When the troopship Geelong left Hobart on October 20 1914, it carried the Tasmanian contingent of the 12th Battalion to Egypt, and thence to Gallipoli and France. There was a unique mascot on board, a Tasmanian devil. I’m not sure whether the practice was officially sanctioned, but
Read more →Edward Ridley Snr emigrated to New York City from Nottinghamshire in the early 1840’s. From humble beginnings as a hawker of ribbons and other small items he eventually built a vast emporium at Grand and Allen Streets, on the Lower East Side. It was one of the city’s
Read more →THE SLOPER, THE DOCTOR, AND AN ATTEMPTED ‘BIG FIX’ AT MOWBRAY. By 1911, three years on from a near win at Flemington’s Grand National Steeplechase, the Tasmanian jumper Ally Sloper was somewhat past his best. It was reported that he was now owned by the Sheffield GP,
Read more →THE MARSDEN SISTERS MOVE SOUTH This is an extension of The Water Doctor’s Daughters’ original literary walk around the town of Great Malvern, Worcestershire. In 1876 Dr James Marsden separated from his second wife Mary to pursue an affair with Sabina Welch, a servant girl from Malvern. Emily, the
Read more →FROM A STUMP JUMPER TO THE STEEPLECHASE Ally Sloper was a big boned chestnut gelding with three white fetlocks. He had been named after a British cartoon character; a likeable but lazy schemer who sloped down alleys to avoid the debt collector. Although his name and his
Read more →LET’S SPEND A WHILE WITH WONGAS Let me introduce……the Wonga pigeon. The name derives from wonga-wonga, an Aboriginal name inspired by their call. Mind you, I would describe it as a gentle ‘whoop whoop.’ Gentle, yes, but it can be heard more than a kilometre away.
Read more →DEMON BOWLING OR DREADFUL BATTING? I recently came across the newspaper report of an 1893 cricket match between the rural communities of Exton and Reedy Marsh, in northern Tasmania. EXTON V REEDY MARSH A match was played on Saturday between the above clubs on the Exton Club’s
Read more →I have read many love stories over the years, both true and fictional. However, none have affected me so powerfully as that of an English couple; the writer Sylvia Townsend Warner and the poet Valentine Ackland. Originally I came upon their story in a library copy of
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