Many years ago, when an important person left the district, they were often afforded a farewell. Sometimes a framed collage of photos of the district with beautiful calligraphy was presented along with a ‘do’ at the hall where the Gerringong museum is now. The museum has a few examples on a wall.I personally remember names of people who made important contributions to life in Gerringong. They would then leave the district and be all but forgotten. Alex Trevallion is a name that comes to mind. Hory Kemp is another who was fondly remembered by the people of Foxground as a teacher.Clive Emery wrote his memories of such farewells.Clive Emery:It was customary in our little hamlet of Gerringong to give departing residents a generous farewell. People of station were always accorded the trappings of superiority in our little community. Bank Managers, Town Clerks, school teachers, Ministers of Religion and Doctors always got a farewell. The paradox was that the givers of such generosity- the men and women whose life was stable in the community and earned their living by the sweat of their brow- had to await posthumous recognition of their services to the community. Even then, they would have baulked at the thought or mere suggestion had they been able. They gave from the heart, quietly, with never a thought for their own needs, but simply as a neighbour or a friend, and this trait was handed down through the generations. After all, if a gift is awarded it would be most ungracious not to receive it in the spirit of which it was given; one could hardly do otherwise!Farewells to the leading citizenry were firmly established. A dinner, a dance, a musical evening with supper and entertainment provided by the local people was to become the norm. Bank Managers and Town Clerks - of which there were few - were usually farewelled at public buildings such as a School of Arts, Soldier's Hall or Council annex. It was no use suggesting a euchre party and dance for a clergyman and his family for instance, despite the fact that he might just have loved to indulge in former pursuits, so they might get their send-off at a tea and concert or a Sunday school picnic, depending on the ages of his children, where a suitable welcome could be made to his successor.An example of a certificate given on the departure of an important person from 1990.Doctors and Police were accorded suitable honours on their departure as they were always well known and considered of high importance in the community. Doctors were philanthropists of the highest order in early days - perhaps no more than those to whom their generosity extended in lots of times had the position been reversed - but they were educated, and their position was respected by all and sundry.The policeman was equally known, for it was his duty to visit every home there to collect the census and the stock returns, doing the duties of a dozen men today. Not that he was overworked really - he could find time to 'wet a line' or have a game of golf almost when he chose. No, it was the uncomplicated way of life he lived, devoid of the complexity of modern times; times when the legal men could grow their own vegetables, and the doctors had a fishing boat moored near the wharf for urgent necessities to get away from appendices and tonsillectomies. Referrals to specialists were scant; indeed, the surgery or the hospital theatre were the places where the scalpel was wielded, and broken bones set with precision.Farewells were a great event. Great suppers followed repetitious speeches by the same people using the same old phrases and the same old jokes we knew so well, and we clapped them, which urged them to repeat themselves many times until the chairman rose to his feet bringing the encores to an end. A bevy of ladies slipped unnoticed into the washing-up annex, there to dip hot water from a wood-fired copper and the cup and saucers and sundries were washed and dried and packed away. They were a well organised and thorough team.Schoolteachers were often farewelled on the school premises. Once more the speeches and songs, the pianoforte solos, the jokes and suppers were repeated. The gifts were acknowledged with prescribed sentences; 'this purse of sovereigns I will hand to my wife for her loyalty and unfailing attention to my well-being!' or; 'this beautiful set of cutlery will grace our table and remind us, .'But the send-off which shall stay forever in my memory as the prince of all farewells was when a certain headmaster received a wallet of notes to the value of forty-three pounds from the chairman on behalf of the community. There were many eulogies in his favour, and when he rose to his feet to respond he was greeted with much clapping and enthusiasm. It could have been this adulation which increased his feeling of importance or caused him to regret his imminent departure.'Friends', he said in conclusion, 'I thank you all for the kind things said about me this evening. It worries me that I will be missed so much. . . so I think I'll stay!'As he resumed his seat the audience were dumbfounded! The tumultuous handclapping did not materialise. Everyone waited for the other to start the clapping. Out of deference somebody clapped a couple of times, then others followed while many sat on their hands. Probably they were thinking of their donation, now in his pocket, the supper provided, the decorations, the music, the songs and speeches. The clapping died away and a humiliating silence followed. People rose to leave. . .the party was over . . .we've been robbed. . .I wonder?But stay he did. . . for a year until his retirement, while those who feted him went home to make and save another donation for his successor! And even his football friends never reinstated him to the elevation he had enjoyed!

From its establishment in 1954, to its present status as an essential part of education in Kiama, the school has been dedicated to providing dynamic learning through its values of respect, responsibility, and excellence. As alumni, staff, and students gathered to mark this significant milestone, Kiama High School (KHS) reflects on its proud history and the future ahead. Historical student note books on display in the school hall.Principal Catherine Glover, as well as students and staff past and present, attended the festivities, with celebrations including live music, rides, memorabilia, open classrooms, and the new Kiarama Café.The local community was invited to take ‘a trip down memory lane’ with a showcase of school photos, historic newsletters, and memorabilia that captures the school's proud history. Student artworks on display with a side show of memories.Visitors were able to explore archived photos and yearbooks, revealing an evolution of the school's grounds and heritage. Former deputy principal and teacher Darrell Shephard expressed his interest in seeing how KHS has grown over the decades and being able to reminisce about the school's history. Having worked at KHS for 41 years, Darrell saw many changes of leadership within the school, new developments in buildings and facilities, and generations of students. This milestone has brought together alumni, staff, students, and the community to celebrate and experience the journey and legacy of KHS. 

The Kiama Blowhole draws around 900,000 visitors annually, making it one of the town's most iconic landmarks. Yet, despite its popularity and the risks associated with the surrounding rocks, there is no defibrillator installed at the site.Over the years, 25 people have tragically lost their lives at the Blowhole, with several more fatalities occurring at the rocks nearby. Just this past August, a father and son lost their lives in the area.Dr. George Puris, a local healthcare provider since 1974, has long advocated for the installation of a defibrillator at the Blowhole, more specifically at the lighthouse. He has written extensively to The Bugle, highlighting the potential life-saving benefits of having such a device on-site.“A defibrillator, like the Heart Starter, costs only $360,” says Dr. Puris. “It’s simple to use—just follow the instructions, place it on the chest, and it can save 7 out of 10 lives. No need for CPR or waiting 20 minutes for paramedics.”Dr. Puris, along with The Bugle, has raised the issue with Kiama MP Gareth Ward, who in turn wrote to the Minister for Health, Hon. Ryan Park MP. Unfortunately, Ward received a disappointing response from the Minister’s office.“The Minister expressed appreciation for the matter being raised but indicated that no assistance or government funding would be provided at this time,” Ward says.One of the key challenges in installing a defibrillator at the Blowhole is that the area is Crown land, which complicates the approval process.“Since the Blowhole is Crown land, there are several layers of approval required. First, the relevant local authorities, such as Kiama Council, would need to support the initiative,” says Mr. Ward. “Then, permission from the state government, through agencies that manage Crown land, would be necessary to ensure compliance with regulations. Funding would likely remain a hurdle, but community grants, local fundraising, or state government initiatives could be explored.”Ward notes that the complexities of managing Crown land pose unique difficulties for small towns like Kiama.“The bureaucratic processes involved in gaining approvals and the lack of direct control by local communities can hinder necessary upgrades or safety measures. It’s something that needs to be addressed to ensure residents and visitors are safe and well-served, particularly in high-traffic areas like the Blowhole,” says Mr. Ward.In response to inquiries about the installation of a defibrillator, Kiama Council issued a statement clarifying the current situation.“Kiama Council currently has 20 defibrillators installed at key locations, including Blow Hole Point. Our Visitor Information Centre adjacent to the Blowhole has one, as does our nearby holiday park, Kiama Harbour Cabins.”While this response reassures that defibrillators are available at key sites nearby, the absence of a device directly at the Blowhole raises concerns, given the risks associated with the rocky coastline and the high number of visitors. As discussions continue, local advocates like Dr. Puris are hopeful that the necessary steps will be taken to ensure that a defibrillator will be installed at this popular yet perilous landmark.Check out the location of defibrillators in our LGA on The Bugle App. 

If you missed the November 9 steam train event—which had a memorable few moments coinciding with Kiki's performance in the Spiegel tent—don’t worry! The next special heritage trip to Kiama, featuring a vintage diesel locomotive and historic carriages, will roll into town on Sunday, November 17.The scenic ride begins in Sydney’s suburbs, winding through the Royal National Park and treating passengers to breathtaking coastal views en route to Kiama. Once here, travellers can enjoy the seaside markets and all that Kiama has to offer. Perfect for groups, the picnic train offers a BYO option, along with an onboard Buffet Car where drinks can also be purchased. Be prepared for festive groups arriving on the next one - a unique way to celebrate the holiday season! 

Orry-Kelly was a three time Oscar winner who worked with celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, Bette Davis and Katherine Hepburn. He has credits on 300 films which include titles like Casablanca, 42nd Street and Some Like It Hot. When he died in 1964 his pallbearers included Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, Billy Wilder and George Cukor and his eulogy was read by Jack Warner.You would expect a man like this to be widely celebrated and known in his home country, especially his hometown. And yet, ask the majority of people in Kiama if they know who Orry-Kelly is and they would be hard-pressed to give you an answer.Yes, Orry-Kelly was born in Kiama in 1897 and lived here until he moved to Sydney at age 17. He won three Academy Awards in 1951, 1957 and 1959 and he is known for the way he would tailor the clothes toward the actor and the character.Other than a few artefacts featured in the Pilot’s Cottage Museum and the Orry-Kelly stage in Hindmarsh Park - Orry has not had much prominence in his hometown.President and Secretary of the Kiama Historic Society Sue Eggins says that this is an improvement as when she joined the organisation in the middle of the 1980’s they had no record of Orry-Kelly at all.“No one knew or had heard of Orry-Kelly, I hadn’t heard about him and we didn’t even have a file on him in the museum. We had a file on his father William Kelly, but nothing on Orry. All they had was that they thought his name was Horace,” says Eggins.Eggins first found out about Orry in 1994 when she was handed an 8 page Vogue Magazine article written by Karin Upton Baker.“That was just a wonderful article,” says Eggins. “And from that I started talking about him. I’ve probably done a hundred talks all over - some for the historic society, the library, Probus clubs, the Lions club, Apex clubs, lots of bus groups that come to the museum - so I’ve been preaching about him but still no one seems to have heard of him.”In 2015, Australian Director Gillian Armstrong (Little Women) released the film Women He’s Undressed, a documentary film about Orry’s life. Eggins is credited as a researcher for the film.“The producer Damien Parer came down a number of times and then Gillian Armstrong contacted me and she came down a number of times with Katherine Thompson, who was the scriptwriter for the film,” says Eggins.“I drove them around the town, showing them the different places. I picked a lot of spots that they could film from, they wanted photos without the highway and the trainline so I showed them that. I picked out a dozen photos from the archive, which were photos of the town around 1890 and the 1900s as that’s when Orry would have lived here.”Eggins felt the film might have brought Orry-Kelly back into the spotlight, but she still feels he hasn’t got enough awareness in the local area. As a result, Eggins and a group of individuals called Kiama Icons and Artists are planning a major event to celebrate Orry in July, 2025 at The Sebel.“He was a little boy in Kiama who went off to become a Hollywood star. He was the only Australian for a long time with three oscars. It’s been ten years since the film, so anything to get Orry back into the spotlight,” says Eggins.“This event will celebrate Orry’s life, his movies, fashion, art, plays - everything. And I just hope that he finally gets that recognition he deserves.”If you're interested in supporting this celebration, join Kiama Icons and Artists on December 1 at 3 PM at The Sebel. Together, we can honour Orry-Kelly and ensure his legacy is remembered. More information about the event can be found here.

Gerringong Library is one of the oldest free public libraries in the state and this month it will celebrate 150 years of literary glory, when it launches its Sesquicentennial Exhibition on November 7. The library was built in 1874, after Gerringong council decided Kiama library was too far away for locals to access. The council voted to house a collection of books in the town's Fern St grocery store and owner Mary Ann Scott charged £14 a year for the space and her librarian duties. The library moved into the Soldiers Memorial Hall in 1921, before shifting to Gerringong’s Town Hall when it was built in 1950. In 2021 it moved into its new premises on Blackwood St, which includes the Gerringong Museum and GLam Gallery.To mark the library’s 150th celebrations, Gerringong & District Historical Society will host 'A night at the museum' with Caroline Baum from 5.30-7.30pm on November 7.Baum, a well-known journalist and radio and television broadcaster, will discuss the history and importance of libraries in shaping the nation’s literary landscape.Tickets are $10 and can be purchased through the library website. The GLaM Gallery will also host a free Sesquicentennial Exhibition from November 8-23.

When Ian Clifford glances out of his window after dark he always checks to make sure Kiama Lighthouse is shining bright.An electrical engineer who has worked in radio and television and now does contract electronics and communications work, Mr Clifford has made it his mission to try and ensure all 142 heritage lighthouses across Australia are maintained and preserved.Source: Kiama Historical SocietyMr Clifford is president of Lighthouses of Australia, a volunteer-run organisation tasked with promoting, protecting and preserving the hundreds of lighthouses that dot Australia’s coastline. It is a lifelong passion that started when he was a young boy growing up near the famous Cape Byron lighthouse.“We would roam the headland as free-range kids and annoy the keeper to take us up,” he recalls. When Mr Clifford moved to Kiama more than 30 years ago he was delighted to discover the lighthouse, which he can see shining in his windows, was an integral part of the community. One day he noticed Kiama’s iconic beacon wasn’t lit up, so he “went to some pretty great lengths” to contact the relevant custodians to ensure it was fixed. When it happened again NSW Transport and Maritime Services entrusted Mr Clifford with its maintenance.“I’m almost like a modern-day keeper,” says Mr Clifford. “The custodians handed me a key and said ‘we’ll call you if it doesn’t work’. So on the rare occasion it needs to be fixed, I sort it out. But it’s very reliable these days.”When lightning struck the tower in 2017, Mr Clifford was part of a team tasked with removing the electronic system installed in the 1970s. It was replaced with an LED conversion system that turns off at sunrise and on at sundown.Mr Clifford still checks nightly to make sure the iconic lighthouse burns bright. “I automatically glance at it every night and say ‘yeah it’s working’,” he laughs. Kiama is one of 350 working lighthouses across Australia. Built in November 1886 for £1350 pounds, it was lit up for the first time on New Year’s Day, 1887. For more than three decades a keeper would continuously light an oil-burning wick throughout the night to ensure the beacon - originally a green light - alerted ships to the dangers of Blowhole Point. Gas replaced oil in the early 1900s and by 1920 the lighthouse was unmanned. Kiama Lighthouse was electrified in 1969. “Kiama, like many heritage lighthouses, still has its original glass lens manufactured in 1886,” says Mr Clifford. “A UK company developed an LED array that could be retrofitted to the optic lenses of heritage lighthouses, some dating back even earlier than the 1880s. The heritage of these lighthouses might be a legacy from the past, but I see it as a gift for the future.The Iconic Kiama Lighthouse“Lighthouses are such a visible and rich part of Australia’s maritime heritage. They are a symbol of safety, strength, resilience and security and remain an exceptionally reliable navigational tool, even with the invention of GPS.“Many lives were saved because without lighthouses there was nothing for ships to navigate by at night, especially when it was cloudy. It is our job to preserve and protect that history and to share those stories.”Earlier this month Mr Clifford was invited to speak to experts from around the world at the International Association of Lighthouse Authorities meeting in Sydney.Kiama Lighthouse got a mention in his speech. So did Point Perpendicular, whose light was deactivated in 1994, 95 years after it was first turned on. Mr Clifford and the team from Lighthouses of Australia have worked tirelessly for the past 25 years, lobbying to have the Jervis Bay lighthouse returned to a heritage site and the lights switched back on permanently.Kiama Lighthouse's optic lens“Hopefully we are successful," says Mr Clifford. "The area where I can really make a difference is working with the custodians to try and achieve conservation of heritage lighthouses as much as is practical. Lighthouses of Australia have come to realise the public is very interested in the heritage of our lighthouses. Kiama is a great example of that, it has an incredibly high visitation rate and there is always someone in front of it taking a photo.”

By Dr Jill MillerGerringong council’s free library, established in 1874, was intended to improve the minds of locals rather than entertain them. In July 1874 the Governor authorised the issue of a sum of £200 for the institution. The Department of Justice and Public Instruction subsequently approved the list of books proposed for purchase by the council, except for the works of fiction. The Gerringong correspondent for the Kiama Independent in February 1874 hoped the council would ‘make provision for the intellectual improvement of the residents of their district’ by approving a library. In May 1874 he trusted, ‘that the books selected will be of such a character as will interest and enlighten, so that by a careful perusal the ratepayers … may learn how better to exercise their judgment in the choices of their representatives.’ Despite lamenting the fact ‘the class of books most in request are the lighter of the fictitious and pictorial works,’ he soon after conceded that the library was ‘felt to be a great boon in the present dearth of public entertainment or instruction …’The first proposal for the library came in 1869 from M. E. Robson, as a candidate for the Kiama Municipal elections. He favoured using rates on public works in the same locality they came from. His bugbear was that money from Gerringong was unjustly appropriated for facilities located in Kiama. Robson became the first mayor of the Gerringong municipality from 1871 to 1872.The Gerringong council voted to create the library in April 1874, concerned that the two-year old Kiama library was not accessible for many Gerringong people. Alderman Lee recommended Mrs. Scott as a competent custodian for a library whose collection could be housed in a room in her general store on Fern Street. The room was also deemed ‘suitable in every way for a council-chamber.’ The lady requested an annual fee of £14 for the space and her librarian duties.   Mayor Robert Miller noted that the Mutual Improvement Society of Gerringong, part of the School of Arts, might offer about £12 worth of books ‘to form the nucleus of the proposed library.’ This led to a somewhat heated exchange of letters in the Kiama Independent criticising the council for delays in access to the library. The council waited for the society to bring the books and book shelves offered by the School of Arts Committee while the committee waited for the council to arrange to collect them, with both sides saying the other was in the wrong.The library finally began lending to locals around the end of October, beginning of November of 1874. No rules had been established for borrowers, who were not sure whether they could keep books for one or twelve months. On 10 December council was informed that ‘the librarian had been subjected to annoyance and put to unnecessary trouble by parties coming to the library at irregular hours, some as late as 11 o’clock at night.’ This led to the hours of attendance being advertised.In 1875 a letter writer to the Illawarra Mercury lamented the fact that the Borough of Wollongong had not managed to open a library due to disagreement over where it should be located while libraries had been established successfully at nearby Gerringong and Kiama. By 1876 there were 18 free libraries in the colony of New South Wales, with the Gerringong library having 429 volumes in its collection and 703 readers over six months. The Kiama library had 1,245 volumes with 874 readers while the Shellharbour library had 1,050 volumes and 112 readers. The amount of money spent on books for Gerringong was considerable in terms of the council’s total budget. This led to some angst over what books should be purchased for the collection. A number of prominent local men were invited to help in the selection, including the Member for Kiama in the Legislative Assembly, S. W. Gray.In 1877 the free library and the librarian Mrs Scott, as well as council meetings, shifted to a new building that was described in the Kiama Independent as ‘void of architectural beauty’ and not suitable for ‘the requirements of Gerringong as a public building for public meetings, lectures, &c. The council made an unwritten agreement for Mrs. Scott to use the space for free in return for acting as librarian. This arrangement proved satisfactory for both sides until amended in 1891 to have Mrs. Scott pay some rent. Alderman James then noted that the librarian’s duties were very light as library records showed that borrowers themselves made the entries for taking out and returning books. When Mrs. Scott died at 85 in 1927, after over 40 years at Gerringong, her obituary noted that as librarian for many years, ‘she was brought in touch with all classes to the community, and by her fine character won the respect of all with whom she came in contact.’ Clive Emery recollected that she used to give children sweets while their parents were choosing books.The library was moved to the new RSL Memorial Hall in November 1921 and then to the Town Hall in 1959 where it remained until 2021 when it moved into our grand new library in Blackwood Street along with the new museum. GLAM!

Toileting may not be the most pleasant of topics from yesteryear.Today most people have the luxury of flush toilets. However, before this modernisation, pit toilets were the only type you had. At a homestead you would have a ‘dunny’ in the outhouse down the back. It would be a hole in the ground covered by a pan. At night you had to be careful when walking out there with a lantern. Very unpleasant during a storm or in the middle of winter. Blowflies would be a curse in summer! I’m reminded of the old song, ’There was a redback on the toilet seat when I was there last night’.. Toilet paper might consist of cut up newspapers. If you're lucky!For me personally the only experience I had of pit toilets was when setting up camp in the bush. As a scout you had one as an essential item of a well set up camp. We had strict rules as to how far from the camp or a river it had to be.Gerringong Public School 1935.Which brings me to the toilets at school. Never the most pleasant place even today. However, the toilet blocks that students now use are a luxury compared to those of 100 years ago. Flush toilets were a dream of the future. No, there was great rejoicing if a pit toilet appeared in the playground 100 years ago.  Here is a tale from Clive Emery of such an event at Foxground Public School and a subsequent incident. Anybody who says life at school was their best ever time has a very selective memory. Although Foxground was a ‘bush’ school, I imagine it was not any better in the inner city.Now you also need to recognise that in one teacher schools there was often not a teacher on duty in the playground during breaks. The teacher usually lived in a house next door to the school and would go there to have lunch. Life for students in an unsupervised playground may not have always been pleasant.In the tale below the names have been changed to protect the innocent -and the guilty!Jackie down the Hole - by Clive EmeryThose who lived in Foxground at the time will remember the tide of progress which brought us a pair of pit toilets at the old roadside school in the late twenties.Indeed, not even the pending Great Depression could hold back this wave of expenditure by the Education Department, for in the same year the one-roomed, one-teacher school was painted, and an extra water tank installed, and two, one-hole toilets erected.Now the Foxground Primary school toilets were, to the little Valley community, a milestone which turned into a millstone as successive new seasons' hats disappeared down the holes, and culprits were made to stand out behind the weather-shed on Friday afternoons when the rest of the school had story-reading. Your scribe lost one, as did Esther Cullen and a number of other pupils. Esthers was first chucked up in a gum-tree, but it blew down in the wind, only to descend to its inevitable lonely grave at playtime.The fascination of a huge pit being dug was an absorbing event for the Foxground kids, as ’Kempy’(the teacher) appointed prefects in the playground each lunch hour to keep the little ones away. What the prefects got up to while Kempy was down at his home having lunch was another matter, for a Kangaroo Court procedure of the otherwise lawless groups elevated some of them to magisterial might, trying those accused of minor offences, and handing out instant sentences.And so it came to pass that young Jacky, a habitual offender whose daily appearances for judgement taxed the imagination of even the Foxground school prefects, was given the ultimate sentence- and why hadn’t they thought of it before? … Jacky was to be lowered down the hole!It was immediately questioned as to whether he would fit through the fixed seats, and would it be more punitive lowering him into the girl’s pit (as the boys had only just begun operating) and was more or less clear and brand new? Devious young minds posed the question, a couple ran up with a ruler and measured the hole and then across Jacky’s shoulders- Jacky standing calmly, not believing his fate.Yes- he would fit alright…and Jacky froze on the spot!The big boys grabbed him and took him into the tin enclosure while some of the bigger girls and a few boys started to have slight misgivings. What if he drowned in it? What if the rope broke? Suppose they couldn’t get him up again before Kempy got back?No, they’d lower him till his feet touched IT, and then pull him up! The frightening sentence was carried out with sadistic shrieks from the executioners, but happily for this story, and young Jacky, the rope held; he was hauled to safety, and it was quite safe to assume that if ever Old Kempy heard of it, it would not be Jacky who told him!

By Mark Emery - memories from Clive EmeryReading the Bugle’s last issue, I noticed that yet again, Gerringong has won the group 7 rugby league premiership. The club has produced many magnificent players. Some like Paul Quinn, Rod Wishart and Michael Cronin have represented our country.However, the footy boots have now been packed away and attention moves to a different set of sports. One of those, of course, is cricket.A hundred years ago Gerringong was very strong in both cricket and rugby league. Gerringong Rugby League Club played in the very strong Illawarra competition and in 1925 won the premiership in front of 3000 people! Gerringong Cricket Club's A grade won the premiership in the 1925-26 season and again the following year. There was also the Gerringong and District Cricket Competition with teams such as Foxground, Crooked River and Toolijooa in full swing playing on grounds such as the one on Graham’s farm opposite the golf course. These, however, were not as lovely as the ones Gerringong CC are going to play on this season.There are few firsthand accounts of playing cricket from so long ago. However, there is one from Clive Emery, who was heavily involved in the Gerringong and District Historical Society and had a long association with cricket in the Gerringong area. Many great times were had, and lifelong friendships were made. I personally can remember playing on cement pitches as a child around 1970. When you were the home team, the first job was to drag the coir mats out that pitch and cover them ready for the game. Our coach was Norm Carradus, surely one of the most dedicated junior coaches, in any sport, that Gerringong has ever had. But, of course, the grass was always mowed and there were no big holes in the ground if you were the fielder at long on.Cricketers playing around 100 years ago did not have such luxuries. Clive’s account will give you an idea of the difficulty they had to face sometimes. Cricket days by Clive EmeryFrom the 1900s onward Gerringong had a cricket team; likewise, there was one in Berry and further south, so a competition was organised in which many teams played.One member of our Gerringong team of that era explained how he remembered milking the herd of cows in the morning, then the whole team of eleven players rode their horses to Cambewarra, a distance of almost twenty miles to play the local cricketers, and as the locals had no provisions, rode on to Nowra at twelve for a meal, then rode back to finish the game. We then rode home to Gerringong and did their milking in the dark!’The early cricket was played on a farmer’s grass paddock, in the days before concrete pitches were invented, consequently a score of twenty runs for a team took some beating! In Gerringong there were five local teams from which a team was picked to represent us in district games, which were hard fought. In the 20s we had district teams in a local district competition of our own. Omega, Toolijooa, Foxground, Crooked River and Gerringong (called the Seagulls). The Seagulls team was made up of talent from the township, and the other teams were almost entirely of dairy farmers. The pitches were strips of concrete, covered by coir mats, which were laid down before the game was to be played. The pitch at Jubilee Park in Gerringong was of glazed concrete for a time until finely woven green mats were placed thereon. The matches were keenly contested.Other grounds were usually in paddocks belonging to a certain farmer, probably the most level paddock to be found in each locality. It was fortunate if a paddock was mown of the long grass, and the games were played over two consecutive Saturdays during the morning and afternoon, with the exception of the Gerringong team that played their games on the Recreation ground (called ‘the Rec’) in the afternoon. All the others played between milking times as it were, meaning ten in the morning and until three in the afternoon with a luncheon break between twelve and half past, provided by the wives and girlfriends of team.If a farmer did not have a grass mower and mow his paddock prior to a game, it was possible for a fieldsman to trip in the luxuriant growth of the paspalum grass when attempting to field a ball. Likewise, the batsman had his own difficulty in forcing the ball to the boundary, indicated by a few white pegs, sometimes hidden in the grass. As an alternative to mowing the ground, a farmer was likely to put his herd of cows on the ground overnight to eat the grass down, and this brought problems of another nature, that of trying to clear the pitch and grounds of bovine excreta before the game!The long grass was not a problem to the fellow who had the capacity to loft the ball instead of trying to drive it, but there was the danger here of being caught out. Sometimes of course, if the grass had been mown and not raked up, the ball could lie hidden under the mown grass, and perhaps four fieldsmen spent time searching while the batsmen kept on running. All these games were taken very seriously, and in later years the scores were shown on the screen when the pictures were on in the School of Arts on a Saturday night, to the delight of the younger players, whose job it was to take a girlfriend to the pictures or have the cheaper delight of sitting beside one.Foxground team c. 100 years ago. Photographer unknown

I saw a wonderful article in the Bugle about ‘Picks and flicks’ in the Town Hall in Gerringong recently. It got me thinking about those times. I would love to take the liberty of sharing some of these with you.Going to the movies was an Australian tradition 50+ years ago. TV was fine and I must admit I spent a lot of time watching Phantom Agents, The Samurai , Combat, The Monkees, Green Acres, Astro Boy and the like.But TV 50 years ago was black and white and anyway, watching big movies like The Battle of Britain just did not look the same on the small screen. It was also the idea of going out. Going to the pictures on a Saturday night was an event.There wasn’t much else to do. Yes, for a child growing up in Gerringong you could go to the Scouts and play cricket but really it was quiet during the school term. Growing up in Gerroa was even worse. Most of Gerroa 50+ years ago consisted of old fibro holiday homes. The shop would open for 15 minutes a day. A mad maniac with a machine gun would not have much effect as no-one would even notice he was there.You did have the beach of course. And yes, like everybody else I had a ‘plank’. I think they call them longboards now. You could catch a wave at Gerroa and have time to ‘walk the plank’ and ‘hang 5’. Reminds me of the song Hanging 5 by the Delltones. You needed two people to carry it down to the beach if you were just a kid.But come that magical period when the old school bell stopped ringing, during Christmas, and the place would come alive. Suddenly you could not even get on the road because there were so many cars, usually with caravans attached. The holiday places filled up and beaches were full of tourists enjoying the sun and surf. Locals would stock up just before the holidays started and hunker down on the farm until the tourists went home.And yes, these tourists were looking for something to do at nighttime with their families, as well as the local youngsters. This is where the Gerringong Town Hall and Harry and Mary Waghorn joined together to provide that.The Gerringong Town Hall is an imposing building, as I suppose all town halls are. All the big events were there. There was a stage with seating facing it. It was next door to the Gerringong Public School and in those days one of my fondest memories was performing on that stage in the annual school concert. I remember I was a thief reading Santa’s workshop.But the screen for movies was on the back wall and the seating had to be turned around. To fit more paying customers seating was put up on the stage so you might be watching a movie in the ‘stalls’. I have never really thought about how hard it must have been to move theose seats up and down the stairs.During the holiday season a movie was on every night and most of them were the ‘big’ movies for the year. As I said above, I was enthralled watching Luftwaffe planes flying across the English Channel before being jumped by Spitfires in big, bold colour set to inspirational music. My sister Merelyn fondly remembers Psycho, the James Bond movies, A Nun’s Story, and the 10 Commandments. The list goes on.A pamphlet was produced listing all the movies for the week, so you could plan your viewing pleasure. There was also a poster board out the front of the hall, about where the street library is now, with billboard posters of the movies.Every night a large crowd would gather outside the hall waiting to buy a ticket to go in. Most of the customers had a curious red glow about them due to the endless days at the beach. Naughty boys and girls would roll Jaffas down the floor. Mind you, Harry Waghorn ran a tight ship and they would get short shrift. It was a place where you took your best girl on a date and hoped to get the chance to hold hands. Nothing else mind you.Athol Noble’s general store. A place to grab a bite during Interval. They also made school lunches for Gerringong PS. Athol Noble collectionThere would always be an interval when you went to the movies in those days. People would stand at the door to the hall handing out passes. You could then go up the road to a ‘milk bar’ at Athol Noble’s store, which was roughly opposite the Anglican Church, or over the street to Aunty Connie’s where the surf shop is now. They opened specially on film nights to catch the moviegoers. Like all moviegoers for the last 100 years you would fill up on junk that you never dreamt of buying normally.On Sunday nights they would show ‘special’ films that youngsters like me weren't allowed to watch. When I got to the required age I went along to a couple and to tell you the truth, I could not see what the fuss was all about.And then at the end of January, it all came to an end. The crowds all got back into their cars, and maybe hooked a caravan on as well, and went back to wherever they came from. And sleepy Gerringong and Gerroa went back to being……well…..sleepy. At least until we did it all again next Christmas. 

This 1977 voting leaflet from Margaret Atkinson is a testament to the power of women in local politics. At a time when female representation on councils was scarce, Margaret stood as a candidate to represent women’s views, proudly independent of political parties and group affiliations. She championed balanced representation and active community participation in local governance, highlighting her roles as a mother, a worker, and a volunteer.It’s disheartening to reflect on how far we still have to go. Despite trailblazers like Margaret, women on the previous council—75% of them—faced despicable treatment, which has clearly discouraged many from putting their hand up again for public office. This treatment has undeniably impacted women's confidence in standing for council positions, an issue that needs addressing urgently.Margaret’s story should inspire women in our electorate to step forward once again, to claim their place at the table, and to ensure that the values she stood for—fair representation, community involvement, and a commitment to service—are not lost in the noise of modern-day politics. If we don’t take action to support and encourage women in leadership, we risk silencing the very voices that push for equity and progress in our community.

I don’t think any person can claim that a visit to the dentist is a pleasant experience. My mother, God love her, took a lot of fluoride tablets when she was pregnant, and consequently visits in my early childhood were relatively pain free. Fluoride added to drinking water these days also helps.However, you may shudder hearing about the experiences of people going to the dentist 100 years ago. It is all a true story according to my father, local historian Clive Emery.Half a century ago he wrote that his own father “was a wiz” if we ever got sick with home remedies but there was one thing he could not cure, and that was toothache; sore throats were fixed by a dusting of ground alum.  But the former required the attention of a dentist, if a mouth wash of baking soda failed to effect a cure.He wrote that in such circumstances his mother, our grandmother, mother would convince his father, my grandfather, that it was necessary to take us to the dentist, John E. King in Kiama.   His surgery was in Manning Street, at the top of a long flight of creaking stairs, and even a tearful appeal to Mother that the tooth had stopped aching, would not stop her from leading the offending tooth and its owner into the surgery, where an awful cocktail of smells, mostly chloroform, together with a howling child with a bloody handkerchief to his mouth and being borne out of the surgery by his mother. A kerosene tin with its bottom spattered with blood and teeth, was enough to convince the bravest lad to cry quits.But Mother would have none of it. Mr. King was the man to stop a boy from wailing all day about a toothache. She simply could not put up with the wailing any longer, and insisted Mr. King would fix the tooth.Upon examination, he always declared the ache was not the top tooth we pointed out, but its corresponding bottom one, so to prove he was right he pulled them both for the price of one. This wasn't a bad bargain when you look at it, but the repetition made a mess of one's permanent grinders on each visit.As it happened, we were almost anaesthetised before we sat in his chair. A short examination during which he adjusted his glasses before pronouncing a verdict which was always an extraction, we were invited to: 'open wider please,' while he advanced with the hypodermic needle and filled one's mouth with anaesthetic, and then took over with the pliers.A dentist/barber chair at the GLaM. They were interchangeable as were the users.In a trice there was a tinny sound as the tooth joined the others in the kerosene tin and would ache no more. Mother always brought one of Dad's big handkerchiefs and this was pushed into the mouth. She paid John and thanked him for his trouble, and it was down the stairs and into the car before it got any cold air into the mouth. Dad would say, 'another one gone', and start the engine and we'd head for home. It took about four hours before one's tongue was able to be used, or to swallow, for both throat and tongue had also been anaesthetized and were quite numb.Then the venerable John sold out to dentist Turton, who loved filling teeth rather than pulling them. There was another dentist named Denning who came to the Gerringong school and operated in the Memorial Hall. He didn't have a motor-driven drill like Turton but had one which he operated with a foot pedal and sent the wheels spinning with a string belt running on pulleys, and when he got it up to speed the drill was applied. In the meantime, he wrapped his arm around your head, so he wouldn't drill a hole through your cheek if it jumped out of the hole he was making for the amalgam filling.  If he happened to hit your tongue with the drill he said 'sorry' in your ear but kept on drilling. He must have learned the value of a kerosene tin during apprenticeship, for he too, brought one along for the teeth the students could spare.But I think my worst and most memorable experience was with dentist Mr. Butler of Berry whom I called upon in later years. Two days after an extraction my jaw swelled up and rested on my chest for nearly a fortnight, and when I breathed, I was accompanied by a swarm of sympathetic blowflies who were disappointed that I stayed alive!   After a month my mouth had resumed its shape, and I went back for another extraction, and I'm blowed if the same thing didn't happen!I was rinsing my mouth with a wash of Condie's crystals three times a day, and my tongue needed a shave, but I was unable to shave either my face or my tongue for the next fortnight!That was an experience I hope never to repeat!Fortunately, I retained sufficient molars to see me through, aided by a few caps of gold and porcelain, and the expertise of modern practitioners that would have sent Dad turning Catherine-wheels if he knew what they charged, for what he paid was in cold hard cash, and there was no such thing as Medicare, nor any redress under the canopy of Heaven!Those were my father Clive’s experiences of dentists in the days of yore, a recurring nightmare for every young person. So if your children are whining about a visit to the dentists, tell them they’re lucky it’s 2024.

The Miller family in Gerringong has a long and distinguished history. There was never any shortage of Millers around if you wanted to make up a cricket or rugby league team. In fact, there were so many that on one occasion a cricket challenge match was arranged. One team had members of the Miller family, and the other was ‘leftover’ members of the Gerringong Cricket Club.Hedley Miller was a great man. In 1982, at the age of 70, he was asked to share some memories he had of his own family and of the Wodi Wodi people, who lived around the Gerringong area. The story was published in the original Gerringong and District Historical Society’s first newsletter.Note that some of the language used may be inappropriate today but in no way was any disrespect intended by the author to any person, quite the contrary. Hedley was one of several local people  who had nothing but the greatest respect for the Wodi Wodi people.Hedley Miller: I was seven-years-old when we came to live in Gerroa. This was pre-war, about 1913. Prior to that, my father was farming at Robertson. When the family had to shift everything to Gerroa we used sulkies, drays, carts, and everything was loaded. I was entrusted with driving a loaded dray down Macquarie Pass to Jamberoo in one day, while the riders brought the cattle down the mountain to 'Terragong House' where the Marks lived. We stayed there that night and milked the cattle, and came on the "Wingeewah' the next day. My brother Ray and I went to school at Gerringong and associated a lot with the blackfellows that lived at Gerroa. There were two camps, one at Werri Beach and one at Gerroa, the Dixons and Bloxomes, and they were nearly all girls. Joe Dixon was an old man, a wonderful old chap. There were 100 kids coming to the school, and I remember them. There were as many black kids as white kids. Now, at the time, Joe had been timber-getting down at David Berry's mob and one of the cedar logs had washed up on Seven Mile Beach. My brother Ray and I helped old Joe to roll the logs across the beach to his camp, which was over the river and east of the present bridge. Joe put in about nine months of hard labour chipping and made it into a cedar boat. Ray and I were the first white fellows to ride in Joe's boat. Now Joe had a sister, who was a wonderful woman, and she married a fellow by the name of John Bloxom. There were still a lot of Bloxoms in the Nowra district as far as I can ascertain. The Sims of Werri and the Dixons and Bloxoms of Gerroa were all under King Mickey of Minnamurra, which was their tribe. They were wonderful people. I recall Louie, Joe's daughter, used to sing at the school when we were kids. The Moon shines tonight on Pretty Redwings was the one she used to sing, and she won the prize at school.The only water that they got at the camp was at Malcolm's Hill on the ''Sand Track'. At one time I remember old Joe talking about some weed or other that got in the waterhole on the Hill. They went onto Bill Sharp's place where the windmill was in later years and there was a good spring there. They walked to school, the black children and all of us kids, there was no bus to take you to school those days. We had a sulky between the Stainer kids, the Walker kids and the Miller kids. Sometimes, the sulky had nine in it. The black children walked to school and there were quite a lot of them.Joe Dixon was an old man when this happened. He used to keep wickets for the old Crooked River team before and after the war, I expect.The Sims were at Werri beach. Old Jackie Sims used to work for the Sharpes (my wife's father) years and years ago. His great grandson Eric Simms played for South Sydney. Their camp was under the big figtree at Werri Beach, everyone knows where that is. They did have some disagreements, the Sims, Dixons and Bloxoms. But they were under King Mickey of Minamurra. I remember Joe telling me that they could not have any tribal law at all unless King Mickey sanctioned it. Joe was a big man, too. He grew a snow-white moustache in later years. He was a very fine old chap, Joe Dixon. Wal Dixon, Joe’s son, became a pretty good footballer for the Kiama Rugby League Club.I would like to correct an error from the last issue’s story on Gumboot throwing. I said that the chemist in Gerringong was Greg Wishart. I apologise – actually, it was Graeme.  

On August 11, 1859, the Municipality of Kiama was officially proclaimed, marking the birth of a community that would grow and evolve over the next 165 years. The municipality was divided into three wards: Jamberoo, Gerringong, and Kiama, laying the foundation for local governance.The first council meeting took place on September 26, 1859, at the Adams Hotel. James Colley was elected as the inaugural Mayor, leading a newly formed council that faced the challenges of defining the municipality's boundaries. In fact, the council had to reach out to the New South Wales Government to obtain an official map, highlighting the early uncertainties of municipal governance.Among the council's early initiatives was the establishment of a rates system - a decision that was met with immediate discontent among residents. Despite its unpopularity, the rates system has persisted and remains a cornerstone of local government funding.Thankfully, not all of the council's initiatives were met with such resistance. Over time, Kiama has blossomed into a vibrant hub of tourism, celebrated for its lush green hills, pristine beaches, scenic cycling and walking tracks, as well as a host of cultural attractions. From music festivals and artist trails to wineries, markets, and sporting events, Kiama draws visitors year-round, showcasing the area’s unique blend of natural beauty and cultural vitality.This thriving tourist scene stands in stark contrast to a rather scathing review from 1887, which described Kiama as “prettily situated, but one of the dullest places conceivable.” The writer did note one redeeming feature: “Just outside the town, near the lighthouse, is a wonderful freak of nature, the Kiama Blowhole.”As Kiama celebrates its 165th anniversary, it is clear that the town has transformed from a sleepy coastal village into a sought-after destination that continues to attract tourists and residents alike. Further information can be found on Council’s website: List of Mayors and Councillors 1957-2024.

Speaking to my sister the other day, she told me that Gerringong Church of England was having its 150th anniversary this year. Now I know that other people better qualified than me will be writing about the history of the church at some later date. However, I wanted to recall a funny moment 52 years ago.As a child the Church of England was a big part of my family’s life. I can distinctly remember going to church and Sunday School every Sunday. My Mum was poached from the Methodist Church to be an organist when she married Dad. You had to get dressed up in your ‘Sunday best’, clothes you only ever wore once a week. One enduring memory I have was going to Church on a windy night, as we have a lot of in Gerringong, and not being able to hear a single word the minister was saying.There were so many great people in the church community. Some in particular I remember were Tony Britten, a kind gentle, man who was superintendent of the Sunday School among other things. He lived in a lovely old house with beautiful grounds just out of Gerringong on the Princes Highway. Lauris Buckman was a lovely human being who always had a smile on her face. She lived by herself in what was then, the last house in Gerringong along the road out towards Weir’s farm. Greg Wishart was another that comes to mind. He and his wife Gwen ran the chemist's shop. He was a dynamic man and the sort of person you need to have in an organisation if you want things done. I seemed to recall he had a son who was a handy league player!The ministers like Canon Wesley Gurvin, Rev Len Harriss and Canon Dillon were men who did not just conduct sermons on Sunday. It was not a ‘job’, it was a passion. They were on call to administer spiritual advice whenever needed, for example providing benevolent comfort for a person at the end stage of their life. They always had a smile and a positive attitude.Back row G. Wishart, L.Buckman, M, Wrigley, D. Weir, E. Cullen, C. Emery, N. Parrish. Front O.Young, K.Johnson, Rev, L.J.Harriss, Canon W.D. Girvin, T. Cuthbertson, T. Britten. The Church committee 50 years agoBut of course this church was an integral part of what was, and still is to a lesser degree than 1972, a dairying town. At the Xmas party every year, little kids, including myself, would eagerly await the arrival of Santa in the church hall. We would sing Christmas carols and he would always walk in the door as we sang ‘Jingle bells’. It was consequently my favourite. I always noticed that Santa wore gumboots and thought they must be cold in the snow.Speaking of gumboots. Every year the church would have an annual picnic as most churches would do. It was a highlight of the year with lots of entertainment for the entire church and town community. Of course a big attraction was always the hayride behind one of the farmers with their tractor. But the church committee in 1972 wanted to come up with something a little different that year. Being a farming community, someone came up with the idea of a gumboot throwing competition.Some of the young members with Ivy Parrish on the rightOrganisation for this great competition began in earnest. A strict set of rules was written. This was not going to be a ‘hit and giggle’ affair. It was serious business. Maybe it might take off and even be an Olympic event!The church fair was a great success on a beautiful night in November that year. The gumboot throwing competition was indeed a crowd favourite with stiff competition for the glory of being number one. There may have been howls of laughter from the spectators watching grown men hurling a regulation sized gumboot like a hammer thrower in the Olympics but for the competitors, most of whom were dairy farmers, it was a matter of honour. I do not recall who was the ultimate winner. Maybe somebody out there in the Gerringong community has an old dusty trophy on the mantelpiece from 1972.Despite the intense work on the part of the church committee and the success of the competition, I do not recall it becoming an annual event and it quickly died out. I do remember reading, however, that Taihape, a town in New Zealand, no doubt a farming community, took on gumboot throwing as a serious sport and hosts a festival every year. The Anglican Church of Gerringong has a long history and has always been an important part of the local community. I am sure that it will continue to do so for many years into the future. Photo credit: Emery Archives

Life was tough 100 years ago but especially tough if you suffered an injury or became sick. When my Uncle Ivor was old, he told a story of when he was a little boy living in Lower Bucca which illustrates some of the difficulties faced. You have to realise that calling a doctor when you lived on a farm out of town was not as simple as ringing up and he would just pop around. Firstly, you often did not have access to a telephone in the house. Secondly a doctor may have to rig up the horse and cart, travel slowly on dirt roads across flooded creeks to where the patient was. Even if they had a car, it was not as reliable as the ones we have today.  On many occasions you were on your own for quite a while.My father worked in the bush as a timber cutter during the war. He recalled that serious accidents did happen, and a patient just had to endure the long and painful trip out of the bush for treatment. Childbirth for mothers to be, could be a nightmare.Two reflections below may make your hair stand on end but they are true.Ivor Emery lived in Foxground and Gerroa during his life and was, among other things, a brilliant cricketer in the Gerringong district. Ivor Emery: Our nearest doctor was in Coffs Harbour 16 miles away, and the nearest telephone in the town two miles distant, and thus it was first aid applied by either mother or dad, that had to suffice. Dad was particularly good at first aid, but if there was blood it shook mother up as she had to be his assistant. I remember having my little toe severed and the next almost the same. Dad applied kerosene and bound the toe back on and it grew quite well. Another time I was bitten by a black snake.The doctor's car was being repaired at the time. My uncle had ridden across the flooded creek for help - the bridge having been washed away in the flood - to ring for assistance. In his absence my dad administered first-aid before harnessing the horse in the sulky, and with me in my mother's arms, forded the flooded creek which rose up to their knees in the sulky.  We met the doctor in his car mid-way to Coffs, and he took my mother and I back to the hospital there. After some time I recovered.There were many accidents with workers in the bush. It was a significant part of pioneering. My uncle slashed his boot and foot when his axe slipped when log-cutting and nearby bled to death. Between Miss Gray and dad they attended him for two hours until the doctor arrived. They massaged his heart and administered spirits to his lips. The doctor wryly said that they had used enough spirits to keep a horse alive! My uncle recovered despite the significant consumption of the abovementioned spirits.Clive Emery continues with his memories:Clive Emery: When my siblings and I were young we suffered from all the usual diseases common to the schoolchildren of the day. Complaints like measles, blight, mumps, whooping-cough, croup, diphtheria, and sometimes constipation plagued us during our school days.  With four of us going to school at one time, if one caught the measles, the rest had to stay at home and mother, realising it would go through the house. She boarded us all in the one room so we would all catch it at the one time, and not be home for weeks on end. She was a good organiser, as time proved, and in no time our faces were spotted like a peewit's egg.  What with all our complaints and bruises I often wondered how we survived - the boys especially - because of the accidents we sustained. I think we only survived because dad was our doctor. (By a strange coincidence I have his elementary medical book in my library!)Perhaps one of the most painful things was a succession of boils I managed to contract on my limbs, and red streaks appeared at the nearest glands, be they in the groin or in the armpit, and they swelled. Boils had to run their course, and mother prepared hot poultices of bread and sugar to apply, to bring them to the bursting stage as soon as possible, when dad took over and opened them with his razor. They were so painful the limb had to be supported in a sling.At dad's judgement of the 'right time', a dish of hot water with salt was brought and the offending boil dipped therein until the pain equalled that of the infection. More hot water was brought and the bathing continued until the swelling burst and dad applied pressure to exude the matter and the wound cleansed with more salt water and bound up to heal.It was not until the advent of penicillin that boils just withered away.For bodily complaints castor oil was administered with the desired results, while cuts were healed by a single administration of kerosene, for that valuable commodity was responsible for dad's successes with his stock as well as his family - that and salt!’

By Clive EmeryJust another day in the life of a farmer - here’s a lovely story about Bobby - a calf that had to be hand reared. It was just a week since I had transferred all my cattle from the Blackhead area to the 'dam' paddock (so called because it was watered by an everlasting spring) constructed 45 years ago during one of the many 'dry' seasons the coast periodically experiences. The dam was situated below this eternal spring.I had waited to do the transfer of the cattle until a matronly beast had calved, and having observed the event was over and a little calf at her side, the cattle were called to the gate and admitted into a new paddock. They had hardly entered before they began to graze on the lush fresh pasture. Returning home, I marked down the date of transfer: 10.12.1995.On the morning of December 17, with breakfast over, I received a call from Vivienne Atkins of Gerroa to say that with the aid of her binoculars she could see a little black and white calf near Shelly Beach, and thought it could belong to me. I thanked her and said I would investigate at once, since I had recently transferred the cattle, and thought the calf could have slipped through the fence.The dawn found me with the cattle, and noted the mother and calf, which was pleasing to all parties. However since Shelly Beach was a considerable way off and the lady had taken the trouble to ring, I felt a thorough investigation should be done. As I crested the ridge and Shelly Beach came into view, sure enough there I spotted a calf resting near the boundary fence under the shelter of a small tree. Hastening down I found a little bull calf well and strong, and upon examination I found it to be a twin! It was apparent the Mother had brought it to life that night after the first birth, and it had slipped under the fence. The two calves had been born 600 metres apart!  Gathering the little fellow in my arms I carried him to the top of the hill to his mother. He could not have had any sustenance for seven days, and was indeed a hungry fellow. His mother was interested in him, but was not going to allow him to have a suck, and kicked him off each time he made an attempt to suckle her.I tried with the two calves, but she would only take her first-born and not the second. It was frustrating for all concerned. It had rained during the seven days, and her 'smell' on the little one was not strong enough for her to admit ownership of him, which is not unusual.I left them to become acquainted in peace, and would come over in the early morning, which is when mothers and babies usually suckle. It is a good time to be on hand to help.  However, the mother was still determined her second calf was not going to suckle her, and after half an hour with my help she consistently refused to cooperate.Gathering the little fellow in my arms once more I placed him in my lorry and brought him home to rear. My wife Elva was not amused at all at us having the responsibility of another baby, but relented rather reluctantly. It was twenty-six years since I had done such a thing, of which she was aware.'Bobby' I called him, and from the first moment he was an eager feeder, relishing the sweetened milk offered. I had an ideal shed for him in the back garden, and in a few days we became quite good friends, and it was not long before he recognised my voice and his own name, and would arise to welcome me immediately I called. While he fed he wagged his tail to demonstrate his enjoyment, and I massaged his back meanwhile, just as his mother would have done licking him, and he bunted the bucket just as he would if he was feeding from his mother.After each meal we would go for a race among the shrubbery in the back garden, with me leading the way. At first I would not try to elude him, but I soon found he could keep pace with me, and we made a game of it. I began to dodge among the bushes and he would take short cuts and catch me up and bunt me.As he grew stronger I changed his diet a little, and gradually encouraged him to eat grass and grain. I bought some calf pellets and introduced them to his diet by putting them in his mouth to chew, and after feeding time leave some in his bucket for later. Yesterday I caught Elva taking a peep at him over the fence and calling his name. She was pleased to see that Bobby was coming along so well.In time he was released into the grass paddock to care for himself, but he would always raise his head if anyone said the word 'Bobby'.I will miss him of course; he was so responsive, but one cannot go on racing about the garden like a madman, can one?

For those old enough to remember, this was a big moment in Australia’s history when 300,000 people in Adelaide gathered to see The Beatles. There were crazy scenes everywhere they went. Jimmy Nicol was the drummer in the band as Ringo was in hospital, although he joined the other three later in the tour. Jimmy had the best time. He could actually get out and walk the streets as nobody knew who he was. He got a gold watch and then disappeared from history.I was born in 1958 so I was only six but my brother David was nine years older and my sister Merelyn was seven years older so I grew up with the music. David had one of those portable record players and collected all the top singles.Apparently you were either a Beatles fan if you were ‘respectable’ or a Rolling Stones fan if you wanted to be a bit ‘naughty’ as the Stones were supposed to be rough, which is funny as the Beatles were not angels.The Beatles took over the music world in 1964.The adoration they received in the U.S.and Australia, and in many other countries, was unprecedented. Their influence on popular music in the 60’s was remarkable and that influence continued on for many years. I believe that this phenomenon will never be repeated.