Mole Creek's new tourist information sign

Mole Creek started out in the 19th century as a camp for loggers and trappers [1]. Nowadays it’s a tourist town [2]. I’ve heard the B12 road west from Deloraine through Mole Creek towards Cradle Mountain [3] is Tasmania’s busiest tourist road. True or apocryphal? I’ve no idea. Most of Mole Creek’s businesses are geared to tourism: caravan park, guesthouse and restaurant, craft shop, hotel, café, rental cottages, B&Bs [4]. The hotel and café provide tourist information. From late Autumn (i.e. Easter) to early Spring (i.e. now) – the tourism off-season – the village hibernates. But in the past few days, coinciding with the Victorian school holidays, it’s started to stir: a sprinkling of cars with mainland licence plates, couples and families eyeing the craft shop’s display window offerings, people excitedly pointing cameras at the snow-capped Great Western Tiers [5]. All are signals the 2010/11 tourist season’s begun. To celebrate, and to help the tourists orient themselves and navigate to local natural and man-made attractions, we have a new sign. It’s on a giant board across from the guesthouse. The same board used to sport an amateurish sign. Recently a signwriting crew painted it over, then hand-painted the new sign. As the photograph shows, its style’s art naïve [6] – kind of. For wider views, click here [7]. Me? I like it – mainly as it’s not corporate. I think the world has far too many signs. But this one’s a good ’un. You betcha.

Survival Ark - coming over the horizon

Last 18 May I wrote I was looking to buy a hand-operated flour mill – to grind wheat into flour for 100% wholemeal bread [1]. Now, 12 weeks later, I still haven’t bought one. But I will soon. Last Monday Sweetheart Vivienne and I went to the health food store in Deloraine to buy flour and yeast. Whilst there I asked about flour mills. The proprietor showed us one. It looked okay, and it was a good price. But I had misgivings. Free floating ones. Gut feelings. When I asked about the warranty, he said he’d have to check. I took that as a way to temporise. I said I’d be back in two days. Yesterday I made some internet and phone inquiries. I’ve found a better one: more functional design, improved grinding capacity, made in Victoria, lifetime guarantee. It’s about A$90 dearer. But the advantages justify the higher price. So later today I need to tell the Deloraine man I’m not buying the mill he’s selling. That’s too hard for me to do. I don’t know why, but it is. A result of one of my many long-term psychological glitches. So Sweetheart Vivienne’s doing it. She’s much more psychologically able than I. Also we’re returning a 20kg bag of baker’s flour we bought on Monday – as we’ll need less once we grind our own flour. So all going well, some time next week we’ll be proud owners of a Survival Ark (pictured). Oh what fun. Stay tuned.

Reflections on Anzac Day 2010

Yesterday was Anzac Day. Last year I wrote of it in point form [1]. Today I’m doing it again:

I didn’t keep my resolution to read Les Carlyon’s 2001 book Gallipoli [2] and 2006 book The Great War [3] before Anzac Day 2010.

But I’ve changed my mind about the 1985 film ANZACS [4]. I now plan to see it before Anzac Day 2011.

Yesterday I marched in Deloraine’s Anzac Day march, as part of the 24-person contingent from the five volunteer fire brigades in the Deloraine area.

It’s the first time I’ve done so. I don’t know what made me do it this year.

In bright sunshine the march down the main street ended at the newly restored cenotaph near the Meander River where there was a ceremony and service watched by the public outside the cenotaph precinct.

At each corner of the cenotaph, an army cadet stood stock still with head bowed for the entire time.

The several speakers were mostly boring. Some content of the speeches overlapped (why weren’t the speeches pre-coordinated?), and an elderly female clergywoman said some prayers.

As a secular Jew, it offended me that all the prayers mentioned Jesus, there was a reading from John’s gospel, and two Christian hymns were sung. To my knowledge Australia has no official religion. And if Christians are in the majority, that doesn’t justify them ramming their beliefs down the minority’s throats.

The best speaker was the Captain of HMAS Collins [5] – the lead submarine in our fleet of Collins Class submarines [6]. He spoke about a Deloraine boy John Collins (1899-1989) who became Vice Admiral Sir John Collins KBE, CB (pictured). He was Chief of Naval Staff 1948-55, and of course the Collins Class submarines were named after him.

I don’t know the words of Advance Australia Fair. I don’t intend to learn them.

I was most moved when the Last Post [7] was followed by a minute’s silence after which the Australian flag was slowly raised to full mast. The laying of several wreaths came second.

I was appalled that God Save the Queen was sung.

Overall I’m pleased I attended. I don’t know if I’ll go in 2011. I’ll decide after I’ve read the books and watched the movie.

I'm a one-mailbox-man; and it feels strange

This key is to our Deloraine post office mailbox. Our Deloraine house, which we owned from 1990 to 2002, had no postal delivery. So from 1990 Sweetheart Vivienne and I rented P O Box 75, paying an annual fee for the privilege. As our Mole Creek house, where we’ve lived since 2002, has no mail delivery either, from 2002 we’ve rented P O Box 181 at the Mole Creek post office. Because it was only a few dollars each year to rent the Deloraine box, we elected to continue with it. For the years I was a trustee of Environment House Trust, the Trust’s mail went there. But after I resigned my trusteeship last 26 July, only junk mail came to it. So yesterday, two days before 31 March when the current rental year ends, I handed in the key. (Whew – what an intro. Are you still with me?)

Taking the key off my keyring and sliding it across the counter was a poignant moment. I thought about all the mail I’d collected from that box in the last 20 years: Mountains of work mail. Also private mail that caused me joy, sadness, frustration, anger. Plus bills – incessant, insistent, inevitable bills. Finally junk mail – loads and loads of it. Handing over that key marked the end of an era for me. Funny how in some perverse way I defined myself by P O Box 75 and its contents. Today I awoke a one-mailbox-man. It felt strange.