TinnerStreet

Have you noticed that shopping in Kiveton Park has changed greatly over the last sixty years?  Well of course it has, you reply, sixty years is a long time.  There were no supermarkets in the village at that time anyway.  But, I say, it goes much deeper than that.  Shopping was just … different.

I base my thoughts on the family of my grandma and grandad, who lived in Maple Road, half way up on the right hand side.  My grandma had both her legs amputated above the knee, so my Uncles Levi and Harold did her shopping for her.  They were both well built, and both mainly blind.  They dressed the same, with charcoal grey trousers, charcoal grey waistcoats, and a collarless white shirt.  One of them would set off for the shopping, and walk down Wales Road, doing the shopping on the way back.  Of course, time was of no importance, and if they had forgotten anything, then they would go back for it, or go the next day.  But time was not a major problem for most people at that time, it is only in much later years that we all rush everywhere, or use a car.  There were few cars in the village at that time.  It was never a problem for anyone to stop for a chat with a neighbour or someone in the village who they knew, and Levi and Harold would stop a number of times for a chat with various people.

Wales Road, where my Uncles did the shopping, but photo taken recently

Now if anyone wished to see them, or talk about any particular point, they could always be certain to find them sitting on the bench which at that time was between Chestnut Avenue and the lane which ran along the side of Les Hudson’s fish shop – though I don’t know if Les was in charge at that time – and then behind the houses on that side of Wales Road.   There was one point which always made me wonder.  They were both blind, but they went shopping.  The various shopkeepers would serve them, take their money, and then give them their change.  There was never the thought that the change given would not be right.  Even those few shopkeepers or assistants who may have had a shady reputation would be trusted in the case of my uncles to do the right thing.

Around that time, my mam and dad, my brother Jimmy and I lived at number 9 Thomas Street, which ran off Pit Lane just past the Post Office.  Come to think of it, Thomas Street still runs off Pit Lane but there is no Post Office.   It was a great place to live, as the back door opened onto the triangular field, which was the centre of entertainment for those in Thomas Street and South View.   In our case, it was our only door, as what would be the front room of number 9 was taken up as a shop by Edna Cheetham and you will all remember Edna.  She actually lived in number 7.  Along the west side of the field, there was a high wall, though it was not really a wall as such, but the back wall of the toilets and coal houses of Carrington Terrace.  That wall acted more importantly as our goal posts in football season, and with the judicious use of a piece of chalk, our wicket in cricket season.  When you think back, cricket was not shown on television, because there was no television, or heard on the wireless, but many of the young lads who learned their cricket against that wall became very good cricketers in later life, including two who played most of their cricket in Australia.

Leslie (Les) Hilton Vagg passed away on Monday 23rd November 2009 at his home in Dandenong, Victoria, aged 84.  The funeral ceremony will be held on Friday 27th November at 10.00am  at Le Pines, Princes Highway, Dandenong, and there is certain to be a full house to help Les on his way.

Les Vagg at a party in the early years of the 1990s.

There will be an invitation to all to attend the Dandenong Club after the funeral for drinks and nibbles when friends will no doubt remember all the good times they have shared with a great guy.

I was  first lucky enough to know Les Vagg in the 1970s.  I was still at the height of my cricket ‘career’, while Les was near or at the end of his.   We met on a monthly basis for a few years, when we both attended Cricket Association Delegates Meetings, and it was obvious that he was one who put in to all things in which he was interested.  It was no great surprise that he was given Life Membership of the Cricket Association in the late 70s, though by that time, he was already playing lawn bowls with Dandenong Central Bowling Club.  It was purely coincidental that in 1983, I also received Life Membership of the Cricket Association , and also whilst playing bowls with Dandenong Central Bowling Club.

In my first year of bowling, I played pennant as a second with Les as my Skipper, and he gave me, and all other younger players, all the encouragement that he could.   Bowls was at that time a very sociable game, with players from both clubs enjoying a sociable drink after the game.  It was during that time that I became used to seeing Les with his usual scotch and coke.  In fact, after the Dandenong Club moved from the centre of Dandenong to Heatherton Road, that scotch and coke became known in the bar as a ‘Vaggy’!

Les became a friend to everyone in the Dandenong Club.   It was hard for anyone to have a drink on their own, as he was quick to invite them to join us.   He was known to everyone, both in the Club and in Dandenong itself.

He, like a small number of others – Bob Boone, Frank and Eileen Nicoll and Mick Merigan – became honorary members of our family, and it became the norm for them to be attendant at our family gatherings.

He will never be forgotten.

A couple of photos taken in the last week of us lot, I thought I’d share with you all. See if you can spot the silly buggers (if you guess the first one – you’re right) Ha ha!

Dennis and Pam

The above was taken on quite a warm day, hence dad’s open shirt look and flashing off his man boobs. (I know he’s going to smack me for that comment)

And below are the sensible people in the house, can’t you tell!

Stuart and Wendy

Who said life has to be taken seriously?

According to the calendar, yesterday was Thursday 5th November, but to my mind, it was that most important day of the year, Bonfire Night.   Bonfire Night sticks in my mind because a few years ago, when I was between the ages of, say, six to 14, it was that special night when we kids had carefully scrounged any fallen branches, some of which had had to be persuaded to fall with a few hefty swipes of an axe, and any other odd pieces of wood which were not tied down, or otherwise marked clearly as possibly belonging to someone from the neigbouring streets and terraces around OUR field.  Usually we had been scrounging that wood for at least four weeks before the great day, carefully hiding our stash in any available allotment shed.  You see, the kids near us were not what you would call ‘law abiding’ when it came to pinching some other kids’ stash of  bonfire wood, and if we were not very careful, they would pinch our stash, forcing us, I mean, other kids, to steal it back in a raid after dark.

There was one year when we had to manage without an effigy of Guy Faulkes, which normally sat on the very top of the fire, which would normally be about 12 feet in the air.   In that particular year, we had been unable to find an effigy for the top of the tree – you know, something like the fairy which sits on top of your Christmas Tree, but she did not get burnt to a cinder.  Now in that year, our Jimmy was the proud owner of a toy rabbit made out of wool, and he had had it for quite some years.  I had spent quite some time before the great day trying to persuade him that he was by then too old to bother about a bloody toy rabbit made out of wool, and eventually, they day before Bonfire Night, he had promised that we could stick his rabbit on top of the tree.   Mind you I had told him that if he made this supreme sacrifice, he would get a super duper Christmas Present from Mam and Dad.  All went well on the day with the rabbit sitting on top of the tree, and Jimmy putting a brave face on the proceedings.  It came to put a light to the fire, and just after it had been lit, a small but fast streak of lightning hurtled across about 20 yards of field, ran up one side of the tree, grabbed the rabbit and disappeared down the opposite side.  I think that it was my little brother, Jimmy, but as I could never find that damn rabbit after that I could not be sure.

Anyway, all this as nothing whatsoever to do with yesterday, yesterday.

As I should have pointed out at the head of this small article, or blog, yesterday was the day when 14 of we Radio Operators at Volunteer Marine Rescue Southport were called by the Powers That Be to attend at the Base to take a First Aid Course conducted by the Queensland Ambulance Service.

We started the course at 8.30 in the morning, and worked steadily until 4.00pm, when we were all absolutely knackered worn out.  I mean, we had only had a morning ‘smoko’ break, a lunch break, at which I had only managed to eat two large sausage rolls and a sticky piece of cheesecake , and then an afternoon ‘smoko’.  So you can imagine that I was very tired and hungry by the time I got home.    And it was tiring, as there were 198 pages in the First Aid Manual we worked from.  I wonder if those books in Spain are called ‘Manuels’?

Anyway, we learned how to administer CPR, mouth to mouth, though we only used models – no, plastic ones, dummy! – tying our colleagues up in bandages, stopping bleeding, managing fractures, and all sorts of other first aidie things.   At the conclusion we had to answer a bunch of questions based on the day, with the pass mark being 90%.  I think that we all passed, though we shall not get our certificates for two weeks.  Why do I think that we passed?  Well, we all completed a page of the manual which told the examiners just how good the instructor was, just for a little safety net, if you like.  I will let you know how I went.

As of today’s date, this should be the last report on our roadworks on our street, as the actual work has moved well away from our house, but we still have to do a bit of ducking and weaving to get in and out.

This photo was taken last Wednesday(not this Wednesday, 3rd November, but the one before, 28th October), and shows the extent of the digging at that time.  At that time, as you can see, the nearest holes were still without tops, but things will change.

This hole, a round one, is outside No. 17.

The fence is still around that hole, but we do, at least,  have access to our drive.  But how long will we have that fence, giving us a bit of a funny turn to get out.  Mind you, the actual work going on is far enough away so that we do not get much noise now at least.

While we and our neighbours can get in and out, there are still two sections fenced off, but we don’t really mind that.

This angle shows the view as you approach from the north, or the other way to the direction that the work is progressing.  You will notice, I hope, that there is a street running off our street at the barrier, and that is the way we usually have to go when we go shopping, etc.

The work will continue along the street for some time now, but at least, I will not have to advise the workers how to proceed from now on.  As I say, it is somebody else’s  turn, and good luck to them.