100 YEARS AGO THIS WEEK...
Trooper’s message found in bottle Compiled by Melissa Walsh A TOMATO bottle was picked up on the beach a few days ago by Mr E. McComb, containing the following words. From the date on the note it has evidently been drifting about for a long time: “The finder would be doing a great service to me if he tell my mother (Mrs Sarratt, Claremont Avenue, Malvern) that all is well—Trooper Jas Sarratt, Albany, 29/10/14.” *** EX-COUNCILLOR G. Keast notifies in another column his reasons for not seeking re-election at the hands of the Centre Riding ratepayers. This advertisement was inadvertently omitted in our last issue. *** MR Marcus McBrodie ably conducted the auction of two laurel wreaths at the Scotch Concert on Saturday last. This maiden effort of Mr McBrodie’s resulted in a substantial sum being raised for the Frankston District Soldiers’ Memorial Fund. *** THE public meeting convened by the advocates of 6 o’clock closing of hotels was held in the Frankston Mechanics’ hall on Thursday evening, at which there was a good attendance. Mrs Beckett and Mr J. G. Barratt were the speakers. A report of the meeting will appear in our next issue. *** AT the evening given by the produce stall holders, on Wednesday night, the opal brooch, given by Miss McKenzie to he raffled for the Mt Eliza
Red Cross society, was drawn, and Miss Webster, of Malvern proved to be the holder of the winning ticket. *** AFTER being three and a half months in hospital, suffering from injuries received while in charge of an ammunition plant at Broadmeadows, Private A. G. Young has again been sent to that camp and is now attached to the 21st reinforcements of the 5th battalion of Infantry. *** THE annual meeting of the Frankston Athletic sports Club will be held in the Mechanics’ Hall on Friday 8th September at 6 o’clock when a full attendance of members is requested. *** SOME time during the performance at the Frankston Hall on Saturday evening some low down specimens of humanity crept into the room at the back of the hall, where the ladies had laid out light refreshments for the performers to partake of at the conclusion of the programme, and stole all the sandwiches and decorations on the table. This sort of thing is despicably mean and paltry, and the persons who indulge in them are in a fair way to land ultimately in gaol. *** THE following letter has been received by the hon. sec, of the Australian Club:-Dear Miss McComb, please convey to members of your club my hearty appreciation of their kind thoughtfulness in presenting to the Langwarrin Camp Hospital the
towels, pillowslips, etc. These articles all help to make the poor fellows comfortable. It is not easy to find people showing such true Christian benevolence and such little acts make our efforts in the men’s behalf worthwhile. Again thanking you, I am Yours truly, I. Blezard, Major. *** IN a paragraph appearing on the 5th inst in our columns referring to winners in the Victorian Poultry and Kennel Clubs Show held recently a slight error occurred in mentioning Messrs Taylor and Brand’s awards. It should have read: They not only secured 1st prize for farmers’ trio, with Plymouth Rocks in the Utility Class, but first prize for best utility hen in the open class against all breeds and second prize for White Leghorn cockerel. The above mentioned hen being a white leghorn purchased from W. Aisbhett “Lynwood Poultry Farm” Langwarrin, who also possesses the father of the 2nd prize cockerel. *** THE I.O.R. social tens No 151 Frankston, held its quarterly meeting on Monday Aug 14th. In spite of bad weather about 30 members were present. During the quarter two Amore of our members have enlisted for active service. There is about 2400 from Victoria serving for King and Country. There has been a steady increase of members for the quarter. Three more candidates were proposed last meeting.
A resolution was passed that we invite the Rev H. Warrall down to address a public meeting in Frankston regarding closing of Liquor Bars and the secretary was instructed to call a public meeting of the trustees reinvesting in the war loan. Various other items were brought forward, and after business the members retired to the anti-room, where supper was arranged by the sister members. After justice had been done to this part of the program, games were indulged in. A very enjoyable evening was spent. During the evening the C.R. on behalf of the tent, presented Brother F. Girdleston with a travelling bag on his departure from Frankston. *** THE Frankston Court of Petty Sessions was held on Monday last, before Mr Cohen, p.m., and Messrs Williams, Oates, Clemaens and Grant J.P. Two cases of alleged breaches of the Licensing Act were heard. The first one was that of the licensee of the Bay View Hotel, who was charged, by the police, with supplying drink to other than a traveller, on the 30th July. Mr Brayshay appeared for defendant. From the evidence adduced it appears that the accused had taken the necessary precautions before supplying the drink, and she was led to believe that the man supplied was a bona fide traveller. The bench therefore dismissed the case. The licensee of the Half Way
House, Carrum, was then charged with illegal traffic in liquor on 23rd July last. Mr Meagher appeared for the defense. A number of witnesses for and against, were heard and the Bench ultimately decided that the case had been proved, and a fine of 40s was imposed. On a charge of having her bar door open on 30th July accused pleaded guilty, and was fined 7£. *** THE news of the death of Mr C Blythe came as a shock to the residents of Frankston on Monday evening, when it became known that he had expired at the residence of his son-in law, Mr P. Wheeler, from internal hemorrhage. Though the deceased gentleman has been somewhat of an invalid for the past 8 or 9 months, he has been able to get about and seemed to be improving, and his death came most unexpectedly. He filled the position of stationmaster at Frankston about 24 years ago, and was well known to the older residents. Prior to his illness he filled the responsible position of pier master at Williamstown, but since then he has resided with Mr Wheeler, at Frankston. The remains were conveyed by motor hearse to Williamstown on Thursday, where he was buried alongside his wife, who predeceased him about 12 months. *** From the pages of the Mornington Standard, 26 August, 1916
THE MEANING OF EXISTENCE... AND OTHER SHORT STORIES
Farewell to the snow globe of my youth By Stuart McCullough I’M sure it’s not just me. Even though I’m so far into adulthood that I’m in danger of bursting out the other side, it’s fair to say that I’m yet to move out of my parents’ house. Not completely. Instead, my old bedroom in Tyabb remains a repository of items that I have deemed both too important to throw away and yet not nearly important enough to take with me. They sit on shelves and are stuffed in cupboards, silently waiting for the day when I finally decide their collective fate. As a result, these items have languished for decades. Physically, I left that house in my teens. Since then, I’ve lived at various addresses in a variety of circumstances; and each one of them was home for a time. But there’s nothing quite like the house you grew up in. Whether it’s a lack of organization on my part or an attempt to keep one foot in a distinctly distant camp, I can’t say. All I know is that, after more than twenty years, the excuses are starting to wear a little thin. There are books, lots of them. These include activity workbooks from French class that may well contain homework I ought to have submitted in about 1986. If I were to attempt to hand these in now, chances are I’d be escorted from the premises rather than congratulated. Tempting as it may be to make one final appeal to have my mark reviewed in the hope of being bumped up from a ‘B’ to an ‘A’, it’s time to let that dream go. Besides, were I to attempt to submit my homework now, the teacher might ask me a question in French, thereby revealing
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that I have failed to retain anything more than a few stray Serge Gainsbourg lyrics and the chorus of Plastic Bertrand’s ‘Ca Plane Pour Moi’. There are prizes too. These I largely
22 August 2016
accumulated in the early part of my high school career before they dramatically petered out. Mostly they’re in the form of novels but there are a couple of trophies too, denoting im-
probable sporting prowess. Without exception these are suitably miniscule. The sports trophies are located not in my old bedroom but my father’s study, together with the assembled product of his own athletic career which, to date, consists of a medallion (I’m not sure for what. Probably car-pooling) and a plaster figurine of a bloke with his leg raised in a pose I’d describe as ‘post torpedo punt’. By congregating the awards won by the entire family, my father hoped it would look impressive. It doesn’t. Even less so since one of my nephews started to over-achieve and collect trophies that tower like skyscrapers over our meager statuettes. As for the books, they were items I’d chosen at Robinson’s Book Store. In a sense, they were the worst kind of gift. I was charged with the awesome responsibility of selecting the present that the school would then give back to me. Accordingly, I felt an overwhelming responsibility to choose something that was suitably intellectual rather than anything that might trigger a recount. There was a volume of Dickens so large that it required a forklift. Despite the fact that it was beautiful, it was impractical. In fact, so many of Charles’s works were contained in a single book it meant the print was so necessarily small that even an ant would have struggled to read it. Then there are the souvenirs. These are last remains of various family outings purchased with significant budgetary limits and a looming time constraint. It was common for us to be informed that we had five dollars and just as many minutes in which to select
an item from the gift shop by which to remember the moment for the rest of our lives. The results were predictably uneven. In Tasmania I bought a sculpture of an old lady’s face carved into an old apple. The years saw it plunge further into a state of decrepitude until it collapsed. There was also the snow-globe that I bought at Mount Buffalo (money, incidentally, I should have spent on a hot chocolate). The intervening years have seen the water evaporate and the snow vanish. I blame climate change. Often I received a book for Christmas. Each of these has a message from my father in handwriting that is not so much messy as it is encrypted. I’m not sure what these messages mean, but I’m not yet prepared to give them up. Some books are about subjects I have long since abandoned including cricket, rock collecting and gunfighters of the Wild West. Beside these tomes is a rabbit’s foot. It too was a gift, intended to bring good luck, although presumably not for the rabbit. Soon, the hour will come. The umbilical connection that has so long ensured that part of me remains in Tyabb will be severed. Some things I will keep. Others will be sent to the great hard-rubbish night in the sky, never to be seen again. So long droughtaffected snow globe. Farewell rabbit’s foot. I’ll be sure to leave something behind, though. Perhaps a book tucked discretely on a shelf or my ‘most improved’ football trophy. A sense of place is a powerful thing. There will, I think, always be part of me in Tyabb. stuart@stuartmccullough.com