Boy did I laugh when I read this article. With a few modernizations it could easily have been written for current times.
The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser 31 May 1890 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article18989427
In this 1890 article Robert J. Burdette lays out his plan to ensure a life of ease if he was a woman. It sounds a bit like he is plotting to use similar tactics if he ever gets the chance.
I love all of these little tricks he mentions though; ensuring the fire goes out every time you touch it and ruining the laundry, both with the reasoning your hopelessness means you will never be expected to do it again.
His strategy on bread cracked me up, making the first loaf so hard that when it is dropped on the dog it kills him, serving the purpose of not being relied upon to bake bread again, and getting a new dog. Mean, but funny…
The nasty tactic to get the shady back seat in the cart was very inventive, although the driver you poke with the umbrella might not think so, and the plans to get all the attention in the theatre, church, the cricket and the tennis is probably similar to those practiced in crowds every day by those who love to be noticed.
I bet you all know someone who uses these kinds of tactics.
Just thinking about how a man would be able to point out so clearly what must be done in order to get out of having to perform unpleasant duties made me realize that many men do this every day!
Don’t deny it… we’re onto you. Do you do the laundry or does she? At the slightest hint of you turning on the washing machine does she bustle in to save her whites? Do you try to stop her? Hmmm…?
Do you use as many dishes as possible to make something simple like a sandwich, ensuring that you will rarely be relied on to make dinner, as the thought of the cleaning up after you have finished is too much for her?
I know this is a gross generalization, and I apologize if it doesn’t apply to you. I do live with three males though, two of whom are in training for self-sufficiency and one I have given up hope on, yes Man, you know who you are…
I have the day off today, yay! It is because I am going to the dentist though, boo
When the Man of the House goes to the dentist for a bit of torture I try to find an article about some dental disaster to share with you. As it is my turn this time I thought I had better find something dentisty as well, sigh…
The Mercury 15 Apr 1948 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article26456180
Fortunately the first thing that caught my eye was not a story of dental horror it was a boys amusing interpretation of why his snapper dinner in 1948 had a small yellow ball in it.
His father jokingly told him it was a lump of gold. This was later proved to be correct by a jeweller and naturally the boy expected that meant the gold had come from one of the fishes fillings.
I like the way that kid thinks
______________
I also had to include this amusing article about a bit of horse dentistry in 1901 as well. I love the way they explain that the horse was treated ‘just like a human’, with the use of cocaine to deaden the nerves in the tooth before they were filled with either gold or silver. Crikey!
I wonder how popular this drug dealing dentist was with his patients?
Yes, I know that drugs we consider to be problems these days were used in the past as legitimate medicines, it just makes me glad we do things differently today.
It also makes me wonder what medications currently used will be considered inappropriate at some time in the future!
I really want them to have found evidence of this mythical creature but…. well…I doubt it.
They suggest that if they were in North America they could attribute the noise to a large bear. Since we don’t have large bears here they say it must be a yowie. Exciting! maybe…
I wonder if they have ever heard the calls of the small bear-like creature we have here?
Hearing a koala call echoing through the silent bush at night out in the middle of nowhere is scary. Even when you know what it is they still sound like they want to kill you….
Love this cop. I want him to take the search for this Alien Big Cat seriously but I love that he is enjoying the silliness of a tiger on the loose in America.
‘Trained to catch him by the toe’ and ‘if he hollers we will let him go’. I love it!
Of course he might not find it so amusing if the tiger starts chewing on his head…
How nice was this. We are taking mum out for lunch on Saturday as part of her mothers day present so the Man of the House and I took a drive down there to book the table.
On our way out the door I walked past one of the ladies who worked there as she was arranging a flower display. She smiled at me, then asked if I would like a bunch of flowers. Of course I would! She handed one to me and said they had just had a new delivery and the old ones were still too beautiful to throw out.
Such a lovely gesture made my day and I thought I would share them with you all too. Thank you unknown lady! :)
An added bonus was that it gave me a chance to tease the Man. He had walked ahead to the car as I was perusing the goods in the shop. Once I caught up with him he looked quizzically at the expensive flowers as if to ask how much they cost.
I said, ‘don’t worry. I didn’t pay for them, some really hot guy just gave them to me.’ For just a minute there he was not sure if I was serious or not. Unfortunately I cracked up, spoiling the illusion.
It is good to see that the tradition of unexploded bombs being found in inappropriate places (like ovens, octopuses and sharks) continues to this day.
An unexploded World War I bomb was found in a Ballarat museum by a volunteer doing some packing. Possible death was probably not what that person expected to find amongst the exhibits!
The kids were excited when I read the article to them, we have been to this museum, the thought of being in a room with something like that was utterly delicious to them. They wanted to rush back there immediately! They were disappointed when I told them the bomb would be taken care of by then and would not be a danger any more…
From now on I expect every time we go to a museum they will view each piece of military hardware with suspicion! Or is that anticipation? :)
Today I was trying to think of a different bit of music to share with you and I remembered On the Punt by The Aerial Maps. This song is poetry.
Songwriter and singer Adam Gibson sings about his memories of his race loving father and his travels with him. Old Valiants, hot car seats that burned his legs, pies from the pie shop, bags of hot chips and phone TAB. It is full of Aussie-isms.
I don’t come from a punting family, but whenever I hear race-calling like the start of this song I am immediately whisked back to Aunty A___’s kitchen. The table is covered in delicious treats and we are all settling down for a family lunch. A black transistor radio is playing the horse races constantly in the background. A particular race would start and she would go over and stand by it listening, hoping for a win.
The first time I heard this song we were on holiday. I was making breakfast and listening to Macca* on our little wind-up radio. We were in the campground of the Marla Roadhouse in outback South Australia, on our way home from Alice Springs, the perfect environment to listen to this very Aussie song.
I wish this clip was done with crackly old film in an old car driving those non-specific coastal roads. Unfortunately it is only a photo montage of the band, sorry, it was the only one I could find!
You’ll just have to shut your eyes and pretend you are that kid with a custard tart in an old car, listening to the radio with your dad. ;)
*Macca does a talkback radio show on the ABC on Sunday mornings called Australia All Over. He talks to (and remembers) everyone. The characters who call up the studio or drop in to his show when he is on the road are amazing, farmers, old bushies, CWA ladies, you just never know what gems he will come up with.
I was one of those children whose best friends were books. I learned to read at a very young age, and because of that, I suspect the books I read were mostly far too old for me. Yeah Jaws, I’m talking to you.
It didn’t matter though, words were as important as air. I read everything that passed before my eyes, and still do. Even if I didn’t understand their meaning, the words were right there, waiting to be read and, so, I read them.
The first poems I remember reading are those of Lewis Carroll. He wrote the kind of poetry that appealed to a child like me.
Wonderful! I could just imagine oysters sprouting feet, eager for a walk with their new friends. Oysters clearly have no need for either shoes or faces, and that made it even more amusing to me.
“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.
“Theres a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.”
I loved them all, even though I felt a little sorry for the pig-baby;
Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases.
My favourite however, and one I remember falling immediately in love with was the Jabberwocky.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome-raths outgrabe.
.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.
.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
I was young. Who was I to know that those words were not all dictionary-worthy? I didn’t know exactly what a Tove was, but they were slithy, and the borogoves were mimsy. It all seemed pretty clear to me.
Recently I found, in wikipedia, an interpretation of those wonderful words. I was a little apprehensive about reading the real meanings and comparing them to what I though the words had meant. Maybe knowing what he was really talking about would ruin my Jabberwocky love!
I couldn’t resist, and, taking a deep breath, prepared to have my childish love crushed by the truth.
To me slithy was always a slithery, slimy thing, and mimsy was miserable. Galumphing was easy, Mum often told me to stop galloping around the house, it just had to be the same. Uffish was probably how you felt after you had gone off in a huff, tick!
Brillig seemed to be when the setting sun shone brightly in the sky, it turned out to be about 4pm, the time for broiling dinner. Close! Gyre and gimble just had to be leaping about in circles nimbly. Gyre was right, but to gimble was to make holes in the ground. Oh well…
Even though I was wrong on some of the meanings it didn’t make me feel any differently about it. Jabberwocky was a poem you read with your feelings, not your brain. I still love it, and, when I read it now, those meanings I attached to the words as a child are still what I want them to mean.
Over the weekend I read the Jabberwocky to my boys. I am ashamed to say that I haven’t before. I wondered if they would tell me it didn’t make sense, or, like I did, just enjoy it. I got to the end and they were still listening.
‘Hmmm…pretty good’ said number 1.
‘I didn’t hear it all’ said number 2. ‘Can you read it again?’
The Jabberwock, as illustrated by John Tenniel-wikipedia
I did, then asked them what they thought a vorpal sword might be. They are boys, swords are what boys pay most attention to when there are no video games around.
‘Well, a very important sword’ ventured one. ‘A sword with a big jewel in the handle’ said the other.
They didn’t question any of the other words, and I asked them what they thought some of them meant. ‘Well, I don’t know. Obviously they are words, I just don’t know what they mean. It’s weird, I like it’.
Of course, neither of them are the book-loving little girl I was, they were more interested in talking about the picture of the Jabberwocky bearing down on the boy with the vorpal sword. Why am I not surprised…
I will finish with perhaps one of the greatest poetry performances of all time. Jabberwocky as performed by the Muppets. Enjoy….
We live in a society where you can do anything you set your mind to. It doesn’t matter how different you are, you can achieve anything with hard work.
Take the example of this guy, Philippe Croizon. He is amazing. He has no arms or legs and still swam from Papua New Guinea to Indonesia.
I still possess all of my extremities but would barely make it to the end of the pool without needing to be rescued. This bloke swam between countries, at times against the current. Unbelieveable.
I read with amusement the part of the report where they mention the curious villagers on the beach when he arrived. What would you think when a bloke with no arms or legs dragged himself up on your beach? Sharks?
I was sad to read that Maurice Sendak has died, aged 83. I am sure that you know him best as the author of ‘Where the wild things are’. My kids have this book and I remember reading it in primary school myself.
According to this ABC news item he released a new book in September 2011 called Bumble-Ardy which, after a quick look at Amazon, appears to contain its own wild birthday rumpus.
I will be dragging wild things out for the kids tonight. When I told them this morning that the Where the wild things are man had died they said ‘awwww…’ RIP Maurice Sendak.
If you wish to use any images or text from my blog be sure to ask permission and include a link back to Buried Words and Bushwa, and full credit to it.
The newspaper articles here come from the National Library of Australia (trove.nla.gov.au). Get on there and do some text correcting! You never know what you might find...
