A walk on the riled side

Left, right, left, right, left, right, geddouddarmeway!

It used to be a particular pleasure of mine to walk the streets of Perth. At the outset I hasten to point out that walking the streets is not same, in any way, shape or form as streetwalking.

Streetwalking, is of course the practice employed by “Ladies of the night” as they ply their trade. I was first acquainted with the term streetwalking by my cousins, Maurie and Raymond Carr, when I was about ten years old. It was the time of the 1948 London Olympics and Maurie told me that the Italian woman swimming in the 100 metres freestyle used to be a street walker in Venice. When I did not laugh Maurie had to explain what a streetwalker was. It took me two years to work out that he was joking.

I have been walking the streets of Perth since I was about four or five years old, when my mother used to take me with her on shopping trips. In those days there were no large suburban shopping centres and so most Perth people went in to town on the tram, train or trolley bus to shop at Boan’s, Bon Marche, Ahern’s, Sandover's, Walsh’s or Charles Moore’s.

These walks with my mother were often quite slow and ponderous. As she made her way down Hay St. or Murray St. she would stop every five minutes to chat with somebody she knew. When I asked her later she would tell me it was somebody she knew on the Fields.

You see my mother was born in Boulder and lived on the goldfields, until she came to Perth when she was about sixteen. My Dad was born on the goldfields, too. Though they did not meet till they were in Perth, they often spoke of life on the goldfields. I had seen picture books of fields that were green, full of fluffy white sheep with blue skies above. My five-year-old mind imagined my Mum and Dad running around  fields of brilliant gold, glistening and gleaming in the sunshine.

When I was about nine years old I started walking the streets of Perth almost every day. My aunty May had a lottery kiosk at 119 Barrack Street. After school I would catch the tram into Perth, and go to the Lucky Bunny Lottery Kiosk. At about 4-30pm my aunt would give me a calico bag filled with cash and lottery ticket butts.

My job was to get the calico bag and its contents to the Lotteries Commission office next to Newspaper House in St George’s Terrace. I am not sure how much money I carried but Aunty May told me to go to the Lotteries Commission office by a different route each day. I had about six different ways of getting to the Lotteries Commission and I was never held up once. Not by bandits, not by kidnappers and not by the crowds thronging the streets and arcades. Everyone kept to the left and I raced past them pretending to be a nippy East Perth rover or else a daring rider on the Pony Express. Aunty May paid me five shillings a week.

Today, any parent sending a nine-year boy through the streets of Perth with a small fortune in a calico bag would probably be charged with neglect or child abuse or some such thing. But the late 1940s was a different time and nobody thought it strange. In fact, everyone seemed to think it was doing me good. Making me resourceful, confident and independent. I certainly appreciated the five shillings each week.

Even though Perth’s population was only about 300 000 in the late 1940s and early 1950s, the footpaths were more crowded then than they are today. This is due the fact that the footpaths were narrower then and most people today shop in suburban shopping malls. However, despite the dense pedestrian traffic, people in the 1950s moved quite freely because everyone kept to the left side of the footpath. They did this because that was the long established etiquette in Perth for walking in public and also because the Perth City Council painted yellow signs on paving slabs along the way saying, “Please keep left”.

Sadly, this is not the case in the present day. It is said that nearly two thirds of people walking the streets of Perth today were not born in Perth. Many of them have come from interstate and quite large numbers have come from overseas, either as migrants or travellers just passing through. This means that only about one third of the people walking the streets of Perth today share the cultural heritage of keeping to the left on footpaths.

Many of today’s pedestrians come from countries where it is normal to keep to the right when walking and they continue to do so when they walk around Perth. Others are that busy eating, drinking coffee or looking down and texting on their iPhone that they just walk wherever they choose.

I have often been walking when a texting and “not looking where they are going” pedestrian walked directly into my "keep to the left" direction of travel. At first I used to step around these people, but then I used to just stand still and let them walk into me. Usually, they pulled up just centimetres from a collision, changed course and continued blindly on their way. No apologies.

But now a new hazard has hit the streets. These are the Pokémon fanatics who walk along using their phone or iPad as their only navigational aid. Standing still in front of these Pokemaniacs is courting disaster. So removed from reality are they, so oblivious of the real world, they will plough right into you causing physical discomfort. I have now devised a new strategy for dealing with the Pokemaniacs.

I stride boldly towards them in the military style I perfected during my National Service in the Third Field Regiment of the Royal Australian Artillery. Left, Right, Left, Right, Left, Right, Geddouddarmeway!

Donnybrook Revisited.

I am the first to admit that I am not the world’s greatest gardener. Some people plant seeds, I bury them! Despite my failings as a gardener I feel I rate quite highly when it comes to pruning trees and overgrown vegetation, especially when in I am in possession of a chain saw.

My greatest, or most infamous, bout of pruning occurred when we were living in Donnybrook, a beautiful spot about 230 kilometeres south-west of Perth. Armed with only a common old garden saw, I started pruning one Saturday afternoon as Lesley set off happily for the tennis club. When she was leaving she saw me enthusiastically attacking the three small decorative poplar trees that grew in the garden in from of our house and advised me not to cut too much off.

Well, as I cut away and cut away I got carried away and cut away some more. The result was that when Lesley arrived home at about half past six, the three trees were severely denuded of their leaves and most of their branches. They stood there shyly in embarrassed denudation.

Too say that Lesley was not happy would be understating the situation. Not only had I removed the greenery from the front of the house, I had now exposed our house for all to see. It was an old Education Department house that, I had to admit, looked a lot better when the trees obscured the view. To this day, whenever I announce that I am going to do some pruning, Lesley constantly advises me not to cut too much off. However, the good news about over pruning, as I repeatedly told Lesley on that cold Saturday night in Donnybrook, is “It will all grow back again.” And it does.

Actually we recently revisited Donnybrook on the June long weekend celebrating Western Australia Day. Originally, this holiday was called Foundation Day to celebrate the arrival of Captain Stirling and a hardy group of free settlers and English soldiers who arrived on June 2^nd 1829 to establish the Swan River Settlement, which is now the pretty city of Perth.

Actually Stirling and his party landed on a very stormy night on the shores of Garden Island, about ten miles south west of Fremantle. It wasn’t till August that he actually declared Perth to be the site where he would found his settlement and claim control of one third of the Australian continent.

Unfortunately, Foundation Day could be seen as an unintended affront to the indigenous inhabitants of the Swan River area. The Noongar people had been living here for about 60 000 years before Stirling took possession of more than 1.8 million square kilometres in the name of King George the Fourth of England. The Swan River Settlement grew to become Perth, the most remote capital city in the world. It is closer to Djakarta and Singapore than it is to Sydney. A few years ago a decision was made to change the name Foundation Day to W.A. Day and I think that was a good thing.

It is a shame that Stirling arrived in early June, because the weather can be very wet and wild at that time. Such was the case on that long weekend as Lesley and I ventured South to Busselton, Donnybrook and Boyanup visiting old friends. The weather was wet, windy and quite cold. However, all of our friends gave us a very warm welcome and wined and dined us in fine style. We spent the weekend talking about the days of yore and how good were all were way back then.

Donnybrook holds great memories for us. I was promoted to Donnybrook District High School in 1975. Lesley and I, together with young daughters Jane and Sarah, took up residence in the Headmasters’ House in January 1975. We obviously loved the place as we stayed there for seven years, leaving at the end of 1981.

We kept ourselves busy. In August of 1975 our youngest daughter, Emily was born and Lesley enjoyed a renewed burst of motherhood. When the football season started in April I became the local sports reporter for Bunbury’s South West Times newspaper. In November I was elected to be the General Manager of the Donnybrook Football Club.

When Emily was about three years old, Lesley started teaching music part time at St Mary’s School where Jane and Sarah were students. A year or two later, Lesley took on a class teaching role and also developed a magnificent school choir which, in 1979, won the choral section at the Bunbury Eisteddfod. An outstanding achievement.

1979 was also the year that Lesley won the Ladies’ Singles Championship at Donnybrook Tennis Club. She was also the club's nominee for the District Sportstar of the Year Award. It was also the year that I became the founding editor of the Donnybrook-Balingup News, a local paper that was distributed around the district each month. Oh, yes, a place of many happy memories.  

And that house that we lived in in Donnybrook? Well, a few years after we left Donnybrook, it was decided the site would be a great place for a well-aged home facility. I have to agree that it was a great site. It was adjacent to parkland on the main highway and about fifty metres behind the house was the Preston River. On the other side was a huge grassy hill on top of which sat a fine old style colonial home. A magnificent view.

Lesley and I went back to that spot on that Monday long weekend. Our house is now long gone, replaced by a very modern looking well aged home facility known as Minninup Cottages. Lui Tuia, a good friend of ours, was instrumental in the establishment and opertation of this well aged facility.          A few years later Lui was the driving force for the establishment of an Aged Care facility in Donnybrook. This was eventually named Tuia Lodge in his honour.  Lui was a far sighted and energetic Shire President when we first met hi  in 1975. He later served with distinction on the Bunbury Port Authority and the South-West Health Authority.

What is also gone from that site of our old house is the magnificent view across the river to the old colonial farmhouse standing high on a hill on the hill. In the intervening 35 years, the trees on the far bank of the Preston River have grown, enormously. So, it really is a case of not being able to see the scenery for the trees.

But our old house is not gone entirely. It was relocated to 27 Steere Street, which is right across the road from V.C. Mitchell Park, home of the Donnybrook Football Club. In fact, our old house sits right behind the goal posts. Rather fitting that it should be there, overlooking that football oval  and clubrooms. I was General Manager of the Donnybrook Football Club for six years. Some changes have been made over the years but the little press box still sits on top of the clubrooms. It was where I sat perched for seven seasons reporting on the footy for the South Western Times newspaper.

I am happy to know  our old house now has a great view of the football games at the Home of the Mighty Dons, where I had some involvement and have many happy memories. Not that people now living in our old house get to see much of the football when they look out their windows. The house has a cluster of  peppermint trees growing in front of it.

As we drove off I told Lesley that they needed pruning. She just smiled!

Seeing ourselves as others see us.

It was the great Robbie Burns who once mused

Oh would some power the giftie gie us

To see oursels as other see us.

Well, of course, while Robbie is entitled to wish for such a great power, others have warned that we should be very careful what we wish for. It may not always turn out for the best. This became very apparent to me just last week. My beautiful wife, Lesley, came home from shopping. She was not happy.

Normally, when Lesley returns from her infrequent clothes shopping expedition she is very happy. She tells me of the many bargains that she has purchased and then takes delight in showing them to me. Sometimes, she even buys things for me, which makes me happy too.

But on this occasion Lesley was far from happy. She was bemused. She was put out and cheesed off. You could even say that she was very chagrined, irritated and vexed.Very vexed.

That morning she had been in a large department store looking for lady’s shoes that were both comfortable for walking and fashionable to look at. Finding ladies shoes that are comfortable and fashionable is no easy task. Some would say that where ladies' shoes are concerned, comfortable + fashionable is an oxy- moron, like Military Intelligence or Political Integrity.

Like a lot of big department stores these days, there was a great selection of merchandise on display but a complete lack of shop assistants to help with the shopping experience. Lesley noticed an old lady who was having trouble balancing on one leg as she tried on a shoe. Being as kind and caring as she is beautiful, Lesley quickly moved to help her.

“Here, lean on my shoulder to steady yourself,” she said as she moved alongside the old lady. They quickly fell into friendly conversation as he lady tried on the shoes, eventually deciding she did not want them. Together they wandered around the great array of shoes, conversing cheerily and looking, looking, looking.

Lesley’s quest for comfortable and fashionable shoes was proving to be Mission Impossible. At length she said to her shopping new found companion that there did not seem to be any suitable shoes on display.

“No,” replied the elderly lady, “they don’t seem to cater for us anymore.”

Us! Us, thought Lesley. Does that mean that she thinks that I look as old to her as she does to me? The very cheek of it!

Lesley quickly walked out of the shoe department in high dudgeon. She would much have preferred to walk out in fashionable and comfortable shoes. The good news is that Lesley can still balance on one leg, as she demonstrated to me, as if to prove a point, when she finished telling her story. By this time she was smiling.

Ah, yes, as I am sure Robert Burns knew only too well, to see ourselves as others see us is more often than not a great shock, rather than a welcome gift.