​Right Here, Right Now, I’m looking at a framed, slightly crumpled, A4 poster ‘1990 Labour Day Concert’ featuring human rights activist and musician ‘Mercedes Sosa, the Voice of Latin America, Guitarro y Canto, with Yorta Yorta, Archie Roach and Mixed Relations’.  The place and time, Melbourne Concert Hall, Monday 12th March, 1990 8pm.

Even before living in Spain in 1976/7, I’d been interested interest in South American politics.  I can remember being disturbed by the death of Chilean president Salvadore Allende and the return of the Dictator, Augusto Pinochet in 1973.  When teaching English in Madrid in friends introduced me to the music of exiled Chilean musicians in ‘Inti Illimana’ and ‘Illapu’ and the bars at which exiled Chilean musicians could be found.  I remember the haunted faces of the singers and the moving, troubled words of the songs they sang, the poetry they shared.  When I left Madrid, friends gave me cassettes of their music, one of which I still have.  On return to Australia, I built up my collection of the music of the Chilean exiles, and in doing so came across the wondrous voice and music of Bolivian human rights activist, Mercedes Sosa. 

In 1989, Chilean exile musicians Illapu came to Melbourne.   I attended concerts at the Melbourne Concert Hall, and also two concerts in Castlemaine, near where I lived in Daylesford. 

The following year, in 1990, Mercedes Sosa came to Melbourne.  Advertisements appeared in ‘The Age’ for her Labour Day public holiday concert at the Concert Hall, I booked my ticket, thrilled to be able to see Mercedes Sosa in person, but also interested in hearing the music of the First Nations Australians who were her supporting acts.

While Mercedes was incredible, the high point of the concert for me was my introduction to the music of Archie Roach.  Archie had a way of quietening, of soothing his audience to a reflective state which enabled them to take in the words of the beautifully crafted songs he sang.  This certainly was my experience that night.  He had not long released his first album Charcoal Lane, which included ‘Took the Children Away’.   I can still remember the incredibly powerful effect it had on me, and still does. 
​
During interval, I noticed Archie standing alone at the side of the room, quietly watching the mingling crowd.  I had been so moved by his music I felt that I wanted to let him know this.  In a brief encounter, I went up to Archie, explained how profoundly moved I was by his music, and thanked him.  He nodded, thanked me quietly, and I moved away.

The treasured poster, which I’ve had for over thirty years know, evokes vivid memories of listening to Archie sing on Labour Day, 1990, and of speaking to him after the show.

At 9am this morning, before leaving Melbourne for Warrnambool; Archie’s cortege drove through inner Melbourne, briefly at places including Charcoal Lane and Cleveland Gardens .  At 2 pm, as we began our class, Archie’s cortege is expected to arrived at the Gunditz Mara Health Service, Warrnambool for a gathering from 2 to 3pm.

Rest peacefully at Framlingham, Archie.  Thank you for your music.


Beverley Lee
August 22, 2022

Post-script - I searched on Trove to see if they had information about the Concert - other sources may appear over time, but I did find this one from 'the Tribune'

​Bushfires came, houses burnt, lives changed forever,
Animals died and people too.
 
Floods came, houses and possessions washed away,
Animals drowned and people too.
 
Covid came and affected us all
Mentally, physically, financially, or all three.
 
The rain came back,
More floods, more damage, more death.
 
Covid came again and again and again,
Until we thought we couldn't take any more.
 
Now there is war and famine
And global warming affecting us all
 
But we are still here,
With family and friends around us.
 
How shall we live in this new normal,
What will we do?
 
Give thanks for what we have,
it is greater than what we have lost.
 
Treat yourself kindly
That you may bring joy to others.


Jenny Monger
​August 2022

​Right here, right now, I am struggling to fulfill a promise I made to my cousin, Des Ryan, to write my father's story. I realised this would not be an easy project and so farmed it out to my siblings, seeking their input. In many ways this has made the project more difficult as we all suffer from Procrastination to some degree or other.   I initiated the process in September last year and had hoped to have completed it by Easter, but four months later the end is nowhere in sight.
 
In the intervening months there have been several deaths.  After attending another funeral last Friday, I decided to bite the bullet and issued a deadline warning to all involved. As Des turned 91 this year, I feel a sense of urgency to complete this task whilst he is still with us. Thus, I have stated all contributions need to be with me no later than the end of September.
 
My daughter, Michele, in charge of the technical side, has suggested we do a timeline of his life, with insertions from his various progeny relating to their memories of their Father. As there were ten children over a twenty-year period, one can imagine memories and opinions of him vary greatly.  Added to this, my father worked as a doctor in many different locations which adds another layer to his story.
 
Des has been the main contributor of his cousin's early life, although Des was sixteen years younger. The two cousins remained close throughout my father's life and visited one another regularly, although on opposite sides of the globe for the last forty years.
 
To date, no one has the story of my parents meeting, but who knows, this mystery may be solved during this undertaking. Fortunately, his school and university days are available in various archives and some of the photos have been a surprise.  I had never thought my father was involved in sport to the degree that is obvious from the various teams he participated in.
 
I have found this whole process to be a test of my endurance, but there have been several discoveries along the way and, as a result, an increased awareness of my father and the influence he has had on all our lives.
 
It has been suggested that “we” need to do a similar project on my mother's life, but that is in the future.  As to who “we” is, I have my suspicions that it is none other than yours truly.
 
Right Here, Right Now, I am looking forward to completing this project and presenting Des with a copy of the finished article.
 
I think “Herding Cats” might have been easier.
 
 
Margaret McCrohan,
August 2022

​I originally prepared this memoir talking about a friend who is 101 years old. He is my inspiration for living a rich, reflective and to a degree, risk-taking life.
 
In planning to use him as my example, I think I was hiding the uncertainties and ambivalences I am presently experiencing. As an alternative to talking about him, which can be done at another time, I am driven to be more authentic.
 
I first visited Benalla in November last year. I had walked one block from the railway station and was enchanted by two murals, a young boy with rainbow hair and a tall Rabbit on the corner of Benalla and Carrier Streets. I knew then that Benalla was where I wanted to live. I love and have grown a variety of roses.  I am attracted to the warmth and friendliness of a city that feels in many ways like a country town. I am very grateful for the wisdom and succor of U3A and making tentative steps to renewing a relationship with the Uniting Church.
 
A few years ago, I wrote a family history based upon the lives of the fifteen individuals and families who, for a wide variety of reasons, left England, Scotland, Ireland and Denmark and came to NSW.  I prefaced my history with a quote from a Nobel prize winning author, Andre Gide:
 
‘You cannot discover new oceans unless you first lose sight of the shore.’
 
A third of my ancestors had no choice in leaving the shore. They were convicts.
Another third arrived on these shores as a result of economic necessity.
The final third came seeking opportunities to create a more prosperous life.
 
Leaving Tathra on the southern coast of NSW, I have literally left the shore perhaps looking for an inland sea.
 
Right here, right now! I am interrupted by an email from cherished friend:
 
‘Looking forward to discussions about what we run toward and what we leave behind’:
 
Oh, oh!  Here is the challenge.

My ancestors left much behind. Most left family never to see again. One left a young child too small for the journey with a single dad and his three other daughters. One, a convict in his late thirties, left a wife and children, whom family researchers until recently knew nothing about.

But some also were running from - poverty, lack of employment opportunities, perpetual incarceration and perhaps one or two with a broken heart.

In addition to running towards, I have also run away!

From a toxic environment which diminished self-esteem and which at times raised questions about my own safety.

From a failed relationship which challenges my pride and diminished my ability to give to others.

Right here, right now, I am feeling grateful.

For, at that most difficult time, finding friendships and opportunities for self expression, from which I had turned my back.

For now, a warm house, a lovely garden and a bolt hole which will become a nurturing environment for my growing grandchildren.

For the opportunity to live alone, to take full responsibility for the decisions I make, my good health and an environment nurturing of my expanding skill set, my commitment to sustainable living and my spirituality.

Right here, right now. I say thank you. To you who offer time to hear my stories.
 
Graham Jensen
August 2022

​RIGHT HERE, I am in my adopted hometown of Benalla.
 
I arrived here in February 1950 as a 17 year old school leaver for my first job, as a clerk with the Victorian Producers Co-Op (VPC).
 
Within a short period, I had met with the Hernan family, (John, Francie and their 7 children).  They gave me the home which I had never previously experienced.
 
(My mother died when I was 4 years old and I was taken from my father and housed and schooled with the Sisters of Mercy at Villa Maria in Ballarat East.)
 
I settled into Benalla and over time:
 
I married a Benalla girl – Bernadette Cooke

We built our own home,

Operated the Benalla Coin Laundrette for 17 years,

Had 4 children who succeeded at school and obtained secure employment,

Have 11 grand-children,

Studied for 7 years as a “mature aged” student,

Graduated as both a C.P.A. and a Chartered Accountant,

Went into business in an accountancy practice,

Became heavily involved in an honorary capacity in community affairs,

Was awarded an O.A.M. in Queens Birthday Honours of 2013 for that involvement,

Have been a member of the Benalla Lawns Club for 60 years,

Played more than 700 games of Pennant Bowls in the Ovens and Murray Association,

Was a Trustee of the Benalla Cemetery Trust for 43 years,

Have been a Rotarian for 37 years.

 
RIGHT NOW, I am in my twilight years, having recently celebrated my 90th birthday.
 
On looking back, I reminisce on a negative:
 
In the mid to late 1950’s I worked with the VPC in St Arnaud and Wodonga and boarded in rural hotels.  This was a backward move and I suffered from nervous debility.
 
But I can also reminisce on the many positives.  I had a very strong work ethic and can thank a Wagga Wagga neurologist for counselling me to – “study accountancy and work for yourself”.  I also had a loving family life, a successful business career and a relaxing sixty seasons on the bowling green.  I now live a contented, satisfied life.
 
Looking forward, what do I see?  A continuance of this contented life until the approaching, ultimate ….. death….. and the hereafter which cannot be too far away.
 
What of the hereafter?  My Christian upbringing tells me that I can expect retribution for my transgressions or eternal reward for a life well lived.
​
However, seemingly, current popular belief tells me that I can expect a “nothingness”.  This belief contradicts my Catholic teaching of a “resurrection of the body and life ever after”.
 
I wait in anticipation, and am comforted by having read only last week, a book titled “Heaven is for Real”.  It details the experience of a four-year old boy, Colton, who suffered a ruptured appendix and was critically ill.  Despite the adverse odds, (the surgeon thought he was beyond recall), the boy miraculously survived to tell his startled father that he had been “in Heaven, on Jesus’ lap” and told of meeting deceased family members, whose youthful photos he actually identified.
 
The rest I leave up to you!
 
 
Ray O’Shannessy,
15 August 2022

​While bath-time was happening, our father disappeared into the shed only to reappear when the bathing was over. Then he inspected everyone’s shoes. Out came the Nugget polish and polish brushes. He polished our shoes until they were gleaming. He would tell us stories of how soldiers had to have well-polished boots, not that he had ever been in the army.

He would also tell us how some people only polished the front of their shoes. They only half did the job. He said that when they were kneeling in church the unpolished heels were on display for all to see. This seemed to be his way of deciding who were competent workers. I sometimes glance at the back of shoes in church and think of my father.
 
When our shoes needed repairs his cobbler skills came into play. He was adept at mending our footwear. He had all the cobbling equipment needed for repairing worn shoes and boots – a cobblers last, a paring knife and an awl, hammer, brads, a sheet of rigid leather, hemp string, and a chunk of hard wax to coat the hemp.

Post Script....

"Right here in Benalla, right now there is an earthquake!"
 
One hour later: This month’s prompt was very apt for this story. While writing the above the earth rumbled, the ground shifted, and the house shook – a 5.9 earthquake at 9.15am on 22 September 2021.

Our house was violently shaking. I was shaking. Sean was shouting “get out”. The dog was barking. The cat was running all over the place to find somewhere to hide. I was calling the cat. Never having experienced such a phenomenon before it caused uncertainty and was frightening. All is calm now...

Elizabeth

I have always loved and related to old houses and antique furniture.

The only new house we have ever lived in was a mid-century box shape on stilts at Broulee, a seaside village on the South Coast of NSW. We had some happy times there in our holiday house with four of our six children, but as you can guess, life became too busy with weekend sport, etc., so we let it go (at a good price).

The most exciting house we ever lived in was “Blue Haze”, a 16th century thatched house in Berkshire, UK, not far from Oxford. It comprised three farm cottages formed into one house, set in a large formal garden. It oozed history. It had a fresco on the wall of an upstairs bedroom where the Catholics used to hide from Cromwell. It had the original four poster bed in it. The locals had many stories about who used that bedroom but we kept it for guests from Australia who came to stay. We were very poor living on Frank’s Fellowship allowance but rich in accommodation.

Right now we live in one of the oldest cottages in Benalla, “Barkly Cottage” in Barkly St. When we decided to down size on to flat ground, we sold Market St with its lovely outlook over the park and looked for a smart villa with a courtyard garden – nothing to be found in Benalla at that time. When I walked into 66 Barkly St with its pretty front garden, I felt a sense of “I’m Home” come over me! The front bedroom was derelict, every window and door seemed to need attention, but the newer part of the house was in good condition.

I saw the courtyards on either side, while the ancient grape vine hovering over one of the courtyards offered a piece of Tuscany for outside dining in hot weather.

The backyard was an uneven paddocks of weeds. My idea of a courtyard had grown beyond all expectations and now is too much for us. The back is now landscaped, but needs little kids to play on the huge flat lawn.

The front bedroom is now a study with bookshelves filling the wall. Peter Maher did the renovation over a 12 month period. He built cupboards and shelves, fitted them in place both in the study and other rooms, then turned painting the exterior along with general maintenance to exterior cladding. The kitchen remains dated but a joy to work in with its lovely timber benches.

The history of Barkly Cottage is interesting and goes back to the original Crown Grant of the land to James Swords in 1853. The Blackburne family lived here with nine children!

One of the interesting and well known occupants was Lorna Blair, residing here between 1962 to1981. By this time the block had been subdivided from 2023m2to 927m2. I sometimes feel her spirit in the house.

NOW

On Wednesday 22nd September I was in the kitchen at 9:18 am when I heard a tremendous roar. Suddenly everything started vibrating, until it became more violent. The house shook, a strong wind blew inside the house (nothing was open to the outside). I thought a helicopter had crashed on the roof. The floor rose and fell in waves. Yet we don’t seem to have any damage.

At 9:20 am I wondered if Lorna was disturbed in her grave.

NOW really, during an earthquake, you don’t want to be sitting in a kitchen of a house with home-made bricks and with the original hand-made glass, and wonder about its history!

At 9:20 am it had all stopped. We were lucky, and amazed that even the old chimney is still standing.
​
Thank you Lorna!


Valerie Dunin
​September 2021

​Is it possible to channel Leopold Bloom and Ivan Denisovich? Can I make my life interesting enough to compare to these two gentlemen? Can I write what is happening in my life and not divulge til after halfway through that I am Jewish? Can I write the complete description of one whole day where the best I can hope for is to not get ill?  I know it's possible to describe the events of one day, but what are we to make of it?

Lots of things still happen. In spite of all the worry we have not yet come to a complete standstill.

In a way we have reached the living standard of the 19th Century Aristocrat. Our lives have become exercises in doing nothing. We indulge in ritual to keep up medication. We spend more time on dressing. And are things worthy of consideration where we are only at the periphery of events. Can we ever describe things truthfully?

We might well ask – what is going on with the world. Can we possibly say what is happening?

How could we put the minutiae of what is happening in the world in a bottle.

At this particular time on our planet we are immersed in a great argument over whether a worldwide pandemic is legitimate. We have a substantial minority who believes that the Covid 19 virus has been hoisted on the world by a Deep State of elite figures headed by Bill Gates amongst others in order to increase their own power. Indeed the previous President of The United States advised that the pandemic was a hoax and the illness infecting the population was nothing more than a mild flu. We have close family members who believe passionately that they should have the right to refuse a covid vaccine. We have family members who passionately believe that vaccines produced by pharmacy manufactures are only experimental and are therefore dangerous to the public. We are told by others that the Pharmacy Companies are taking advantage of the situation and are enjoying great profit taking from the manufacture of vaccines.

We have friends who passionately believe that there is a worldwide push to unite the forces of the left in a conspiracy to take over the world and shut down the much cherished freedoms enjoyed by individuals up to this point. The virus which supposedly originated in China has been hoisted on the rest of the world to hasten this takeover. The deep state is infecting everyone who accepts the vaccine with a miniature chip that can then track that person for the rest of their life.

After the virus spread amongst the general community we have been subject to a series of lock downs. The public has been confined to their homes to stop the spread of the virus. So far this has been relatively successful. Australia has an advantage in that it is an island with secure borders and each state has the power to shut the borders tight. This has led to complaints in some quarters. Self interest has generated most complaints. The Government has however been able to convince the public that considering the bigger picture is the most responsible tactic in dealing with the pandemic.

On an individual level some of us have enjoyed the lock downs more than others. Anyone who previously enjoyed watching Television has been able to indulge themselves without feeling an enormous amount of guilt. People who were previously accused of wasting their lives watching television have had their revenge. Except it has transpired that unfortunately there is a limited amount of worthwhile TV to watch. The suppliers of streaming services have had a bonanza but even this source of enjoyment is close to drying up. No one knows what will occur when this happens.

Sometimes people have been able to experiment with things they often thought about but did not have the time to indulge in previously. People have been able to spend more time on the preparation of food and have been able to make slight charges to their diet. Hopefully for the better.

If I were to channel Ivan and Leopold I would say my day is this.

I get up and feed the birds. I try and commune with both Cockatoos and King Parrots. The Cockies re introverted and uninterested in me. The King Parrots are much more friendly and appear much more intelligent but are intimidated by the Cockies.

I indulge myself in long showers because there is no hurry to be anywhere.

I prepare myself a vegetarian breakfast that I hope includes all the required nutrients for a healthy body. This procedure takes approx an hour but I have the time and I listen to the BBC as I am preparing the ingredients. The Micro wave oven makes this an easy exercise. What did we do before we had microwave ovens.

I check the daily TV guide and set my recording box up to record anything worth while that is being transmitted on that day. I have the ambition to not watch what is on TV at the moment but to watch what I have considered worth watching on TV. Hence I record a number of programmes in order to watch at a later time.

I have a leisurely breakfast catching up on what I have recorded over that past few days or even past few weeks.

I sometimes have a post breakfast snooze. This can be guaranteed to always fill up my energy tank.

I cannot get through all these rituals before 12 noon.

In the afternoon I might go out and inspect the garden. And consider what I should be doing for its upkeep.

But I can always claim that the lock down says I should be inside and return to the safety of the lounge with its relaxing pillows.


Neville Gibb
​September 2021

At the close of 2019 we had a wonderful family Christmas at our daughter’s house, sharing hugs and looking forward to the new year.  At that stage there were whispers of a new virus in a province of China, a deadly and very contagious disease. We wondered if we were remote enough in Australia to dodge it.

In the New Year, our worst fears were realised -- planes and cruise ships brought thousands of people into Australia in a very short time, and some of them already had the virus. Sadly authorities were inexperienced in coping with the situation, isolation was not strict enough, or in the hands of experienced people, and the virus had a hold.

New rules for living were put into place for this disease spread by droplets. Everybody was to social distance, no socialising in groups and masks to be worn in public. Sadly this meant family gatherings like funerals and weddings were very limited, theatres and restaurants closed as well as sports venues and markets. Schools needed to be closed to all but special needs children, so lessons were done at home via internet.

Sadly, numbers kept climbing, and stage 3 restrictions came into play. People in the cities were allowed out only for urgent reasons eg. Food shopping, medical and banking, and travel was limited to a short distance. Active cases and deaths still rose, so stage 4 was activated in Melbourne. This meant 1 hour exercise daily, and a curfew between 8pm and 5am, and only 1 family member allowed out shopping. Of course essential workers and those still lucky enough to have a few hours work were exceptions. Masks were to be worn at all times in public and fines handed out to those people who took the rules lightly.

In a short time our lives had changed so much. We wondered is this the future, continual isolation and masks, and worst of all, no face to face contact with our families. At times it seems like something out of a science fiction movie.

The world has had plagues in the past. Especially in the Middles Ages, when villages shut themselves from the rest of the world. There have been serious influenza epidemics, Spanish flu took 1000’s of lives (more than ww2), Asian Flu, Sars and Aids have all been very worrying. Influenza mutates and is difficult to keep up with, but yearly injections have helped. COVID 19 will also mutate and if and when a vaccine is found, it will most likely be a yearly event.

We are old and vunerable, and have had a good life, but I feel for our children and grandchildren. What will happen when our borders are opened again to overseas travellers. My husband and I being farmers are used to relative isolation and growing our own vegetables, but the future generations will need to alter their style of living. A vaccine is the only hope, but from past epidemics eg. Polio, we know this can take time. 

On a brighter note, we have computers and mobile phones to keep up contacts. How I look forward to video chats with the family, birthdays celebrated by video (even Thomas and Caitlin’s toys have birthday parties).

Perhaps by Christmas we will all be together again.
​
 
Margaret Nelson
August 2020

A week or so ago, I helped farmer friends marshal their cows and heifers into a crush so a veterinarian could pregnancy test them.

I don’t think the cattle I’ve worked with over the years have ever been willing participants in an operation that forces them into a long race and then into the ultimate indignity of a 40cm probe with camera being inserted into their back ends. (For those who once watched All Creatures Great and Small, the probe was always a vet’s long arm).

The heifers on this day were maybe easier to handle because they were smaller and had not suffered such treatment before. But they all emitted voluminous streams of urine and faeces, to indicate their extreme nervousness, as we herded them up to the race. Strangely they seemed more settled once they were in the race and could see their colleagues moving along it and eventually exiting its confines.

Armed with a plastic paddle to prod the girls into place - the paddles are designed to emit much more noise than pain - my job was to extract about 10 cows or heifers from a yard of say 30, into three smaller pens and ideally reduce that number to four, closest to the start of the race. That was a number that gave me room to avoid aforesaid liquid projectiles and the odd kicking hoof. Strangely I nearly avoided all that as we jostled the best part of 200 cows and heifers up the race.

Towards the end of four hours I knew I was getting tired and attempted to be even more careful around vigorous back ends. However, I eventually copped a firmly planted hoof in my left calf and not much later, one cow strongly objected to my urging and simply bowled me over as she charged to the back of the yard.

The kick hardly hurt and being knocked over, thankfully, affected me little, apart from my clothes being considerably messier.

Shortly after the second incident, while questioning me about my health, the herd’s owner asked me if I had noticed that the cow that knocked me over, had also jumped over me.
​
On reflection, 'right here, right now', I'm most grateful for that, because if she hadn’t, it might have been more like a fairly gory moment from the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
 
David Palmer
August 2020

​Right here, right now, our world is in the grips of a pandemic known as Covid-19.  There is so much going on around our own state to keep us confused.  Rules and regulations change daily, how does one remember it all?  I am saddened to hear of so many deaths of the frail and vulnerable in nursing homes.  Others who live alone must feel so isolated from the world right now.  I can’t see any of my family as they all live across the border, yet we keep in touch the best we can.  I am patiently waiting for the day I get to see my children and grandchildren.

Coping in isolation has been relatively easy for Geoff and I.  We have both had many and varied tasks to complete, we also created extra’s.  Geoff spent many hours during the first lockdown cutting firewood for family and friends.  This he would mostly do alone, sawing the wood for others to collect in their own space and time.   He has since closed in two sides of our back veranda, creating an open ended laundry, so much nicer on cold wet days for the washer woman.  He has also completed the capping bricks around the house.  This was about 22 years after the house was built, it looks so much better now.  Geoff also made a lockable carry box to fit the caravan which holds a generator.  He is temporarily back at work near Mitre 10.

He and I have been helping a friend by feeding hay to 4 or 5 paddocks of cattle twice a week.  This gets us out of the yard for a couple of hours at a time.  Some weeks this is my only outing.

I have been completing many UFO’s (Unfinished Objects!).  Strip pieced placemats/coasters started in 2006; cushion tops x 5 almost done; a crocheted jug cover(too far back to remember); knitting beanies/ scarves for grandies and charity; making masks / pot holders; shopping bags;  lots of gardening.

The best part of lockdown has been Geoff and I spending much more quality time together, completing many chores in each other’s company. He reinforced Dad and Mum’s wooden box before I painted it.  He made a new step stool for the caravan, I painted it.  Geoff dug areas of the vegetable garden which I filled with seeds or plants.  We pruned every plant needing attention.  We have also enjoyed many hours in the evenings, watching his personal videos of music festivals, fishing trips, tractor treks, horse riding trips or general holidays.

I hope this pandemic ends soon so I can be re-united with my family and friends in NSW, re-join U3A groups, go to the library or out for dinner/coffee etc, get back in the pool, and no longer have to wear masks.

Maxine Gardiner
August 2020

​This continued isolation for Covid 19 is doing my head in right here, right now!!!!!!!!!

At times I have been talking to the walls. Any day now I swear they will answer and I will know then that I have really lost it.

Living alone with these restrictions is not for sissies and requires dedication Prior stage 3 lock-down I had no great problems with the restrictions. My project was to paint the inside of the house and that certainly helped fill in the time.

Immediately after that I found myself in hospital for 3 weeks and on arrival home found myself with little energy and even less motivation. That was when the rot started to set in. I thought jail might be an easier alternative. No housework, no shopping, no gardening and best of all no cooking!

After getting our of bed on one occasion I thought to myself “Why should I make the bed? No one sees it but me”. So I didn’t make it. I also figured with no likely visitors I could swan around for the rest of the day in my PJ’s ……...so I did. Next day I gave myself a really good talking to. I realised it would be really easy so slip into lassitude and daily monotony.

I asked a friend around for Devonshire Tea on a Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining and we enjoyed a good chat soaking up it’s rays. The sun really does lift the spirits even if the air is chilly. I also organised a Trivia night on Zoom for the Gliding Club. That was the most people I have conversed with in one sitting. It was therapeutic to enjoy the company of others even if contact was via a tiny photo on screen. It was great to have a laugh.

I now set myself a target of some sort for the day to give myself a sense of purpose. It may be something simple such as clean the fridge or tidy that cupboard. I find reaching those little goals allows me to feel happier in myself.

Like us all I miss family contact and hugs………..I really miss my hugs…………

​The fact that we know there is light at the end of the tunnel is a time to work toward.

The walls and I can’t wait

Claire Rudolph
August 2020

Listening to Dan talk about our incredible amazing time with this Virus has become a way of life for me. And I have to confess: Covid Isolation suits me nicely! I am an Isolate. During this worrying incredulous time in our lives has been a time of self realisation.

I moved to Strathbogie thirty years ago and lived a life with my Cavaliers and my Garden and my Tutoring. I only ventured into town for my work and shopping. The rest of the time I stayed tucked away in the Hills of the Strathbogie Ranges. I did not realise I was an isolate at the time; all I knew was that I loved living in my home tucked away beside the noisy creek; and across the road from the sheep lambing in the paddock. If I woke at night I would hear the newborns bleating for their first nurture from their Mum. I could hear the creek letting me know it was still moving and rumbling across the rocky base. And I could hear my Cavaliers snoring in their kennels. All I knew was that I was content. I never knew I was an Isolate.

Time to move out of the Hills and down I came. First Violet Town and now Benalla where I will stay. It was quite an adjustment. The mobile phone worked; the TV reception worked; my garden was smaller; I could walk to the shops and I did not mow for three hours a week. Cars travelled past the door and so did people. There was even a Supermarket and a Library. A vast civilised change from one General Store and four cars a night going past the gate.

Benalla has offered me; company, hobbies and wonderful people to share my interests with. Then I could scurry back to my home and be content that I had been out socially Active. I loved my time away from home. Society demands that we be social to some extent. Then Covid hit us like I have never experienced before. And self realisation set in.

The first thing I discovered was that I am a Vulnerable. Not just old but a vulnerable. And that was scary. The Virus is and has killed people with my auto immune problems in my age group. So I follow the rules to a T. This because I don't want to go out to any virus.

And I was fascinated with the development of this virus. The adaptations of the media and us general population people. I look forward to Dan's reports every day. I feel I am doing the right thing by listening and hearing other people's views. If I didn't do this I would be a true isolate who did not care; or an isolate who cared so much that life held nothing but fears.

​Privileged absolutely; I am comfortable in my multi roomed home with good heating and all my lovely memories around me. Plenty of food and Supermarkets within walking distance. I love the fact that no one is coming in the door. That I can plan my day without interruption and without feeling bad that I am not being social. Because I am not social. Lunches are my thing.

I just love to be invited as I have been socialised to believe that to not be invited is to reflect something wrong with myself. And I still love to be invited and I probably answer an invitation by attending but I am always an early leaver. Unless there is dancing and then I stay on to dance and enjoy the music. But that is not social. Just loving movement and dance and music of all kinds.

Did you know there are orchestral concerts on Utube. Did you know there is ballet on Utube. Do you know that you can feed in any artist or instrument and Utube tells you where to find them. I fed in OBOE the other day and I found great Oboe concerts to love. And listening to them in isolations is superb for me. Comfortable, warm and great music playing through the home. Magic stuff!

​I am playing Bridge online and enjoying Demystifying Psychology and now I am writing again. None of this would have developed without The Virus/Covid. And I wouldn't have discovered that Isolation suits me. I am an Isolate and quite frankly I love it.

But my family is all Over the Border or in Melbourne. So one thing I am missing is them and HUGS. They don't mind me not being around all the time because I am an Isolate and some of them are too. But those HUGS will be looked for as soon as the Restrictions are done with. HUGS AND LAUGHS and then back to being a Happy Isolate again. Doing my own thing but making sure people know I Love Them.

Helen Duggin 
24/08/2020

​Judy Perry
August 2020

​Two wild ducks are slowly crossing the deserted main street in Goorambat. There’s no hurry as there’s no traffic. This is a regular morning excursion for them and portrays life in a very small country town in our second lockdown during this pandemic. They are going to the Hotel that is closed.

With the highly infectious Covid 19 virus worsening in Victoria a “State of Disaster” has been declared.  In regional Victoria we enter another six weeks of stage three restrictions. There are only four reasons to leave home; a medical appointment, brief shopping, work or study and exercise.  We can’t have anyone visiting our homes. On Sunday afternoon there were joyful cries as two women friends met accidently on the footpath.

Life on my corner block has become very quiet. I have only one neighbour who lives behind his seven foot fence. The park and the empty Hall are on the other side and the grain silos opposite.
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The tourists who thronged our small town viewing our silo art, no longer visit. There is no one admiring the bright eyes of Millie the barking owl who adorns the full length of a tall concrete silo. No eager tourists with cameras and drones record the lifelike painting of the three working draught horses on the silo opposite my house.

The New South Wales border is closed. The empty V/Line bus that now runs from Yarrawonga and connects with trains at Benalla swishes through the town six times a day without stopping. No one waits at the bus stop, no one gets off. The radio plays the rhythmic beat of the song, “Living in a ghost town!”

Passing the local cemetery I see the stark reality of the pandemic; a funeral where the only mourners are five men in navy suits standing distanced from each other around a freshly dug grave.

A rumble on a rough patch of road heralds a truck going to the silos. Any activity over there has become company. The sound of wheat being loaded onto the truck is of welcome manmade origin!

The most positive experience is collecting our mail from the post office.  Here those who are living alone have contact with other people. We smile behind our masks and greet each other with enthusiasm. Our postmistress radiates good cheer from behind her safety screen.

Bird life is restricted by human activity. With no one around varieties and numbers have increased and the bird song is beautiful.  Brightly coloured parrots lift our spirits. A friendly honey eater is already conning me to share the coming fruit harvest.

Now that we have “Time,” we have no excuse to procrastinate.  All those tasks that we have pushed aside can now be done.

In my quiet corner of the world, peace reigns. This day is mine to mould as I wish. There is no pressure, there’s nothing I have to do, but so much that can be achieved. Friends and family have become even more important. Although they are far away I can sit down with a coffee and the phone for a pleasant interlude.

When I was very young I promised myself that someday I would spend some time alone. In later years I completely changed my mind.  Be careful what you wish for! That time is here; right now.

We look forward to better times to come. 

Beverley Morton
August 2020