The great woodchopping challenge at Ulverstone in 1903
Read more →When I was growing up in Ulverstone in the 1950s & 60s there was a house at the bottom of South Road with the large vertebra of a whale sitting on its verandah. It was one of those childhood curiosities I longed to know more about, but
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Potato growing has long been important around Ulverstone, and never more so than in the early twentieth century, when exports of new ‘spuds’ to the Sydney market began. However, a problem with government regulation led to the following letter being sent to the Advocate, the regional newspaper
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The thing I remember most about the Ulverstone Hospital is taking eggs to school in the 1950s for their annual Egg Appeal. Each was wrapped in newspaper by my mother and packed into an empty Weetbix box. I was fascinated to read a report in The Advocate
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Joseph Aloysius Lyons was four years old in 1883, when his father Michael moved the family to the Tasmanian seaside town of Ulverstone. Mr Lyons Snr. opened a bakery and butcher’s shop, but unfortunately he fitted the description of ‘feckless’ rather well, and lost everything betting on
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In 1903 there was a public vote to determine whether Mr F.H. Furner’s new hotel in the seaside Tasmanian town of Ulverstone should be granted a liquor licence. Surprise, surprise….the ayes were in the majority. The old Queen had died the previous year, but the design was
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We all dislike our driving licence photo don’t we? I look like a terrified, but hard core criminal in mine. No, I am not going to display it here. Why on earth aren’t we allowed to smile in these photographs? Just a shadow of a grin would
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Winifred Julia Singleton (Winnie) was born near Ulverstone, Tasmania on November 29 1918, the first child of Arthur and Elizabeth (Lizzie) Singleton. Arthur Singleton was my great uncle. There is only one known photo of Winnie. It was taken in 1924, when she and her little sister
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Anyone growing up in rural Tasmania in the old days would be aware of the lunch basket, often taken out to the paddock by small children. And if a piece of cake or a biscuit disappeared on the way….well who could blame them? My farmer’s wife mother
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There is something so special about childhood friends, especially if you grew up in the country. Our nearest neighours in 1950s Tasmania were the Richards family. Cheryl and Michael were almost the same age as me and my sister Robbie. We lived on adjoining dairy farms at
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