|
'Are we going to get there and back in one piece?' Alan
McDonald asked aloud.
Three brothers, Kevin, (64), Ron, (58) and Alan, (55), are in the sky for the
first time.
They live and work together - running a sheep and cattle farm as well as a
timber mill on their 1,300-acre Victorian property in Digby, 400 kilometres
from Melbourne.
They are on a flight from Portland to Melbourne.
Kevin, Ron and Alan have never been in an aeroplane, or more surprisingly, to
Melbourne.
Rarely do they take holidays; other than when their mother was alive; each
year on Mother's Day they would drive her to a nearby coastal town such as
Port Campbell, Nelson or Beachport in South Australia.They have not ridden an
electric train, a tram, lift or an escalator. They drink sweet black tea and
have never drunk a cappuccino; never eaten a pizza baked in a restaurant,
never tasted gelati ice cream.They have not married and do not have a room of
their own to sleep in. The McDonald brothers do not use bad language; they
are truly old-world gentlemen.
Digby is less than 400 kilometres from Melbourne
and several hours by car. There are few people in country Victorian towns
that have not made the trip to their capital at sometime.
Many commute regularly for business, visiting friends or for shopping. If
necessary Digbyites have been known to make the return journey to Melbourne in the same
day.
Like their parents, the brothers were born in Hamilton. Their father worked as a charcoal
burner, and a timber cutter. In 1947, he bought 100 acres of forested land
outside the small town of Digby, 45 kilometres
west of Hamilton.
The family lived in a one-roomed cottage. Slowly, they cleared the land for
grazing and sold the timber for firewood and milling.
Kevin, the eldest was 11 years of age when the family moved to Digby. He
began school at the nearby town of Hotspur.
Not staying there long; he said of the students,'they were that mad - they
took to the teacher. They were a wild lot - so I never stopped there. I went
to Digby school after that. You either walked or rode a pushbike the four
miles to school'. The brothers stayed at school only as long as they had to.
'You left when you were allowed, when you could - about 14.'
After their school years, the brothers worked with their father on the farm
and in the forest cutting timber and splitting fence posts.
Today, the 1,300-acre farm runs 330 head of cattle 3,000 sheep, and a timber
mill that is operated solely by the brothers. Three cattle dogs have the run
of the place. The fourth dog, the eldest was deaf and recently, came to a sad
end while sleeping behind the back wheel of a tractor. Ron didn't see her
when he started the tractor...There was an old cat, but it died.
The milling process has changed little since their father began cutting
timber for the farm about 50 years ago. Eventually, the brothers took it on
and built a roof over the machinery and have been milling commercially now
for more than 30 years.
Kevin is a shy, slightly stooped man. The effects of the years of heavy
manual labour are evident. His clean-shaven face is weathered; his eyes are
heavy and look tired. He moves slowly, as if protecting his body from pain.He
travelled to Ballarat once - 'Can't quite remember it' he says. 'Must have
been about two or three at the time. My grandparents were living there and
mum and dad were visiting them. Was before my brothers were born.'
Ron appears to be content with the world and does not ask much from it, other
than his pouch of tobacco from which he rolls his cigarettes. He is even
trying to give up the few he smokes each day. His brothers gave up some time
ago. They know smoking is not good for your health - and it makes you cough.
Alan, the youngest brother is more outgoing and talkative. His many interests
include:music - he has a collection of over 1,000 CDs, mostly country,
classical and old time songs from the 1940s -1960s, including; Seekers, Rick
& Fel Carey, Slim Dusty, Buddy Williams, Chad Morgan, Foster & Alan
and Daniel O'Donnell. Alan is 'Not real wrapped in modern music, it's not
really singing,' he says, 'More or less yelling, these days, I reckon it is'.
He has an enviable library of videos, which includes, mostly music videos,
wildlife, old Australian films, documentaries and country and western movies.
He particularly likes the video he has about the Tamworth
music festival, and would like to go there himself one day. Some of the
videos have not been played. Alan collects novelty clocks with unusual
sounds; he has one that makes the noise like a truck horn and one that sounds
like a train; he has a singing fish and a singing crayfish that play recorded
country music. Most purchases are made through mail order catalogues. The
McDonalds don't use a computer or have access to the Internet for shopping,
although as Alan says,'It sounds interesting, have seen it on television.'
Alan is proud of his garden; particularly the dahlias, irises and orchids,
many of which have also been collected from specialist nurseries through the
mail.
The McDonalds timber mill is a piece of colonial past. When the brother's
stop running it, a bit more of Australia's history will have
gone.They say they cannot afford to employ or train anyone. 'The insurance is
as high as it gets, costs too much for the premium because of the risk of
accident on the machinery. We know what we are doing, to train someone new -
and what if they did have an accident - it would be awful.'
If you want to buy timber from the McDonald brothers, you must not be in a
hurry. The McDonald's clients know this timber is the best and worth waiting
for. Orders may take days, weeks or months to fill; depending on the time of
the year. The McDonalds are the calmest and most unfazed of men.
These days, the McDonald can only take timber from private property.'That's
going back to the mills that used to be around here; they've all closed down
now.' Alan explains - 'Those bigger corporate mills bought all the logging
rights, they got the first say of the logs in the state forests, and there
was none left for the small mills, we don't have access to the forests now.'
Trees the brothers fell are by permit and arrangement with the owners of the
private land.
Before felling a tree, the McDonalds look for indicators that show whether it
is suitable for milling. Messmate or stringy bark is the common local hardwood.
They look for a healthy crown and if the girth is a useable width. Kevin will
hit the tree with the back of an axe and listen to the ring. 'If its solid
you can cut timber out of him, if it's one that is a bit iffy, you don't get
much out of him - you may get only fence droppers out of it, that's all.'
Once the tree is selected it is felled using a chain saw.The tree is docked
off - topped and tailed - and cut into lengths that can be placed by
front-end loader onto the truck and transported to the mill. It is slow work,
and if the weather is bad, burdensome digging trucks out of a bog.
The McDonald fell trees once a year; when the weather is suitable. Milling
begins when enough logs have been collected. They don't take too much.As
Kevin explains,' It's a waste, if not milled quickly, the logs will split and
be unusable.Then it is only good for firewood.'
The mill machinery is old and the work slow. The brothers work together as if
part of the machinery, automatic and skilful. There is no need for conversation,
they know what they are doing, as if in a trance; the rhythm is hypnotic. The
three dogs know the routine and know when to step out of the way, seemingly
unperturbed by the screeching sound and spray of sawdust and wood chip
fragments as they fly from the unguarded circular tungsten tipped steel
blade.
Kevin is the benchman, and usually, the benchman is boss. He keeps a record
of the orders, and sets the machine to the required gauge. Ron and Allen sort
the lengths at the other end of the bench as Kevin passes them through.
As well as the mill, there is the farm to manage, and recently, newborn
spring calves and lambs to hand rear. The McDonalds young are nurtured for
longer than necessary.
'You gotta spoil something!' Said Kevin affectionately.'Its hard to sell the
ones you rear, sometimes, you don't let them go to market'.
Some things have changed on the farm - the original timber cottage has been
pulled down and a new house built on the site. The fireplace from the old
house stands in the garden; now used as a barbecue. The new home is a simple
construction, and surprisingly, not built from the mills hardwood.The
brothers still sleep in one large space that is big enough to be three rooms.
They have always slept in one room and didn't see the need in changing the
arrangements when building a new house. They share easily and do not need to
fight over personal space.
The builders had advised them to use pine and hardiplank for ease of
construction and cost.The décor is a blend of old and new. A large sepia
photograph of their mother hangs in the kitchen. There is a kookaburra
porcelain electric kettle, a wood stove, soft white and grey Laminex bench
tops, polished cork floors, an air-conditioner, microwave, television and a
cuckoo clock. The large old cedar kitchen table with the turned legs been
resurfaced with a Laminex top to match the benches. A Coonara wood heater
keeps the house warm. Two large colour photographs of the brothers at a
cattle market hang on the wall beside two aerial photographs of the farm.
With a farm to run and timber to cut, there has not been time for
gallivanting around the country - or marriage.
'Too busy for that' chuckles Kevin.'I've been as far as Ballarat - years ago
- but can't quite remember it'. They had no plans to travel far, 'only around
the district.' Kevin says that they have been, 'As far as Beachport in SA.
We've been to the Twelve Apostles, up to Mortlake, Warrnambool and Dimboola'.
With relatives living at Dimboola, they have managed that journey three times.
Once a year, on mothers' day, they would take their mother for a drive.
'That's how we got to Beachport, Port Campbell and those places.'
*** (Angus - note: These details are repeated earlier)***
The brothers each have a licence; but these days, Alan does most of the
driving when they go to town to shop onTuesdays. They drive the newish
air-conditioned green four-wheel-drive Ford Raider to Casterton or
Hamilton.There is a Ford Maverick Ute for general farm use as well as the
logging vehicle and the ride on mower.
It has been two years since their mother passed away at 86 years of age. 'Up
until then, we did not do any cooking - mum did it all up to her death. I
wonder now how she coped, by the time you do a few jobs, the day soon goes -
she did a good job to keep up.'
Routine and order are important; each day Kevin prepares breakfast, Alan the
midday lunches and Ron makes tea.'He is a good cook too,' Kevin and Alan tell
me, 'cooks a good fish'.
Alan is the family history keeper. He files away pieces of family news and is
a keen photographer. He laughs as he tells of his first camera and opening
the back to see how the film winds on. He particularly likes to photograph
the landscape. He produces a photograph of a five legged calf - 'It was born
like that - it has a hoof and everything on it - only trouble, when it runs
it sort of swings, and just about trips over. We still have it in the
paddock.'
Kevin is good with figures - he handles the business side of the farm and has
a board of complicated sums that he alone understands.
Portland
airport terminal is a small building staffed by two men. There are no cafés
or shops. Boarding passes are issued and the three brothers study them while
they wait for their 19 seater Metro 23 turbo prop plane, to arrive from Mt.
Gambier.
'Hope it's not that noisy inside,' Ron shouts over the thunderous roar of the
aeroplane as it circles and begins its descent to Portland to collectthe
passengers.'Can't imagine myself in the air in that thing'.
The compact plane has two rows of seats either side of the isle; allowing
each passenger a window seat.The plane is too small for and short of a
journey to warrant the services of hosts serving tea. This plane is more
intimate - the pilot welcomes the passengers aboard. There is no door separating
the cockpit from the passengers.
Alan and Ron grin nervously through tight mouths; they are held firmly in
their seats as the plane accelerates down the runway.
The ground falls away and they are airborne - looking down at Portland's
farmland and the sea.
Past the cloud and turbulence, the plane travels through a clear sunny sky.
Below, appears as a white desert cotton wool landscape.
'Like the frost on the ground in the morning', says Alan, or as Kevin
describes,'Ice caps in winter on the mountains'. 'And it seems as if we are
not moving; it is alright', added Ron.
The Kendell plane lands at Tullamarine airport. It has taken approximately 55
minutes to fly from Portland to Melbourne. The brothers were impressed at the
size of the other planes and the intensity and high pitch of the airport
noise. Portland terminal was tiny. Tullamarine is a major international
airport with concrete that reaches to the horizon. As the brothers pose for a
photograph on the tarmac, they are asked to move quickly to the terminal,
another plane is about to land, and they are in its path.
'I cannot believe we are in Melbourne,' Alan says a couple of times, 'its all
unreal'.
It was a good walk from the Kendell Arrival gate to the Ansett baggage
collection carousel.The brothers pass a flat moving escalator, which they
decline to use, preferring the sureness of their own footsteps.
Taking the next escalator down one level is a new experience - none of the
brothers had ever been on one before. Nervously, they step onto the moving
staircase - stumble slightly and hang onto the rail, before gauging their
moment to step off.
There is confusion at the baggage carousel. Ron watches passengers lift their
bags from the conveyer belt, and with his natural country courtesy, removes
not only his own suitcase, but is about to lift off some bags belonging to
other passengers. He discovers from the glare of passengers that being
helpful is not always appreciated! Grinning and embarrassed, he quickly steps
back from the experience.
The first stop is for cups of sweet black tea and lamingtons at the airport
café. With habitual synchronicity, the brothers stir their tea and tap the
spoons on the edge of their cup.
They say they enjoyed their first flight - and survived. Ron and Kevin do not
say much.
Alan repeats, 'I cannot believe we are in Melbourne'.
They look surprised, and stare at the young man with dreadlocks and body
piercing as he walks by. They see some monks wearing coloured robes, and a
group of Asian businessmen dressed in dark suits. Already, everything is
different. Alan cannot decide if the lift is travelling up or down, when his
stomach absorbs the movement. 'There is a lift at the Hamilton hospital, but
not like this, it was much slower,' he says.
Crossing the roadway from the airport terminal to the underground car park,
Kevin thinks they are already in the city. He says the airport is large
enough to be a city. There is still another 20 kilometres by car to drive
before reaching Melbourne.
The freeway is busy and the brothers begin to identify places they know from
the television. They recognise the brightly painted sculptured sound barrier
wall along the tollway, Melbourne skyscrapers and eventually, Westgate
Bridge. They cannot believe how many bridges they pass under, or how many
cars are on the road, or how long the traffic lights take to change.
A soft drizzle is falling - dampening their first view of Melbourne. Alan has
given up the idea of one day driving his brothers to Melbourne. Earlier, when
still at home, he talked about the 'next' trip to Melbourne and how he could
take the car; once he knew the way.
The wind is strong as they drive over the crest of Westgate Bridge - the
windsocks are bellowing at right angles to their poles.
The brothers' eyes are wide as the enormity of the city unfolds. They look
across Port Phillip Bay to the ships at sea, the Western suburbs, beaches,
the Dandenong, Kinglake and Macedon Ranges, the Yarra River and the height of
the tallest city buildings.
After the return trip across the bridge, the McDonalds are driven along
Beaconsfield Parade to St. Kilda for a late breakfast. Parking outside a
McDonalds restaurant they walked across the road to Greasy Joes cafe.
'No,' says Alan, 'we have never been inside a McDonalds restaurant. There is
one in Hamilton, never been in it.'
Greasy Joes is reputed to make the best hamburgers in Melbourne. Each brother
orders a bacon and cheeseburger. It arrives stacked high with; a thick
homemade burger, melted cheese, egg, bacon, lettuce and fresh tomato as well
as a generous serve of crisp light brown oven baked potato wedges. Alan lifts
the top of the bun and adds tomato sauce to his burger from the red plastic
tomato shaped jar on the table - 'It's a bit dry without it,' he suggests
hungrily.
This was a first time to experience a cappuccino. The brothers drink only tea
and then, few cups a day. They are fascinated by the coffee's creaminess and
enjoy the new taste sensation. 'It's all froth - better than ordinary instant
coffee,' says Ron grinning with approval.
Moving through Acland Street, the brothers admire the artistically presented
window displays of continental cakes and pastries.
'Couldn't eat anymore - not after that hamburger,' said Alan wistfully.
'Too many to choose from - wouldn't know which one to pick,' says Ron.
The brothers watch the moving throng of colourful and variously dressed,
people in the street. They don't know where to look first: at the bare footed
thin girl with blood red hair and blue tips, wearing tight black jeans, a
colourful shirt and thick soled sandals; or at the young man with long untidy
blond hair, no shirt and wide cheesecloth trousers, dirty with open tears
that show his pale legs; or at the coloured tiles embedded decoratively into
the pavement; the shabbily dressed grey haired man sitting on the footpath -
asking for money, tea being handed out in small plastic cups to passers by,
or the adult bookshop on the corner.
Strolling along the famous St. Kilda pier, the brothers examine the long
fishing rods anglers had placed at intervals along its length.
'Food everywhere! Take a lot of food to feed all these people in the city.'
Alan remarks when he sees yet another restaurant at the end of the pier.
Driving from St. Kilda to the Savoy Plaza Hotel, the McDonalds travel through
Bay Street Port Melbourne, past Crown Casino and the sculpture - Vault or
Yellow Peril that is erected in a small park near Flinders Street underpass.
'Made headline news that did!' Alan chuckles.'Better things to put in the
garden than that.'
The atmosphere was relaxed stillness as Kevin, Ron and Alan glimpse Melbourne
from the car. About the waterfall outside Crown Casio Kevin says,' It looks
alright - like the falls near Coleraine'.
Stopped at red traffic lights, under Flinders Street Railway Bridge, the
brothers looked nervously upwards as a train thunders noisily overhead.
The McDonalds are booked into the luxurious Savoy Park Plaza International
Hotel, opposite Spencer Street Railway Station.
After signing the register, they are escorted to the lifts and given
directions to their rooms. Alan's room is first; it is on the fifth floor.
Together, the brothers find the room and Alan unlocks the door. Ron places
the light brown board suitcase on the bed, like a travelling salesman from
1942. It's the only luggage the brothers have, besides the small camera bag
that Alan carries; and all their clothes are inside. Kevin looks worried; he
had just assumed they would be sharing the same room, as they do at home.The
brothers stand in the centre of the spacious room; silently exploring the
unfamiliar suite with their eyes - the TV hidden in a cabinet; the bar
fridge, stocked with soft drinks, alcohol, chips and chocolate bars; the full
mirrored marble bathroom with a bath as well as a shower, neatly folded white
towels, shampoo, moisturiser and soap; the king-sized bed with the checked
cover; wide shaded bedside and desk lamps; centrally controlled bedside
switches, heavy ceiling to floor curtains, couch, lounge chair and the
telephone by the bed. The view overlooks the Spencer Street Railway yards,
Colonial Stadium, and Melbourne.
The brothers find they are booked into separate rooms on separate floors.
Kevin is on the seventh floor and Ron on the eighth. They are disoriented as
they discover each floor of the Savoy is identical. In the hotel lift, they
are confused as to whether they should go up or down, and which buttons to
press. They don't think they can find each other's rooms on their own.
A short walk along Bourke Street and a lift ride to the top of the Rialto
building was among the most memorial adventures the McDonalds have in
Melbourne. Arriving at the 55th floor the brothers cannot believe how fast
the lift is moving. At the top, they hold back from standing near the glass
edge as they look at the panoramic view of Melbourne and the suburbs. As they
gather confidence, they move to the glass edge and looked down to the city
streets below. They were surprised to see rooftop gardens, carparks and
tennis courts. From the outside wire cage, they listened to the sounds that
drifted upwards. They hear sirens, the organic hum of Melbourne's heartbeat
and whistles interspersed with the occasional shout from a person.
'Sounds like the ocean on a rough day, something roaring - does it go like
this all night?' Kevin asks.
'The rail network looks like a toy train set, and look, there is the yellow
peril down there. People look like ants,' - said Alan.
Kevin adds - 'It's bigger than Mt. Gambier.' His eyes were bright and a smile
seemed permanently fixed to his face.
Alan wonders, 'That's not the MCG there is it?'
'Yes, it is.'
'Reckoned it was - looks big on TV; and so small from up here'.
Next, the brothers' take their first train ride. Richmond, and back, via the
city loop to Parliament Station. Alan and Ron had once taken a ride in a
special steam train in 1988, when the tall ships had sailed into Portland.
This is their first ride in an electric train.'Makes the plane seem really
smooth -this is much rougher!' Kevin observes that passengers are not
required to wear seat belts on trains.
The brothers have an appointment to meet Dr. Denis Napthine, at Parliament
House. He is the Member for Portland, and the McDonalds local State Liberal
Member of Parliament.Denis is taking the brothers to tea in the Members
dining room.
This was the last official sitting for the Victorian Parliament this year.
The brothers do not say much; rather they seemed to be absorbing the essence
of the city. 'Never seen so many people, so much food, shops and haste.' Alan
states slowly.
Inside the foyer of Parliament house, the brothers watch the passing of
politicians as they move along the corridors; some recognised from
television. Andre Harmeyer, Minister for Police and Corrective Services stops
for a chat. The Premier, Steve Bracks walked purposely by, obviously on a
mission.
Denis Napthine greeted the McDonalds with a charming smile. He is wearing a
smart deep grey pinstripe suit, white shirt, and patterned tie. He leads the
brothers through Queens Hall, into the Library and explains the history of
the ornate rooms and exquisitely carved antique furniture. He points to a
mezzanine floor, 'The newspaper library' - where he can, 'Read the local
papers; The Portland Observer, The Hamilton Spectator and The Casterton
News.' Where a politician can, 'Keep in touch with a community away from the
electorate.'
Over tea and chocolate cake in the Members Dining Room, Denis discusses local
issues. Of concern to the brother's is the recent expansion of the Blue Gum
plantations. The brother's believe the development is a, 'Waste of good
farmland - gone to Blue Gums'.
Denis explains that the industry is a way farmers can, 'Leave their land with
dignity,' and that it is, 'A good source of jobs for young people'. He admits
that he did not know if there would be long-term benefits, or not.
Denis took the McDonalds into the galleries where they watch the Legislative
Assembly and the Legislative Council perform. Alan is disappointed to see so
few politicians in the chambers, and that they are not, 'arguing the point -
like they do on television.'
They are introduced to Bruce Chamberlain, another local member and Roger
Hallam, whom, they tell him, is distantly related, through marriage.
Leaving Parliament House the brothers walk down Bourke Street, and experience
the bewildering five-o-clock people rush. They kept tightly together, almost
linking arms; disoriented and out of place in their bush hats, while trying
to avoid bumping into the mostly darkly suited office working men and
women.Strolling through David Jones department store, they stared
disbelievingly at the abundance of glittering Christmas decorations, pine
trees, perfumes and coloured reindeers. They stopped at the Myers Christmas
window displays. Kevin turns from the crowded windows and searches for a breadth
of clear space; he doesn't appear interested in the Christmas stories - for
an instant, it becomes all too much.
Ron wants to buy a watch while in Melbourne. He doesn't have one. He looks
for one in the shops along Little Bourke Streets Chinatown. None of the shops
he goes into sell watches - although, the Asian stores are exciting with
their different foodstuff, music reading material and smells.
The Myers store has a large section of glass cabinets overflowing with
different kinds of watches. There are too many to choose from. Ron doesn't
know where to start. A young woman assistant helps Ron select a silver banded
watch. He buys the first one the assistant puts on his wrist, it looks strong
and he says it is comfortable.'No, I won't wear it now,' he says as he
admires the silver piece on his left arm. He places two $50 notes on the
counter - the watch costs under $100. Kevin decides to buy a watch too.He
wants one with a black leather band.It is difficult to find one; most of
black watches in the store have the new plastic bands. Ron and Alan tell
Kevin that he should buy a silver one too, 'That's no good to me,' Kevin
insists, 'You get your hair caught in the band.' A black leather watch is
found and Kevin's eyes light and he is pleased. The assistant helps him try
it on; he finds it comfortable and likes the classic and simple white watch
face. This watch also has a two-year guarantee and costs less than $100
dollars. From his leather wallet Kevin hands over a $100 note. The watch is
packed into a box, wrapped and handed across the counter. There is a smile on
his face.
The brothers take a taxi back to the Savoy and rest a few minutes before
walking across the bridge to Crown Casino.They'd heard so much about the
casino from their friends and relatives back home; warned,'not to go near the
place, it was evil' and they had been told 'you got to have a go, put your
five dollars in and have some fun.' They were going to see what the fuss was
about.
'Its pretty awful - an ugly thing,' Alan remarks while standing on the bridge
above the Yarra River eyeing for the first time, Jeff's Shed - the new
Exhibition Centre.
'Make a good Hay shed,' replies Kevin, and adds, 'Wonder it does not blow
away, hope the roofs secured well.'
Ron agrees and says that it would make a good machinery shed.
The most memorable area of the casino for the brothers is not the noisy,
imposing and glitzy gaming hall; where Alan spends a few minutes trying to
work out how to use a poker machine; he is bored and gives it away after his
first dollar, 'it would be alright if you knew what you were doing.' The most
memorial part of the casino for the brothers is the Atrium light, sound and
water sculpture.
'It's like being in another place, a fantasyland,' Alan says dreamily with
his head titled back looking at the ceiling. His brothers agree and sit down
on the grand steps inside the foyer, transfixed by the changing colours from
the thousands of strings of crystal shards suspended from the ceiling. They
watch with delight as two chandeliers descend from above with a kaleidoscope
of colour. The brothers were suspended, in a Disney world of spectacular
laser imagery, moving and strobic lights, and water spurting fountains using
computer technological accuracy. Music composed by Chong Lim, David
Hirschfelder and Guy Cross; played by the Melbourne Symphony orchestra filled
the space with nocturne surround sound.
Leaving Crown Casio, the McDonald hired another taxi to take them to Lygon
Street, Carlton, and dinner. Again, they are surprised at the number of
restaurants, and curbside tables with people eating out of door.
At the Italian restaurant, Il Gambero, they each ordered a small Aussie pizza
- it came with; ham, cheese, tomato, and egg. This was the first pizza the
brothers had eaten, prepared and baked in a restaurant. With the pizza they
had a large bowl of salad, garlic and herb bread to share, and a small bottle
of Carlton beer.
'The Italian's in Carlton,' Alan says, 'I couldn't tell if they were Italians
or not, everybody looked much the same, and they all spoke English. I noticed
more of a difference in Chinatown, I can't speak Chinese.'
'It was alright too, it was good!'they agreed.
For dessert, the McDonalds enjoyed their first gelati ice cream; strawberry
and caramel; from Bruchetti's in Faraday Street.
Across the road to Reading's book and music store, Alan discovered racks of
music CD's. 'I'd have to spend a week here to see what I'd want,' he says
with frustration. He buys a CD of 'Forty Country Classic Hits' and two more
country music albums.
At 10: 30pm the brothers returned to the Savoy Plaza Hotel to watch
television before drinking lemonade and turning in for the night.
'Didn't get much sleep. It was noisy; all those sirens,' says Alan next
morning, adding, 'And, I nearly fell out of the bed. The city lights were
good - had a look out of the window before I went to sleep'.
'Yes, they were good', Ron and Kevin agree - they too had looked at the
Melbourne night light show.
'Never had a breakfast like that before,' the brothers agreed before eating
their plateful of delicacies.Breakfast in the Savoy dining room is something
to experience.A smorgasbord, sumptuously presented, offering a variety of
fresh and compote fruit, juices, yoghurts, buns and pastries as well as the hot
Bain Marie silver services with a choice of grilled baby sausages, bacon,
scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, fried rice, stir fried peppers, hash
browns, French toast and chicken livers with bacon.Also on offer were
delicious croissants; hot toast and jam; coffee and tea.
With only a few hours before their return flight to Portland, the brothers'
caught a tram to the Museum. Alan asked why the builders 'didn't finish the
roof'.
The brothers look around the modern architecture of the museum as they wait
in the foyer for it to open. A biplane is suspended from the ceiling and of
much interest as they decide whether this is one of those planes that was
peddled or driven by some other mechanical ingenuity.As they walk around the
newly set up displays there are things from their past that they recognise,
and others that they have not seen before. There are kitchen displays of the
50s and 60s; a schoolyard shelter shed complete with low wooden bench seats
and a display of lunch packed in plastic boxes.
'Mum used to pack our lunch, yes, it was like that, we would have sandwiches,
but we didn't have those little packets of sultanas that they have in those
ones,' reflects Alan.
The brothers admire the small bottle collections and say they have not seen
bottles with a sharply pointed base like the ones in the cabinet.
'That's like the one the Queen rides in', Alan says of the Hansom cab on the
floor. The is much discussion and searching for bullet holes in Ned Kelley's
armour - 'that could be one there,' says Ron pointing to a small hole near
the top of the heavy metal armour. 'Wouldn't like to have to run too far in
it,' Kevin suggests, and the other two agree, 'Pretty heavy I would think,'
says Ron.
Pharlap, the champion chestnut racehorse has been something the brothers
wanted to come to the museum to see. 'Looks alive,' says Alan, adding'look
how well the coat is preserved, and you can see all the veins.'
'I wonder how they hold him up? All that body on those small legs, all these
years. They must have steel pins through his legs and the floor.' With more
discussion they agree that this must be how Pharlap has stayed upright in the
glass showcase for so long, 'You can see bolts down near the floor.' It is
decided, there are pins in his legs. The brothers agree that Pharlap is a
beautiful horse and were pleased to have seen him in the flesh.
The final excursion of their whirlwind tour of Melbourne is a trip to the
Zoo. Alan particularly loves the garden setting and the naturalistic
environment the animals live in.
Yakini, the baby gorilla is about to have a first birthday, 'reminds me of
Henry Bolte,' says Alan, 'only much more cute'.They admire the hippopotamus
and gaze disbelievingly at the underwater antics of the frolicking seals.The
small cats are sleeping and don't seem so different to cats back home, in the
bush.
There was not enough time to see it all. Stopping briefly at the zoo shop for
souvenirs, Alan wants to buy everything. Kevin and Ron are more restrained,
'I buy things for the farm,' Kevin says.
Kevin and Ron each buy a journal and a white mug printed with Melbourne Zoo,
'will be useful in the shearing shed, just to prove I've been here'.
Back at Tullamarine airport, the brothers join a long que to have their
baggage processed. It is busier today, and not at all friendly and personal,
like Portland airport. The plane is delayed 25 minutes.
This is a big place. 'It's hard to believe we are here, and that we are
leaving' Alan remarks, 'Its just beginning to sink in - Melbourne!'
The flight back to Portland is perfect. With clear skies and excellent views,
Alan says he has a sore neck from looking out of the window.They comment
about the dryness of the country around Melbourne, and how, 'It's much
greener down our way'.
'Words cannot describe it,' Kevin said later of the impressions he is left
with about Melbourne.'It is much bigger than I expected, faster, and there
are more people'.
'When I close my eyes, I still see people, like a parade, lots of them,' says
Alan. 'And the sea is a different colour in Melbourne. It looked sort of
grey; perhaps, it's the stuff that goes into it. It's always blue in
Portland. He adds, 'only complaint I have is the one rude taxi-driver. The
rest were all right!'
Will they come to Melbourne again? 'Sure will, when it can be arranged'.
What about flying? 'It is all right - yes, we will try it again!' Ron grins.
'.That's the closest we have ever been to heaven.' Says Alan, standing with
his head back peering longingly at the sky as their plane leaves Portland and
continues its journey to Mt. Gambier.
|
