A short list

I know that it is school holidays because:

1. I am so tired.
2. My house is even messier than usual.
3. When I go to recent documents in Word, there are strange files there with my daughters’ current fictions-in-progress and nothing of mine.
4. My temper is very short and my patience very thin.
5. I have to fight for time on the computer.
6. I don’t write my blog and I don’t even read my daily blog quota every day.
7. I sleep in in the mornings instead of getting up to work or exercise.
8. Blithe Boy doesn’t nap.
9. I can’t remember all the Jaeckels’ names.
10. I can’t remember what I was going to write for #10.

Pre-existing conditions

I was bringing in some wood for the fire on Saturday night and noticed a peculiar smell. Mr Blithe assured me that I was correct in assuming that brown foam emanating from the septic tank was indeed “not normal.” Any potential problem with the septic system is anxiety-inducing. We are only allowed to have a septic tank so close to the house and indeed a septic tank at all, because it was “pre-existing.” And herein lies the problem. No-one knows exactly how long the tank has been there. It certainly looks elderly with a weathered concrete lid. But it probably is not as old as the house because it was connected to the toilet in the laundry which was a lean-to addition to the house sometime after the house was constructed. We assume that there was originally a dunny (an outside toilet) and that sometime in the last 80 - 90 years the innovation of an inside toilet was introduced.

One of the first things we did to the house when we bought it was to have a toilet put in the bathroom of the main part of the house. With small children, the last thing you want to do is to have them traipsing down a flight of open-riser stairs to use the facilities at night although we did this for a year. And all of the light switches were well above child level. The plumber simply cut a hole in the bathroom floor and suspended the pipework under the house to the existing septic tank. The only problem then was that we had to move the bathroom door around the corner because health regulations don’t allow a bathroom with a toilet to open onto a kitchen. See what troubles you start getting into when you change things?

About 18 months ago now, we demolished the lean-to laundry, jack-hammered out the immensely thick concrete slab and positioned the new part of the house in that location. We took out the bathroom of the removal house to make the wide hallway that connects the two houses but we kept the toilet which was in a separate room. We did have to replace the toilet so that it was a model suitable for septic tanks instead of a “town sewage” model. I had never known that there were different standards for fittings based on type of sewerage. The things you learn.

So here we are on Saturday night – worried that after everything, something has gone wrong with the septic tank. The 24 hour septic tank bloke assured me that it was probably the trench and that he would be there first thing on Monday. Around midday on Monday, the truck arrived. Pretty soon he started making harrumphing noises that I know mean trouble. He couldn’t get the eel into the outlet pipe so he decided to dig down the side of the tank to find the inspection access point. I could have guessed that there wouldn’t be one. As he dug the hole started filling with liquid. A few more harrumphs and he quietly shovelled the dirt back in. His taciturnity turned to verbosity.

“You need a plumber. The seal has gone. And you need to show the plumber the diagram that you have of the property that shows where the trench and the connections are so he can make a new connection to the trench. Then he can get the eel in and find out what is wrong with the drainage. I’ll drain the tank while you call the plumber and tell him that it’s an emergency. Won’t get them out here within a month otherwise and you’ve got two weeks, depending on your deposit rate.”

I don’t know if it was the prospect of dealing with an empty tank or the fact that I can see the plumber’s house from ours, but he’s coming on Wednesday morning. He’s not cheap but he does a great job and is totally unfazed by the fact that there are no diagrams and in fact no actual knowledge of where the trench may be. We have our suspicions. There’s a patch of grass that stays green in the driest months but it might just be an outlet and not a trench at all.

I’m hoping for the sweet smell of success rather than…well you can imagine the rest.

An answered question

28 December, 1869

Free passages
To single women (domestic servants), married couples (farm laborers or shepherds), with not more than one child, and under 12 years of age.

Persons receiving free and assisted passages, except female domestic servants, have to undertake to repay the Queensland Government, in the case of assisted passengers, the balance of the cost of their passage within twelve months after their arrival in the colony, and, in the case of free passengers, the cost of their passage within two years after arrival in the colony, and on the fulfilment of the undertaking they will receive a land order entitling them to select 40 acres of agricultural land for each adult, and 20 acres for each child between twelve months and twelve years.”

Other than noting and emulating the amazing run-on sentence above (didn’t the government of the day have editors?); the fact that the government was apparently signing legislation at the end of December (no modern bureaucrat would be caught anywhere near the office at that time); and the fact that spelling in 1869 was closer to what we today would call “American” i.e. laborer rather than labourer, the above extract admirably answers my question of what regulatory conditions would apply to obtain the release of a free passenger from their contract.

A multiplicity of books

I was at a meeting yesterday, well not really at a meeting as it was held in my home, but there was a meeting. It’s the school holidays and sometimes it’s simply easier to bring work home. And during the meeting I was ribbed for my “lack of recent blogging.” This was a bit rich given that I was in the meeting rather than blogging. The good news is that there is progress on the mining book. We’re trying to come up with a better title than “Coal Mining in the Rosewood Scrub,” but it works as an interim descriptive title. We have a proposed outline for the book, lists of people to interview, research to do. After every meeting we are emailed with lists of tasks by our militant/efficient sergeant.

The funny thing now is that people often ask me “How’s the book going?” and I have to ask them “Er, which book?” At this point, they in turn get all confused, because most of the people asking don’t know about my “secret” life as a children’s novelist. I say “secret” because it’s hard for me to imagine anything is secret that is the subject of a blog. But in a world where some people don’t read blogs, other people don’t really like computers and others are simply too busy, it’s quite easy to have such an open secret. On the other hand, the mining project got a write up (with a photo!) in the local newspaper, so it is relatively prominent.

It’s an interesting question (though not one I’m going to pursue now) – the relative penetration of electronic media versus traditional print media in a rural area. I tend to mix with people for whom the use of computers is part of life. My children and their classmates are normalised into the digital world, but their parents often are not. And some of the older generation are actively scared or dismissive of computers and the internet. Talking to the check-out lady at the local supermarket about my reusable produce bags, she was amazed that I had bought them on the internet, “wasn’t that unsafe?” Well, yes and no, but there were people behind me in the line who probably wouldn’t want me expounding on safe internet use while their ice-cream melted.

I also found out at this meeting that reports of me doing research while wearing my dressing gown and fluffy slippers are traumatising the readership. So I will abstain although I am glad that people are at least paying attention.

Editing for my supper

I am a compulsive editor. Sometimes I have to stop myself especially in situations where it would not be tactful or politically wise to point out errors. Point of enquiry: should one say anything to one’s child’s teacher if they have a spelling error on the blackboard? What about egregious misspellings or mis-pronunciation by a boss?

The hardest thing about the NLA’s online database of newspapers is that they are digital copies that have been scanned into the database. On the right hand side of the webpage is the image of the original printed page and on the left, is the digital “translation.” Users of the system can compare the two and edit the digital version. I have to fight every urge in my body not to simply sit and edit. For example, the scanning software routinely substitutes o’s for e’s or o’s for a’s or vice versa. Or puts in random letters when there are blobs of ink on the original.

I’ve had to make a policy decision so that my time is not entirely consumed by editing. I see on the NLA’s homepage that there are some hero editors whose edits number in the hundreds of thousands. I could become one of those or I could actually research my book and get closer to starting to write it. I’ve decided that I will edit anything that I use for my research – singing for my supper as it were and also out of gratitude that such an amazing resource is available. The rest I will do my best to close my eyes to.

Since it is Friday, I’ll leave you with a news report that tickled my fancy this morning. Stay safe this weekend and watch out for flying missiles of the domestic sort.

The Brisbane Courier
Saturday 8 September 1866

A DISTURBANCE arose in the Immigration
Depôt yesterday evening amongst the immi-
grants by the ship Rockhampton, who came up
during the day. It was caused principally by
some of the married men, who objected to leave
the females' department at the hour appointed
by the regulations of the depot. At about 8
o'clock there was a sort of free fight, which
lasted until a detachment of police came in,
and during which missiles, such as teapots and
other kitchen utensils, were diligently used.
The police, after some trouble, succeeded in
securing two of the ringleaders, and marched
them off to the station. This appeared to have
a quieting effect upon the remainder, and com-
parative order was restored.

Newspapers in pyjamas

I sat down and read a newspaper the other morning from cover to cover. Given, it was only four pages, but I sat there in my pyjamas and fluffy slippers with my coffee at six o’clock on a rainy morning in the year 2009 reading the Brisbane Courier for the 3 September 1866.

I found out that the temperature was mild (18°C/64.7°F) and the day forecast to be cloudy. I read that the Queensland Club was forthwith going to be destroying any goats found loose on their property. I discovered that several companies offered berths to settlers heading to Ipswich from Brisbane. In fact, between two different services, you could sail to Ipswich every day of the week except for Sunday. I found out what houses were for rent and that you could purchase a confectionary store and bakery in Ipswich for a mere £500 including all stock, equipment, cart and horses. I read that there was a busy trade in land allotments and that C. Heussler and Co. offered land-orders for purchase in small or large lots. I read of mortgagee sales, insurance schemes, lending libraries and goods of every description for sale. Of the meetings of the Brisbane Philharmonic Society, the British and Foreign Bible Society (Queensland Auxillary), the Queensland Turf Club, the School of Arts, the Oxford Music Society and the Choral Union. I saw architects, stationers, doctors, hotels and commission agents advertising for business.

I read that 2000 Chileans had landed in Cuba to aid their troops in revolt and that the “harvest in California is the largest ever known” while new mines had been discovered in Nevada. This news arrived via the Anglo-Indian telegraphs and beat the SS Kaikoura with its delivery of mail and news from England. I read of shipping arrivals and departures and goods received and loaded to whose accounts.

In brief, I read about the everyday life of a thriving city 143 years ago. It was fascinating and exactly what I need to write about the Jaeckel’s arrival in Brisbane and travel to Ipswich.

The wonder of it all is that this is available online from the National Library of Australia. Take a look. You can even assist by correcting the text of scanned newspapers for the years 1803 to 1954. And you don’t even need to get out of your pyjamas.

A sense of place

I’ve been intermittently watching a series on television called “Around the World in Eighty Gardens.” In it, the charming and eccentric (and English of course) Monty Don travels around the world looking at gardens. The series has been panned by some critics for not being about the plants, or rather about gardening. This misses the point that it is a show about garden design.

One of Don’s overarching themes is the idea of gardens having a sense of place. He adores gardens that draw from a local vernacular and abhors gardens that simply replicate ideas from other places in the world. He feels very strongly that a garden should arise out of a local culture and understanding of place rather than be about themes and ideas fashionable on the international circuit. As a result, he has visited some fascinating gardens: some delightful, some outrageous (to my perspective) but the best ones firmly grounded in their own history and culture.

While in Australia, he visited a garden in the Southern Highlands of NSW that pretended to be an English garden. High hedges of English plants were structured to block out vistas of gum trees and dry grass. Inside the hedges was a lush, but formally controlled English garden. While it was beautiful in a formal sort of way, it is entirely alien to our continent. Other gardens he visited here were much more attuned to our dry, difficult land through embracing native plants, grasses, rocks, and strong lines.

The series has really resonated with me for two reasons. One is that our garden is a work-in-progress and I love thinking of new ideas for it. The other is that this second book is about how people develop a sense of place. I’m interested in what helps such a sense grow and what can undermine it. Given that most people in this area were farmers, some of the ideas that Don talks about are relevant.

This book is about the Jaeckel’s new life in Australia and the inevitable steps forward and backward to feeling like they are Queenslanders. I want the third book to be about how migrants can have a strong sense of place and ownership and for this to be disputed. By the third book, World War One is in progress and the Germans of Marburg are being made to feel very German and very alien, rather than welcomed and valued migrants.

As always, everything is grist to the mill of my imagination. Or is it simply self-justification for why I’m sitting down and watching television?