John Peck - Pipe 1963
South
cockerels and dogs. chickens and eggs.Monty and crayfish.
Time passed. A month. Time almost unmarked but by the change of light to dark and the two of them became familiar with each other more in the ways of elder and younger brother rather than grandfather and grandson. Toby spent long days roaming about the lagoon and forest with his dog Alf, a fine new arrangement that suited them both splendidly.
The small ute that Tom had used to drive Toby back from the station was only taken out once a month for the long trip into Eden for the shopping, or the mail, or to visit to Father Harry for a beer and to trade a few books. Both men were avid readers and old friends. Tom usually left the vehicle under a tarpaulin beside the chicken coop between trips.
He showed Toby how to plant up a small vegetable patch of his own and he also gave him the job every morning of finding enough eggs for breakfast from the chook-house that adjoined the larger vegetable garden. This was where Toby soon learnt that roosters can fly and are not afraid of dogs.
Tom heard the battle as he was walking out of the kitchen on the first day of Toby’s egg collecting attempts.
First a scuffling commotion, a commanding squawk, a yell from the lad, the sound of running feet, then Alf’s deep bark.
Tom slowly walked around the house and came up against the wire that separated the chook-house from the garden. There were three broken eggs lying on the dirt and Alf was backed up hard against the fence and being stared down by Chester.
Dora - pic Stoner
Phil Edwards - Functional
On being expelled from Trades Hall Council in 1904, Chummy Fleming made the following statement: “…I am going to be expelled because I am an anarchist. I am in the company of Tolstoy, Spencer and the most advanced thinkers of the world. Workers will never get their rights while they look to Parliament. A general strike would be more effective than all the Parliaments in the world. I have got a fine stick and I am going to use it. Expel me if you like. I am an anarchist. We have been hanged in Chicago, electrocuted in New York, guillotined in Paris and strangled in Italy, and I will go with my comrades. I am opposed to your Government and to your authority. Down with them. Do your worst. Long live Anarchy.“
I tried to think of a modern surfer who could be pictured next to such ideals, considering the reach of the Surfing Industrial Complex tentacles … I came up with Dot.
Aub on the left
Aub never pissed around with boardriders.
Aub had all of Bondi for his turf; the genteel north with its families and picnic rugs, the protected middle beach, and the thoroughly unruly south end, where boardriders ran amok.
Aub found it hard to understand how a man who loved riding waves would never consider joining a surf club; and this lifelong personal disorder provided Bondi with some of its most memorable incidents.
Aub also had a very big problem with women in small two-piece swimming costumes – so much so that he took to measuring them when he was unsure of their legality, being a measurable requirement of municipal morality ordained by the local council at the time, and one that Aub prosecuted with the zeal of an Islamic Fundamentalist, albeit dressed in sluggos.
Aub, being righteous
The big man disappointed here, as he seemed to enjoy the discomfort of the women he roused out, stood up, measured and summarily banished from the beach, as he did the feral tabloid publicity of his aged fixation, and the hyena quality of the crowds who followed him on his professional rounds.
Here he comes now, on his southerly patrol, alone and steadfast he treads a massive path to the outlaw southern end. Big Aub. Formidable even from a distance, with his wide-set shoulders and white hat, his purposeful gait.
Rob Machado
Wally Froiseth - Fins on Paipo
The Headland
Ocean beach
Snoring, heavy even breathing
‘ Grandad!’
Sharp intake of breath. Grunt.
‘ Grandad!’
Loud snort, muffled oath.
‘ Granddad!! ‘
Full and rude wakefulness
Early morning, dark and still with only the high perched kookaburras saluting a sun that was still far below the horizon. Half an hour before earliest light thought grandfather Tom as he turned in his bed to see what the young fellow wanted. He flicked on the bedside light.
‘ Whatsup Tobes? ‘
Toby stood by the side of the bed, close by the side of the bed with his hands clenched tight and Alf in close attendance.
‘ What are you doing in the house Alf? ‘
The dog smiled up at Toby and wagged his tail twice. Not my fault Boss, I’m with him.
