The post Coming soon to a stage near us – Women of the Blues… appeared first on .
]]>Melissa Etheridge is making a welcome comeback to Bluesfest this year. Byron Bay embraced the singer/songwriter on her previous visit, who some years ago survived a battle with cancer. Diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, the singer unerwent a particularly brutal form of chemo. “My work had always been a drug-free zone,” she’s said, “but the chemotherapy that was prescribed was called “dose dense”: a harsher, stronger chemo than the usual because I had the benefit of not having to work during the treatment. My close friends told me that, as an alternative, medical marijuana was a natural way to help with the excruciating side effects of chemo.”
Melissa Etheridge (left) and Sheryl Crow – Bluesfest solo then Australia together.
After leaving the band she released her iconic solo album “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” which changed the face of popular music when it was released in 1998. The album’s innovative mix of traditional soul, hip-hop beats and politically charged rap was a revelation. It won five Grammys the year it was released and has gone on to be included in dozens of “Greatest Albums Ever” lists such as Mojo’s 100 Greatest Albums of Our Lifetime, Q’s Top 100 Albums Ever, Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time and it came in at number 2 on NPR’s 150 Greatest Albums Made By Women.
Etheridge and Crow are both set to perform their own solo spots at Bluesfest before teaming up to hit Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney in early April. Now that will be an outstanding gig.
For more info on the 29th annual Byron Bay Bluesfest go here: https://www.bluesfest.com.au/
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]]>The post Zenith Virago – taking Deathwalking to the world appeared first on .
]]>‘I’ve worked with dying people, death and loss for nearly 25 years, it has been an incredible experience, exciting and humbling – my learning has been profound, giving me a deep love and appreciation of the mystery we are all a part of.
I use the term Deathwalker to describe my role. I am walking alongside or accompanying the dying person or the family as they all walk towards death and beyond. It incorporates doula work, which is becoming more common of late. My work is all about empowering the person and the family to die as well as they can, and to have a healthier bereavement.
It wasn’t a career path I was expecting to take, nor did I have a calling like many people who work in this field. Life and death called to me, I said yes, and let it take me on a journey, an adventure, an awakening. As it transpired death has been my greatest teacher. Here’s how it began, since that’s the question people ask me the most.
My life was diverse, rich, full and lots of fun, I was heading for another birthday, something I always celebrated with those I loved and those who loved me. I felt acutely the joy of being alive, healthy and living life on the North Coast. I had been living in Byron and surrounds for nearly 10 years, it had already been an expansive time in so many aspects of my life.
Zenith Virago: Working with death for 25 years. Photo: Candida Baker
Moving here in the early 80’s as a young woman I, like so many others was attracted to the beauty of the natural environment, the exquisite ocean and the incredible people and close to nature lifestyle.
I was lucky to be part of the vibrant and growing lesbian and gay community, that also meant I had many friends who were living and often dying with HIV/AIDS. It was an epidemic and generally meant a slow decline, watching young vibrant men, age and diminish into old skeletal men, supported by friends, but only some families due to stigma and prejudice.
Like many people who come here, I was beginning a spiritual exploration, quickly I realized I was attracted to people who held a certain quality, a kindness, a stillness, it took me a while to fathom they were all people who had a strong spiritual path, many of whom were Buddhists.
One of those was my dear friend Sylvia Morrow. Sylvia died early one morning in her garden as the result of an embolism. Sylvia was doing a regular yoga practice in the garden, Richard, her husband had gone to the local shop for milk, and her daughter was in the kitchen. They rang my home to let me know. In one sudden and shocking moment, along with all those who loved Sylvia, my life changed.
After my partner came to my Byron office to tell me the news, I drove to be with Richard, and later went with him to the local hospital morgue to formally identify her body. Whilst I was there, as I stroked her head, and had a silent internal conversation with her, expressing my love and my shock…. I became aware of a hazy jet like stream of transparent energy, coming from her head, through my hand, which had come to a gentle rest in its stroking.
In my niaviety I imagined it must be her spirit leaving, I quickly turned to Richard and Sarah, and the two Police people in the room, but they were all occupied… so I decided to just enjoy it, I had never felt anything like it, I guessed it was a magical phenomena, something sacred and profound, in all my time with so many bodies since, I have never experienced anything like that again.
Many of you reading this may have had a similar experience with your family or friends. Death is surreal and so absolutely real all at the same time, it simply brings you right into the present moment, and you have no idea what the next moment may bring.
As we left the morgue after being with her body, it had been my first experience of a dead person, I heard myself say to Richard we could take care of it all ourselves, did he want me to work it all out? He replied that would be great.
On my way home I called into a local funeral director, he told me everything I needed to know to be able to do it ourselves. Then as a group of friends we did do it all, I completed all the legal paperwork, we collected her body and took it home, built a coffin, washed and dressed her, created a ceremony, and at the end pushed her into the cremator ourselves…. that day was my 37th birthday, and the next part of my life working with death, dying and loss had begun.
Soon after, other people asked me to help them out with their dead people, by doing the paperwork, helping them with the after-death care of the person, explaining what their legal and social rights were, how much they could do, or in the case of sudden death how to reclaim the body and work with the trauma, or by creating and delivering a meaningful and appropriate ceremony. It was an incredibly exciting and ground breaking time, like many people I had no formal training, or familiarity with death I felt like an extreme sportsperson doing the very best I could in whatever situation arose. I established a small charity the Natural death Care Centre to work out of and to spread the information.
How we deal with each death can be quite different, it is like an equation. The factors combine to create a response, the factors are things like these…..the circumstances of the death, how you hear the news, your relationship with the person and your familiarity with death.
It became clear quite quickly that most people in this community and then elsewhere only needed a little bit of information, guidance and assistance, and with that help they were very capable. There was no doubt that we were reclaiming our traditional ways of death and afterdeath care. People were able to make decisions, participate as much or as little as they wanted, and when the body had gone, the wonderful part was they felt OK… often they weren’t griefstricken, the being involved had helped them move through the experience in a way that they could feel good about, it was part of their healing. We were all in it together, and some of those death and ceremonies were truly transformational.
It felt as if as a community we were really cutting edge for more natural death and dying practices in Australia…we were simply returning to a more traditional way of end of life practices – we were creating a deathstyle that complimented our more natural lifestyles.
Many of the sudden deaths meant the family were in shock, some even traumatised, especially when someone close had ended their life by killing themselves. Others involved small babies dying at birth or shortly after, some were young children or teenagers, many by misadventure. I was learning on the job – I felt that I could only do my best, and I was all there was. I also felt that I was doing for others what I would want someone to do for me.
People who were dying invited me to come and be with them or their family, to help them plan their dying or death, or to help them plan their funeral. Their most popular opening lines were “I’ve picked the music for the ceremony,” or, “I don’t want it to be sad, I want it to be a celebration.”
This was courageous dying…it was an honour to accompany people in their process, to offer up my legal, practical or spiritual knowledge…this gradually grew in to a large extensive body of work and wisdom, some of these people were incredible teachers for me. I feel now that when I respond, speak or train people, we all come to be of assistance, and I have an embodied learning thanks to them.
To convey to people what is possible, along with many people sharing their personal stories, I co-wrote a book, The Intimacy of Death & Dying, and more recently I was the subject, along with members of our community, of an extraordinary independent documentary, Zen & the Art of Dying. I have now been working in end of life work for nearly 25 years, and teaching for 20 of those.
During that time I kept thinking people would wake up to dying and death and the benefits of exploring, discussing, being prepared and planning, so they could die well. One of the great spin offs was discovering that sex can be a practice for dying, and how the human body is designed not only for life and birth but also for death.
That moment is now here… there are so many books available now, many are personal memoirs by the dying people or the left behind partner, others are full of guidance and tips to help you through the process. There are many stories online and different ways to do death are much easier to find.
For the past 25 years Byron has been leading the way… and I feel we are still at the forefront and have created a hybrid holistic way to do death well, to offer continuous care for our dying, to tend to the bodies of those who have died, creating meaningful and appropriate ceremonies, and experiencing a healthy and natural bereavement.
Many people do not even use a Funeral director at all, with a little guidance and assistance they complete the paperwork and all the body care themselves.
Here are some of the aspects for you to know
( depending which state you live in and the individual circumstances involved), you can:
All of my involvement with so many incredible and courageous people in this community and beyond, who wanted to die as well as they could, those trying to make sense of the unknown and new place they found themselves in, or who wanted to share the best possible experience with their family and friends, so that they entered into an easier bereavement.
For the past five years, I have been travelling nationally and internationally to deliver a body of teachings in a 3 day Deathwalker Training, a comprehensive and exhaustive sharing of my wisdom, knowledge and skills to help people wake up their inherent capacity, enhance their existing skills and knowledge, and ask as many questions as they can think of. These are intimate workshops filled with a mixture of people, most have been looking for something honest and informative for a while.
As I now enter my 60’s, the last part of my life, death can not be far away as I am way past the tipping point of being closer to my death than to my birth, I find myself in the joy of the finite. I feel so very grateful to have lived a long life through all those different and interesting stages.
Creating a ‘memory’.
I find myself, smiling at small things, laughing at absurdity, being more quiet and still, dancing and partying just as fully. Resting in an ease that everyone around me knows what needs to happen should I die suddenly as we have had all the discussions and I have completed all the best paperwork, left clear and loving letters for my family…. My affairs are in order as they say.
But most importantly I have lived my life as best I can, lucky enough to have always loved aging, I have befriended death, letting it walk alongside me, even holding hands like a best friends or a lover, it is as rich as it can be, as I enter my eldership, I am so full of love for my life that I am thinking to put a body of work together about the Integrity of Aging Well and living a meaningful Eldership as we live the end of our lives.
For more information on death, dying and the Deathwalker Trainings in Australia see our website for the Natural Death Care Centre.
Deathwalker, EO Natural Death Care Centre
Zenith Virago : Deathwalker. Celebrant. Author. Trainer. JP.
(+61) 0427 924 310
Transformative Rites of Passage. Weddings & Funerals
Conscious & Integrated End of Life & After Death Care
Consultations
zenithvirago.com <https://zenithvirago.com>
Deathwalker Trainings: <https://naturaldeathcarecentre.org>
Co-Author of The Intimacy of Death & Dying: <https://naturaldeathcarecentre.org/publications>
Documentary Films: <https://zenandtheartofdying.com> <https://tenderdocumentary.com.au>
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]]>The post Barbara Carmichael’s memoir of love and friendship in India appeared first on .
]]>Local Byron-based writer Barbara Carmichael’s I’ve Come to Say Goodbye is first and foremost a love story. A story of hearts that come together and bind in seemingly improbable circumstances. It’s not a romantic love story and yet the whole travelogue is a romantic adventure. The style is refreshingly simple, conversational and honest. Most memoirs written about a deep connection with India will usually take you on an overt spiritual quest. There’s the lost western soul searching for the meaning of life who happens upon a saviour (Guru) who invariably will abuse their power, but this book is more subtle than that. It gradually reveals the author’s own personal growth without any of spiritual clichés and claptrap.
Barbara’s preconceived ideas and western prejudices are slowly dissolved when she meets Tarun, a local man from Udaipur, whilst she’s accompanying a friend on a buying trip.
Thus unfolds a memoir of simple human connections which expand over a ten-year period. It feels sacred without exploiting any religious or spiritual clichés and in relegating God and religion to the sidelines there is plenty of space for what this story is actually about: two people from diverse cultures forming a solid friendship with two very old-fashioned ingredients; trust and time. The most overtly ‘holy’ thing in this book is the ‘water’ Barbara drinks – AKA gin.
It’s a light, fast read packed with travel gems and insights. Barbara Carmichael doesn’t take herself too seriously and her gentle humour reflects this. The main backdrop for this heart-warming memoir are the cities of Udaipur and Jaipur with a few sojourns around other towns and places in India as we traverse the majestical landscapes of the Northern Indian State of Rajasthan. Our unlikely travel guide is the author, who has gathered together this book from her journals from over the ten years she has spent visiting Tarun and his extended family.
There is so much historical detail that is colourful and alive. From the extensive description and the feeling of the landscapes it’s clear that Barbara Carmichael is an artist, a painter. She weaves the texture and shades of India joyously throughout the pages. She also has a realistic way of depicting the unromantic faces of India without too much emphasis on the negative. It’s a seductive tale that surprises the reader with tenderness. Nothing terribly dramatic happens and yet the minutiae of everyday life in modern India is delightfully satisfying and intriguing: seasons, weather, festivals, mythology, history, local politics, weddings, births, accidents, technology, monsoons, manmade lakes, palaces, poverty, wealth and of course death.
The book begins with the shocking and unexpected death of Tarun. The subsequent pages are, in a sense, a literary eulogy…a testimony of love, respect, gratitude and enduring friendship. Starting the book with this fact is a very honest strategic literary device. And yet I can’t help but wonder how it might have read had I also fallen in love with Tarun and his family and friends, his hopes and dreams, his kindness, his ambitions and aspirations and then shockingly lost him towards the end of the book? Having said that the sting of grief was well conveyed and neither understated nor overstated.
I’m sure choosing to open the book this way speaks volumes about Barbara Carmichael’s clear and transparent style and her modest way of storytelling. There’s a lot to like about this book. If you’ve never been to India and are thinking of going this is a must read. If you know India but have never been to Rajasthan you could learn a lot. If you’re looking for a light read about unlikely human connections – you’ll really enjoy this.
The one recurring theme which is accurately depicted in this charming memoir is that there is no country, culture, history or geography that is as interesting, sometimes shocking and utterly captivating as Mother India.
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]]>The post Robert Drewe on why these days it’s a dog’s life appeared first on .
]]>In my day I’ve owned intelligent, obedient, affectionate and adventurous dogs. I’ve also known lolloping, disobedient, crazy dogs that were as dumb as a bag of hammers. Once I even wrote a book about a beloved dog. So before your hackles rise, let me say that I’m a dog lover.
Nevertheless, we’re stretching a friendship these days, we humans and dogs. Have there ever been so many dogs in public places and underfoot – their leashes entwined around café table and chair legs — in spots meant for human activities? Even for food consumption?
On that point, when did “walking the dog” change from one or two kilometres of exercise at the park or beach to 50 metres through a crowd of shoppers on the footpath on Saturday morning — from the car to the cafe?
Another question. Why the fascination with weirdly-designed genetic experiments that are cutesy variations on the poodle? To look at, some of these doodle dogs remind me of the alien bar scene in Star Wars. And don’t get me started on women with fashion-accessory dogs (doglets, really). How degrading for the wolf’s first cousin to be carried in a handbag!
But creepiest question of all: Why do so many people want a fur baby anyway?
Designer dogs are comparatively recent. In my childhood, back when dogs were animals, the only exotic ones were Old English Sheepdogs, Afghans and Dalmatians. Fox Terriers, usually fat and threadbare, belonged to old codgers in pubs. Old ladies had Silky Terriers and an occasional Pekinese or Corgi. German Shepherds (we called them Alsatians) were feared for their alleged savagery. Cattle dogs were mistrusted because they ran from behind to nip you as you walked to school. (Those were the days of walking to school, too. How yesteryear can you get?)
Family dogs always had a dash of Kelpie and assorted bits and pieces. They were allowed on the street without a leash. You’d see them on TV displaying their lovable personalities by running onto the pitch and disrupting a Test match or football game or Royal visit. They enjoyed a solemn ceremony and were hard to catch. For some reason they were always black dogs.
Black dogs were the only ones to disrupt important events, but we kids had another scientific rule that applied to all dogs’ behaviour: Pointy ears, bites. Floppy ears, stupid.
Faithful companions, family dogs followed you on your bike, and waited outside the school till home time. They roamed the suburbs with doggy friends and chased cars if they felt like a run, and defecated at will. (Doggy-poo bags? Are you kidding?) Until 2012, however, dogs weren’t allowed into shops or cafes, which displayed signs forbidding them.
Somewhere along the line, perhaps when local councils tightened up rules about stray and unfenced dogs, the average suburban dog ceased to be just another outdoor knockabout kid and turned into a feminised indoor doll-animal. (This caused macho chaps of the biker persuasion to react by breeding dogs they thought captured the essence of their complex personalities. Hence the pit bull.)
If there was any doubt about how much Australians love pets, consider this statistic: more of us live with a dog or cat than with a child; 50 per cent of Australians share a house with at least one dog and/or cat (of those pets, 38 per cent are dogs and 23 per cent cats.) Whereas only 35 per cent of us live with one child or more aged under 16, most of them eventually house-trained.
Australians spend $12 billion a year on pet food, grooming, vet fees and insurance for their animals, making the pet care industry a major growth area.
Interestingly, the fascination with poodle mixes doesn’t extent to pure poodles. Presumably, if the poodle mix is chosen because poodles are intelligent and don’t shed hair, a pure-bred poodle should have it all over the Labradoodle or whatever for smartness and hair retention. But, no, everyone wants one of the 150 doodle dog variations (at $2000 a pup) on the market.
Who can resist a Daisy Dog? Robert Drewe apparently…
So we now have such appallingly named dogs as the Jack-a-Poo (Jack Russell and poodle); Schnoodle (schnauzer and poodle); Pooghan (Afghan and poodle); Cocker-Poo (Cocker spaniel and poodle); Bossy-Poo (Boston terrier and poodle); Irish Doodle (Irish setter and poodle); Golden Doodle; (Golden Retriever and poodle), Rottle (Rottweiler and poodle); Poogle (Beagle and poodle); and, my least favourite, the Daisy Dog (Bichon Frise, ShihTzu and poodle).
So what to do if your naughty Bossy-Poo or Cocker-Poo or Jack-a-Poo or Pooghan poos on the carpet? I don’t think the old tap with a rolled-up newspaper would work as punishment. I suggest a delicately furled Vogue or Gourmet Traveller magazine.
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]]>The post From Lennox with Love to the Kids of the World appeared first on .
]]>“You can always improve your work/life balance.”
The words might have come right out of Oprah’s mouth but in fact they’re from someone closer to home – Kate Nicholson, a Lennox Head resident, and co-creator of O.B Designs (which stands for Odd Bod in case you’re wondering). The company, which Kate founded with Leesa Hallahan, a graphic designer, makes beautiful and functional toys and gifts for children, which are exported around the world.
It wasn’t a career path that Kate imagined for herself – or that her family imagined for her which she growing up in the US. “It was actually assumed I’d become a doctor or a lawyer,” she says, “but then I was travelling around the world surfing after I’d finished college, with no idea what I wanted to do, and I met my husband, who was from Ballina, while I was in Bali – surfing off Lombok.”
But although true love coaxed her to Australia, Kate still needed a way to create a living, and fortunately she’d already discovered that she had a handy knack for buying and selling.
“I actually supported myself for four years buying and selling jewellery,” she says. “I spent my last $500 in Bali and bought and then sold the jewellery at a profit in Florida – after that I funded myself for all my trips in the South Pacific.”
During that time Kate discovered a few important things about herself. “It’s vital to be self-motivated if you’re going to run your own business,” she says, “and you have to be disciplined, and prepared to keep on growing. It was when I realised that I really didn’t know how to expand my business that I found a job working as an international buyer for a water sports company in Byron Bay – and it really taught me how to manage a business.”
When Kate was on six months maternity leave after her daughter Eve was born, she began to wonder if it might be possible to bring her business acumen to her own project so that she could focus on working from home, rather than a full-time job. Coincidentally she’d found she was disappointed by the toys available for children. “Really it was only Fischer Price, or toys that were really expensive,” she says, “so I began to wonder if it might be possible to create a range of kids’ toys that were attractive, functional and not too expensive.”
Leesa and Kate – the O.B. Design creators.
At the same time Kate had become friends with her co-worker Leesa, and when she approached Leesa with the idea that they might work together, Leesa jumped at the chance. “Leesa created some prototypes of our dingarings – and that was it, they are still one of our best-loved products ten years on.”
Now a mum to three children, Eve, Willow and Hunter – who starts school this year, Kate hasn’t been short of ideas for more toys, and with Leesa the pair of them have dreamt up (mostly over coffees) hundreds of designs that are now sold around the world.
To say it’s taken off is a bit of an understatement. What started as a small project with one little warehouse in Ballina has now spread its wings to a giant warehouse in Sydney.
“What a relief that was,” says Kate. “We got to the stage where we just needed to get other people to package and post all the products, and we found it was more cost-effective to do it from Sydney.”
In terms of how she manages the business, O.B Designs has a Shopify website which syncs with her warehouse and accounting software. After ten years of business based in Australia Kate and Leesa are branching into the USA, which for Kate has the added advantage that she can her family more often.
“I often think about how life has taken me on this journey,” she says. “I think a lot of people give up on the road towards building a successful business perhaps partly because they are either creative or good at management and so Leesa and I are a good mix because we are one of each, with a splash of the other for good measure! At the same time it’s so important to remember that there will always be set-backs, there will always be times when things go wrong and it’s how you get over those times that really counts. We are still absolutely committed to the core ethics of the business – providing beautiful, functional and not too expensive toys to the world, and that’s what keeps us motivated.”
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]]>The post World’s first solar train in Byron appeared first on .
]]>There’s capacity for 100 seated passengers, additional standing passengers, wheelchair access and luggage room for bikes, prams and surfboards. The train runs a return shuttle service for the three kilometre journey between North Beach Station in Sunrise Beach and the Byron Beach platform adjacent to the Shirley Street level crossing.
Byron Bay Railroad Company has restored a derelict heritage train for the job, and also repaired three kilometres of railway line and a bridge, reinvigorating a section of derelict rail corridor. Solar panels on the train and train storage shed generate the amount of energy required to operate the train daily, charging the on-board battery bank. The solar charged batteriesare designed to operate all the systems including traction power, lighting, control circuits and air compressors. The custom designed curved solar panels on the roof of the train combined with the solar array on the storage shed roof generate sufficient energy to power the train and the regenerative braking system recovers around 25% of the spent energy each time the brakes are applied.
In the case of prolonged lack of sunshine the on-board batteries can be charged from the grid supply using 100% green energy from local community based energy retailer Enova Energy.
This diagram outlines the solar conversion components and how the system works.
The two carriage rail set was originally constructed as the first of ten 600 class sets at the Chullora Railway Workshops, Sydney in 1949. Following the war and with the massive influx of European immigrants, transporting people around the state was critical, so the Workshops innovatively used aluminium aircraft technology from their war efforts to produce high performance yet lightweight trains.
The train runs along 3km of track which is part of the 132km Casino to Murwillumbah line. This line once connected the town of Casino, which is on the Sydney to Brisbane line, with Lismore, Byron Bay, Mullumbimby, Murwillumbah and dozens of towns and villages in between.
Now, with the advent of the solar train, part of that line lives again.
0 – 5 years free
6 – 13 years $2
14+ years $3
For a one way journey
Contact:
02 8123 2130
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]]>The post The Past and the Present at the Lascaux Caves appeared first on .
]]>After a month in France in September, my very last ‘horse’ adventure was at the ancient Lascaux Caves in Montignac. I’d seen these magical caves on endless documentaries, and I’d always wanted to see them in person – and to continue learning about the relationship between horses and humans. The cave paintings – and you will have all seen the images I’m sure – are from 17-20,000 years ago, and feature a wide variety of animals that are recognisable today – including aurochs, bison, reindeer and horses – lots and lots of horses!
The caves (other than one original at Rouffignac which you visit in a train, passing ancient bear nests on the way) are exact copies of the originals and in the case of Lascaux 2, which was the one we chose to visit, only 100 metres from the real cave’s entrance. The caves had to be copied because unfortunately the amount of people going through them once they were discovered caused almost immediate damage to the paintings. The copy itself took seven years to complete, and the sites are incorporated into the World Heritage list.
.It was extinct in the wild but thanks to a careful breeding program it has no been reintroduced to Mongolia. Most “wild” horses today, such as the American mustang or our own https://www.viagrabelgiquefr.com/ brumby, are actually feral horses descended from domesticated animals that escaped and adapted to life in the wild.
The Przewalski’s horse has never been domesticated and remains the only true wild horse in the world today. The horse is named after the Russo-Polish geographer and explorer Nikolay Przhevalsky (Polish name: Nikołaj Przewalski) and I’ll let you be the judge of how similar the little chap (who has donkeys for company at the moment) looks to the ancient cave paintings.
The grey ponies also tell a wonderful story because the Tarpan – also known as the Eurasian wild horse or simply, wild horse, is now extinct. The last mare believed to be of this subspecies died in captivity in Russia in 1909, but in the 1930s, several attempts were made to develop horses that looked like tarpans through selective breeding, called “breeding back”. Historians of the ancient wild horse assert that the word “tarpan” only describes the true wild horse but at the same time, the breeding program has been successful enough to produce these lovely grey ponies that bear a very distinct resemblance to their ancient ancestors.
So what I did glean from seeing the Camargue horses, the Cardre Noir dressage horses, and the ancient cave drawings? It yet again reinforced for me how the relationship between horse and humans is one of – when it’s good – a chosen relationship, on both parts. Finally, if you do happen to have an interest in horse history I can highly recommend Susanna Forrest’s The Age of the Horse which I reviewed for the Times Literary Supplement in the UK. It’s a fascinating account of the history of the horse from around the world. https://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/public/horses-tale/
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]]>The post Warning: Tamper with Vegemite at your peril, writes Robert Drewe appeared first on .
]]>After only six months of Vegemite deprivation overseas in the eighties I began thinking of it constantly. I badly needed a fix. Intending visitors from Australia were begged (eventually commanded) to bring jars with them. No one took my pleas seriously. The Vegemite-less weeks and months ticked on.
At last! From a friend’s luggage appeared the cheery red and yellow label of my childhood! That whiff of yeast! The familiar surface sheen! The strong odour, the salty taste! With my urging, bemused French acquaintances were soon gamely trying Vegemite on their baguettes; wary but polite Californians and Canadians were spreading Vegemite on their rolls. They all said it was disgusting.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t get terribly keen on Vegemite – they thought it the most revolting foodstuff they’d ever encountered. It failed at every level: looks, smell, texture, taste. To them it resembled glistening dark stuff not fit for repeating in a family newspaper much less human consumption.
I felt hurt on Vegemite’s behalf. And Australia’s, too. It was like they’d scorned our beaches, wines, weather, Don Bradman, Sidney Nolan, Patrick White and Phar Lap. I was defensive. I disparaged their stupid foreign breakfast spreads: Marmite and Cenovis, peanut butter and jelly. Chocolate, for goodness sake. Nutella. Any more British derision and I would’ve brought up breakfast black pudding.
Then I tried a calmer, more educational approach. The secret, I tried to explain to them, one passed on from generation to generation of Australians over the breakfast table, was to appreciate the subtlety and delicacy of Vegemite.
This will come as no surprise to those of you who are reading this at breakfast with a trusty jar of Vegemite close at hand. “For a start,” I informed my foreign friends, “Butter first.”
“Then what you do is dab a little bit here and there over the buttered bread or toast,” I instructed. “You never smear it on thickly. That’s a Vegemite no-no. Stifle the natural urge to cover the entire slice up to the edges. Use a light hand, and only the tip of the knife, and just speckle the Vegemite gently and randomly over the toast.”
Like this….
Casually, even with a touch of devil-may-care, but serious intent, I demonstrated the approved method. “Like this,” I said. “You mustn’t coat the bread. (My goodness, you’re not painting a wall or laying cement with a trowel!) Try for the desired stippled effect. The acid test is this: if you have correctly applied your Vegemite in sporadic flecks the buttery surface of the bread or toast should still be intermittently visible underneath.”
NOT like this…
Of course, I went on to remind them they were dealing with an actual foodstuff and, all appearances aside, not changing the oil filter on their car. I explained après-Vegemite etiquette, passed on sternly from mother and grandmother. To never put a Vegemite-encrusted knife back into the butter (or margarine, if you insist) container.
A question arose and was answered. “Yes, it’s permitted for the various Vegemite dabs and the previously spread butter to run together on a warm slice of toast, to even recklessly swirl and intermingle, as on an artist’s palate. But never allow them to intermix in the butter dish.” Even Australians disliked the look of that, I told them.
Did they take any notice? Not at all. Especially the Americans. They were so used to lavishing peanut butter over everything that they smothered Vegemite on the test slice I provided. Well, they deserved what they always get, a yeasty slap in the face.
Well, we got Vegemite back from them earlier this year when the dairy company Bega bought Mondelez International’s Australia and New Zealand grocery and cheese business.
Nostalgia aside, the reason Vegemite is on my mind this week is that Bega is now attempting to take Vegemite upmarket with a new, more expensive version, Vegemite Blend 17, sold in precious artisanal packaging that includes an unnecessary cardboard box, a gold-coloured lid and a price tag of double that of a traditional jar.
Vegemite Gold – twice the price, but is it twice as nice?
Asked what happened to Blends one to 16, Vegemite’s marketing director, Ben Hill, explained: “The name Blend 17 simply refers to the year 2017 we have released it in.”
Oh, dear. Remember Vegemite Singles, iSnack 2.0, Cheesybites, My First Vegemite, Chocolate-and-Vegemite. All recent Vegemite marketing failures. Tamper with it at your peril. You don’t need a more affluent demographic. Everyone likes it as it is.
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