and megaphone. At least we made the effort.

It was quite a long meeting but very productive. The crowd was bigger than usual with spouses and special guests filling it out. The main item of business was the presenting of Paul Harris Fellowships to two members. This award was set up in 1957 to acknowledge donations to Rotary Foundation of $1000 US. Many individuals still ‘buy’ their award but clubs now use it to reward outstanding community service of its members and other community members. We give several thousands each year to the Foundation so can call on that credit when we have an award to make.

Last night a married couple who have been stalwarts of the Club and very involved in the Community were acknowledged. It was a nice ceremony and quite emotional. I had to do the presentation to Geoff, the husband, and another Rotarian presented to Pat, the wife.

There are four of the foundation members of our Club still alive and one of them cut the birthday cake. John Loone was the local member of the state Legislative Council and heavily involved in the establishment of Giant Steps, but he is now retired.

Monday, March 5 .....

I’ve mentioned before that Jeff is a bush poet and he likes nothing better than entertaining people with his verse. When he is in a caravan park for more than a day or two, he puts up posters advertising a Happy Hour at his ‘van where people can share their poems.

One of his ambitions has been to put out a CD with him reading a selection of his poems. ‘That’s easy, said Jamie. I can do that for you. So, Jamie set up the studio in his shed, the poems were selected and the recording made. Of course, one reading is never enough. You can be sure that a car or a helicopter will go past at just the wrong time, or there will be a stumble in the words. However, the first cut was made and we all gathered around for a listen. Several changes were suggested and a second test CD made. Sounds good, but Jeff felt the last poem was too rushed. Back to the studio and a third draft was made.

This was the one so Jamie set about producing it to get the best effect. We hadn’t agreed on a title: Freddy the Firefly and Other Poems (too trite!), Freddy Firefly’s Fantastic Ferses (stupid!), Poems by Jeff (Jeff who?). While we were thinking, we were watching the cricket. How many poems, someone asked. Eleven, said Jeff. Well, what about The First Eleven? And so, history was made. Jeff’s first album will be called The First Eleven Poems and maybe the next one will be Jeff’s Baker’s Dozen.

It really is a nice piece of work. Of course, Audio Engineering is Jamie’s profession and passion. Jeff intends to have the CD on display in the ‘van and, perhaps, when people come visiting, they’ll be tempted to buy one. He’s taken twenty to start with but we expect a phone call at any time asking for another fifty.

Last night, we went to the local pub for pizza. We had planned to eat it there but they came in boxes so we just brought them home where we could drink our own wine. The weather has been so nice that we’ve been sitting outside. This evening we chose a sheltered spot near where the birds come to eat. What a flurry there was when they saw us sitting in their spot. The galahs sent out a couple of scouts to check us out and, eventually, the gang came back and got on with their feeding, without any further reference to us.

Saturday, March 3 .....

Our friends Jeff and Sandra arrived on Wednesday after a few weeks touring the west of the state. We always find it interesting when people arrive to see Tasmania and tell us about places we’ve never been or have ignored for decades. It was good to see them and it seems we are developing a real friendship. Of course, we’ve known Sandra since the early-1960s but our paths have only crossed at family gatherings and we’ve never got to know her at all well. Jeff is a fairly recent addition but he’s quite a character and very easy to get on with.

They’re avid card players and it wasn’t long before we were being introduced to Five Crowns. We’ve played it once with Jim and Di in Kangaroo Valley but we have really got stuck into it now. It’s nice to have visitors at meal times. We tend to go to a bit more trouble and are a bit more adventurous. Marilyn made pork steaks with a mushroom and cream sauce last night with cheese cake covered with blackberries for dessert. Fantastic! It was her birthday and a good reason to have a particularly special meal.

I had been picking blackberries over the past few weeks so we had a good supply in the freezer but Jeff was determined that we needed more. I think it’s the hunter-gatherer instinct which makes men put themselves through the torture of blackberry scratches for the sake of picking a few bits of fruit which you could buy in the supermarket for $5. However, the real delight is in the cooking of the berries.

I had put aside a little jar of blackberry jelly for Sandra but, with the extra berries we had collected, there was nothing for it but to make some more. We now have more than we will ever use. Marilyn has promised jars to all her rellies in Sydney and Wollongong with no thought, of course, on how to get them there. I think she might be working up towards another trip.

Sandra is a self-avowed cat-hater but, in some strange magic, our cat has endeared herself to her. CB visits them in the caravan and rubs herself against Sandra’s legs and Sandra is responding very positively to the attention. We’ll have to make sure CB doesn’t stow away when they leave.

Wednesday, February 29th .....

Marilyn came home on Monday night after nearly four weeks away. She enjoyed her time with the family and especially the great-nieces and nephews. It’s the main problem of living in Tasmania: that it’s a long way from where everybody else lives.

On Monday Marilyn, with Sandy’s help, had taken Uncle Archie out for lunch. Mum was not really aware of what was happening so she stayed in the nursing home to have her lunch in the familiar way. She seems very happy but is not always in tune with who is visiting her. As usual, Marilyn and Sandy pushed Uncle Archie along to the Golf Club in Mum’s wheelchair. He didn’t seem to recognise the Club although we have been there often but he certainly enjoyed his lunch and his glass of wine.

Once upon a time, he was quite a heavy drinker and would finish his drinks quickly so he could get another one. Now, he sips it carefully, making it last. I suspect he realises that, when the drink is finished, he is taken back to the nursing home and the same old boring routine. I spoke to him when he got back and he told me that he had been in the wheelchair, as if it had never happened before.

The Rotary meeting on Tuesday evening was at the Deloraine Bowls Club. It was good to have a game of bowls after so many months but we certainly felt it the next morning. Even the simple crouching you do to send down the bowl exercised muscles which had been lying dormant. It’s given us the impetus to get back to the bowls on a more regular basis.

Dinner was very nice: cold meats and salads prepared by the ladies of the Club. The desserts were to die for and typical of that lavish Australian spread which you always got at functions where the ladies catered. No doubt, we’ll be back there before too long.