Catherine Watson blog

My spider and I

19/5/2022

Cartoon by Natasha Williams-Novak

By Catherine Watson

MY SPIDER and I get along pretty well. I can’t remember precisely when he came into my life. I think probably two or three years ago. When I first noticed him I meant to catch him and put him outside, but I never got round to it. Then I got used to him and he got used to me.

Spiders used to freak me out, especially Australian spiders. I grew up with daddy long leg spiders and they didn’t worry me. They’re spindly and insubstantial. My spider’s not like that. He’s about the size of a 20 cent piece, chunky, broad shouldered, a bruiser. And he’s black. Hard to miss.

My spider lives in the corner of the window above my desk. His web has expanded over the years until it now covers an area about 60 x 50 cms. It’s not a beautiful web. It’s higgledy-piggedly and full of stuff: fly carcases, blowfly wings, gnats, sandflies, dust. There’s a kind of funnel right in the corner that he goes in and out of. And he’s messy: the windowsill below is littered with wing bits and spider shit.

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Never mind the devastation; look at the vista

9/4/2022

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Cartoon: Colin Suggett

By Catherine Watson

TWENTY years ago, newly arrived in Bass Coast, I remarked on “the beautiful rolling hills of Gippsland” to a new local friend. Richard is a pacifist so he didn’t yell at me. He merely said “I can’t look at them without thinking of what used to be there.”

I’ve thought about that many times since. Of course! When we look at those rolling hills we are looking at a skeleton. In just 150 years they’ve been cleared of forests and groves and native grasslands. A few landholders – sometimes the descendants of the original land clearers – are valiantly replanting the hills but it’s a long road back from that scale of land clearing.

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A tale of two cooks

23/2/2022

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Farewell and thanks to Jan Cheshire

Welcome, Pip Sibley.

By Catherine Watson

THROUGH all the years of the Post’s existence, Jan Cheshire has been a constant. Now, after almost 10 years of writing A Cook’s Journal, she has decided it’s time to hang up her cook’s apron, or at least to stop writing about cooking.

Jan has been our cooking writer for the past nine and a half years, which makes her our longest-running contributor!

Her first column for the Post was in the spring of 2012, so naturally it included tips on making the most of asparagus, plus a recipe for a broad bean dip.

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Making peace

28/1/2022

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Debbie Williams, left, and Sonia Weston

By Catherine Watson

Townsend Bluff, Australia Day, 2022, a hot morning. In the shade of a casuarina tree on the brow of the hill, overlooking a glittering Andersons Bay, two women are making peace.

Debbie Williams and Sonia Weston have never met before but they both carry the weight of their family history with them.

Sonia is a cultural officer for the Bunurong Land Council. She grew up in Inverloch in the days when no one talked about Aboriginal dispossession.

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‘I have nothing to hide …'

27/1/2022

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Francesca Curtis in 2015: “I have nothing to be
ashamed of …” Photo: Gary Jaynes

By Catherine Watson

Francesca Curtis was buried on the hill in the beautiful Phillip Island cemetery, in the midst of a spectacular electrical storm that seemed apt to mark the life of a fearless freedom fighter.

In Australia in 1970, male “homosexual acts” were still illegal. There was no statute against lesbianism but it was a source of great shame. Gays and lesbians were publicly vilified and often privately bashed, including by the cops. You could be fired for being queer. (You can still be fired today but now only by people of faith!) Not surprisingly, most gays kept their inner lives well hidden.

Not Francesca. In June 1970, she was interviewed about her lesbian life on a current affairs show The Bailey File. Gays and lesbians had appeared on television before but the practice was to black out their faces. Francesca declined to be hidden, thereby becoming the first lesbian to come out on Australian TV.

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Missing in action

17/12/2021

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Cr Les Larke

By Catherine Watson

CR LES Larke has long claimed to be the voice of financial prudence on the council, committed to getting “value for money” for the ratepayers of Bass Coast. But there is a growing gap between his words and his actions.

He is paid an allowance of more than $ 26,245 a year plus super to fulfil his duties as a councillor. Not a fortune for the average councillor who puts in 20-30 hours a week on committee work, policy workshops, training and representing the community.

But it’s a nice little earner for someone who’s just filling a chair. That pretty much describes Cr Larke’s contribution.

Much of the work of councillors is done on committees, both internal and external. Councillors share the workload and most serve on three or four.

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'Noel Counihan draws with tears in his heart'

15/7/2021

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Noel Counihan: The Cough. Robert Smith Collection. The renowned realist artist spent six weeks in Wonthaggi in 1944 sketching
the miners at work.

By Catherine Watson

PICTURE the scene. The Wonthaggi Workmen’s Club, 1959. A young man from the National Gallery of Victoria is in town as part of a statewide education tour. He plans to show some slides of works from the NGV collection and give a little talk. He spoke to the club manager earlier and suggested they might start at 7pm.

“Don’t be daft!” the manager said. “They’ll all be drunk by then.”

So they’ve settled on 12.30pm, before the serious drinking starts. The young man’s talks are tailor made for his audience. No flower paintings this time. But Robert Dickerson’s Smoko will appeal, and Noel Counihan’s works, of course.

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Eat your heart out, Daylesford

21/5/2021

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From left, Greg Tingate, Cr Leticia Laing, Mykey O’Halloran, Lauren Brooks, Bass Coast Mayor Brett Tessari and
CEO Ali Wastie

By Catherine Watson

I NEVER thought I’d see the day when International Day against Homophobia would be marked in Wonthaggi, let alone by our home-grown, footy-loving mayor raising the rainbow flag, surrounded by a sea of people toting rainbow umbrellas.

It reminded me of how far we’ve come since I first stumbled on this town. In the winter of 1996, my partner and I bought the poor person’s version of a holiday house: a two-bedroom miner’s cottage in Wonthaggi, complete with outside loo and a bathroom in a cupboard.

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How Labor's women saved their party

7/4/2021

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Kay Setches: "Women have to be vigilant."

By Catherine Watson

KAY Setches has some words of advice for the women of the Liberal Party if they want to change the culture within their party: “They’re going to have to be strong and united, and they have to be ready for terrible characterisations of quotas. They have to know what they want and they’ve got to go in and negotiate it.”

She should know. Almost 30 years ago, Setches played a major role in introducing quotas for women to the Australian Labor Party.

And it has made all the difference. Today, women make up 46 per cent of Labor’s federal party room compared with 23 per cent of the Liberals.

Meanwhile the Liberal Party is clearly at a loss about how to deal with its “women problem”. Not only has it antagonised a large proportion of female voters but many of its most promising female members are abandoning it.

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Thank you for visiting!

30/1/2021

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Not Cowes or Inverloch. Sunderland-on-sea.

By Catherine Watson

SO THEY have gone at last, and peace descends once more. The place is ours again.

The exodus started on the Friday before the long weekend with a trickle of caravans and utes stacked high with mountain bikes and kayaks. By Australia Day it was a cavalcade.

And this was Wonthaggi, the poor cousin. I can only imagine how it was in Inverloch or on Phillip Island. It must have felt as though the island floated a little higher as they left.

I don’t begrudge them their few weeks beside the sea. They’ve had a tough year and there’s another one ahead. They needed the sunshine and fresh air.

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Life of a freewheeler

26/11/2020

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Stairway to heaven, by Natasha Williams-Novak

By Catherine Watson

I ALWAYS knew him as Dave Clarke, or Dave the Bike Man, but I see from his death notice that he was actually David Russell-Clarke. Then someone told me he was an old boy of Essendon Grammar. Typical of Dave to have a double-barrelled name and a posh school in his background and keep it quiet.

Born November 27 1957, died November 20 2020 … a week short of 63. Not great but not too bad for someone who lived pretty hard. It happened very quickly. He was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer, checked himself out of hospital and came home to make the most of whatever time was left.

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Virus diaries 16

13/11/2020

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Cartoon by Natasha Williams-Novak

By Catherine Watson

Sunday November 1
For two years I’ve been trying to persuade Cate to walk at Cape Woolamai and she’s finally run out of excuses. You’d normally steer clear of the island on a Melbourne Cup weekend but San Remo is practically deserted. As we approach the bridge, Cate confesses she’s always avoided the island: the busloads of tourists and that bloody road through suburbia.

Half an hour after setting off, we spot our first wallaby, with a large joey in her pouch. She stands still and silent, watching us for a long time, before bounding off. As we come down the hill we catch a glimpse of the pink granite bay through the Moreton Bay figs. We have the bay to ourselves. It’s still and sunny. We sit on the pink boulders and paddle in the warm water. This must be what the island was like in the 1970s.

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Virus diaries 15

30/10/2020

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By Catherine Watson

Saturday October 17
Beth is taking her dogs for a walk in Tank Hill when she notices me on the verandah and stops for a chat. She’s just finished her first week back at work in six months. “Having to get up at 6am ... I’m not used to it. By Thursday we were all looking at one another saying ‘This is exhausting!’ By Friday night I could hardly think.”

As the days warm up, the bird bath is getting some serious traffic. It all happens so quickly. It's not till you try to photograph them that you get a glimpse of what's happening.

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Virus diaries 14

16/10/2020

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By Catherine Watson

Monday, October 6
Low twenties, still and low tide at Harmers. I meet Michael on the beach – we are the only two – and marvel again at the annual migration to Queensland. The humans, we mean, not the whales. We talk about the summer ahead. How strange it will be without the city people, if they’re not realeased in time. Michael reckons a lot of them are already here but they don’t come out till after dark. I say I suppose they’re afraid of the knock on the door. “Like the movies,” he says.

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Man of mystery

15/10/2020

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Bass Coast Shire councillors soon after their election in November 2016. Cr Les Larke is seated, left, next to
the Mayor, Pamela Rothfield.

By Catherine Watson

THE Local Government Inspectorate this week cleared Cr Les Larke of sensational allegations that he had attempted to bribe his fellow councillors.

Four councillors had testified that Cr Larke offered $1 million per ward, later rising to a total of $5 million, to elect him mayor of Bass Coast in 2018. However, the Inspectorate found there was insufficient evidence to prove the complaint and declared it would take no further action. (Cr Larke cleared in bribery probe)

Normally no one outside the case would have heard of the allegations, since Cr Larke was not charged, but the inquiry had been leaked to The Age. It soon became apparent that, as in any good detective story, there were a lot of suspects because Cr Larke seemed to have antagonised a lot of people.

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Virus diaries 13

2/10/2020

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Horse of the Apocalypse, Kilcunda Beach,

By Catherine Watson

Sunday, September 20
The Age has a photo of a masked woman at the beach headlined ‘SURF’S UP, MASKS ON”. My heart sinks. Is this the summer ahead? In a few years’ time we’ll forget that we once hugged and shook hands. Will we ever sit in the Wonthaggi cinema again, a gathering of 300 or more, and grow quiet as the curtains part? Or sit with a group of friends in a café, unmasked, and lean in to catch the conversation?

Cate and I visit Kilcunda Beach to see the epic horse sculpture that Liz has told us about. Beneath the crumbling cliffs and steps, someone has cleverly incorporated the remains of the steps into the work; others have added driftwood legs and head, then someone added a seaweed mane. Others draped it in massive strands of kelp. It grew week by week, a community work of art that might have astonished the person who added the first driftwood stick. And now it’s crumbling away like the cliffs as it’s reclaimed by the tides.

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Virus diaries 12

18/9/2020

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Evie's party, attended by guests
from Wonthaggi and the city

By Catherine Watson

Sunday, September 6
Peter says he burst into tears when he heard Dan Andrew’s roadmap to normal life. “Just frustration,” he says. “I was sure things would ease off in the regions.” He lives alone in Korumburra and knows hardly anyone. His family are all in Melbourne. He was counting on the gyms re-opening. His local gym isn’t just his exercise, it’s his social life. He has the grace to add, “But I’m no virologist.”

Monday, September 7
A hot day. Tank Hill is unrecognisable. The sounds of children all day long. Our first joggers. Our first mountain bikers. And today our first monkey bike riders, riding their tiny, noisy machines up and down the sand tracks. Two boys about 14 or 15. I finally manage to catch the eye of one. I explain that it’s a conservation reserve and the birds are nesting, or trying to. I wait for the customary explosion but he says. “Thank you for explaining. We didn’t know. We’ve only just come to Wonthaggi.” Goodness! I point out where I think they are allowed to ride their bikes.

John calls in late afternoon for coffee. We sit on the verandah and our talk is punctuated by the squealing of the black cockatoos in Tank Hill. Such funny birds – big, cumbersome, noisy and playful. John says he’s distracted from the bleakness of the COVID situation by the joys of spring. His plum grafts – apricots on the plum rootstock – appear to have taken. He’s preparing the ground for the beans. He has lemon verbena plants to give away.

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Virus Diaries 11

4/9/2020

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Cartoon: Natasha Williams-Novak

By Catherine Watson

Saturday, August 15
A late afternoon walk at Harmers. Matilda pulls me up the sand dune, straining every muscle. At the top two blokes and a little foxie are enjoying a very private happy hour, looking out over the bay as the sun sets. We snap our masks on, and laugh conspiratorially. “Ave a good one,” they say, and salute me with their tinnies.

Sunday, August 16
I wake feeling unnaturally cheerful. A good day to take a load of green waste to the tip. It’s only when a masked man comes out of the office that I remember. Oh, there’s a plague! The tip man sees my confusion and masklessness. “Go over the back where no one can see you.” He waves me on. “You can pay next time.” Bless you, Mr Tip Man.

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Virus diaries 10

15/8/2020

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Llama mask by Aida Studham

By Catherine Watson

Sunday, August 2
Aida calls out as I’m passing by. She's sitting on the porch, taking a break from mask making. She’s made 150 from the pattern on the Department of Health website and distributed them to her neighbours and friends. Mine has llamas on it. Just in time. We chat about the news. Aida says she wishes "they" would lay off Daniel. We agree that Dan would be in there scrubbing out the nursing homes himself if he could.

Aida says “Gotta go!” and returns to the masks. She’s on a mission.

Lenice emails from NZ: “Just heard You are in a state of disaster”. “How rude!” I reply.

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Virus diaries 9

31/7/2020

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The author does PPE practice

By Catherine Watson

Monday. July 20
A sign on the book shute at Wonthaggi Library: books must self-isolate for 72 hours after returning to the library. You register at a stand at the door with name and address, use the hand sanitiser, and then you get a 15-minute pass. Only this time I’m asked to show my library card and licence. Enemy aliens, ie. city dwellers, are not permitted inside. My blood runs cold. The librarian reassures me. “If they’ve come to pick up holds we can get them and bring them to the door. And if they tell us what kind of books they like, we can choose some books for them. We can even deliver them.” Good old librarians! Finding some way to subvert the system to get books to the people who need them.

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Virus diaries 8

17/7/2020

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Cartoon: Natasha Williams-Novak

By Catherine Watson

Monday July 6
For a moment my heart lifts when I read “For our coronavirus pandemic-free coverage” in The Age. Then I read the sentence more closely: “For our free coronavirus pandemic coverage, learn more here.” Not if you paid me, buddy. I already know more than I want to.

Tuesday, July 7
Premier announces we’re going back into lockdown for six weeks. Not us exactly, Melbourne and Mitchell Shire, but the lockdown extends to Lang Lang and it's coming down the Bass Highway towards us.

Even daggy old Wonthaggi is suspiciously busy for the middle of winter. Lots of people out riding bikes and striding the streets purposefully, which the locals don't do.

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Virus diaries 7

3/7/2020

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By Catherine Watson

Saturday June 20
With 25 new cases in Victoria in one day, the Premier announces some restrictions will stay and others will be tightened. The number of visitors allowed in pubs and cafes will stay at 20. The number you can have in your home is reduced from 20 to five. Bugger!

Sunday June 21
Megan has been complaining about the city people coming to Bass Coast and imperilling our safety. Now she jumps in her van with Sam and drives to the Grampians, where they stay in a camping ground with all the city people.

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No worries! Too easy

20/6/2020

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Jules Lebois-Fedeli, left, Harry Freeman and Maddy Harford at their West Creek farm

By Catherine Watson

JULES Lebois-Fedeli spoke English proficiently but when he arrived in Melbourne, he kept hearing an expression he’d never heard before. From bar tenders to tram inspectors to shop assistants, everyone told the young Frenchman the same thing: “No worries”.

The expression came to sum up the easy-going attitude he’s found in Australians. “I love Australian people, actually. Compared to France, they’re more sympathetic, more friendly, sociable. If they have a problem with you they just tell you. But they don’t judge you. They are more open.

“It was quite easy to meet people when I arrived. You just walk into a bar and start talking. When people hear you’re from France, they ask you lots of questions.”

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Virus diaries 6

20/6/2020

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Resurrection: Ertuğrul, "a 13th century
Turkish soapie"

By Catherine Watson

Monday, June 1
The libraries are open. Only “Click and collect” at this stage, you can’t wander the shelves or sit inside and read the newspaper, but it’s a start.

Tuesday, June 2
I walk with Catherine R and her greyhound Carol at the Mouth of the Powlett. I ask Catherine what she’s been watching. She’s up to episode 30-something of Resurrection: Ertuğrul, a 150-episode historical drama set in the 13th century. She describes it as a Turkish soapie, with lots of amazing costumes “and some over-acting”.

I’m doing my own comparatively modest binge watching, a Scottish series called The Story of Film – 15 hour-long episodes from the birth of cinema to the digital age, from Sweden to India, Iran to Korea, and all places between. I’m limbering up for the re-opening of the cinemas. Can’t wait for that moment when the lights go down and a hush falls.

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The positive disrupter

13/6/2020

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Kay Setches has been appointed to the Order of Australia for services to the people and Parliament of Victoria and to women in politics.

By Catherine Watson

Watch Kay Setches enter a crowded room and you see the eyes turn to follow her. A diminutive woman in her mid-70s, slightly stooped after a serious back operation, she has the aura of authority.

Kay Setches attained high office, including three ministerial portfolios in the Victorian Parliament.

But she remains resolutely down to earth, warm and funny, swears like a born Magpies supporter, can talk political intrigue all night and never forgets which side of the class divide she is on.

Everyone wants a bit of her and somehow she finds time for them all, whether they are road workers or MPs.

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