Colour snaps

B&W snaps

These are taken in colour with my phone on walks around Hobart city and suburbs. I just mono them in Instagram. Sometimes because I'm being a "photographer". But usually because there's a quality there that's not so apparent until you strip out the distraction of colour.

Memories of the Mount St Canice explosion, Hobart 1974

Since I wrote about the 1974 Mount St Canice explosion, I have been back there and located the plaque with the names of those who died.

I've also been talking to Tasmanian friends about it; and to my surprise two of my closest friends know all about it and have vivid memories of it. Anna was 8 at the time and Lindy was 6.

The explosion happened during the school holidays. Lindy (who's from Burnie originally like me) was visiting her grandfather in Hobart, with her family. He lived in Sandy Bay, 600 metres from St Canice. Lindy remembers the incredibly loud bang. Her sister was on the toilet at the time, and her brother joked that her sister was responsible for the deafening sound. That's all she can remember, but it's been discussed in the family down the years.

Anna and her mother and younger siblings were staying at their beach cottage for the holidays. Her father was working in the city each day, and driving out to join them after work. Anna’s parents were friends to Josie Godec and her sisters; and Josie’s son Valentine spent a few days staying there. He was a couple of years older but got on well with the other children.

Anna’s recollection is that her father came home on that Thursday 5 September and had the heavy responsibility of telling Valentine his mother was dead. In fact, Josie survived for several more days; so perhaps Anna’s father’s news was that she was very badly injured. My heart goes out to that little boy, but also to Anna’s father who had that long drive to think about how he would tell him.

Nap misadventure

On Friday at lunchtime I went over to have a nap under a tree in the park; and set off a chain of events that ended with me back at work, locked out, on our small barbecue area deck with no phone, for 25 minutes.

I've been getting very sleepy at work in the afternoons; and coffee hasn't made a difference. I bought some No Doz, but the recommended dose gives you the same caffeine as one cup of instant coffee; so they are not really any use for a day in the office with free access to hot beverages. More of a "2am at a bush doof in a paddock" option. And in that scenario you are not 57.

So I thought why not just nip over to sunny Franklin Square at lunchtime for a timed nap under a tree? The grass was a bit damp but not too bad. I was wearing light beige shorts; I thought probably I'd just lie on my front and it would be fine – I did have to gather my uneaten sandwich in under me so I wouldn't be woken early by seagulls.

Time flew by and my alarm went off, I awoke refreshed but stiff as a board. I sat on my butt for probably 30 seconds gathering my thoughts and possessions; and when I got up I realised my backside was pretty damp. On the walk back to work I thought; I will need to get these dry somehow and/or maybe get Michael to drop in another pair of shorts on his way to work.

Back in the office I took them off in the bathroom and saw they were covered in spots of mud. So washing would have to precede drying; or staining would ensue. I have a pair of jeans in my desk drawer; so i changed into them; went downstairs to the chemist and bought some laundry liquid; and washed the shorts in the work handbasin. 

Fortunately we have a shower too, so I gave them a good rinse off with the shower head. Also fortunately, we have a sunny but rarely-used outdoor barbecue nook. It's accessed from our also-rarely-used conference room through narrow little double doors.

I found a good spot for the shorts where they were unlikely to blow away; and just as I turned to come back in the door slammed shut in the wind. There is a hook to hold it open but I had forgotten to use it.

I did not have my phone. I could see into the studio that I share with Abbey, Spencer and Heath. Abbey was away and the two lads had headed out to lunch just as I came back from the park. I didn't really have much option except waiting for one of them to come back.

It was actually very pleasant out there. Plenty of shade and a genuinely interesting old brick wall at look at. The whole sequence of events was so ridiculous; and eventual rescue so certain, that I was able to just smirk at my own stupidity for 25 minutes.

Our two studios are joined by a sort of glassed-in gangway (where I took the photo above). If anyone had crossed over they would have seen me; but it doesn't get a lot of traffic. Finally Heath returned to the stuffy office, came over to open the window, and got a hell of a shock when I said hello.