Dad occasionally let me come with him to the Regional Country Party Meeting. One year it was in Berrigan. He and Bert Cavanagh (from Conargo) who like Dad, was ready for any innovation, had become very involved with the New State Movement for the Riverina. The plan was to secede from NSW, whose government was ripping off the graziers with high taxes. I was about nine years old, I think. I remember being fascinated by the MEN’S obsession.

Country Party meetings were usually all men, mostly old, all with the white ring around the forehead, caused by the hat – and they all wore very similar hats. The few women present were out the back preparing supper (I preferred the meeting).

This night they were discussing how to get the wool to the Wool Sales up in Sydney (Melbourne was ruled out). “Sail it up the Murray on paddle steamers - safe from theft etc., on the roads”. I put my hand up to ask the question, “Who owns the Murray, Vic or NSW? Staying in the middle is not between States. NSW owns the Murray!"

The room fell silent. No one had thought of that! This was ultimately the end of the New State Movement as no one could think of a way to keep the wool clip safe en route to the Wool Sales. Either State would hit the trucks or boats with tax on the sales of the wool. Dad went to the West to talk to Prince Leonard – and was not impressed.

The cringe was – remembering how men came to Dad and congratulated him. “Geez she’s smart” said one of them.

“Yes” said Dad, “Pity she’s only a girl”.

This comment haunted me for most of my life – being a second rate HUMAN and life would be measured by my misfortune in being born a girl.

V. A. Dunin,
​October 2021

​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

Actually, there have been several “Maxes” in my families’ lives.

Our second son Tim named his only son Max, after Max McBride, his inspirational teacher at the ANU music school. He encouraged Tim to believe in himself, and to achieve his dream of a career with the Vienna Philharmonic.

My part was to raise the necessary funds. This was achieved by the timely sale of my family property, the assistance of an Austrian government scholarship and support from Nicky Lauder, who owned Austrian Airlines, and transported the double bass for free. Tim is still in Vienna and is now a music professor at Graz University campus at Oberschutsen, and is a foundation member of the Australian World Orchestra. Tim now teaches his students with the same passion Max taught him, and in turn changes lives.

We have a granddaughter in Canberra, Lily, who has a disability. She was given a scruffy little dog she called Max. We love her little Max, who understands his job description is to protect and love Lily. He truly is her best friend.

My mentor was Frank’s mother, Maxine, known as Max. Our second daughter is named Fiona Maxine after her. Our first daughter is named Catherine after Max’s mother. Maxine was a short, stocky, chain smoking, generous, Catholic woman of Irish descent .She was born in Mansfield where her father was a policeman, and a close friend of Sargent Kennedy, whose daughter became Max’s godmother. Max grew up in awe of the Church, the nuns (who she really hated) and the hierarchy of the Church. Her hero was Archbishop Mannix, whose picture hung right in front of the front door of her home, for good effect in case the priest came to visit!

Like Max, I did not drive, had always lived with home economics students who would not let me cook, and after boarding school and having a cook at home on Marong, I had no idea how to be a domestic goddess!!   I would often call her for instructions on the finer points of cooking, like “why does my meat sauce burn on to the bottom of the saucepan and stick like concrete?” She advised Frank to cook breakfast before driving me to work, otherwise we would both probably die of starvation!

We have now been married for 57 years.   I have improved on the domestic front, cooked for six children, carried on teaching, and had a very close relationship with Max, my mother in law and great friend until her death in 1970, when I had the courage to learn to drive. This gave me independence, although Max would not have encouraged it!

Valerie Dunin
May 2021