Auction-packed weekend continues - menswear for sale.

It was an auction packed weekend. After visiting the cattle sales in Tamworth on Friday, I went to a clearing sale for a local menswear store, Blowes. A bit over a year ago, the local newspaper reported that the company had gone into voluntary administration. Now it was time for the clearing sale.

The process was much the same as the cattle sale, except that any price seemed to be acceptable and the range of items being sold was extensive.  Everything from packs of shirts, underpants, hats and shoes to cash registers, shop cabinets and a range of mannequins was available to be had.  Buyers registered and were given a number to keep track of who had bought what. One experienced sale-goer had tucked his number into his hat band. "Number 30" was visible where ever he went. While I was there, I didn't notice him buy anything, but he certainly looked like a rival for whatever took your fancy.

The dry humour of the auctioneer made the experience an entertainment, even if you weren't in the market for menswear or shop fittings.

"Lot 27 - a straw hat, size very small - for a very small head...no good for you sir! Do I hear $20?"

A man called Marty got a hard time whenever small sized shirts were being sold: "You'll have to pass that one up Marty!"

"Next lot - 10 green ties." The auctioneer paused as he searched for the sales pitch. "Good for a team! How about a fancy dress party? Do I hear $20?"

"Next lot - 10 blue ties!" He shook his head and just asked for a bid.

"Next lot - 10 pairs of briefs! (What size are they?) Assorted sizes! (pause) Outfit the whole family!" I heard him chuckle under his breath that it was the first time he'd auctioned underpants.

Bargains were being snapped up. Everything was being sold. Occasionally the bidding went down and someone would snare a bargain; other times it was a fierce and exciting contest. Eye contact with the auctioneer and his assistant was everything. The more experienced buyers could be detected by the subtlety of their bidding - the merest suggestion of a head movement and the bid was theirs. The greener waved their numbers in the air and they had the bid. I was standing amongst a group of seasoned bidders and was terrified of buying something I didn't want and couldn't transport back to Melbourne. Knowing my luck, an itchy nose would result in the purchase of  23 boxes of wooden coathangers ( a bargain at $5); a stray hair would lead to being saddled with a collection of unidentifiable "sundry goods" (daylight robbery at $5), a passing fly and I'd be the proud owner of 5 pairs of cufflinks!

I noticed a few people buying the packs of assorted sizes and lots of things like "10 black wallets" and wondered if they had their own store. Perhaps they were stocking up for Christmas. Others were trying on hats and boots and sizing up shirts, clearly stocking up their own wardrobe.

We left after about an hour and while it seemed that a mountain of goods had been sold, it was only a tiny proportion of everything that was on offer. I would have been happy to buy the three drawer filing cabinet that I spied at the back of the shop, but the logistics of excess baggage on a flight back to Melbourne were too much to contemplate.

All eyes on a bargain at Blowes.
© 2014 divacultura

The sights, sounds and smells of a cattle sale

On approach to the Tamworth Regional Livestock Exchange, two things struck me: the noise and the smell. Perhaps the volume is similar to the other kind of stock exchange but the sounds and the smells are probably quite different. Here the smell is the earthy smell of animal sweat, manure and dirt.

Anyone got a spare hat?
Copyright 2014 divacultura

Going to a cattle sale was a new experience and I was pleased to have the opportunity. It immediately proved a good decision that I had swapped my new silver casual shoes for a pair of my brother's boots. They were a size too big but I would have been even more obviously alien in the crowd in my ridiculously urban shoes. With my hair in a pony tail, a cap on my head and clad in a pair of jeans, I was receiving some enquiring looks. I certainly looked nothing like the rest of the people there. For one, they were male. I'm not. I was wearing the wrong kind of hat. My eyes didn't have the right appraising glint as I surveyed the pens of cattle.

I was careful not to fall into a pen; it was a special female sale today and I didn't want to find out how much I would fetch.

Auctioneers busy at their work.
Copyright 2014 divacultura

The cattle are contained in rows and rows of pens with concreted alley ways in between for the buyers, sellers, agents and other people. Tags of various colours tell the story of how old they are or whether the cows might be in calf. The auctioneers walk on a gangway elevated above the pens. They stop at each pen and say a bit about the animals in the pen that's about to be sold. The auctioneer is flanked by several men in big hats who identify the bidders in the crowd. A woman is nearby carrying a big stick that she holds over the pen being auctioned. I learned that this is a scanner which takes the details of the national livestock identification tags in the ears of the cattle. This enables each animal to be traced from its birth and is important for ensuring the safety of meat.

There are several auctioneers. They wear the uniform of jeans, pale blue collared shirt and very big, light coloured hat. They are amplified by a Madonna-style microphone and portable speaker which they either wear on their belt or is carried by another person. Some of them aren't amplified at all. They talk quickly as they explain what's for sale and then they accelerate as they search for the first bid. Their diaphragms work hard to ensure they have enough breath. Eyes are watchful, ears pricked and somehow, above all the noise of the people and the livestock, purchase after purchase is made and the crowd moves to the next pen. It's exciting to see all these people at their work.

Just looking at the crowd, it's hard to see who might be a buyer looking for the lowest price they can get and who might be a seller hoping their animals will sell for enough to make some money, or at least, not make a loss. I think I see a glimpse of disappointment in the eyes of one rural man.

As I'm standing with my brother, asking all my questions so I can understand what's happening, a woman comes over and asks if she can take our photograph. She's doing publicity for the sales and we will feature in the sale highlights. I didn't expect to make the social pages of the local cattle sale, but there's a first time for everything. My brother is pleased because it will further raise his profile as a local veterinarian.

As we leave, the noise and smells recede. I look at my dusty feet, pleased that I'm not in my silver shoes. We go to the Sushi Train for lunch and I feel as if I've returned to more familiar territory. As I eat some beef, I wonder where it came from.

Here's what it sounds like:

Awaiting their fate
Copyright 2014 divacultura

Through the rails
Copyright 2014 divacultura

More hat than kid.
Copyright 2014 divacultura

We've boundless plains to share - lest we forget

The alarm went off at 4:45am and I was immediately awake, despite being mid-dream. I could hear light rain falling on the corrugated roof and my resolve to attend the ANZAC Day dawn service in Tamworth nearly crumbled. I pressed on. We drove through the streets, deserted until we neared ANZAC Park, found a park and walked towards the crowd assembled in the pre-dawn.

Wreaths laid in Tamworth at the dawn service for ANZAC Day.
Copyright 2014 divacultura

The rain had stopped. The service was conducted with moving simplicity. The crowd was asked to join in for the hymn, "Abide with Me". I did, but couldn't hear many others. The bugler played "The Last Post", lacking power, volume and confidence, but adding in lots of notes not usually heard in the piece. (Bugles are very hard to play, especially if you're nervous or emotional.) The gentle morning warble of magpies filled the silences.

A piper played something I didn't recognise on the bagpipes and the kookaburras thought it was hilarious. My brother and I found that hilarious and had to avoid looking at each other to avoid ruining the solemnity of the moment. Meanwhile the kookaburras laughed and laughed and laughed.

Both verses of the national anthem, "Advance Australia Fair" were sung, including the lines about welcoming people who come here from across the sea: "we've boundless plains to share". There were a few more voices joining in this time.

Flag at half mast as the dawn breaks in Tamworth this morning.
Copyright 2014 divacultura

We dispersed just as the sky was beginning to lighten. People staying to talk, look at the wreaths, while others took off to find their sometimes precariously parked cars.

We went back into town later for the march down Peel Street. As the bands played, the servicemen and women, and children from every school in Tamworth, paraded before an appreciative crowd. Overhead, planes flew in a formation that looked like the outline of an aeroplane itself. Tiny children, weighed down by the medals of a deceased relative, walked restlessly; others looked curiously at the crowd while waving, delighted to receive the occasional reciprocal wave.

I was heartened to hear that all but a handful of Australia's servicemen and women are back home. I hope the others return soon and that there is no need for them to go away again unless in a community assistance role. We are fortunate. I hope that today's reflection may cause our community to be appreciative of the fact that our citizens can generally live safely and peacefully, acknowledging that this is not the case for all people in the world.  I hope that we can extend our hands to those people and be true to the words of our national anthem. Lest we forget.

Advance Australia Fair

Australians all let us rejoice,

For we are young and free;

We’ve golden soil and wealth for toil;

Our home is girt by sea;

Our land abounds in nature’s gifts

Of beauty rich and rare;

In history’s page, let every stage

Advance Australia Fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing,

Advance Australia Fair.

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross

We’ll toil with hearts and hands;

To make this Commonwealth of ours

Renowned of all the lands;

For those who’ve come across the seas

We’ve boundless plains to share;

With courage let us all combine

To Advance Australia Fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing,

Advance Australia Fair.

Sunday Slide Show

It's been a while since I posted a Sunday Slide Show, so here you go. All taken on my iphone.

In the shadow of the windmill, there is no moisture.
© 2014 divacultura

Yarnbomb in Swanston Street
© 2014 divacultura

View from the 53rd floor of the Rialto Tower - looking west.
See the Westgate Bridge just in front of the horizon? And the train in the foreground?
© 2014 divacultura

Looking west again, but more to the north than the last shot.
Here is the Bolte Bridge.
© 2014 divacultura

I love the way the bike shadows look like tulips in pots.
© divacultura 2014

6000 mobile phones weigh 1 tonne. That's a lot of landfill.
Art meets activism.
© 2014 divacultura 

Lunch table yesterday in Yarraville.
© 2014 divacultura

What have you been taking photos of lately?

Clever marketing - another hat tale

I mentioned yesterday that I decided to succumb to the lure of the wildwest and buy a cowgirl hat when I was recently at the Tamworth Country Music Festival. It is irresistible, but also practical when you're walking down Peel Street in the blazing sun listening to buskers or acts performing on one of the many stages.

On the Friday before the Australia Day long weekend I met a friend for lunch in town and noticed a growing crowd and queue right near the post office.  I thought that there must have been someone very important and/or famous doing something remarkable, so walked around the corner to see why people were lining up. There was no country music star or even minor local politician or newsreader. People were queuing to get a hat!

The hat was nothing special, but had the right shape and the wide brim. Importantly it also carried the sponsor's logo on the hat band and could be had for a $2 donation to the McGrath Foundation. It struck me as a creative approach to marketing and fundraising all by giving the people what they want/need. Walking around the streets were heads promoting sponsor Toyota, people were protected from the sun and a charity had made some money and planted their name in the minds of people. Additionally, the hats were only available at certain times, so the notion of scarcity was created and the crowd and queues grew, drawing further attention to the various organisations. Brilliant!

Having made my discovery, I stepped back from the line. I was promptly asked by a couple passing by "who is there?"

I explained the people were queuing for a hat.

"A hat?!"

"Yes a hat," I explained the relationship to the McGrath Foundation.

"That's incredible!" exclaimed the man. "I never thought I'd see a queue like that for a hat! Must be a good sort of a hat!"

"Well see for yourself. There goes one now," I pointed.


And lastly, here are some more of my recent photographs taken while on holiday.

The ever-present Alfie - just hanging around.
© divacultura 2014

A magnificent pair of eucalypts stand against the brilliant cerulean sky.
© divacultura 2014

Afternoon by the dry creek bed.
© divacultura 2014

City return - time for the photos.

I love Melbourne, but having over a month away has been a tonic. It's as if the dust that had settled on everything has been blown away and there's a new light on everything. I'm feeling reinvigorated and ambitious for the year ahead.

Cowgirl
© divacultura 2014

My time away was spent outside Toowoomba in Queensland, in country NSW, Tamworth and Lennox Head. Some of the time was spent hanging out with various family members, some of it was spent at Summersong music camp and some of it overlapped with the Tamworth Country Music Festival. When I've attended a gig there before I couldn't see for the hats, so this year I wore one too!


On my flight home yesterday, I was reading a physical book called Difficult Men. It's about television covering both the characters (Tony Soprano) and the creators (David Chase). It is absorbing reading and I barely noticed anyone else around me. After we'd landed and everyone was standing quietly in the aisle waiting to deplane, the bloke who had been sitting next to me said in a booming voice: "That book you're reading...Do you have one? Do you want one? Did you get rid of one?"

I laughed and responded: "Well, this morning I finished a book about psychopaths*, so draw your own conclusions!"

That hit the mark. I'd never thought about the potential for stand-up comedy in this context. I'd also forgotten about the privacy afforded by reading e-books.

While away, I took some photos that I really like and will share them from time to time. Hope you like them.

© divacultura 2014

This little wallaby is a regular visitor.
© divacultura 2014

In the shadow of the windmill.
© divacultura 2014

* The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson - another absorbing read.

The Wooden Music Festival - Melbourne hipster hoedown

Yesterday started and finished with music.  Technically, this morning also started with music as the night before was still going.  What a great way to spend the weekend!

My vocal group had its first rehearsal of the year on Saturday morning.  We've been on a recruitment drive to expand our numbers a little and so hosted an open rehearsal.  This was a great way to see who's interested and allow them to come along and see how we work as well as allowing us to hear them and get a sense of fit.  We were overwhelmed with the response and it was thrilling to hear - and feel - the sound created.  I'm always pleased by seeing new singers experience the bliss of singing in harmony with other human beings.

I planned to have a nanna nap to make sure I had the stamina for a night of music at the Northcote Social Club.  I'm very pleased I did!

I was keen to see the Perch Creek Family Jug Band after discovering them busking at Tamworth a couple of years ago.  They played the Tamworth Country Music Festival this year, but I missed them there so was pleased to find their gigs this weekend in Melbourne.  They are playing as part of the Wooden Music Festival with an incredible line up:  soloist Max Savage, The Bearded Gypsy Band and the Quarry Mountain Dead Rats.

The energy from every performer was electric; from Max Savage with his heartrending lyrics and gravelly vocals commanding attention, to the Bearded Gypsy Band with high energy violin and unusual time signatures, to the Perch Creek Family Jug Band with their sibling shtick and wild joy to the Quarry Mountain Dead Rats with their bluegrass tempo set to kick-you-in-the-face-flat-out.  It was infectious and impossible to stand still.

The crowd was eclectic and at one point I marveled at finding myself in the middle of a hoedown in Melbourne with such a wild crowd ranging from hippies to hipsters and one man who I referred to the as the Black Wiggle of Death.  He was an unhappy looking older man with a black skivvy stretched over his paunch.  His hair was grey and styled like Krusty the Clown.  I couldn't decide if he had stepped out of a French psychodrama, thought he was meant to be at a jazz improvisation night or was the violin teacher of one of the players on stage.  His happiness level did not increase over the course of the night.  There was also the bearded man who accessorised his track pants and t-shirt ensemble with a key on a lanyard around his neck.  His dance style was demonstrated non-stop for the duration of the show - running on the spot and smiling maniacally.  Two girls dressed in daggy nanna dresses, with matching bobbed hair cuts, thick tights and sandshoes, topped their look with a beanie and a beret were all elbows and knees as they Charlestoned the night away.  The Bearded Gypsy Band showed only a hint of chin hair compared to the array showing in the crowd - everything from thick Ned Kelly beards (with the corresponding hair cut) to artfully constructed goatees.

All of this for $18 made for a great night out with friends and a dose of dancing.  The musicianship was incredible and it's great to see bands like these playing for an appreciative and enthusiastic audience. And the audience made for a great show in themselves.

If you're in Melbourne, the Wooden Music Festival is playing again at 2pm today, Sunday at the Northcote Social Club.  If you're not in Melbourne, they are going to be in Sydney soon.  (And probably other places.)

Down town in the Country Music Capital - puppies and music.

Today I braved the Christmas shoppers in Tamworth.  It wasn't too bad actually, except for the carpark.    People lose their minds in shopping centre carparks, walking behind vehicles which have poor vision at the back, leaving shopping trolleys to partially block car spaces which are already too small for anything other than a city sized vehicle.  And we're not in the city.  Every second vehicle is a large 4WD with a bull bar on the front making it even larger.

I noticed the newsagency had more horse magazines than I would usually expect to see.  Bunnings was packed with people but the lady selling the charity Christmas cakes was not very busy.  The junior staff at the supermarket were very friendly and didn't begrudge the presence of customers.  I bought a funky skirt for $16.

In the pet store I was pleased to see no animals for sale.  There were three puppies and one cat available for adoption.  They had been surrendered to the RSPCA.  After having a health check, temperament tests and vaccinations they are desexed and microchipped and put up for adoption.  There were two Kelpie-cross puppies from the same litter: one was an extrovert, barking happily at anyone who went by and the other was shy, just sitting and looking out.  We wondered what they had been crossed with because their ears were enormous - perhaps a beagle or some kind of spaniel.  Next door was a Jack Russell pup (called Antonio) who was resting when I saw him.  Each animal has a written history and description of what their temperament is like and what kind of lifestyle they would fit with.  

I spoke with one of the staff in the store and she told me that they also do checks on potential new owners.  She has regularly refused adoption and she told me she is often abused by some breeders who are unhappy with the RSPCA.  I was very pleased to know that this responsible approach is taken to . animals and ownership and that this particular store will have nothing to do with puppy factories.

The staff member also told me that twenty-five dogs had been surrendered in the last week.  It's a timely reminder that pet ownership should be a conscious decision and shouldn't be taken lightly.  Animals are not a commodity or a product.  They are living creatures with feelings and should not be thought of as disposable.  

I didn't ask what happens to the animals which aren't adopted, but I'm sure we all know.

Want a share a bench with Smokey Dawson?
(c) divacultura 2012

At the other end of town, I came across this wonderful sculpture of country music legend Smokey Dawson.  I really like the character of the piece.  Seeing it left me in no doubt that I was in the country music capital!

If this is how Smokey looked in real life, I reckon he would have been a great storyteller.
Look at the life in his face and eyes!
(c) divacultura 2012