Some of the words I have used seem to be specific to the area of the Mallee I know: words such as swaggie and spitty grubs. Others seem to be particular to country living. Or perhaps unique to the time frame in which the story is set. The list is not an expert-reviewed, authoritative work, but is my parochial explanation.
Swaggie:
Most Australians and New Zealanders would know the term ‘swaggie’ as an itinerant or transitory worker. These swaggies were common during the Great Depression. These (mostly men) would arrive at farms and request work in return for food and a place to stay for a while. There were a few of these old men in the Mallee area where I grew up. They were not itinerant but were living in sparse accommodation (sheds or old settler huts) on various farms. Even though they were no longer travelling around, we referred to them as ‘swaggies’.
Furphy water cart:
The Furphy Water Cart was an essential piece of survival in the early Mallee. These cast iron water carts were the invention of the Furphy family in Shepparton, Victoria. There is no permanent water supply in the Mallee area where I grew up. And in the early years of settlement there was no channel system either. So Furphies found their way onto most of the Mallee farms as an essential and practical means of carting and storing drinking water. In my childhood the Furphies had lived out their days as water carts and were just used as cast iron water tanks that filled when it rained. Furphies were used by the AIF in the lead-up to the First World War. There is a body of thought that ascribes the origins of the saying ‘telling a furphy’ to soldiers gathering around the Furphies and swapping stories of the war.
Water bag:
Hessian water bags were another essential Mallee item. These bags were made from hessian with a wire handle and usually a ceramic spout. Before filling, a new water bag would be soaked in water to expand the hessian fibres. Once soaked, the bag would be filled with rainwater and then hung in an appropriate spot – usually on the front of a ute or tractor; or under a verandah. The damp hessian kept the water cool; and if properly soaked before use, the water bags did not leak.
Spitty grubs:
The term ‘spitty grubs’ was used in the Mallee for the larvae of the Spitfire Sawfly. The larvae cluster together in large balls of squirming grubs on the branches of eucalypt trees. When provoked they will ooze a mustard-coloured liquid as a deterrent. They don’t spit. Mallee children would poke the grub balls with sticks to get them to ‘spit’. We believed they were poisonous but they are not.
Sheep in a line:
Sometimes Mallee paddocks were cleared of too much vegetation leaving sheep without adequate shade on a hot day. If sheep were in a paddock without shade on such a day they would congregate and form a line against the sun so that one side of the sheep was shaded. They would then create their own (albeit paltry) shade for the whole mob. Each sheep would tuck its head into the available shade of the sheep in front of it. You could see an entire mob of sheep standing in such a line of manufactured shade. I don’t know why people think sheep are stupid.
Flies on backs:
A heat wave in the Mallee is debilitating and shade is essential. Mallee people who were out in the sun would attract flies looking for shade. Flies could congregate on the backs of any human willing to stand still long enough for them to land. You could sometimes see hundreds of flies silently camped on someone’s back.
Acknowledgements
‘Thank you’ seems such a modest expression to be loaded with all the weight of my immense gratitude.
Thank you to the wonderful Bruce Pascoe. ‘You keep writing, girl,’ he nodded at me a couple of years ago. I am sure Bruce Pascoe has no idea how much those few words from such a wonderful man meant to me. He encouraged me. So I did.
My heartfelt appreciation and respect goes to my wonderful agent Catherine Drayton and her assistant Claire Friedman: for seeing something in this book. Then offering to lightly lead me on the sometimes tangled walk through the scrub until we could all see what the proper shape of this story should be. I would be still wandering somewhere out in that bush without you.
I have lived so many moments of grateful appreciation for all that brilliance stacked there at Pan Macmillan. To Mathilda Imlah for agreeing with Catherine Drayton, and deciding to give me a go, (and also for your humour). To my amazing editors Bri Collins and Ali Lavau for your perfect, painstaking dedication. To Georgia Webb for chasing up the articles. And to Clare Keighery and all those wonderful Pan Macmillan people for your various, astonishing artistry in making this book look so lovely.
There are many people – friends and family – who have read and critiqued and argued and encouraged. Thank you to my sisters Jennifer Lawson and Sharon Baragwanath for your early and late reads and encouragements. And to my friend Marty Moser for reading an early draft and encouraging me mightily by leaving me a phone message to say it was good. I have loved sharing the road with you all.
Thank you also to my sisters-in-law Judy de Bono and Lois Krake for your reads and your comments and encouragement. (Lois, I have included a glossary to explain the very specific usage of the term ‘swaggies’ in this book.)
A special thank you to my friend Heather Crawley for your generosity in taking the time to read this during a hectic time in your own world; and for your then wise words. I hope you like the ‘Nessun Dorma’.
Particular thanks have to go to Graham Brinsden and Carolyn Emonson. Two special friends, both of whom have spent nights and nights listening to me read the early form of this book. Thank you Graham for your solid truth that never wavers despite the look on my face. And Carolyn, thank you always for your encouragement – always wrapped around intelligent, informed advice; and for our shared love of a good book that now spans a half century.
My uncounted thanks must go to lovers of books everywhere. Because without all that collective partiality and belief in a good book to solve most of the world’s woes this planet would not be as bright as it is. So thank you to publishers, booksellers, readers, writers, educators and librarians everywhere who never tire of showing people – big and small – the matchless wonder of reading.
And lastly, to the younger Brinsdens: Daniel and Karli, Victoria and Emmeline. All of whom have supported me weirdly and faithfully and lovingly throughout this journey by never having read any of this book. Now you can.
About Anne Brinsden
Anne Brinsden is a former educator who grew up in rural Victoria. Wearing Paper Dresses is her debut novel.
First published 2019 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000
Copyright © Anne Brinsden 2019
The moral right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available
from the National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
EPUB format: 9781760788483
Typeset by Post-Pre Press Group, Brisbane
This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations
mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination
or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.
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Anne Brinsden, Wearing Paper Dresses
Wearing Paper Dresses Page 33
