THE LOWLY PEPPERCORN

The Peppercorn tree, botanical name Schinus molle, was introduced into Australia from its native Peru and other parts of northern South America.  It is generally of non-uniform shape, and unsuitable for lumber.  The wood is hard; and was one time said to be useful for saddle-making.  The bright pink peppercorns can be used for making “pepper”, although the species is unrelated to black pepper (Piper nigrum).  The tree has a generally spreading form, and its ability thereby to provide shade, coupled with its dry climate tolerance, probably explains its widespread distribution throughout drier parts of Australia.  The Peppercorn, however, is not only a sentinel tree by rural dams, it is equally ubiquitous in suburban allotments.  The Peppercorn is a lowly, unspectacular, no fuss survivor, and generally unremarked……..

Occasionally around here we pause and say “aren’t we lucky?”  Although framed as an interrogation we don’t expect an answer.  The words are really a declaration disguised as a question.  We know we are lucky, but it’s important every so often simply to put the words out there.  Apart from the fundamentals of family and health there’s the amazing luck of living in Australia: with democratic government, with an orderly society, with high-standard healthcare, with a moderate climate, with community affluence, and with time to enjoy leisure.  Forget the shortcomings: the wheat growers used to judge their crops against a “fair average quality”, and by any measure life in Australia musters above a fair average quality.

 

One of the features of our community affluence is the ability of our civil society to pursue endeavours and interests down rabbit holes that would not even exist in poorer societies.  One such is the interest taken by municipal authorities in neighbourhood trees and treescapes.  Hence, the municipality of Boroondara (where I live) has a Significant Tree List, a list with some 700-plus entries.  Boroondara has an area of 6000 hectares (60 square kilometres), and is roughly 12 kilometres from Melbourne’s central business district.  It comprises the suburbs of Hawthorn, Kew and Camberwell, which amalgamated as Boroondara in 1994.

 

The Boroondara Significant Tree List dates from May 2001.   I communicated with Council on this subject in March 1996, and there was no such List at that time.  I wrote about a proposed real estate development a couple of streets from where we lived.  The affected property contained a huge River Red Gum (Eucalyptus camaldulensis).  The tree was against the fence-line along the rear laneway, and was in no way impacting the proposed building works, but I could imagine a careless chain saw aggressively dealing with potential future problems while the opportunity presented.  I suppose I was being a busy-body, but I was being nice about it!  Anyway, the Council subsequently advised that a potentially overhanging limb had been lopped, but that the tree was “saved”.  At the time Boroondara had no “tree controls”, although I was told that the National Trust administered a Register of Significant Trees – on which Boroondara had a number of registrations.  Additionally, the Council somewhat gratuitously advised: “However, it would be anticipated that this River Red Gum would not meet the fairly strict criteria for classification, which are essentially based on a tree’s significance with respect to its age, shape, size and rarity.”

 

The tree had been saved, and I chose not to follow up with argy-bargy about how some municipal pipsqueak might like to define significant “age”, significant “shape” and significant “size”, and ruminate on the “rarity” of a massive remnant tree in a Boroondara back yard.  

 

Seven years later the tree was butchered half away; and, in retrospect, the blister I then sent to the Council surprises even me.  I didn’t reference the Visigoths, but the Vandals were front and centre.  My request for further communication was not ignored but, in the end, I was never given an explanation or advised of an outcome. 

 

Now hear this: you are about to be one of the first to experience an apology from me.  I have just now returned to the tree, after 28 years.  I now see that those years ago it was not butchered, it was shaped.  Clearly, a massive alternative leading stem had been taken off, and the surviving main trunk had been able to assert its dominance.  These years later the tree is straight and true, and a fine specimen.  Here it is.  In the second photograph you can see where the renegade limb was removed.

 

 

Now, to the point of this story.  I think it was in 2011 when I obtained a copy of the then Boroondara Significant Tree List, and noted that on the list were eight Peppercorn trees.   I’d had a specific interest in Peppercorns because at the rear of my mother’s home at 123 Prospect Hill Road, Canterbury, there was (and is) an imposing Peppercorn – quite tall and, although there is a split trunk, the girth below the forking is impressive.  So, I trawled through the Boroondara listing for other Peppercorns; and then went on a go seek excursion.  My conclusion: that the specimen at Prospect Hill Road, while not the biggest or grandest, was the equal of some already on the List - so go for it.  And go for it I did.  The case was duly allocated a reference number and a Statutory Planning Arborist Team Leader.  That person was tasked to arrange with the present owners “a suitable date and time for inspection”.  That was 14 years ago.  I have heard nothing further.

I have just now requested, and been emailed a copy of the current Significant Tree List.  It is unchanged from 2011 – except that some entries have been over-stamped REMOVED.  There is no explanation for removals from the List – whether the particular tree was removed with or without Council blessing; whether the tree died, whether the tree was re-classified as no longer significant – but, helpfully, the previous entry remains visible below the REMOVED stamp, and there has not been a re-numbering of the remaining catalogue.  Most notably, though, if there have been any additions to the List since 2011 those additions have not been reflected in the on-line information available to the public.

 

Although my arboreal interactions with Boroondara have been somewhat jaundiced I can’t deny that their Significant Tree List is a work of some professionalism, with each entry accompanied by a full technical description of the tree, including estimated dimensions and a photograph.  One criticism of the List is the idiocy of allocating one reference number only to bulk entries such as an avenue.…….the result being that while the number of listed Boroondara trees totals more than 700, the List has 470 entries only.  No matter, the List is what it is, and the individual tree descriptions are detailed.  The published Significant Tree Study runs to 627 pages.

 

What follows is the curriculum vitae of each of the Boroondara listed Peppercorns, plus my recent photograph.  Sometimes, the trees are in rear gardens or otherwise inaccessible for full imaging; and the photographs taken from the street fail to capture the size or the “look”.  The below hash-tagged numbers correspond with the Significant Tree List.

 

#6    33 Beaconsfield Road, Hawthorn

 

This earliest Peppercorn on the Boroondara listing was clearly a self-select – huge bulging trunk, in-your-face on the street frontage, almost at the centre of the block.  It was in the first batch of evaluations, on 19 December, 2000.  The arborist was effusive: “This tree is significant for its outstanding size and for being an outstanding example of the species.  The tree also holds high aesthetic value and is particularly old.  Located on the boundary of the property the tree makes a magnificent contribution to the streetscape. “  Despite this, the arborist noted “significant dead wood present, with several rot patches around the base of the trunk”, although “rot posing only a minimal threat to the tree at this stage”.  The arborist recommended removal of stubs in the canopy, with general health check and dead wood removal to be carried out every three years.  The entry does not seem to have been updated since it was posted 24 years ago.

 

#55     6 Hillcrest Road, Glen Iris

 

This tree is the outlier in this collection.  It is alive and well, but it has been removed from the List.  Thank the Virgoan mentality or the gods of completeness, that the editors of the list have not simply left a blank; or, worse still, removed the entry and moved every subsequent number up a place.  No, very sensibly, the entry for number 6 Hillcrest Road has merely been over-stamped as REMOVED, and the particulars remain visible. But there was something wrong: the photograph of the deleted tree was nothing like the actual tree!  The peppercorn beside the front gate is an interesting specimen because it forks from the base, but it is not huge, so one can imagine it being included initially on the List only to be removed after later reconsideration.  Here it is.

 

But faced with the inconsistent photograph I made a return visit to the property.  I was hovering at the front gate, still making no sense of the situation, when my papers blew into the front garden.  Hasty collection, and back to the car…..only to be followed by the householder (who had been working in the front room and saw my incursion and quick exit), and could she help?   I briefly explained my mission, and my confusion; and she remarked: “Oh, we have a bigger Peppercorn down the back!”  Indeed.  And here it is.

 

This is the tree that was formerly on the Significant Tree List.  That entry contains some history: “Pepper tree was located within the original home in the area (2 Hillcrest Road), forming part of the boundary planting in the cow paddock, prior to the subdivision of the land.  Another pepper tree is situated in the front north-west corner of the site, and is also believed to have been along the boundary of the original property.”  Moreover, “The pepper tree in the rear garden of 6 Hillcrest Road, Glen Iris, is significant for its age, size and overall aesthetic value.  With the canopy overhanging Nyora Road, the tree makes a significant contribution to the streetscape.”  So why was the tree taken off the Significant Tree List?

 

#73     26 Prospect Hill Road, Camberwell 

 

To my eye, this Peppercorn is the tallest of those listed, and possibly the grand-daddy of them all.  It stands square in the front garden of the property.  I offer two snapshots: one from across Prospect Hill Road that gives an idea of the towering height, and one through the corner front gate of the property that shows the garden setting and the massive trunk.  I remember, some years ago, that the canopy of this beauty was looking a bit sparse, but currently it looks fine.  The August 2000 arborist’s report is not so sanguine, however: “Assessment by a qualified arborist to determine the stability of limbs, and removal of branch stubs and diseased limbs, as required.  Following the initial assessment, tree should be monitored on a one-to-two-year basis, carrying out works as required.”  There’s no updating to indicate whether this has occurred.  The tree was estimated (in 2000) to be more than 100 years old,

 

#107     1/258 Wiltshire Drive, Kew

 

The address sounds innocuous enough, but it is within Willsmere, the former Kew Lunatic Asylum.  The institution was closed in 1988, after operating for 117 years.   The development of new drugs and new treatments, and evolving attitudes towards mental illness, led to the rationalisation of Statewide mental health facilities and a degree of “opening the gates”. The Willsmere buildings were deemed surplus, and subsequently sold by the State and redeveloped into a prestigious complex of some 155 apartments and 101 townhouses within a gated community. One wonders whether the irony of having returned to maximum security is lost on the inhabitants.  Behind the security fence, in Wiltshire Drive, stands this enormous Peppercorn. Although the tree has “rot around the base” and “the upper canopy is quite sparse” there were “no immediate risks evident at the time of inspection” in 2000, when it “appeared sound”.

 

As it happens the Manager/Caretaker was patrolling the grounds as we arrived; but he was unequivocally unable to let us into the garden to photograph the tree.  A little persuasion was needed, perhaps, so I telephoned the city-based property agents…..and was advised to submit a request in writing, and that my request would be considered at the next meeting of the management committee.   My apoplexy slowly receded; and subsided totally when I found the below photograph on the website of the very same Willsmere.  The tree is a serious contender for king of the Boroondara Peppercorns.

 

#342     368 Auburn Road, Hawthorn

 

The heart sank as we pulled up in front of this address.  Whatever had passed for a family home had been replaced by a site-covering complex of residential units, with a blunt two-storey façade on to Auburn Road, incorporating the entrance to an underground carpark.  But drifting down the driveway of the next-door home units we saw the tree.  Well, it’s pretty hard to see, actually, but it’s there, right at the rear of the property.  It is impressive.  The later Significant Tree registrations (this one from November 2018) are less detailed than the earlier ones – although we are helpfully (!) provided with latitude and longitude bearings.  The arborist’s description: “A very old specimen with an upright habit, this tree has attractive spreading branches and is visited seasonally by native bees.”  The photograph of the trunk is from the Significant Trees document.  

 

#418     1/22 Power Street, Balwyn

 

The arborist’s only comment: “A very old specimen with an immensely thick and gnarled trunk.”  And, by the way, the “Tree is lifting footpath.”  No, it’s not – the footpath has long since been repaired.

#431     2 Kembla Street, Hawthorn

 

Not accessible at all, so the skyline photograph will have to suffice – complete with the adjacent portaloo.  The reviewing arborist was clearly under the same constraint: “Assessed from the street, parameters and structure estimated”.  Understandably, the conclusion is brief:  “This is a large tree in an urban context in good condition.”  Significant because of its outstanding size.

 

#451     28 Belmont Avenue, Kew

 

When I pulled up across from the two-storey Victorian mansion at number 24 Belmont Avenue I noted the significant Peppercorn tree.  The front garden has a generous assortment of mature trees and the Peppercorn is somewhat overcrowded – so the snapshots won’t give a clear picture, I thought.  But the snapshot on the Boroondara listing is entirely different – a larger specimen, located not in a front garden but in the rear corner of the block…and numbered 28, not 24.  So, a return visit to confirm my error; not to secure a photograph, however – the view at number 28 is quite blocked, with only the top tip visible from the street.  The below photograph is from the Significant Trees listing.  From the accompanying description: “This is a large tree with massive limbs that span three properties.  It has long gnarled branches, which indicates its old age.”

Finally, for completeness, here is an image of the tree that started my Schinus molle obsession, the best I can manage from my former family home at 123 Prospect Hill Road, Canterbury. I still maintain that it is worthy of inclusion on the List.

 

And why doesn’t the List include this beauty modestly standing outside the Willsmere gated community?

 

Gary Andrews

 

 

SHOW AND TELL

My sister, Judith, for some years convened social groups at the nearby Community Centre.  The participants were senior citizens, some with strollers, some of them accompanied by carers, some on temporary release from their assisted living.  And many were quite active, in body and mind, and thank you for asking!  The range of activities at the group’s meetings was as wide as imagination permitted and circumstances allowed.

 

On one occasion I was a guest speaker, and took along for a session of Show and Tell a collection of bits and pieces from a lifetime of accumulation - “memorabilia” is today’s buzz word.  Since my bits and pieces were typically as venerable as the members of the group there seemed to be instant rapport, and as the items passed around the group any description or explanation by me was soon overtaken by nostalgic elaboration from the participants.

 

So, here’s a sample of what the “oldies” reminisced about.  By the way, Judith has borrowed the collection a couple of times since, and used it similarly.  There has been no need for my attendance!

 

A Pocket Chess and Draughts Set

 

The playing board of the Pocket Chess and Draughts Set is held in a pocket-sized leather wallet.  Printed on the front of the wallet are the words “With compliments from British General Electric Co Pty Ltd”, plus the further inscription “WE SUGGEST YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEND THIS TO YOUR BOY ON ACTIVE SERVICE”.  A number of the miniature chess and draughts (paper cut-out) pieces have survived, but neither set is complete.  Printed beneath the miniature board are the words: Patent No 1732/41, so I’m assuming that the set dates from 1941.

 

The leather wallet is somewhat rubbed, and the centre crease of the cardboard playing board has split a little from continual opening and closing, but it’s perfectly functional……..apart from the missing playing pieces!

 

A little mystery:  the “pieces” are in a small envelope which has printed on it some “how to use” instructions.  These describe the board as having slots in each of the 64 squares for the vertical insertion of the paper pieces - but there are no such slots.  So, this board and these pieces do not go together, and somewhere, somehow, there has been a separation, followed by a merger of convenience. 

 

Cut-throat Razor

 

I find it hard to think of a cut-throat razor without simultaneously thinking of the Stephen Sondheim musical, Sweeny Todd, sub-titled The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.  The Sweeny Todd story dates from 1846 and has resounded in fiction, theatre and film.  In brief, Todd is a Fleet Street barber who slits the throats of his victims while shaving them, then drops their bodies through a trapdoor to the establishment of his colleague, Mrs. Lovett, who turns the fleshy parts of those victims into the meat pies sold in the accompanying pie shop.  This story has undoubtedly given cut-throat razors a bad rap; but think of the generations of men and barbers for whom the cut-throat was not only a la mode but the only method of shaving.  The safety razor with disposable blades was not invented until 1901.  The cut-throat razor was not feared by its generations of users, although it was invariably handled carefully.

 

The pictured razor was a gift from long-time neighbour, Lydia Guest, and had been owned by her late husband, Ern.  I have few biographical particulars of Ern Guest, and am not resilient enough to tackle the vortex of enquiry that an Ancestry.com search would entail.  Suffice to say that Ern Guest served in the First World War, and that the razor is engraved with the word ERN and the date 1914.  The blade also has the curious engraving: ERN’s HAMBURGRING.

 

When a razor was marked as Hamburg Ring it indicated, apparently, that the razor was a full hollow ground, or “singing” razor.  It may have been manufactured in Sheffield, not necessarily in Hamburg.  This razor, however, also carries the words WALD-SOLINGEN plus an eagle motif, establishing its German provenance.  Moreover, the somewhat battered but nevertheless stout cardboard case has the words MADE IN GERMANY.  And whomever has arranged for the word ERN to be engraved on the blade also had his name impressed into the case.

 

Solingen is known as the “City of Blades” and, today, has a population in excess of 150000.  The city is the home of the Deutsches Klingenmuseum [German Blade Museum] with its collection of scissors, knives, blades and razors.

 

Castlemaine/Maldon Train Ticket

 

Back in the day every train traveller was issued with a ticket for every journey, and the ticket office held pre-printed tickets for every combination of origin and destination, and for first- and second-class, and for special excursions.  So, along the network – particularly the city network - there were huge numbers of blank tickets ready for dispensation.  At the point of purchase they were stamped (equivalent to franking the stamp on a letter), thus designated as good for the one journey only.  There are few items more ephemeral than a spent railway ticket, hence to some they have collectability.  Add to this the universal adoption of today’s pass-card and other technologies, and former railway tickets have an historical appeal.

 

The train line between Castlemaine and Maldon, commissioned in 1884, no longer provides a traditional passenger and goods service: the passenger service ceased during the wartime 1940s, and the goods service closed in 1976.  But community agitation triggered the creation of the Victorian Goldfields Railway, a tourist train, with historic steam engines.  Everyone is a winner!

 

I do remember travelling on the tourist train some years ago, and that must be where the pictured ticket originated.  I can’t accept that it dates back to the 1940s or prior.  Not that anyone with half an eye [what a curious and evocative expression!] would be in any doubt after examining the ticket.  Sure, it has no date stamp, but it has the word “Excursion”, and the heading “C. & M. Rly” – so, even that half eye must see this as a clue to the Castlemaine and Maldon tourist service.

Spurtle

 

Take it from me, and take it from Wikipedia: “A spurtle is a wooden Scottish kitchen tool, dating from the 15^th century, that is used to stir porridge, soups, stews, and broths.”  This one has no markings, hence there’s no way of knowing its age – but it’s not 15^th century!  And it’s not Huon pine, so I can’t claim it for sure to be of Australian origin.  Furthermore, it may never have been used to stir porridge - certainly never around here!   It does seem a little gruelling to research the evolution from stick to spurtle, so there’s nothing more to say.

 

Indian Ink (or India Ink)

 

It’s hard to know where to start with this one.  Indian ink has a number of artistic applications, often underpinned by the fact that it is waterproof, and does not bleed once dry.  Hence, it is agreeably useful, for instance, for black tattoos.   I learn that its non-artistic uses are far more numerous, ranging through the fields of pathology, microbiology, ophthalmology.  And, “in 2002 NASA patented a process for polishing aluminium mirror surfaces to optical quality, using India ink as the polishing medium”.  See the Wikipedia entry on India ink for its full history and uses.

 

While that on-line article points out that India ink “is permanent, unchangeable in colour, and almost indestructible”, nowhere does it refer to the use of Indian ink to mark identification on to garments and items of laundry.  This is the application that is familiar to me and to earlier generations.   The “Directions for Use” pamphlet has a warning re handkerchiefs: “These articles are specially liable to be taken into use after marking without being first properly washed.  They must be washed with soap and water in the usual way, and they must then be ironed or aired before the fire…..”  There are several other instructions, presumably to ensure the permanence of the marking.  I note that the box of ink that was shown and told prefers the name Marking Ink

 

There was a time – within living memory, because I can remember it – when Indian ink was a standard household and office item.  I venture that today it is a rarity. 

 

Phonograph Needles, in Tin

 

My grandfather, Fred Andrews, was a lost soul during his years of exile in the city.  He was a county man: he’d been raised, and worked, on his father’s farm; he had his own (wheat and sheep) farm for more than 30 years; and he had a final few years back on the farm.  But there were some in-between ”lost soul” times down in the city.  He lived with “us” [my parents’ family] for a while, above the business in Richmond.  He helped where he could – his baked rabbits for sale in the delicatessen were a specialty – but he had endless time to fill.  In doing so he frequented the senior citizens rooms at nearby Richmond oval, participating in endless life or death cribbage games.  He also frequented the auction rooms down the road, more than infrequently returning home with some must have item – once it was a crate of well-past-used-by-date bananas.  It wasn’t all folly, however, because one day he struggled home with a table-top wind-up gramophone, plus about a dozen records, for me!  I tell you, that machine and those discs took a beating.

 

For those unfamiliar with the 78 rpm shellac discs of the years before the arrival of the 33 1/3 rpm microgroove discs in the early 1950s, the salient point is that the combination of heavy playing arms and the coarse surface of the disc meant that the gramophone needle “wore out” – typically after a few playings.  So, the needles had to be replaced; and the gear of every record-playing enthusiast included a stock of new needles.  Hence the show and tell item.

 

It is a tin of gramophone needles.  Not your everyday product though – these are a top brand, Columbia.  Columbia was one of the early names in recording history, dating from 1917 in the UK.  As the labelling indicates, these Columbia needles were also branded Duragold; hard to imagine why.  The needles are described as SEMI PERMANENT, with the somewhat deflating afterthought EACH PLAYS 10 RECORDS.  This little tin is beyond cute but, given that it would never have left a cosy indoors environment, it’s hard to explain why it has been invaded by rust.

 

The old gramophone disappeared long ago, the records too, both (thankfully) superseded by later innovation…..although buried in the grooves of those old discs were some surprisingly hi fi sounds – which technology superior to the steel needles was able to retrieve in later years.

 

Arm Bands

 

Silly me!  I thought these ancient men’s shirt arm bands were an old fashioned way of regulating the length of a man’s shirt sleeves….back in the day when business shirts typically had double cuffs, and were fastened with cuff links, and when the fashion was for longer sleeves to show half-an-inch of sleeve below the cuff of the jacket, then the arm band kept the sleeve showing the required amount of cuff.   And now, with the falling away of the fashion for double cuffs, for cuff links, and indeed for jackets, so the fashion for arm bands has also fallen away.  

 

I’m sure that’s true, confirmed by the show and tell reaction to these arm bands as a thing of the past. 

 

 But their day is not yet done: they have emerged as a fashion item for the female sophisticate.  And they are now Sleeve Garters.  “Sleeve garters are the fashion accessory you didn’t know you needed, they are a must have investment accessory that offer styling options and solutions to our most common wardrobe dilemmas…..”  Okay, what are they?  “Sleeve garters are an elasticated metal band that are used to shorten your sleeves and hold them in place without having to get your garments altered, saving you both time and money!”  Really.  Doesn’t this make them a patch-up for a garment that was ill-fitting in the first place?  No, “You can shorten the sleeve of a garment for a more relaxed look to make it suitable for day time wear or let the sleeves down for a more dressy evening look.  This allows you to instantly alter your garment to suit the occasion without the cost or commitment of permanent alterations.”  But, I’m still concerned that the arrangement will look makeshift.  No, “Simply place the garter over your sleeve, pull up the sleeve to your desired length and adjust the material over the garter to discretely disguise it, no one will know it’s there.  Unless they have read the advertisement.

 

Tilley’s Timid Joe Dog Soap

 

In the time before Coles was a supermarket giant it was a variety store giant, its shops purveying a variety of stuff, but not food and drink.   From its foundation in 1914 it trumpeted the mantra of fixed maximum price for its goods – “Nothing above 2 shillings”, for instance.  As the years went by the signage was prone to change as the “nothing above” amount changed.  Evolution is an unstoppable force: Coles introduced ready-made foodstuffs for the busy housewife, and then small electrical appliances, and then cosmetics. The “nothing above” marketing ploy was gone by 1950.  Moreover, by the mid-1950s the conversion to self-service stores was under way, as was the new focus on foodstuffs.  Coles was morphing into today’s grocery giant.

 

But back in 1950 the variety store format persisted in the Bridge Road, Richmond Coles store – two wide front doors opening into two broad aisles the length of the store (joined by a cross-aisle at the far end); shopping displays along the outer side of each aisle, and a central shopping display between the two aisles; and all merchandise displayed on counters sloping towards the shopper, the counters divided into myriad sections for the numerous “variety” products.

 

It was in this Aladdin’s cave of possibilities, limited only by the budgetary constraint of what was in my pocket, that I sought a Christmas present for my father; and I lighted on this cake of soap – not very large perhaps, not very colourful, but it had a picture of a dog on its wrapper and, in any case, it’s the thought that counts!  It turned out to be the best joke of Christmas, although the part of the story that I don’t remember is whether I was happy to share in the joke or whether I was the butt of the joke.  We had no dog at the time, so I was unable to attempt some passing off explanation – the key words on the wrapper, which I had overlooked, are undoubtedly “dog soap”.  Seventy-plus years on and I’m looking at the wrapper; and I learn that this is not a product to beautify your dog, it’s for “eczema and skin eruptions”. 

 

The soap was never used, and here it is. Furthermore, checking the net I find that Tilley’s dog soap is a product still available, and that there are satisfied customers of 50-plus years standing.   

 

By the way, that same Christmas I bought for my mother a bottle of sherry from the licensed grocer along the street.  He was initially hesitant to sell to a child, even though it was for a good cause, but he knew my folks.  He was apparently prepared to take the risk of licensing law prosecution and the scandal of the accompanying publicity – anyway my money was good.  The sherry provided a certain amount of Christmas Day mirth to counteract the ignominy of the dog soap.

 

Fijian Cannibal Fork

 

Yes, you read correctly.  This object originated in Fiji, and it is clearly a fork.  As to “cannibal”: well, there’s no point in being coy.  This is a fork with which to eat human flesh.  It can’t be disguised that until the Christian missionaries talked them out of it, Fijians of old were cannibals.  Not in the sense of your average householder coming back from market with a couple of choice cuts for the kids, but in a ritualistic sense – the eating of the flesh of tribal enemies by tribal chiefs.  And accompanying the ritual feast was the belief that the chief was too holy to handle the flesh of the dead, so the meat was served to the chief on the fork without touching the chief’s lips. 

 

These ethnological, but nonetheless macabre items, appear in the collections of many museums, but how this particular item surfaced in my show and tell collection is a mystery to me.  There are a couple of chips in what appears to be very hard wood, and two of the prongs have lost a centimetre of their tips.  And there’s the mystery of the loop hole at the top of the handle…..this is anything but an everyday implement, so why fashion a hole for carrying it on a thong?

 

Gary Andrews

GEORGE MONBIOT

 

I once had a workmate who kept a clean desk.  I don’t really mean clean, I mean clear – but the improbability factor is the same.  Although working in a field where there were always on-going matters to be dealt with, and where colleagues had un-dealt-with stuff stacked in all corners of their offices and their lives, he was able to deal with each day’s in-tray in a conclusive manner.  In retrospect it’s unclear whether this attribute served him well, but it is clear that when he dropped dead on his way home at age 51 he left no unfinished business for his colleagues to deal with.

 

I had another workmate who approached life in a similar vein.  He had an appointment with himself at his office each New Year’s Day, and spent part of the day in ruthlessly shedding and shredding most of the (non-client) paperwork of the year past.  A ghastly practice to the minds of the hoarders (like me), but one that seemed never to cause him any grief……although he, too, died before reaching retirement age.

 

I can’t be sure whether these two anecdotes from long ago have much relevance to what follows - except, perhaps, as reminders that there is a time to clean up the mess, and that that time is now.

 

George Monbiot is not dead yet, although he notes having survived “major surgery for prostate cancer” in 2018.  He is now age 61.  Given the number of causes and issues with which he chooses to engage there is no way in which he could ever have a clear desk, but neither he nor his followers would want it any other way.  I thank my friend Max R. for years ago alerting me to Monbiot, and to Monbiot’s blog.  

 

George Monbiot is a journalist, a columnist for The Guardian, London.  Unlike others, Monbiot doesn’t blah on about the same stuff column after column, and he doesn’t do inanities.  The frequency and breadth of his contributions is prodigious. There never appears to be a pause for breath in what seems to be the busiest journalistic life on Earth.  

 

George Monbiot is an eloquent activist for good – in both deeds and words – in numerous fields, all of which have as their focus the life of the planet, and the welfare of planetary lives.  He gives praise to his employers for allowing him free rein.  Hence Monbiot’s ability to give public exposure to his (always) interesting, (sometimes) trenchant, and (often) unpopular views – unpopular, that is, with authority (all levels of government), conservatives (both lower and upper case), business (big), polluters and destroyers of planet Earth (without exception).

 

The core of George Monbiot’s blogsite is the re-publishing of his Guardian columns.  There have been so many postings that they are indexed into subject groups.  It’s impossible to convey the whole scope, but here’s a sample: climate breakdown, corporate power, food, law and order, nuclear, oil, privatisation, racism, religion, supermarkets, tourism, war (four theatres). 

 

Monbiot is sufficiently significant to have a substantial number of words written about him, in addition to the many words written by him.  He studied zoology at Oxford, worked for some years in BBC radio and television in natural history and current affairs programming, and travelled the world as an investigative journalist.  The Wikipedia entry for that phase of his life is colourful, bordering on gaudy:  “Working as an investigative journalist, he travelled in Indonesia, Brazil, and East Africa. His activities led to his being made persona non grata in seven countries and being sentenced to life imprisonment in absentia in Indonesia. In these places he was also shot at, brutally beaten up and arrested by military police, ship-wrecked, and stung into a poisoned coma by hornets. He came back to work in Britain after being pronounced clinically dead in Lodwar General Hospital in north-western Kenya, after contracting cerebral malaria."                                        

 

Having returned to Britain after his six years in the tropics George Monbiot – at considerable personal peril - worked actively against interests, both Government and private, seen by him as exploiting the Amazon jungle.  

 

After two years of writing occasional pieces for The Guardian he became a regular columnist in 1996.  He has written more than a dozen books.  In his blogsite he includes an extensive autobiography, with a hint of hubris perhaps, but nevertheless gobsmacking in the events and achievements it recounts.  

 

www.monbiot.com

 

On that blogsite George Monbiot, uses his Introduction section to set out his credo, his overview, what drives him.  Here are some excerpts.

 

On Trying to be Less Wrong 

 

My job is to tell people what they don’t want to hear.  That is not what I set out to do.  I wanted to cover only the subjects I thought were interesting and important. But wherever I turned, I met a brick wall of denial.

 

Whenever I have tried to bring an awkward issue to public attention, it has been greeted with a cacophony of voices insisting that there is nothing to worry about. The volume of denial bears no relationship – except perhaps a positive one – to the strength of the evidence.

 

Denial is exacerbated by the nature of the media. I believe that the first purpose of journalism is to hold power to account. But it is used, overwhelmingly, to support power against those who challenge it. Most media organisations are owned by very wealthy people or corporations. They appoint editors in their own image, and the people who work for them are acutely aware of where their interests lie. One of the privileges of wealth is that you can employ other people to engage in denial on your behalf.  Ideas and information which conflict with the interests of the proprietorial class, or upset their assumptions, are either energetically denounced or comprehensively ignored by their employees.

 

It is not just power that journalists should challenge: they should also challenge themselves. Before making any claim, we should ask ourselves whether the evidence supports our beliefs. When we discover that we have got something wrong, we must be prepared to say so.

There is no virtue in sustaining a set of beliefs regardless of the evidence. There is no virtue in either following other people unquestioningly or in cultivating a loyal and unquestioning band of followers.

While you can be definitively wrong, you cannot be definitively right.

I have tried to navigate and understand a world that is extraordinarily complex.   The world’s complexity, and the impossibility of mastering any subject, let alone of achieving a comprehensive overview, means that we will always be wrong in some respects.

But while my opinions about particular issues have changed and become more complex, my underlying principles have not. These are that we should stand up for the victims, whoever they might be, and against the aggressors, whoever they might be. We should defend the poor against the rich, the powerless against the powerful, the defenceless against the armed. We should defend the biosphere that gives us life: both because it is wonderful and because those of us who possess agency (who are alive today and have money) have no right to deprive others (who are not yet born or who are poor) of their means of survival. We must treat other people as we would wish to be treated ourselves.

None of these aims can be passively achieved. All involve confrontation. Among other forms of conflict, they require confrontation with denial – our own and other people’s – and with the falsehoods of those who possess power. This is where I have a role. The articles on this site are my stumbling attempts to confront power with research, and to tell the stories you would prefer not to hear.

With this as the foundation of his beliefs, George Monbiot has engaged in a life of never-ending advocacy and reform.  I have already listed some of the category headings for articles published on his blogsite.  Here are some more: advertising, books, culture, economic justice, education and childhood, employment, environment and the natural world, farming, genetic engineering, globalisation.  And so on.

In a disquieting post earlier this year (25th July, 2024) Monbiot offers some searing thoughts on the way the world operates: capitalism and neoliberalism, the immutability of powerlessness, the failures of democracy.  Beyond challenging.

Withal, George Monbiot is no hypocrite.  On his website he scrupulously lists his assets.  And he opens his tax returns.  And he lists – in somewhat laborious detail – every penny and relevant benefit he has received during the previous decade. He will not be accused of the dissembling that he levels at others.

And George Monbiot is no effete greenie; and no shrinking violet.  In his 4^th July, 2024 column he was breathtakingly direct in his view of the world should Donald Trump win the forthcoming Presidential Election.

He heads his piece: 

I never thought I’d argue for rearmament.  But a looming Trump presidency changes everything.

Monbiot predicts that there will no longer be a “special relationship” between the USA and the UK, and no special relationship between the USA and Europe, and that under Trump the USA Government “will rip up what remains of global security and détente, environmental and human rights agreements, and international law……In short, the UK and Europe will need to find the means of defending ourselves against a Trump regime and its allies.”  Those allies will include Russia – with whom Trump is developing a special relationship.  Monbiot reminds us that during his erstwhile presidency, Trump announced that he trusted Putin ahead of US intelligence agencies.  And subsequent to that presidency Trump has praised Putin for his invasion of Ukraine; and has stated he would encourage Russia to attack any NATO member that doesn’t spend heavily on defence.

Indeed, Monbiot has developed a scary picture of the world under a second Trump incumbency, and he concludes: “Independence from the US is difficult, hazardous and uncertain of success. But remaining a loyal servant of the US if Trump becomes commander-in-chief is a certain formula for disaster. There is nothing we can do to stop his election, except to plead with US voters not to let a convicted felon, coup plotter, sex assaulter, liar, fraud and wannabe dictator into the White House. But we can seek to defend ourselves against it.”  

All too late; but for those who still want to wallow in regret, here's a link to the full article:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/04/donald-trump-uk-rearmament-vladimir-putin-defence

With the second Trump incumbency looming it does seem that the world has now reached the time to take the storm clouds seriously, the time to acknowledge the Cassandra warnings of George Monbiot.  The time to clean up the desk. 

 

Gary Andrews

 

FROM BUSH TO BACKYARD

Eucalypts are notoriously difficult to transplant, so plant it where you expect it to remain.  And if you plant a eucalypt in a small pot intending later to transfer it to a bigger pot, just don’t!  Put it into the bigger pot to start with.

 

While on a visit to Taggerty, a bit over 100 kilometres north-east of Melbourne, I dug a small eucalypt sapling from the bush and brought it back to our suburban back yard in Bonnyview Street, Burwood.  I had no knowledge of its species or its likely form should it survive, but prudently planted it at the rear of the block, well away from the house.

 

The tree survived.  It is - I now know - a manna gum (eucalyptus viminalis).  This species is widespread through south-eastern mainland Australia, and Tasmania.  Its leaves are famed as the preferred snack food of the koala.  

 

We lived at our Burwood address from early 1970 to early 1976, and my guess is that the manna gum heist and re-location occurred in 1974.  We never saw the tree reach maturity, or any substantial size.  Over the past 50 years it has thrived; and not only is its size now prodigious, but its form is uniform and majestic.

 

I have not been bold enough to knock on the door of the present owners, to tell my story, and to ask permission to photograph the tree; likewise, with the occupants of the abutting property in the rear street.  I’m fearful that the present generation might not see the tree as I do, and might wish to exact vengeance on the old goat who inflicted such a monumental litter shedder, and such potential danger, on to a suburban environment.  So, my present-day photographs are taken from afar and do not capture the tree’s immensity.

 

The first view is at an angle from across Bonnyview Street a few doors up.  

The second view is from Barbara Avenue, the street behind.

I have been unable to find consistent predictions of the size of fully mature manna gums.  Clearly, environment and habitat are determinants, but sources vary in their suggestions as to likely maximum height – 30, 40 or 50 metres.  I reckon my tree will give them all a go – if it hasn’t already.  And as a photographic image it outclasses any “specimen” photo I’ve been able to source.

 

Gary Andrews