As a Baby Boomer I grew up with little exposure to Australian literature. It was all English boarding school stories, Enid Blyton and Charles Dickens. My early knowledge of poets was limited to those represented in a primary school textbook, Poems for Pleasure; Blake, Longfellow, Wordsworth, Coleridge
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When I was attending the Ulverstone primary school in Tasmania in the mid 1950s, a responsible monitor (rarely me!) would dole out tiny white goitre tablets. I don’t think we kids gave this a second thought as we gulped them down with our school milk. It was
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On February 19 1922 my great uncle, returned WWI veteran Arthur Singleton, was arrested. According to a later report by the Ulverstone police he was in a disturbed mental state. Like many men, he had never recovered from his war service. As one of the first Australians
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THE LUCERNE TREE One of my favourite childhood books was The Magic Faraway tree, by Enid Blyton. It actually belonged to my sister. Who could not be enchanted by The Saucepan Man, Mr Moonface, Mrs Washalot et al. The
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AUSTRALIAN FOOTBALL RULES I grew up in the small Tasmanian town of Ulverstone, where Australian Rules Football was the sport we were passionate about. Ulverstone’s colours have always been black and red, hence their name, The Robins. In the 1960’s football was untainted by the corporate sector and
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I am an Aussie who voted for a republic, but despite this I have a nostalgic affection for Empire Day. It was celebrated during my 1950’s Tasmanian childhood on May 24th, Queen Victoria’s birthday. A bag of boiled lollies was distributed to each of us after we
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Private Arthur Singleton (Service No. 301) was one of the first young Australians to volunteer in WWI. He was a farmer’s son, from South Road, Ulverstone. Aged 20, he joined the Tasmanian 12th Battalion, sailing off to Egypt aboard the troopship Geelong on October 20 1914. Arthur
Read more →THE MATRIARCH My paternal grandmother, Alice Maud Singleton, was born at Sassafras, in northern Tasmania on June 20 1884. She was a Victorian through and through. Just add pride, vanity and her strict Methodist faith and there we have dear old Grandma. Alice by name, Red Queen
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THE WORST TOURIST IS A TINY ONE During the off-season, invading armies of visitors withdraw from the museums and galleries of Europe to be replaced by assault squads of schoolchildren. I find them more alarming than bag snatchers. They knock people over and make a great deal
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OH I DO LIKE TO BE BESIDE THE SEA! I grew up near Ulverstone, a seaside town on the north west coast of Tasmania. Boxing Day was traditionally beach day. During the nineteen fifties we were still without a car, and travelled the four miles (8km) from
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