Kurri Kurri smelter to close

This post simply records the impending closure of the Kurri Kurri aluminium smelter. For those who don't know where Kurri Kurri is, it lies in the Lower Hunter.

This is just another of the changes that have wracked New England over the last sixty years, something I dealt with in a preliminary way in Social change in New England 1950-2000 Introduction.  Changes on these scales are not easy to manage at local level.

The smelter's closure wasn't helped by its inability to negotiate a long term electricity contract with the past and present Sydney governments. However, the underlying causes link to the structural changes now taking place across the Australian economy.

New England fashion - Frasers of Arran

I am tired of apologising for my slow posting here. My problem lies in changes in my own household that mean we have been in a permanent move phase for months! I have found it very hard to concentrate. We are almost at the end of it. 

A post on my personal blog, Refashioning Dad revisited, returned to an earlier campaign to change my fashion image. This got me thinking about New England fashion.

This shot is from Frasers of Arran.

After I left Armidale for Sydney, I kept buying most of  my clothes in Armidale. Why? I could still buy good wool and country gear that simply wasn't available in Sydney.

There is an irony in this, however. I had to stop buying in Armidale because the local stores stopped stocking the things I loved. Yet, at the same time, the styles came back into fashion in Sydney! So I ended buying my Tablelands' gear in Sydney!

Throughout the changes, Frasers of Arran kept stocking their gear, entering the on-line world. Here is wool of the type I love. I don't mind the girl either!

Fashion across New England is actually quite varied, for fashion reflects climate and life style, and that varies widely across New England. This shouldn't surprise. After all, New England is a fair bit larger than, say, Greece.

We don't sell our varying New England life styles at all well. I know that I have said that before, but it remains true.

The thing is that the on-line revolution provides an opportunity for people like us to present our special features, to build on what we have. I find that exciting. 

Round the New England blogging traps 26 - romance with a dash of geology

On Freedom and Flourishing, Winton Bates What is the case for government funding of mitigation research? looks at the justification for government funding of climate change research. Winton was co-editor of Neucleus with me back in those distant days.

Staying with the University of New England, on Northern Rivers Geology Rod has continued his fascinating analysis of New England's geology and geography. To illustrate my point, have a look at Where the river joins the sea. One of the reasons why UNE was so influential in its earlier days lay in its adoption of a broader regional focus. Sadly, it still has to recover that.

Still sticking with UNE, New England blogger and Armidale Express journalist Janene Carey had a fascinating profile of local independent MP and UNE Chancellor Richard Torbay. In a comment on an earlier post, Janene asked me questions for Richard. Personal events intervened. But, Richard, I would be a darn sight happier if you were to come out with a broader New England focus including support for self-government.

If you go to Canberra without that broader base, then you are likely to be ineffective.

Mark's Clarence Valley Today remains a superb photo blog. It helps that I know the areas that he writes about quite well, but he just has some fascinating stuff. 

Published by Penguin, Cathryn Hein's new book is described in this way:      

When a tragic horse float accident leaves young showjumper Brooke Kingston unable to properly manage her family's Hunter Valley property, she believes nothing worse can happen. Until she discovers her well-intentioned family have employed a new farm manager for her beloved Kingston Downs. But stubbornness runs in the family, and Brooke isn't about to leave her home or abandon her darling horse Poddy. Working on the principle possession is nine-tenths of the law, she digs in her spurs and stays put.

You will find her blog here. Now Cathyrn and fellow New England writer Bronwyn Parry are doing a rather effective job in cross-promotion. 

Cathryn describes Bronwyn's latest book in these terms: 

Trapped in rugged country in scorching summer heat, pursued by ruthless gunmen who can’t afford to fail, Jo and Nick will need all their skills and courage to survive.

The national parks where Ranger Jo Lockwood works, on the edge of the NSW outback, are untamed stretches of dry forest cut through with wild rivers. She’s often alone, and she likes it that way until she discovers the body of a man, brutally murdered, in a vandalised campground.

I have yet to read Cathryn, although I intend to do so as soon as I can get to a bookshop. I can tell you that Bronwyn is a bloody good writer. She really is, and her sales attest to that.

I know that I carry on about this, but we New Englanders really don't have access to our own cultural life because we don't exist! I try as best I can, recently not well, to feed back to you some of the depth and texture of our life, but it's hard.

The broader New England is a natural historical entity in the way very few Australian areas are. We exist because geography and history dictate that we do. Yet I would bet you London to a brick, to use a now ancient phrase, that the Armidale Express would classify Bronwyn as an Armidale or, at best, a Northern Tablelands' writer.

The Newcastle Herald would classify  Cathryn as a Hunter Valley writer. And yet they write in a common genre, draw from related geographical experiences, are understandable to each other and cross-promote.

I always knew about the commonalities and links. I did not realise until started writing in detail about the North just how deep and unique our history and cultural life has been. And damn all Australians or even New Englanders know about it.     

Narrabri wrestles with fly in, fly out workers

Interesting story on ABC New England North West on problems associated with fly in, fly out workers in Narrabri. The town is welcoming them, but is struggling to work out how best to cope. Among other things, the airport has gone from from 13 to 52 flights a week!

You can find more details here.

Introducing the Vincent printers

I had been planning to bring up A Belshaw World column today, but the research goes on.

Between 1839 and 1923, the Vincents established eighteen newspapers – one each in England, New Zealand and the Blue Mountains, a further fifteen in twelve New England towns. For almost 150 years from 1828, four generations of the Vincent family were involved with every aspect of the evolving newspaper business. In all, it’s a remarkable record.

The following photo shows Frank Walter Vincent Senior on the left, his wife Armidale girl Sarah Jane nee Rampling nursing the child. They met while Frank and brother Henry were helping Frank Newton establish the Armidale Telegraph. Brother Henry met his wife at the same time, another Armidale girl, Sarah Shiels. Further comments follow the photo.

On 15 April 1876, the two brothers established the Uralla & Walcha Times (later just Uralla Times), with Frank as editor. He and then son Barnes were editors for all but six years of its life, from foundation until the paper's sale to the Armidale Newspaper Company Ltd at the close of 1946. In the gap, the paper was edited by another Vincent. 

Barnes then retired as editor. However, after a four year break returned as editor and remained so until the beginning of 1962. In the end, the Vincents as a family edited this paper for eighty one years. I will tell their fuller story in my column.        

Gibraltar Range National Park

The Gibraltar Range and Gibraltar Range National Park lie on the eastern edge of the New England Tablelands between Glen Innes (79k) and Grafton (104k).

This photo from Mark's Clarence Valley Today photo blog shows the view from the Heffron lookout.

This area was always sparsely populated, although there was considerable mining interest, especially gold and tin along the Mann River.

From the 1920s onwards, William Mulligan, grazier and mining engineer, promoted building a hydroelectric scheme using water from both branches of Dandahra Creek. He wanted to rework foothill copper deposits. Falling post-war copper prices and changing government policies were to prevent construction of his private power station.

I found the story of William Mulligan interesting because it is another example of the early interest in hydro electricity that forms a small subset of New England history. Today you can see the remains of his endeavours preserved within the Parl. 

Time to put Sydney into the retirement home?

With a workshop in Moruya this week, Broken Hill last week, Parkes two weeks before that, I haven't had time to scratch myself! Yet there is so much to write about. Like the reasons why it cost $900 to install a $45 tap.

And no, that's not a complaint about tradies, just a complaint about the things that have been happening in the remote areas of what is presently called NSW.

Today Granny Herald is complaining about NSW's low population growth. More precisely, she is complaining about Sydney's low population growth.

As the Armidale Express or Grafton Daily Examiner of Sydney, Granny is entitled to complain about her own parochial interests. Still, she shouldn't assume that her forcibly fostered children in the rest of the current state share her concerns.

A number are grown up, want to leave home, but like the daughter in old novels are forced to stay home to look after an aging granny

Is it time to put Sydney in an old person's home, or at least a retirement village? I am sure that she would be better off without having to maintain the pretence of worrying about the rest of us.

Her sclerotic transport  arteries give her great pain. Her lungs are crowded by self-inflicted pollution. She is just so slow now to come to decisions. And she struggles to remember just what she was as Alzheimer's clouds her memory of her once great past.

Sometimes snippets of memory come back and she launches a new health program, the integrated transport plan is a case in point. Intended to ease the pain of her own arteries, she yet has to try to extend it to barely remembered children who no longer care.

I know that it's sad. it's hard, but she really must accept separation. Her family has become quite dysfunctional in their struggles to create new identities. It's time to finish it.       

NSW Public Accounts Committee 1924

Today just another photo. This time the NSW Parliament Public Works Committee : Moss Vale - Port Kembla enquiry taken at Macquarie Pass 1924.

David Drummond, one of the two Progressive Party members for the Northern Tablelands seat is on the right.

Drummond \was appalled by the lack of understanding of metro members of the Committee of conditions outside Sydney.

Not a lot has changed! 

Can you spot the goanna?

It's been a difficult and busy month. That's my only excuse for such a long delay in posting. I have various part completed posts that I was going to back post. That was a forlorn dream, really.

I do promise to start posting again on a regular basis. In the meantime, here is a photo from Gordon's lookANDsee photo blog. Can you spot the goanna? It took me a moment.  

Belshaw’s World – the incivility of modern technology

There is something fundamentally uncivil about modern communications technology. It isolates us while giving us the illusion of connection.

I am writing this sitting in a suburban train carriage. Around me, people are listening to music, phoning, texting, reading emails, watching their small screens.

Last week I looked at my own household. The TV was on. Youngest had isolated herself in her bedroom watching things on her laptop. My wife was watching TV while playing with her handheld device. Eldest was watching TV while looking at her laptop. I sat in silence.

I am a conversation type person. I like to talk and, more importantly, to listen. I am interested in people, curious about the things that happen around me. My family has always laughed at the way I get into conversation with strangers. I am just interested.

To someone like me, there is something deeply alienating about modern communications technology. Deprived of the conversation and direct human contact that I crave, I find that my spirit withers. Worse, I begin to lose the ability to actually talk to people when I have the chance.

This evil does not seem to affect the young, or at least not to the same extent. They, however, suffer from another problem, communications dependency.

To their parents and especially grandparents, if you were out of touch your were out of touch. You might ring in by landline, but this depended on a phone being available. Otherwise, you did your own thing.

Now we have all become dependent upon instant contact. Without it, we are all infected by worry. Has something happened? Is everything all right? What is going on?

In a way, it’s like a GPS in a car. Prior to GPS, you got a map and planned your trip. Now many rely on GPS to tell them what to do. Without it, they have no idea where they are, where they should drive. If the GPS stops, they are lost.

Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t be without my mobile. It’s just that it should be a tool, a means to an end, not an ingrown piece of kit.

I was trying to work out the other day when I first began to lose my ability to talk to people. It sort of crept up on me!

I am not naturally gregarious, although I have learned to be. I am naturally curious, and that’s not a bad substitute at times.

The real crunch-point came when I chose to work from home in order to carry-out the main child care role. Now I found myself isolated for long periods, leading to desperation for conversation when people were around me.

To a degree the usual social routines associated with school provided a substitute, although I found that the very isolation of day to day life made this more difficult.

The Beatles’ song Eleanor Rigby was released in 1966. That’s well before the modern communications era. The chorus goes:

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

To my mind, that’s the story of modern communications technology, for the number of lonely people has actually exploded since the new technologies were introduced.

There are those who remain stuck in the past, unable to use the new communications technology but who are conscious of the loss. And then there are those who have used it, only to have the interaction withdrawn. They are far sadder, for without the technology crutch their lives are much diminished. They wait sadly for the SMS that never comes.

You can actually see this working itself out on Facebook too. The act of un-friending someone has become a weapon, something to be used consciously in the warfare that human relations can become.

While these things affect all ages, I feel especially sorry for the young and insecure.

No longer can you lick your personal wounds in private. The acts of friendship and the ending of friendship are played out across time and space in the pitiless glare created by our communications systems, recorded on our timelines for many to see.

Joy is replaced by sadness and even anger driven home by their very visibility. I find that sad!

Note to readers: This is the first Belshaw's World since the ending of my Armidale Express column. I am continuing the series because it gives me a chance for a different type of writing. You can see all the columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012.