Field Walking Page 4
FABRIC HUB
By Tania Alba
Arajinna was in a festive mood on Thursday when The Minister for Local Government, The Honourable Nerida Quigley, announced details of an agreement between the Shire of Kalawonta and the Walter Blake Memorial Trust for the development and management of tourist facilities based at Banabrook Historic Homestead. The minister also announced the establishment of The Arajinna Fabrics Co-operative, which will set up and manage a factory to supply fabrics to the Caroline Blake Fashions chain of stores.
‘We are standing together on the threshold of a new beginning for this fine shire,’ Minister Quigley said. ‘The last decade of the twentieth century will be remembered as the launching pad into the new millennium.’
At the invitation of Shire President, Grant Hughes, the minister cut the ceremonial ribbon to declare open the first feature of the development at Banabrook, a museum to house items commemorating the shire’s impressive contribution in times of war. Guests were able to inspect the sad relics brought from Dachau by the district’s only holocaust survivor, the late Mrs Rachel Polak-Blake.
Gunadal Manageera spoke of the plans for Aboriginal culture to be a feature of the new facilities and for his people to conduct visitors through selected areas of the forest and to tell some of the dreamtime stories.
The chairperson of the Walter Blake Memorial Trust, Mrs Emily Blake, outlined plans for local citizens to share in the profits of the fabrics co-operative. Mrs Blake is the mother of Senator Caroline Blake, founder of the Caroline Blake Fashions empire. Mrs Blake is well remembered by the local sporting fraternity as a past club champion at Arajinna Golf Club and, by her maiden name of Emily Johnson, as a leading netball player in the team that won a state title for Arajinna in 1936.
Senator Blake was unable to be at the ceremony but a message from her was read by her cousin Tony Blake AO, who was named an Officer of the Order of Australia, for his services to architecture, in the recent New Year’s Honours.
Clipping from the Kalawonta News
13th April 1991
ARAJINNA TURNS OUT FOR INTER-FAITH WEDDING
By Tania Alba
The town witnessed a double wedding, although only one couple tied the knot, when Judith Blake married the Reverend Maxwell Kingsley in the garden beside Banabrook Homestead on Thursday. To start proceedings, Rabbi Levi performed a ceremony he told us included all the essential rituals of his faith. In preparation for the Jewish wedding, the bride and groom had fasted throughout the morning, so there was a break for refreshments before Bishop Smithers conducted the service set out in the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. Then, in a wonderful display of inter-faith harmony, both clerics read appropriate passages from the Old Testament, which is sacred to both faiths, and took part in a final joint blessing of the union.
But there was more to come when Gunadal Manageera, leader of the Aboriginal community, stepped forward to present the couple with a spirit stick carved and painted specially for the occasion. Gunadal spoke of the unusual relationship of his people with the white settlers of Arajinna dating back to the arrival of Alfred Blake, a relationship the succeeding Blakes and the indigenous inhabitants had built into a lasting bond.
This must surely be the first time an entire community has been extended an invitation to a wedding, and the grounds of Banabrook resembled a fairground. Tony Blake, who described himself as the oldest living descendent of the legendary Alfred, explained that the family had found it impossible to select a limited guest list and had decided on a general invitation to everybody, with a request there be no personal gifts.
To help the local economy, every food store in Arajinna, Calway Junction and Bullermark received orders to contribute to the catering. The Kalawonta Dairy supplied refrigerated containers. Members of the Country Women’s Association organized and co-ordinated the serving of food.
Notable among the guests was Senator Caroline Blake and this reporter was granted an extended interview, which will appear in next week’s edition of the Kalawonta News.
Alone in the Vestry
Wednesday 12th August 1992
‘Old buildings talk.’
Max remembered the comment. It had been made to him in July 1977, when he was returning to his bed at three in the morning. His companion, an old caretaker, had spoken quietly in the darkness. Max was on a retreat, at a property in the country. He was to be ordained the next month. His mentor at the College of Theology had advised him to go on retreat to spend some time alone pondering the future and satisfying himself he was ready to take the last step. He and the caretaker were the only occupants of a large dormitory. Something had woken him in the early hours of the morning and he had gone to investigate.
‘Old buildings talk,’ the old man said. ‘Somewhere up there, where strut meets beam, the temperature of the night air changes, the humidity reaches a critical level, there is the tiniest of movements, and the building talks.’
‘I’d not thought about it,’ Max replied.
‘If I believed anything else, living here alone, I’d go mad. I’m sure most rumours of places being haunted have their origins in things quite easily explained. We don’t have to tax our Lord with every little matter. Go back to sleep, my boy, you’ve an hour or two before sunrise.’
Now, lying alone in the vestry at Arajinna, Max listened to St Mark’s. The outer doors of the building were locked. He’d thought about securing the vestry door as well, but decided to leave it open in the hope that he might hear if somebody was trying to gain access to the church. To improve his chances, he had dragged benches against all the doors that opened inwards and leant heavy objects against the ones opening outwards. It would be difficult for an intruder to arrive without making some noise.
Since his introduction to the sounds of old buildings, he’d experienced the phenomenon often, including at Banabrook where timber floors creaked intermittently in the hours before dawn when the air was at its coolest. Tonight, however, a bumping noise had disturbed him, a bumping that continued for some minutes and left him wondering and listening. It had been a long day and, despite a determination to remain alert, he went back to sleep.
He woke suddenly at first light, his heart thumping. The bumping had started again and he was no longer able to ignore it. He had slept in a tracksuit. His tennis shoes were by the stretcher. Quietly he put on his shoes and crept out into the church. He stood for a moment, listening. The bumping seemed to be coming from behind the organ where the pipe from the bellows room was connected. There was nothing there. The bumping continued. After a few minutes, reason returned. Bumping throughout the night was not the sound an intruder would make; but Max was now thoroughly curious and felt a need to investigate. He removed the bench he had placed across the door to the transept, turned the key gently, and opened the door. The bumping continued. He edged himself outside. The bellows room was a weatherboard enclosure constructed on a raised platform. Flattening himself with his back to the timber wall, he continued to edge sideways until he could peek around the corner.
‘And just what do you think you’re doing?’ he asked. He ceased his stealthy progress and patted the rump of a young heifer whose head was thrust beneath the platform where the grass had been allowed to grow too long. She was grazing happily, her head intermittently bumping the flooring above her.
‘I suppose there is a lesson in this,’ Max said to himself. ‘I’m not absolutely sure what it is. But I am sure the grass under there needs to be cut before summer.’
It was not the first time stock had strayed into the church grounds from a neighbouring property. With the aid of a small tree branch, Max coaxed the heifer from under the platform and herded her through the car park to the access road. As expected, the neighbour’s gate was open by one heifer-width. The animal returned to her home paddock and Max secured the gate. As he walked back to the car park, he saw a vehicle progressing slowly along the main road. He recognized it as belonging to the shire’s weed control contractor. He knew the operator by sight
because the man had treated weeds in the car park recently. They exchanged waves before Max went back inside the church. As he did so, he heard the warble of his mobile telephone indicating a message had been received. The missed call was Judith—just checking.
Lenny’s Visitor
Thursday 13th August 1992
As Lenny d’Aratzio’s career in crime flourished, he had taken increasing pride in the one legal business he owned. He enjoyed the irony of being referred to in press reports as a leading pest controller, a description that often sparked humorous exchanges when he was with trusted friends behind closed doors. He also enjoyed another irony—the knowledge that his policy of honesty and fair dealing with clients of the pest control company had made him a success in an occupation reputed to have more than its share of shonky operators. It had done no harm to his standing in the community when he helped the makers of a television documentary to expose a rival who was releasing white ants under buildings and discovering them during a later inspection. Lenny’s profile in the business of pest control became so good that he started offering franchises. Once again, fair dealing with franchisees led to growth and profit, and added to the list of potential witnesses to his good character, should he