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.

Mount St Canice explosion, Hobart 1974

This disaster happened about 50 years ago, about 5km from here as the crow flies. Eight people died when a laundry boiler exploded without warning. I’m writing about it because it is hard to find out much about it on the internet; and I can't see why it should be so obscure. I have put this together from searching the Canberra Times on Trove, viewing The Mercury on microfiche at the State Library, and requesting items in the state archives.

Some of what I have read in the contemporary papers is quite graphic and I don't see the need to reproduce all of that. However, the very least that should be available online is the names of the deceased.

There is a lot to this story, but I'll try to keep it brief.

Background
Mount St Canice now is a retirement home complex in Sandy Bay, an affluent part of Hobart. The main building is palatial, with fluted columns and a green clock tower which can be seen from far away. Seeing this tower in the distance from the beach first piqued my interest in this mysterious complex on the hill.

It was built in 1893 for the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, who established a convent. They took in women who would have been described at the time as delinquent, immoral, fallen etc. These women were required to work in the laundry, which did commercial work. The order ran nine other convent laundries (known as Magdelene Laundries) around Australia. These ran on a similar basis to those in Ireland, the home of the order. It was quite harsh.

In 2013 Good Shepherd Australia's Province Leader, Sister Anne Manning wrote:

"We acknowledge, that for numbers of women, memories of their time with Good Shepherd are painful. We are deeply sorry for acts of verbal or physical cruelty that occurred: such things should never have taken place in a Good Shepherd facility. The understanding that we have been the cause of suffering is our deep regret as we look back over our history."

Thursday, September 5, 1974

By 1974 the laundry, located behind the convent, was trading as Bayview Laundry.

“The convent normally houses as many as 200 delinquent girls, but today all of them were on school holidays and only the convent sisters and a few staff were in the main building.” - The Canberra Times Fri 6 Sept 1974

A new boiler was being commissioned, and had undergone testing the previous day. At 10.51am on September 5 while being test fired, the boiler exploded.

Tasmania's Police Commissioner, Mr E. V. Knowles, said tonight the three workmen were installing a new boiler at the laundry when the blast demolished 90 per cent of the 50-metre-long building. "I don't think a 1,000 pound bomb could have done any more damage", Mr Knowles said. "It is the worst thing I've seen in 34 years in the police force". - The Canberra Times Fri 6 Sept 1974

Five people were killed instantly by the massive blast; two died before they could be transported; and 18 were seriously injured, suffering mainly from head and chest wounds, broken limbs and severe lacerations. Josie Godee died four days later in hospital from her injuries. I think the eight workers who died practicing their trades all deserve to be remembered by name.

Mrs Dorothy Cadman, 46, laundry worker

Mrs Maria Douda, 41, laundry presswoman

Mr David S. Ditcham, 25, engineer

Mr Robert Eaves, 45, boiler attendant

Josefa (Josie) Godec, 29, laundry worker

Mr Leon Thornton Jones, 40, van driver for the laundry

Miss Fiona Mary Mclntyre 19, laundry worker

Terence Ratcliffe, 15, engineering apprentice

Dorothy Cadman was an excellent worker. She had tendered her resignation, as she wanted to spend time with her daughter in Melbourne. Her boss refused to accept it, and told her she could take as much time off as she needed. Her cousin said “She was always laughing and so happy go lucky".

Maria Douda and her husband Josef had migrated from Czechoslovakia after the Soviet invasion of 1968. They had recently bought a block of land after saving hard since their arrival.

David Ditcham worked for his family firm, R. L. Ditcham Pty Ltd. He had an impeccable background in installing and testing large industrial boilers. His family home was nearby; I imagine he walked to the convent each morning that he worked there. The street leading down to the convent is Dresden Street – just an uncanny trivial fact given that this street would have been showered in debris and filled with people in shock, like a bombsite.

Robert Eaves had worked as boiler attendant at the laundry for a year. He worked closely with David Ditcham during the installation, as he was studying for an engineering qualification and wanted to learn as much as he could.

Leon Jones had lived with his mother at Windsor Court (a high-density apartment block in the city, demolished in early 200o's). In the previous four months she and her two sisters had all died of natural causes.

Fiona McIntyre was professional laundrywoman, born in Launceston.

Terry Ratcliffe was nearly sixteen. His father said "Terry had been really wrapped up in his work and enjoyed every second of it. He used to be a good hockey player at school and he would also come sailing with me of a Saturday afternoon”.

Josie Godee was a migrant from Yugoslavia, a laundry worker.

Aftermath

SEVEN DIE
Blast as boiler tested

[…] It was a scene familiar to those who experienced the blitz in England. […]

Last night the HEC rigged power lines for the Civil Defence floodlights, which enable digging to continue. The police department’s switchboard was jammed with calls from people offering to help. University students were on the scene early, and disregarded torn hands to work through the day.

Convent sisters were reluctant to leave the scene of devastation, even after the injured had been taken away. Spattered with human blood, they watched anxiously and hopefully as the missing were hauled from under bricks, girders and timbers. One sister said that the only consolation was that many of the girls at the convent were away on holiday. “There could have been scores killed otherwise” she said.

The blast took out windows in all sections of the convent, and in houses some distance away. One housewife, who lives nearly a mile away said the explosion rattled the roof of her house. “It sounded like a plane had come down on the roof” she said. And there were many similar reports.

The new boiler was installed by the Hobart engineering firm of R.L. Ditcham Pty Ltd, in the past two weeks. It was an Economic 256 hp oil-fired boiler.

Inquests will be opened before the Coroner in Hobart this morning for identification.

- The Canberra Times Fri 6 Sept 1974

The coronial inquest found the likely cause of the explosion was that safety valves, which had been 'gagged' the previous day for one part of the testing, remained gagged when the boiler was fired on the 5th. This contributed to a malfunction, which caused the boiler to rapidly go from 25 psi to 800 psi pressure; about 5.3 times its working pressure.  The boiler then failed, releasing 5.8 gigajoules of energy.

The coroner, Mrs Kim Boyer, made recommendations about the construction of boilers and siting of safety valves, so their readings or otherwise can be clearly seen from most vantage points. She also wrote

It is not any part of my function as a coroner to determine civil responsibility and I make no comment as to whether or not criminal proceedings against the installation engineer [David Ditcham] might have been taken had he survived the explosion. It is however desirable in the hope that the risk that boiler explosions in the future may be minimised, to examine the Inspection of Machinery Act 1960, the Regulations made thereunder, and the Australia Standards Association Boiler Code.

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There are a few reasons that might explain why the explosion has slipped from collective memory. Only four months later, the Tasman Bridge disaster occurred, when a freighter hit one of the bridge pylons in the dark; and one section of the bridge fell into the water. Five motorists and seven sailors died. Hobart was split in half until the bridge re-opened two and half years later.

I suspect the nature of the convent, as a home for 200 "delinquent" girls, was a cause of embarrassment for many. Families may have been anxious to shut down any revelations that their girls had been there. The residence closed after the disaster. The Sisters of the Good Shepherd have never opened their books to show how many girls went through their laundries, or their names.

The death in the explosion of the senior engineer responsible for testing the boiler, a young and respected professional from a well-known family, would also have been a factor. He had unexpectedly (at the age of 23) succeeded his father as head of the company in 1972 when Stanley Ditcham accidentally drowned in the Derwent. 

David Ditcham does not appear in the evidence as reckless or headstrong or as taking cheap dangerous shortcuts. The story cannot be reduced to a simple narrative with David as the villain.  

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Until I just updated it, the Wikipedia page for Mount Saint Canice said that "eight novices" were killed. It is not hard to find online the names of those who died in the Blythe Star (1973) and Tasman Bridge disasters; and it shouldn't take an afternoon in the archives to find the eight names of the dead in the laundry explosion of 1974.

Location of the convent in Sandy Bay (map from about 1990)

A contemporary newspaper diagram (below) laid over the satellite picture above
confirms that this was the location of the laundry (white outline).
This area is now covered in neat retirement units.

Photos by Barry Winburn, The Mercury

Love Takes Miles by Cameron Winter

He's a really talented oddball this guy. This is the lead singer and songwriter of the band Geese below. I love how this has a sneaky Motown sound running through it.

Love will call When you’ve got enough under your arms Oh oh, my my Love will call Love will make you fit it all in the car Oh oh, my my Something will take you by your pants and throw you over its head and kick you back and forth Watching the bells, watching the lights What I want is far away Talk to the moon, flatten her down And make her watch the wind all night She can wait Lonely as hell, walking around Without moving, I’m not here Watching the moon, writing her down Love takes miles Love takes years

Left me promising her shoes Hmm, my my I need I need your feet more than you do Hmm, my my I need somebody sent down from the sun that talks to me how you used to Lonely as hell, feet on the ground What I want is on my mind Talk to the the moon, flatten her down And sit her on the stairs all day She’s alright Lonely as hell, walking around Without moving, I’m not here Walk to the moon, flatten her down Love takes miles Love takes miles Love takes years You better start a-walking baby Love takes miles You better start a-walking babe Love takes miles

 

Favourite Song mid summer 2026

 

I discovered Geese and singer/songwriter Cameron Winter in a weird way. Listening to the John and Elis BBC podcast, on which they have various competitions people enter by sending in voice notes.

Someone sent an entry as a song they improvised to the tune of/sung in the style of a Cameron Winter song (He's got an astonishing voice that I'd describe as "imagine if Radiohead's Thom Yorke was 6'4" American swimmer Michael Phelps". )

John and Elis felt that the entrant trying to sing in this style was a mistake and possibly disrespectful, then went on to speak in awed tones about Cameron Winter and his band Geese. As they are usually just a couple of chuckleheads and rarely serious about something like music; I felt I should check them out.

So I am currently in the early stages of a thrall. The last track here Bow Down (29:52) is my song 'o the summer for now – but the whole session is wonderful. Powerful young rock band with a lady on lead guitar; a big yes from me.

1970s Pistol Coincidence

 Across the 1970s and 80s my dad had

• a beautiful chrome lighter shaped like a flintlock pistol
• a collection of well-crafted wooden puzzles in various shapes (cube, barrel, pistol)
• and a starter's pistol (that I think used caps like a kids toy?) He used this in at least one role in his Burnie Musical Society career. Because of his deep voice; dark brows and facility for an evil laugh Dad was often assigned roles like Jealous Lover, Captain of The Hussars or what have you, in Carousel, Showboat or Pirates of Penzance.

Pistols; just a fun shape to have around the house in my childhood. From a quick Google it looks like it's still pretty popular (ugh).

Upsettlington

 Elf and I are visiting the UK next year, and I would quite like to get to Berwickshire and visit historic Upsettlington. Or is it Upsettington? Wikipedia isn’t sure. In any case James IV came along at some stage and renamed it Ladykirk.

Upsettington Castle was a castle that was located near Upsettington (now Ladykirk), Scottish Borders, Scotland. The castle was the caput baronium of the Lordship of Upsettlington. The lands and barony were granted to the Bisset family by King William I of Scotland. Upsettlington was strategically located adjacent to the English Norham Castle across the River Tweed. The castle was sacked and destroyed in 1297–1298, while William Bisset, Lord of Upsettlington was in Flanders serving in King Edward I of England's expedition to Flanders.^[1]

David Byrne – Who Is The Sky?

HG and Roy used to talk about The Gordon Boyd Rule of Performance: "It is often required to sing while acting; but one must never act while singing. "

I would ask Gordon. and anyone else committed to that rule to skip this clip. But for everyone else – it's full of joy, and highly recommended.

David Byrne has been a constant musical companion in my life since 1983, and continues to surprise and delight with everything he does. This show is coming to Melbourne in a few weeks.

Boundary quandary

 The other day I said hi to Neighbour Mark on my way past his place. He is a cheerful and busy soul, often working outside on something or other. Our adjoining properties have a continuous concrete retaining wall abutting the footpath; and years ago we coordinated our picket fences – we're presenting a united front to the world, let's say.

Mark was on his haunches weeding the footpath in front of his garage; and I realised that our whole shared frontage (32 metres long) was weedy as heck. I mumbled something non-commital like "oh, I really have to do ours" and carried on.

But then I couldn't rest for thinking of Mark painstakingly weeding his section; then getting to the boundary and having a choice to make. Does he stop, leaving a stark disparity between his side (respectable/industrious) and mine (slovenly/couch potato)? Or – does he keep going, weeding our weeds and putting us (further) in his debt?

So I got out before seven on Saturday morning to do our side before he felt he had to. There I saw Neighbour Mark had only weeded in front of his garage. I started doing our side, which took about an hour; and then of course I was the one with the quandary. So I did all the rest of his.

A couple of days later he saw me in the backyard and said "Did you do our weeds??" and I told him when I saw he'd only done the garage, I did say to myself "That bastard!"

Wave ski paddle <-> beef jerky

I follow a few workmates on Instagram. One colleague who lives near the water posted some pics from aboard a wave ski like ours. We were chatting about it in the work kitchen and she said they have two of them. I said something like "oh nice, you can go out together" and she said no, for some reason they only had one paddle. 

We have one wave ski and two paddles. Long story short, on Sunday we swapped the paddle for 80g of their high quality chimichurri beef jerky.

Christmas 2025

We had a splendid (though chilly) Christmas Day.
There was lots of cousin love (Miah, Michael, Marcus, Karri L-R)
In the background dad, mum and Elf.

Holiday swims

We had crummy weather for the start of the holidays; to the extent that it snowed on the mountain on Christmas Day - this is a snap from the Pinnacle web cam.

Now things have settled down and we have these pleasant sunny days; very high UV risk but only about 20° max. I have swum three times in the last four days. I've got a problem with my shoulder at the moment and I've been nervous waiting to see how it would affect swimming. I can scull backwards and breaststroke but I can't freestyle (overarm).

This is Long Beach at Sandy Bay in Hobart. It's only 5km from the city centre, so it's generally Tasmania's most crowded. This is about 6.30 at night in January, still around 16° and there's only a handful of people around. I swam out to the pontoon and lazed in the sun a bit.

Tonight I went back and did the same. My favourite is Hinsby Beach which is further down river: 20 mins drive compared to ten for Long Beach. But if Long Beach is this empty in the early evening, I'm happy to swim here. I only go to the beach to swim, then get dry and head off. I swam 3 hours ago and still have the happy clean and tired feeling.

International Year of

I am excited to learn that 2029 will be the International Year of Asteroid Awareness.

 Here's my working list for future IYs.

• Clouds
• Adhesives
• Zircon
• White Goods
• Puppetry
• Spreads & Preserves
• Ears & Noses
• Oats
• Soil
• Flotsam
• Toggles, Buttons & Zips
• Chutneys & Tapenades
• Primates
• Accordions
• Snacks
• Trumpets
• Traffic Calming Measures
• Bone & Cartilage
• Natural Fabrics
• Synthetic Fabrics

Point to Pinnacle 2025

On Sunday Michael, Robbie and I walked 21km uphill, in the Point to Pinnacle Race. We are not racers, we just enjoy the annual chance to walk up the cordoned-off road. Last year Rob and I planned to do it together but he was double booked so we gave his ticket to Michael; and this year all three of us did it.

However; this is the only pic you'll see of all three of us as Michael put the foot down after about 5km and did the rest at his natural 21yo pace; getting to the top in 3hrs 31 minutes. He placed 231 of 1186. Last year we stayed together and just squeaked in under four hours.

Here's some of the official photos documenting his casual style; about 9km in and then in the final stretch to the finish.

Robbie and I went at a pace more reasonable for people who can remember the Whitlam dismissal.

In the photo above we (on the right) are just going past the Derwent Scottish Pipe Band (out of sight to the left). They are magnificent, and brought a tear to the eye. Here's a pic from their website.

At The Springs the taiko drummers also gave everyone a lot of energy and positivity.

As we ascended Robbie and I worked through the full agenda we'd prepared; covering recent events, historical events, the best West Indian cricketers, ideal ingredients for sandwiches, prospects for solving perpetual motion, diseases of the horse, Tasmania's greatest opposition leaders, Futurism v Scuola Metafisica and the eternal debate: Cortina v Torana.

There was no view this year. We were in a tight little room of fog for the last 6km or so. It tended to flatten out the walk because although that stretch rises steadily; at any time the stretch you actually could see appeared fairly level. On the other hand it's always nice to see the target and orient yourself as the road winds about; and we couldn't do that.

Michael finished fresh as a daisy, and went off to work mere hours later. 

Robbie had sore hamstrings and a possible blister developing; my left hip had started to creak a bit. But we lunged for the finish line all the same. We finished in 4 hours 19 minutes. Training for 2026 starts now!

Beach

Note to self. Don't forget how the first mouthful of fresh water tastes when you've just come out of the sea. And warming up your cold feet on the cement footpath before driving home.

Goal diary for 26 October

I love to score but I also love to play just the right pass, or use a bit of skill to buy some space and time in a tight spot in defence. All of these give me material for my mental highlight reel, which I use whenever I need to go to sleep or just take my mind off something.

I don't score a lot of goals, but I netted three in the first half of Sunday kickabout soccer, and another after the drinks break.

1. I was put clean through with a vertical pass, good touch to control, one touch to wrong-foot Scott in goals then slotted it to his left. I might have been offside if we played offside.
2. I was similarly lurking up front, got a good pass with young Kevin (wears an Arsenal shirt) close behind me. I had it ready to shoot on my right as he closed me down, so I chopped it back through his legs onto my left then just tapped it back to my right to put it past Scott. He got a lot on it, but it bobbled up over him and stayed under the bar. Messi was mentioned. Kevin said I ought to buy a lottery ticket.
3. Brogi chased a lost cause over in the left corner; beat two men and managed to get in a cross as I arrived in front of goal. I was pleased with my first time toe-prod finish which caught the defence cold as it often will. I got the angles just right. I looked to Brogi to share the success but he was wrapped up in his own celebration which is his way.
4. Brogi and I were 2 on 2 with a defender and keeper. I slid it through for him to shoot on his left; he sent it back to me. I sent it back to him; he indignantly sent it back to me. By then we'd run out of room and I had a bit to do, but got it in past Dean.

Andy suffered a sudden calf injury which ended his game. It was the type old players call "shot by a sniper". In the group chat after the game I observed that the ground where we play does in fact have a grassy knoll.

Teams: Me, Brogi, Ratar, Lochie, Andy Bowie  v Dean, Scott, Kevin, Raf, Lochie

Running up steps

My usual run around the soccer ground is on hiatus because I have physio exercises for my right shoulder that occupy the morning.

I am giving myself a week off since my Theraband snapped. And I'm back running up the stone steps.

About two years ago the council installed beautiful stone steps to replace a goat track. They are right behind out house, and a good running alternative in wet weather or when time is short.

I have just run up 28x16=448 steps.

Favourite song, early spring 2025

This song comes from a new TRIPLE album. After a few months playing the album over and over on YouTube, I have now bought it. 

We use time tracking software at work and it's been annoying me with a pop up saying WRITE A REVIEW FOR A US$25 GIFT CARD. So I did, which turned out to be a palaver but I earned A$35 worth of Apple credit, which I spent on iTunes buying this Jeff Tweedy masterpiece.

AFL Grand Final Brisbane 18.14.122 d Geelong 11.9.75

Note: I use 'AFL' to refer to the Australian Football League and not the game of Australian Rules football; although other people increasingly use the term 'AFL' to refer to the sport.

I went to the Southern Football League Premier division grand final here in Hobart last weekend. Clarence upset Lauderdale (Clarence are coached by Grant Fagan, brother of Brisbane Lions' coach Chris). It was a great occasion, a packed crowd at North Hobart Oval, Tasmania's traditional "league headquarters". I should write a post about that instead, really.

I realised during this week, the lead up to the AFL Grand Final, that I am pretty fed up with the AFL. Every week here there is another twist in the saga of the new Hobart stadium which has been mandated by the AFL. We don't need it, can't afford it.

There was so much that was great about the local 'granny' that AFL just doesn't provide. Affordable tickets, food and drinks. The freedom to move around the ground to different vantage points. A PA system that was feeble and only in action when there was actually an announcement, so you could chat to your mates. And a program of three games; colts, womens and then mens.

AFL is a big business in Australia, yet pays no tax. It is a loud voice on social issues of countering racism, fostering respect for women, condemning use of illegal drugs and acceptance of all sexual preferences and gender identities. But it fails its own proclaimed standards constantly (eg Calvin Cordozar Broadus Jr.was paid between 2 and 5 million A$ to play at yesterday's grand final).

The league dominates news reporting, and has made an art form of dropping distracting news tidbits any time another sport gets a bit of traction. Once all newspapers in footy states (WA, SA, Vic and Tas especially) had big rosters of football journos. Now the AFL itself employs a lot of those people; which means criticism of the league tends not to come from the mainstream.

Anyway, back to me. I was feeling shirty and when people asked if I had big grand final plans I said no not really. I had a lot of negativity and didn't want to impose it on anyone else. So I dodged the entertainment and breathless excitement of the lead up; and switched on for the first bounce with the TV on mute and ABC radio synced up. the ABC panel were unanimous tipping Geelong.

I have a natural dislike of this Geelong team so I was backing Brisbane. Coco sat on my chest and started chewing her blanket. And… I slept through the first half. Scores were low and level at half time, seems it was an old fashioned arm-wrestle with pressure through the roof and no-one able to break free. Which is great for the purists but my unconscious brain said very clearly to me "you do not need or want to watch this".

I watched the third quarter, which was again very even for most of it, until Brisbane kicked a few unanswered to get out to 19 points up at the last break. I took the radio off for a run; in that time Brisbane kicked more goals and by the time I got back in front of the TV; Geelong were gone. There is nothing in sport like a massive occasion that is dead as a contest yet must roll on because it's on the clock. Brisbane were ecstatic, Geelong were pathetic.

Bailey Smith is a flashy young Geelong player who left the Bulldogs last year to play in a better team. He appeared to love the limelight then had a mental health crisis where he hated the limelight but now again seems pretty keen on the limelight. He has limelight issues. Anyway he's a star of the side and played badly and his team lost – and I am not proud of this but it made me happy. Get a haircut son.

Seeing the handshakes after a game, especially a big one, is really important to me. As soon as they cut away to an interview the TV was off.

I'm happy for Chris Fagan the coach, he seems to be a good guy and he's from Queenstown in Tasmania like two of my best mates. It’s nice that the brothers both won against the odds.

That's it for male footy until next season. But AFLW (womens) has been going for the last six weeks and continues today. I feel much more positive about it. Go Tiges.

Suburban footy grounds of Tasmania

 A companion piece to the Country Footy Grounds collection. The text links take you to Google Street View, and the images are captured from there too. If you enjoy roaming around Google Maps like I do you might enjoy this.

Claremont (SFL Community League)

Pontville Oval (home of Brighton Robins)
(SFL Community League)

Anzac Park, Lindisfarne Two Blues
(SFL Community League)

Geilston Bay Oval, OHA Football Club

(Old Scholars Football Association)