Lines in the trouser – Part Three

This is the third part of the collection of pieces that were in the back pockets of my trousers at June 2016. Part One includes an introduction and explanation. As in the first two parts, some contextual background has been added in this third part to help explain the purpose for which each piece was written or selected.

Index 
Part One
               Introduction
 LiT 1         A country childhood
 LiT 2         11th Conference recommendations
 LiT 3         Duke Tritton, Gary Shearston
 LiT 4         A doggerel of a life
 LiT 5         Do not go gentle, Dylan Thomas
 LiT 6         Each guest at our table
 
Part Two
 LiT 7         For Tony Wade
 LiT 8         Funeral blues, W. H. Auden
 LiT 9         Heart of our Universe
 LiT 10        The Mad Monk and The Ranga
 LiT 11        Christmas Party 2012
 LiT 12        from Macbeth, William Shakespeare
 
Part Three - this post
 LiT 13         None of us is innocent
 LiT 14         from Richard II, William Shakespeare
 LiT 15         Two little boys
 LiT 16         "Some chicken; some neck", Winston Churchill
 LiT 17         We've had enough of fluoro vests
 LiT 18         What's in a name? 

Lines in the Trouser 13

None of us is innocent

Context: I prepared this for the staff Christmas party of 2014 but for some reason I didn’t use it. Let me provide background on some of the party guests. One Vision is the wonderful AV company that the NRHA has consistently worked with at its meetings and conferences. Head of One Vision is Frank Meany. Lesley had just had her second child, Georgia, and Millie was just a couple of weeks away from having her third, a boy, and had been temporarily replaced by Alejandra Cares Henriquez. Audrey was away expecting her first child. (The number of staff who were pregnant meant that their other female colleagues began to regard the water in the cooler with some suspicion.) Helen’s husband, Gary, plays the trumpet. Janine used to chair our staff meetings. We were expecting to meet Sue’s husband, Mark, for the first time but as it happened neither of them came because of a fire emergency near their home. So we never did see Mark dancing on the table.

None of us is innocent

None of us is innocent of being slightly strange
And neither are we as we were – for all of us have changed.
But I’m determined, hook or crook, to be a shining light
If it’s my time and I’ve no rhyme it wouldn’t feel quite right.

There’s some of us think just the same, see life with but One Vision,
Forgot to put them on the list but made a late decision.
Frank’s not here but in his place we’re pleased we have a few
-Takes three of them to make one Frank: it’s Lisa, Peter, Huw.

It’s nice to see that Lesley’s back – and looking very well
It seems to suit her, motherhood, as all of us can tell
Instead of half a thousand students, rural sons and daughters
She’s giving lifelong scholarships to Dominic and Georgia.

Wendy’s partied once today – she’s had lunch with her mum
We’re very glad she’s fit us in – delighted she could come
The demographic here tonight is younger than the other
But Wendy still sounds loud and strong from talking with her mother.

Millie’s here with Chris as well (he sadly has a cold)
With Mel and Hannah – plus the boy who’s minus two weeks old
We wish her well and know for us she soulfully will pine
Until she’s harnessed up again by chance or In Design.

Anne-marie is new on staff – I hope this isn’t rude? –
Her name is like a heated bath for gently heating food
Except she has one letter less, I guess we should agree
It makes a lot of difference: a B or not a B.

Millie’s left, well just for now, it isn’t quite the same
And there’s no way that she can say her locum’s proper name
I’ll try my best to pass the test and see what Ale says
Try this for size: it does comprise: Alejandra Cares Henriquez.

Audrey left us with regret to have her lovely daughter
She looks so sweet – and Annie too – much trimmer than she oughter
To keep her here I say quite clear we could have tried no harder
But we’re not cross with Aud or Ross, sweet Annie’s doting farder.

The trumpet in our Helen’s home is voluntary rested
She’s not enough exhalant puff – her caffeine has been tested
She’s puffed so well on other things, been wise and strong and neat
I’ll miss her big, my right hand man, and wish her calm retreat.

Janine’s our Chair, avoid her stare, for she is power crazy
Get in her way she’s apt to say “I’ll tramp you like a daisy”
She’s nearly due long service too, but will not as a right,
(Long service just a little odd for one so short and slight?)

How nice at last to meet Sue’s Mark: his reputation grows
Apparently if he’s here long he’ll take off all his clothes
We’ll keep his glass filled to the top as well as we are able
‘Til comes the chance to Facebook him when dancing on the table.

Lexie’s code for times gone by, with Geri, Audrey, Pen
From day to day we often say “Do you remember when – ?”
But as I said when I began: it wasn’t just a joke
When it comes down in bush and town: there’s nowt more strange than folk.

Lines in the Trouser 14

from Richard II – William Shakespeare

Context: I simply love this speech. (It’s the second piece of which there were two copies trousered away.) The emotional roller coaster of the situation is beautifully expressed. Richard has returned from Ireland to find that many of his former allies and supporters have shipped over to Bolingbroke. (Henry of Bolingbroke became Henry IV, King of England and Lord of Ireland from 1399 to 1413.) Richard sarcastically supposes that even his closest supporters, Bushy, Bagot and Green, might have gone over to Bolingbroke: “I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.” On hearing Scroop say “Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord”, Richard curses them wildly for their apparent villainy, calling them all sorts of names. Scroop corrects the record, asking his King to “uncurse their souls” since “their peace is made With heads, and not with hands.” Richard is mortified at having had no trust in his close friends and turns upon himself. When Aumerle tries once more to cheer him up: “Where is the duke my father with his power?” it is all too late and Richard begins mournfully to deconstruct his status as a King and to focus on the reality that a King is nothing more than a normal human being with the temporary trappings of power and authority. At the very end of this wonderfully-constructed speech, so full of poignant self-pity and realisation, is that fantastically apposite pun: “subjected thus”.

from Richard II

SCENE II. The coast of Wales. A castle in view.

KING RICHARD II
Barkloughly castle call they this at hand?
DUKE OF AUMERLE
Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air,
After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
KING RICHARD II
Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy
To stand upon my kingdom once again.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favours with my royal hands.
Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense;
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet
Which with usurping steps do trample thee:
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords:
This earth shall have a feeling and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellion’s arms.
BISHOP OF CARLISLE
Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king
Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.
The means that heaven yields must be embraced,
And not neglected; else, if heaven would,
And we will not, heaven’s offer we refuse,
The proffer’d means of succor and redress.
DUKE OF AUMERLE
He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;
Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows strong and great in substance and in power.
KING RICHARD II
Discomfortable cousin! know’st thou not
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid,
Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
In murders and in outrage, boldly here;
But when from under this terrestrial ball
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
Who all this while hath revell’d in the night
Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes,
Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day,
But self-affrighted tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm off from an anointed king;
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The deputy elected by the Lord:
For every man that Bolingbroke hath press’d
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,
Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.
Enter EARL OF SALISBURY
Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power?
EARL OF SALISBURY
Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state:
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead.
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled.
DUKE OF AUMERLE
Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale?
KING RICHARD II
But now the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
And, till so much blood thither come again,
Have I not reason to look pale and dead?
All souls that will be safe fly from my side,
For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
DUKE OF AUMERLE
Comfort, my liege; remember who you are.
KING RICHARD II
DUKE OF AUMERLE
I had forgot myself; am I not king?
Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest.
Is not the king’s name twenty thousand names?
Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes
At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,
Ye favourites of a king: are we not high?
High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here?
Enter SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
More health and happiness betide my liege
Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him!
KING RICHARD II
Mine ear is open and my heart prepared;
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, ’twas my care
And what loss is it to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We’ll serve Him too and be his fellow so:
Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God as well as us:
Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay:
The worst is death, and death will have his day.
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
Glad am I that your highness is so arm’d
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unseasonable stormy day,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all dissolved to tears,
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel.
White-beards have arm’d their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy majesty; boys, with women’s voices,
Strive to speak big and clap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state;
Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
Against thy seat: both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
KING RICHARD II
Too well, too well thou tell’st a tale so ill.
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
What is become of Bushy? where is Green?

That they have let the dangerous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it:
I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.
KING RICHARD II
O villains, vipers, damn’d without redemption!
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm’d, that sting my heart!
Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
Would they make peace? terrible hell make war
Upon their spotted souls for this offence!
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate:
Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made
With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse
Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound
And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.
DUKE OF AUMERLE
Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP
Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
DUKE OF AUMERLE
Where is the duke my father with his power?

KING RICHARD II
No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke’s,
And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable, and humor’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?

Lines in the Trouser 15

Two little boys[1]

Context: In the last twenty five years Australian Federal politics have seen several successful partnerships which have ultimately ‘ended in tears’. First there was Hawke-Keating, then Rudd-Gillard and more recently Abbott-Turnbull. It is sometimes forgotten that the situation involving Prime Minister John Howard and Treasurer Peter Costello might have gone the same way, but for one reason or another Costello’s challenge never eventuated. As with Bob Hawke, there was said to be some sort of commitment from Howard to hand over peacefully and seamlessly to his Treasurer at an agreed time (reportedly December 2006 – see the piece by Michelle Grattan at http://bit.ly/2sMUpUr). However the deal – if there was one – was never consummated and Peter Costello never challenged. Howard went on as PM to lose the Election of November 2007 and his own seat of Bennelong. Costello confounded expectations by not seeking Liberal Party leadership in Opposition, with that position going to Brendan Nelson and then Malcolm Turnbull. Costello resigned from Parliament in October 2009. Peter Costello’s brother Tim has been a leading advocate for social justice and Australia’s overseas aid program. The song “Two Little Boys” was written by American composer Theodore F Morse and lyricist Edward Madden in 1902 and was made popular by Harry Lauder. Ted Egan sang it to Rolf Harris in Arnhem Land in 1969 – and again over the phone! – and it was No. 1 on the singles chart for six weeks from December 1969. (As Administrator of the Northern Territory Ted Egan gave a Keynote Address at the 8th National Rural Health Conference, held in Alice Springs in 2005.) Apparently it was one of Margaret Thatcher’s favourite songs. Despite that, Hartlepool United fans have sung the song on the terraces since the 1980s. Unfortunately the song has recently done little for the team’s performances: at the end of the 2016-17 season they were relegated from League Division Two to the National League. I suppose I wrote this version some time during 2006.

Two little boys
Two little boys made plenty of noise
Each took a different course
Normally they tried their differences to hide
Travellers both of course.

One little chap then had a mishap
Couldn’t break his leader’s head
Wept for the job but ceased to sob
When his older brother said:

“For the sake of the Lord stop crying
There’s no room in The Lodge for two
Piss off Pete and quit your whining
John-will-do what John will do.

When you stand down you’ll be forgotten
Just as sure as the night time falls
And then we will all remember
Which one of us had the balls.”

Some months passed, Rudd came at last
(A world vision in his sights).
Not very old and a sight to behold:
A backbencher’s name up in lights.

The same little chap, just one more mishap
A half-Nelson grip on his head
Wept for the job but ceased to sob
When his older brother said:

“For the sake of the Lord stop crying
The Party wants you now it’s true
Brendan’s scores are not impressive
And Malcolm says he’ll wait for you.”

“But can’t you see Tim I’m all a-tremble
It’s boards now for me (so it looks):
But thanks to the Party and the media
This should help sell all the books.”

Lines in the Trouser 16

“Some chicken! Some neck” – Winston Churchill

Context: The rhythm of the phrase is surely what makes it so strong and memorable. It’s all in the timing.

Some chicken! Some neck.
The contribution of Canada to the imperial war effort in troops, in ships, in aircraft, in food, and in finance has been magnificent ——- “Hitler and his Nazi gang have sown the wind: let them reap the whirlwind.”

“- – – -When I warned them (the French) that Britain would fight on alone whatever they did, their generals told the Prime Minister and his divided Cabinet, ‘in three weeks England will have her neck wrung like a chicken. Some chicken! Some neck.'”
(Speech to Canadian Parliament, 1942)

Lines in the trouser 17

We’ve had enough of fluoro vests

Context: The Federal Election held on 7 September 2013 was fought out between Kevin Rudd and Tony Abbott. It came after three tumultuous years in which there was a hung parliament, highly partisan parliamentary politics, and leadership struggles within the Labor Party. These last saw the demise of Australia’s first female Prime Minister, Julia Gillard. The public was already demonstrating a ‘pox on both your houses’ attitude to politics and to the leaders of the two major blocs. Towards the end of the campaign the 12th Australian Palliative Care Conference was held in Canberra. Yvonne Luxford was then CEO of Palliative Care Australia (PCA) and the following piece was initially titled ‘For Yvonne – 4 September 2013’. I don’t recall whether Yvonne or PCA was ever actually delivered of the piece or whether it remained in My Back Pocket. Several of the piece’s political sentiments remain appropriate today (June 2017), with the public’s alienation from the main political parties having grown apace.

We’ve had enough of fluoro vests

We’ve had enough of fluoro vests and cooking shows and malls
The prospect of the next ‘debate’ quite frankly just appals.
We want to feel some leadership, some vision – real ideas –
Then we’ll grant a ‘mandate’ to some grouping with few fears.

What care for disability? What funding for our schools?
What promises for dental health? for broadband what new rules?
What place for those without a home who venture to our land?
On taxing times for climate what is ultimately planned?

To Close the Gap’s a target for which we all must thirst
So life can be as long and fair for those who were here first.
To deal with death and dying with somewhat less regret
So care at end of life will be fond business for us yet!

The richest land in all the world, unhurt by GFC
Should share its bounty evenly; that is our earnest plea.
We crave someone of whom we’re proud (in this our nation lags)[2]
A leader fit between the ears – not just between the flags.

Lines in the Trouser 18

What’s in a name?

Context: When writing about Australia’s health sector one frequently has to choose between the terms ‘preventive health’ and ‘preventative health’ – although of course the choice is a straw man, a red herring or a bit of both! Because of course the labelling of policies and programs which prevent illness as being in the field of ‘preventive health’ is extremely daft. It seems that I wrote this piece some time between November 2009 and August 2010. Much of Alan Bennett’s writing and performance falls within my ‘favourites’ category so it is appropriate to have something in this piece of doggerel for which to acknowledge him explicitly. Note: I have amended this piece since its original creation, mainly for happier scansion.

What’s in a name?
When it comes to paper toileting there seem to be two bunches:
One group likes to fold, it’s said, the other merely scrunches.
(I know just what you’re thinking – some of you, if not all:
When we turn to the toilet for humour then the writing for sure’s on the wall.)[3]

So which group are you in? What do you aver?
Is it ‘preventative’ health or ‘preventive’? Which do you prefer?
Or perhaps you’re so smart, see words as an art
And say ‘prophylactic health’ – how inventive!

The difference of course is an extra ‘a-t’;
Just one syllable, two letters more.
So how do you usually say the word? Is the ‘tive’ third or fourth?
Does it only have three feet, or four?

No matter: the word is misleading
It really is very deranged.
The prevention of health is not what we’re after,
That really would be very strange.

So let’s all agree then, instead of the choice
Between preventative health and the shorter
We’ll coin the new term ‘preventing poor health’
And hope experts agree – ‘cos aorta.

[1] With apologies to Theodore Morse and Edward Madden – and the supporters of Hartlepool United.

[2] given political events overseas in 2016-17 perhaps this is no longer a fair reflection of Australia’s position

[3] this wordplay is stolen from Alan Bennett.

A poem for the Winter Solstice

In 2017, the Winter Solstice in Canberra in the Australian Capital Territory was on Wednesday 21 June at 2:24 pm AEST. I wrote this piece on 21 June 2008.

on the shortest day i lie in the sun
but feel the shade sweep over me
hoping the dark will turn to light
and that chance might four-leaf-clover me

this sun through glass has kept me here
and belief in tasks worth doing
but suppose that jobs are over now
the agendas changed or going

suppose a canker is really inside
not cured by sunshine at all
where will we be – my friends and i
when the long summer evenings call

it’s not in a bottle, not in a pill
and not in these fears of mine:
it’s on the breath and in the soul
where even the sun can’t shine

if contentment comes but once a year
when the shortest day is now over
it might after all be just enough
– and time will grow the clover

Image may contain: plant, flower, outdoor and nature

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Image may contain: flower, plant and nature
Image may contain: plant, tree, sky, flower, outdoor and nature

Rural Generalism: One of the best games in town for rural health?

This piece was first published in Croakey on 19 June 2017. My thanks to Croakey and its Chief Editor, Melissa Sweet.

Lines in the Trouser – Part Two

This is the second part of the collection of pieces from the back pockets of my trousers at June 2016. Part One (http://www.aggravations.org/#!blog) includes an introduction and explanation. As in that first part, some contextual background has been added to help explain the purpose for which each piece was written or selected.

Index 
Part One
               Introduction
 LiT 1         A country childhood
 LiT 2         11th Conference recommendations
 LiT 3         Duke Tritton, Gary Shearston
 LiT 4         A doggerel of a life
 LiT 5         Do not go gentle, Dylan Thomas
 LiT 6         Each guest at our table
 
Part Two - this post
 LiT 7         For Tony Wade
 LiT 8         Funeral blues, W. H. Auden
 LiT 9         Heart of our Universe
 LiT 10        The Mad Monk and The Ranga
 LiT 11        Christmas Party 2012
 LiT 12        from Macbeth, William Shakespeare
 
Part Three
 LiT 13         None of us is innocent
 LiT 14         from Richard II, William Shakespeare
 LiT 15         Two little boys
 LiT 16         "Some chicken; some neck", Winston Churchill
 LiT 17         We've had enough of fluoro vests
 LiT 18         What's in a name? 
Lines in the Trouser 7

For Tony Wade

Context: Tony Wade was a close friend from vets’ hockey. He was a warm and unflappable person with the sort of charisma, bonhomie and leadership abilities that made him a natural captain of the ACT cohort of which I was a part for the inter-state carnivals. He was a strong player in mid-field and given his robustness it seemed unlikely that he would be the first of our group to be struck down. He contracted acute myeloid leukaemia. Tony’s wife, Helen, asked me to write a piece for his funeral service, held on 2 June 2015.

Most of the regular members of our group are mentioned, including Dougie Dawson, long-time administrator. With Gerin Hingee in our group we were expected to play our matches using a ‘system’ that few bar Gerin himself could get to grips with; and Judy Baillie was for several years our very supportive and forgiving Team Manager. Boydie (John Boyd) was the ACT teams’ strapper who pre-deceased Tony. In the ACT competitions Tony was always a United player; Checks and Central are two of the other local clubs.

For Tony Wade

Right-Oh!
Gather round and quieten down and listen up you lot.
Dougie’s called this meeting to see who we have got
For the over 95s this year in Hobart – or is it Perth?
Though we can’t run – or bend – or see – we’ll play for all we’re worth.

Paul from Coffs will be in goal, with Des and Ken at the back
That’s a lot of defensive experience – though a little pace they lack.
Paul from Scone is in the halves, with Garth and all his hair,
And Brucie R, and Finn and Scruff – there’s lots of choice right there.

We’ll have two Morries up the front, with Kingo, China, Don –
And in case we win a short corner will discuss that later on.
We’ve flexibility enough which I know you really love
For Gerin can play all over the place – and very often does.

And Bruce will be among us too – he has no truck with fools –
He reckons he alone among us understands the rules.
There’s Johnny F and let’s be clear: our numbers are quite handy,
With Peter M., and Bobby, Alan (‘Chappie’) and young Andy.

Our womenfolk will be with us to help us night and daily
With Margie, Julie, Lynne and Miff – and Mrs Judy Baillie.

But who will be our centre half, our captain, heart and soul?
Who will bind us all together, make the parts one whole?
Tony Wade’s the man we need, our cheerful, loyal friend
The sort of man one works for – on whom one can depend.

He’ll puff around, just slightly pink; he’ll put them to the test
He’ll never stop until it’s done; our fairest and our best.
He’ll mingle then and chuckle, grin – one of his most endearing tricks
And make a speech, and drink a drink – yes even with the Vics!

A disembodied voice appeared – we all looked right around
But still no mortal source was seen and neither could be found.
We listened then in disbelief, no-one even stirred
As from a far-off distance, this is what we heard:

“I’m making up a team, to play for the ACT
Not just over 95 but for all Eternity.
I’ve got the strapper, he’s the best: he’s Boydie as you know,
He’s worked on me – so Heav’nly bumps will never make me slow.

I had to have a leader, with heart and soul in the game
Tony was your common choice so first to him I came.
He didn’t volunteer to lead – so modest till the end
So I had to call on AML* – a trusted s’lector friend.
He did his work on Tony in less than half a year
So now he’s here to lead my team, though others shed a tear.

I’d like if I could to have Don on the wing – either right or left –
Been calling him for ages but perhaps he’s slightly deaf?
And as soon as Gerin gets up here we’ll switch to play his style
So if you want the standard game, let-him stay with you a while.

So now I’ll build with confidence a team to make you proud
I’ll build it on the One I have – the stand-out from your crowd.
Of course I’m hurt for Helen’s grief – they always were United –
I’ve Checked the Central registry and know their troth was plighted.

Forgive me then, if that you can, for the choice that I have made
And remember him so fondly, your best and fairest, Tony Wade.”

*acute myeloid leukaemia.

Tony is seated, second from Left

Lines in the Trouser 8

Funeral blues – W. H. Auden

Context: An early version of Funeral Blues, with five stanzas, was published in 1936, and in its final form in The Year’s Poetry (London, 1938). The 1936 version was a satiric poem of mourning for a political leader, written for the verse play The Ascent of F6 by Auden and Christopher Isherwood. The 1938 version was written to be sung by the soprano Hedli Anderson in a setting by Benjamin Britten. It is now the English contribution to the statue commemorating the Heysel Stadium disaster, where a retaining wall collapsed, resulting in 39 deaths on 29 May 1985, when Liverpool played Juventus in the European Cup Final. The poem featured in Four Wedddings and a Funeral (1994)

         – and in the musical February House, produced Off-Broadway in 2012, a large portion of the poem is sung by Auden himself. I find it very moving.

Funeral blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Lines in the Trouser 9

Heart of our Universe

Context: I can’t remember the occasion for which this piece was written but its general purpose is clear: to act as an antidote to the popular habit among people in all other parts of Australia of putting down our capital city. The strongest objection is taken by Canberra residents to the personalisation of the city as the place that brings increased taxes and bodgie government, as in: ‘Canberra hikes fuel prices’ or ‘Canberra fails on education reform’. Like so many others, my family would rather describe Canberra as a well-kept secret, given its many civic, creative and human assets, its lovely climate, autumn leaves and bike paths.

Heart of our Universe

Settled for a hundred years, where pastures used to grow,
With windy days in springtime: just see the blossoms blow!
Cold nights through the winter, with clear blue skies by day
And nights well-made for sleeping: why would we go away?

Settled on Monaro between Snowy Range and coast
It’s names like Adaminaby that locals love the most
And coloured trees in Autumn cast each year their rusty spell
In places like Dalgety – just west Nimmitabel.


The Snowy River National Park smiles next to ACT
The Murrumbidgee river flows from here to distant sea
Bombala is the sweetest home for many friends of mine
Like Queanbeyan and Berridale and lake-strewn Jindabyne.

We’re chided by our cousins, for Parliament sits here
Not every Hill is Capital, and ours we hold close dear
While others then will put us down, for taxes are a curse
We’ll sing three cheers for Canberra: Heart of our Universe!

Lines in the Trouser 10

The Mad Monk and The Ranga

Context: The Federal Election held on Saturday 21 August 2010 resulted in both Labor and the Coalition winning 72 seats in the 150-seat House of Representatives. Three Independents – Tony Windsor, Rob Oakeshott and Bob Katter – had to decide which of the major parties they would throw their weight behind. The Leader of the ALP was Julia Gillard – a redhead – and the Leader of the Liberal/National Coalition was Tony Abbott. The piece was written for CouncilFest 2010 (3 August).

The Mad Monk and the Ranga

The voters have decided, they’re going to vent their anger
They don’t trust either side: the Mad Monk or the Ranga.

Someone leaked from Cabinet – that really was a clanger
For a week or two advantage went to-the-Mad-Monk not the Ranga.

People felt quite wilted – like some lettuce in a sanga
They wanted other choices, not just a Mad Monk or a Ranga.

They’ll try to move me forward, but not in my old banger
There’s no real action, just all talk from the Mad Monk and the Ranga

While we get slim in country towns, the city folk get fatter:
Hurrah for the House of Windsor and that lovely Mr Katter.

Lines in the Trouser 11

Christmas Party 2012

Context: I liked to have a specially-written piece for the staff Christmas Party to sum up the year’s teamwork and to help invest the occasion with a sense of fun. (One can’t expect colleagues to perform one of their own party pieces if you aren’t willing to do your own!) When it came to 2012 either the muse had left me or the time had passed and I had nothing prepared right up until the last minute. Creation of the piece took the time between when everyone else had left the office and I arrived at the party late. As the piece explains, my contribution was filled out by the singing of The Rare Ould Times (one of my favourites) in honour of Audrey’s mum and dad who were out from Ireland for Christmas, and by an unrehearsed spoons duet with Millie.

Christmas Party 2012

I feel quite bare without a rhyme, especially at this season
The muse was gone this several week – I’m not sure what the reason.
So here I am at 2.15 still far from Ginninderra
It seems not right, can’t get in flight; feet still on firma terra.

The year has flown, you all must own, and what a one it was
We found ourselves so busy: why? well mainly just because.
My special thanks to all of you, I say with utmost ardour
For working with more accuracy, and faster too – and harder.

I’m not quite empty-handed – that would really be quite wrong
Without a poem’s bad enough but never without song.
If short of words a wordsmith is, you’ll think how sad that is
But though I have no poetry, instead I have a quiz.

“If music be the food of love: Play on” (so it was said)
If I can’t rhyme I’ll do my best with singing then instead.
One song I’ll try for Audrey’s folks: I hope they like the choice
It’s Rare Ould Times: please wish me luck: for I have little voice.

Make way for music! With no rhyme, let dancers take the floor
And I hope that later doggerel days return to me once more.
Now when I say it’s music time – not mainly is it tunes
But me and Mrs Clery both, full-on with duelling spoons.

Lines in the Trouser 12

from Macbeth – William Shakespeare

Act 2, SCENE IV. Outside Macbeth’s castle.

Context: I cannot recall why I apparently needed this extract on my person, but it was among the Lines in the Trouser and so must be included in this official record. The Old Man’s blessing at the end is memorable – and apt for the unlikely and troubled times on which today’s world seems to have stumbled.

from Macbeth:

Enter ROSS and an old Man

Old Man
Threescore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
ROSS
Ah, good father,
Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man’s act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, ’tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it
Old Man
‘Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.
ROSS
And Duncan’s horses–a thing most strange and certain–
Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending ‘gainst obedience, as they would make
War with mankind.
Old Man
‘Tis said they eat each other.
ROSS
They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
That look’d upon’t. Here comes the good Macduff.
Enter MACDUFF
How goes the world, sir, now?
MACDUFF
Why, see you not?
ROSS
Is’t known who did this more than bloody deed?
MACDUFF
Those that Macbeth hath slain.
ROSS
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend?
MACDUFF
They were subborn’d:
Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons,
Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
ROSS
‘Gainst nature still!
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
Thine own life’s means! Then ’tis most like
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
MACDUFF
He is already named, and gone to Scone
To be invested.
ROSS
Where is Duncan’s body?
MACDUFF
Carried to Colmekill,
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.
ROSS
Will you to Scone?
MACDUFF
No, cousin, I’ll to Fife.
ROSS
Well, I will thither.
MACDUFF
Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
ROSS
Farewell, father.
Old Man
God’s benison go with you; and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
Exeunt

Lines in the Trouser – Introduction and Part One

Introduction

Words have long been of interest to me. Their use and mis-use have given me much pleasure.

I used to have a smattering of French but, for the most part, where words and language are concerned I have been limited to English.

Throughout my life certain collections of words – speeches, poems, sayings – have for some reason appealed to me and left me wanting to remember them accurately: not just the right words, but the right words in the right order.

However I have a poor memory for such things and not been good at rote learning. Therefore, to have the true form of such pieces available to me at all times, I developed the habit of carrying, in the back pocket of my trousers, folded pieces of A4 paper on which were written some of these favourite pieces. (The habit was developed before cordless phones and Dr Google provided digital means of supporting perfect recall.)

At any given time the Lines in the Trouser might have included a little Dylan Thomas (I know the text of Under Milk Wood better than any other work, thanks to regular listening over many years to the version featuring Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce as the Narrators), some Henry Lawson and some Shakespeare. To these would be added selected quotations, thoughts or references I would jot down at meetings attended.

The folds of paper would be transferred to whichever trouser was worn on a particular day, week in week out, until so thumbed and yellowed as to be in danger of falling apart.

In my working life it sometimes fell to me to say something on a rural health policy matter, or on the occasion of a colleague’s birthday or at the staff Christmas party. My trousers therefore became the receptacle not just for fine quotations and the words of others, but also for bits of my own doggerel written for specific purposes. Every now and then there would be a complete clear-out of the pockets and the process of collection would begin again.

I must have got some comfort from knowing that I had ready access to some favourite pieces in their precise form. It is organised form which distinguishes a rabble of words from a poem or a memorable phrase in a speech.

With Lines in the Trouser I reveal what was in my back pockets in the middle of 2016 when I retired from work. There is an arbitrariness about what is included, for the pieces are those that happened to have been selected in the previous few months. I hope you will forgive the juxtaposition of some favourite bits of real poetry with my own doggerel. The juxtaposition was only spatial!

There are 18 pieces, divided randomly into three separate posts for this blogg. Part One includes pieces 1 to 6. In most cases some contextual background has been added to help you know why a particular piece was selected and, in the case of my own verses, the purpose for which each was written. Those among you who find the doggerel excruciating should be alert but not alarmed – for there is plenty more where this came from.

Lines in the Trouser – Index

 Part One (this post)
               Introduction
 LiT 1         A country childhood
 LiT 2         11th Conference recommendations
 LiT 3         Duke Tritton, Gary Shearston
 LiT 4         A doggerel of a life
 LiT 5         Do not go gentle, Dylan Thomas
 LiT 6         Each guest at our table
 
 Part Two
 LiT 7         For Tony Wade
 LiT 8         Funeral blues, W. H. Auden
 LiT 9         Heart of our Universe
 LiT 10        The Mad Monk and The Ranga
 LiT 11        Christmas Party 2012
 LiT 12        from Macbeth, William Shakespeare
 
 Part Three
 LiT 13        None of us is innocent
 LiT 14        from Richard II, William Shakespeare 
 LiT 15        Two little boys
 LiT 16        "Some chicken; some neck", Winston Churchill
 LiT 17        We've had enough of fluoro vests
 LiT 18        What's in a name?
Lines in the Trouser 1

A country childhood

Context: ‘In the old days’ the NRHA produced a calendar. It was popular and of high quality, and usually contained both images and words. The 2011 calendar had Country kids as its theme and some words were needed for the back page. A country childhood was written in November or December 2010.

A country childhood

Here’s hoping that our children find the outback has delights:
Like the Southern Cross above their head on clear and dark blue nights
Or the view of unbound distances from top a craggy peak
A torrent racing dangerous that last week was a creek.

The sight and sounds of heavy gear hard grabbing at the ground
Or the sweeter voice of magpie that a city’s sounds can drown.
The seething splash of surf-whipped sea, the silver spew’s retreat
Or inland sand that’s miles from shore but close beneath their feet.

The silent sound of distance on a perfect windless day
Or the gale that strips the blossoms – blasts the tender Spring away.
The happy sound of foot on ball – and when it comes to that
The thunk of well-struck tennis ball on home-made cricket bat.

And we trust that local voices also gird these kids around
With the love not just in Nature but in family is found.
And never mind that many choose to cut the strings, depart –
For we know a country childhood always stays within the heart.

 

 

Lines in the Trouser 2

11th Conference recommendations

Context: The 11th National Rural Health Conference was held in Perth in March 2011. Nicola Roxon was Australia’s Health Minister at the time and was able to attend Conference on the last day (Wednesday 16 March) to hear the recommendations only because she had injured her foot and was therefore unable to travel to the World Health Organisation. Jan McLucas, a close friend of the NRHA’s, who was Parliamentary Secretary for Disabilities and Carers, went to WHO in Minister Roxon’s place.

This was not the only occasion on which I resorted to the use of doggerel to comment on rural and remote health policy. Note about the fourth verse: The Government had allocated money for regional cancer centres; health service managers were concerned about specialised staffing for them.

11th Conference recommendations

The Minister’s foot (if you please)
Is sore, quite unlike her knees.
She chose not to go
To the WHO
And it’s Jan who has gone overseas.

The Budget expected was tough
Announced some good rural stuff
You’re welcome today
Though this Conference must say
It still isn’t nearly enough.

The maternity services deal
Gives all of us quite a good feel
It’s not a Rolls-Royce
But should give further choice
And will lessen a problem so real.

We know the mortality graph
Shows cancer in rural’s no laugh
New capital’s great
But is it too late
To ask what we’ll use to get staff?

Though the AMA’s going to be mad
About NPs and PAs (so sad!)
We’ll continue the push
To get staff for the Bush
So our outcomes are not quite as bad.

Though the governance options are three
It’s clear what we all want to see
We are blue in the face
For a regional base
With communities consulted our plea.

These Budget provisions I’m sure
For us have a lot of allure
We trust you won’t mind
If we rurals you find
Are like Oliver: “Can we have more?”

Our people should share in the wealth
Whether at one fell swoop or by stealth
We can work hand-in-hand
Throughout this wide land
To deliver the Bush better health.

Lines in the Trouser 3

Duke Tritton – Gary Shearston

Context: The poem Duke Tritton is from the pen and the singing of Gary Shearston (1939-2013). I heard the author sing it somewhere in the 1970s. He had a lovely style both about himself and with his singing and I admired him very much. As a singer and songwriter Gary Shearston played a significant role in the folk revival of the 1960s. He spent some of his working life overseas, returned to Australia in 1989 and later became a priest in the Anglican Church. People not closely connected with Australia’s folk scene might remember Gary Shearston as the man who had a hit single with ‘I get a kick out of you’.

The story of Duke Tritton, and Gary’s admiration for him, are clear from the words of the poem. The last verse refers to Shearing in a bar, one of Tritton’s best know pieces. It describes how a shearer’s tallies become bigger after knock-off time with each beer: “And though I am a truthful man, I find when in a bar, My tallies seem to double but I never call for tar”. The song became a favourite of mine – perhaps the closest I have had to a party piece. One of my friends liked my rendition well enough to request that it be sung at his funeral. We have lost touch.

Duke Tritton

Come gather around you people and listen to my song
I want to tell you of a man, of a time that’s past and gone
Just in case you never knew him he was one of the good old kind
And I’m proud to say as I sing his song he was a friend of mine.

[Refrain] So long old-timer I’m glad that I knew you so well

Duke Tritton was a bushman, a writer and singer too
As a shearer and a drover he often humped his blue
And at timber cutting or building roads he often turned his hand
And high in the Warrumbungle Range the fences he made still stand.

When first he took to the Bush with Dutchy Fisher his mate
They did some busking in country towns a coin or two to make
On Sundays outside an Anglican church they would sing Abide with me
Then race around to the Catholic mob and hit ’em with Ave Marie.

He shore in most of the famous sheds and saw long tallies done
They called him the Duke in a boxing troupe ‘cos most of the time he won
And back in those hungry Thirties when yer tucker meant yer time
He worked as a powder monkey on the Sandy Hollow Line.

There are songs he wrote and songs he sang and stories that he told
Of every trade a man could take up in the days of old
With his blue eyes fairly blazing and gripping his ghostly blades
He taught me more than any man of how this land was made.

But now his time is over and his miles of years gone by**
If there isn’t a union where he’s gone he’s the one who’ll organise
And I’ll bet if those angels are out of tunes or their songs aren’t up to par
It won’t be long before he’ll have them Shearing in a Bar!

**alternatively: And now his time is over and he’s tramped beyond the skies

 Lines in the Trouser 4

A doggerel of a life: (If I only knew now what I didn’t know then)

Context: Presumably I wrote this for my 70th birthday party. There is a piece elsewhere in this blogg about the Beardy Street house.

A doggerel of a life

For my first ten years I was small and naive –
Feel much the same now though it’s hard to believe.
If-I-only-knew-now what I didn’t know then!
I’d be wise as I should be at threescore and ten.

At school I took Latin and science and such
Left a little bit wiser but not very much
From 10 through to 20 I took on some knowledge
And travelled to Durham to go to the college
Where the sanctuary knocker I touched
I’ll say this just twice then I’ll say it again:
‘Why-ay man I gang noo to threescore and ten’.

Between 20 and 30 I married my wife
We moved to Australia to live a new life.
We went to New England, were never alone
And the Beardy Street house was to be our dream home
While time without kids meant that pleasures were rife.
I’ll tell youse three times – so hear wot I say:
“It’s bonzer to make it to seventy eh!”

From 30 to 40 was the Babies Decade
The results of the plans when Alpha was laid that Alpha had laid
But the trouble it took has long since been repaid
By Tauri and Pella and Parri and Tad
In the care that they’ve given their mum and their dad
And the beautiful memories they’ve made.
I’ll say this more times than just threescore and ten:
‘Good luck to our children again and again’.

From 40 to 50 (we’re in Canberra somehow)
I worked for John Kerin; it was shoulder to plough
The farmers revolted, poured their wheat on the floor
Already with plenty they wanted still more
“What do we want?” the farmers all cried
“Stuffed if we know!” to themselves they replied
And “When do we want it?” was answered with “Now!”

From 50 to 60: my life’s major work:
A new Health Alliance – no effort we’ll shirk.
Our members support us to find better health
Especially for those who have less of the wealth
“What do we want?” – a reasonable ask
Equivalent health the modest first task
It’s a right or entitlement – no way a perk.
We’ll stay on our message – without getting riled
To make them more healthy: man, woman and child.

From 60 to 70: the shaky decade
(What a difference the right medication has made!)
I can’t see the ball and in hockey I’m slow
But it gives me a great deal of pleasure to know
That there still are a mixture of sports to be played.
I’ll finish off now just by saying again:
‘Good heavens I made it to threescore and ten’.
Though I mustn’t be greedy, of this I am sure:
There’s a perfect prognosis for many years more.

 Lines in the Trouser 5

Do not go gentle – Dylan Thomas

Context: This seems to me to be a poem of great emotional effect and with important meaning even though I am not certain that I comprehend what all of the meaning is. In its form it is a Villanelle: “a pastoral or lyrical poem of nineteen lines, with only two rhymes throughout, and some lines repeated”. Note: there were two copies of this (and of one other piece) in the trousers – one on each side. It must have been particularly important!

Do not go gentle

Do not go gentle into that good night,
 Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
 Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
 Because their words had forked no lightning they
 Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
 Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
 Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
 And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
 Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
 Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
 Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
 Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
 Do not go gentle into that good night.
 Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Lines in the Trouser 6

Each guest at our table

Context: The National Rural Health Alliance’s CouncilFest is the annual face-to-face meeting of its Council, comprised of one person from each Member Body. In 2015 it was held in Canberra in September, and included parliamentary delegations on 15 September. I sometimes wrote a piece to sum up rural and remote health issues as they stood at the time, and as a contribution to the team building, the sense of fun and the general purpose of the meeting. This was one such piece. Note: EPPIC is the Early Psychosis Prevention and Intervention Centre. The reference to a ten year difference in life expectancy for males born in Mosman compared with Bourke was from a policy document from the Royal Australian College of Physicians (RACP). Given the NRHA’s purpose, there was always the temptation to pair “equal health” with “Commonwealth”, as in the last verse here.

Each guest at our table

So here we are again, dear guest, right at the nation’s hear
And since you’ve come to join us, we know you’ll play your part.
For you, like us, must see the hurt of health that’s second best
And you, like us, think country folk deserving as the rest.

This call’s not made for exports’ sake by economic dries
No rural fundamentalist comes here to advertise;
But in the name of fairness do we say the farmer’s plight
If wanting health is wanting too a basic human right.

So why in such a country that in general has long life
Should rural folk live four years less – the husband and the wife?
What sense is there in balanced books if rural people fail
To have as many years as those who live inside the pale?

We’re not a high tax country, outgoings could increase
We live here in a wealthy place, not Ireland, Spain or Greece.
Why hitch our star so certainly to balancing the books
When all you get’s some ‘fiscal cred’ – political good looks.

Our wide brown land has served us well and saved us from the Bust
And it seems it’s more in China now and not in God we trust.
But why should the prognosis for a healthy rural home
Be poorer than for city streets where the sun has rarely shone?

In mental health please tell us why it often is the case
That services we choose to fund are from a central place?
The government’s responded and there’s now a new Commission
But Eppic challenges remain for patient and clinician.

Good health and sound wellbeing are what we crave the most
But inland folks have less of both than those who hug the coast
One’s postcode shouldn’t be a sign of waiting (what a curse)
For service from a doctor or a dentist or a nurse.

In New South Wales a rural home you maybe never chose
But having had a cancer that was lately diagnosed
Compared with those in Sydney – in most respects your peers –
You’re 35 per cent more likely to die within five years.

A white man born in Mosman, no matter what his work,
Expects a life that’s ten years more than one who’s born in Bourke.
Too many folks in most respects have health that’s frankly rude
But want for healthy teeth and gums to bite down on their food.

So welcome to our table: we will value all you bring
And from a common songbook let us all together sing;
Thanks for your understanding, right around the Commonwealth
And think upon our vision: By 2020, equal health.

The challenge for the National Rural Health Commissioner

This piece was first published in Croakey on 5 June 2017. It was edited for Croakey by Jennifer Doggett.

In a political climate where rural health issues are struggling to be heard, the creation of a new role of a National Rural Health Commissioner is a promising move. But will this new position deliver the improvements in access to health care that rural and remote Australians deserve?

In the second of his series of articles for Croakey (read the first one here), former National Rural Health Alliance CEO, Gordon Gregory, discusses the new role and provides two relevant examples of previous attempts to change the focus of government departments.

In this article he argues that, to be effective, this new position needs to be a standalone role, outside of the Department of Health, and with its own independent support staff and resources– a model more like the Mental Health Commission than the current Chief Allied Health Officer.  He also highlights the importance of ongoing political support to ensure the position achieves maximum influence.


Gordon Gregory writes:

The Bill to provide for the appointment and functions of a National Rural Health Commissioner (NRHC) is expected to be debated in the Senate between 13-22 June.

All political groupings support it.

Some of the more significant comments from the debate on the Bill in the House of Representatives can be seen in this piece from my blog. And in a piece published on 10 August 2016 (it’s been eleven months since the Election in which the Commissioner was promised) I wrote that, for it to be effective, the NRHC should be modelled on the National Mental Health Commission and not on the Health Department’s Chief Allied Health Officer (CAHO).

Having worked for a long time to help to improve the wellbeing of people in rural and remote areas I am loathe to do anything that might set back an initiative that could help. However, I am concerned about the likely ineffectiveness of the NRHC as it is currently defined.

The Chief Allied Health Officer model

I may be accused of looking a gift horse in the mouth.

My view about what might come to pass is based not only on the known plans for the establishment and role of the NRHC but also from the situation relating to the Chief Allied Health Officer and the (by now) forgotten phenomenon of the Rural and Provincial Affairs work of the Department of Primary Industries and Energy (DPIE).

When the position of Chief Allied Health Officer was announced by then Health Minister Tanya Plibersek in March 2013 it was widely welcomed, in the belief that it would strengthen the role of allied health professionals in health, aged and disability care, lead allied health workforce initiatives, and facilitate better integration with medical and nursing services.

There is little evidence of such developments. Allied health is still the forgotten professional grouping in health policy matters, particularly at the national level.

The limited effectiveness of the CAHO is a structural or systemic issue, certainly not one attributable to the personnel involved. The position as Chief Allied Health Officer was allocated to an already-busy Deputy Secretary in the Department. The Department has reported that, in the role, the Deputy Secretary/CAHO has engaged closely with allied health stakeholders through a number of speaking engagements at allied health meetings.

There is no reference to the sort of work expected of the NRHC, including providing advice to the Minister, being involved in policy development and workforce distribution, and pro-actively strengthening relationships across the professions.

Lessons from DPIE

Turning now to earlier evidence. Thirty years ago DPIE was an industry Department, concerned with the critical issues relating to productive inputs, natural resources, terms of trade, and export and domestic markets for the products of its industries. Today’s equivalent Department still is:

“The Department of Agriculture and Water Resources develops and implements policies and programmes to ensure Australia’s agriculture, fisheries, food and forestry industries remain competitive, profitable and sustainable.” (from the DAWR website)

But for a brief period from 1985 DPIE had some formal carriage of policies and programs relating to the people in rural areas – not just as human resources necessary for production but as individuals and communities whose welfare was affected by the policies and regulation affecting primary industries.

DPIE’s work on what was then called Rural and Provincial Affairs was concerned with the human and community consequences of what was happening with agricultural, forestry, fishing and resource extraction (mining) sectors of the economy. What might normally have been thought of as ‘unintended human consequences’ of industry policy became, albeit in modest form, one of the arbiters of what industry policy should be.

The special Unit established in the Department managed information programs for rural people, including farm families, on welfare, transport and educational programs. Its staff were involved as leaders in inter-Departmental work on such things as rural education, health, transport, women’s affairs, local government and environmental protection.

To the extent that they succeeded at all these endeavours were dependent on leadership and support from the Prime Minister of the day and his Primary Industries and Energy Minister. Following personnel changes in those key positions, within five years the Department was able to return – like droplets of gallium recombining into one perfectly-shaped drop – to its natural state as a hard-nosed, economic industry agency

I mean no disrespect to the politicians and public servants who oversaw or permitted that return to a normal state of affairs. Australian Government Departments have plenty to do. The Administrative Arrangements Orders mandate the areas they are required to cover. Their staff are busy. Inter-departmental collaboration takes time, energy and strong political commitment.

Impressive leadership

The leadership currently being provided for the National Rural Health Commissioner is impressive. In fact it sometimes seems as if the Assistant Minister for Health, David Gillespie, and peak bodies in the rural and remote health sector think about little else.

But if it is modelled on the Chief Allied Health Officer it will fail. Giving the additional responsibility as Rural Health Commissioner to a Deputy Secretary of the Department of Health would mean that little would change: he or she has little capacity for extra work.

So at the very least it must be a new, stand-alone position. If it is a position within the Department of Health two issues of concern will arise. The first is the resources at the disposal of the Commissioner. Second is the question of their independence. The Member for Indi Cathy McGowan was surely right when, in the debate in the Reps., she said she could not accept that a person working in the Health Department would be ‘independent’.

The all-Party all-sector enthusiasm for the NRHC initiative is based on an assumption that it will mean valuable, sustained and effective change in rural and remote health.

The need for change

And things do need to change. The special needs of rural and remote health are not high on the Government’s or the Health Department’s agenda. There is no longer a Rural Health Branch in the Department. The Rural Sub-Committee of the Australian Health Ministers’ Advisory Council no longer meets. There has been no contemporary, updated National Rural Health Strategy and Plan since 2011. The Minister, David Gillespie, no longer has the word ‘rural’ in his portfolio title.

All of this can and should be put right with the establishment of a Rural Health Commission, not a Commissioner.

To be effective it needs staff and other resources. It could be modelled on the Mental Health Commission, with a requirement to report to Parliament and the public. The amendment moved by Cathy McGowan for an annual report to Parliament was accepted in the Reps and is a critical improvement.

Numerous expectations

The numerous and extensive expectations of the NRHC have already been listed by the Government (these are all from speeches and/or Releases from Dr Gillespie):

  • the first and most pressing duty of the RHC will be to address the issue of the medical workforce and coordinate with all the various stakeholders, which are numerous, in the development of a Rural Generalist Pathway;
  • the Commissioner will provide advice in relation to rural health beyond the Pathway;
  • the RHC will have to be involved in policy development and championing causes;
  • the needs of nursing, dental health, pharmacy, Indigenous health, mental health, midwifery, occupational therapy, physical therapy and other allied health stakeholders will also be considered;
  • the Commissioner will be a member of the Workforce Distribution Working Group and could use the group to take advice on other of the Commissioner’s functions;
  • the Commissioner will be a member of, and can draw on the advice of, the Rural Stakeholder Roundtable;
  • the Commissioner will provide advice in relation to rural health to the Minister responsible for rural health on matters relating to rural health reform;
  • in order to help address the economic and social determinants of health the Commissioner will form and strengthen relationships across the professions and for all the communities; and.
  • the Commissioner will be an independent advocate, giving the Government frank advice on regional and rural health reform and representing the needs and rights of regional, rural and remote Australia

It could be exciting times for rural and remote health, with a real prospect of having equivalent health for people in those areas very soon.

But the right structure, appointee and continued political support are essential for the National Rural Health Commissioner to play a leading role in the improvements that need to be made.

This is the second in Gordon Gregory’s ongoing series of articles for Croakey (read the first one here)

Drones: workers of the future?

From the look-out at the top of Red Hill one can see Canberra airport. As I walk along, my attention is drawn to a light plane, headlights clearly visible in the growing dusk, high in the sky above the ridge ahead of me.

Suddenly, a sense of alarm and panic: the light plane appears to be stationary, like a gull in a sea breeze, and I know enough about aeronautics to be sure that stationary is not a sustainable condition for a light plane when in the air.

My gaze is fixed. What I can see soon merges with what I can hear. The light plane appears to be making a buzzing noise.

As I progress further up towards the crest of the hill, my senses join in interpreting the phenomenon more accurately. It is not a light plane high in the sky several kilometres away. It is a drone, zipping back and forth – and some time still – just 44 metres above the ground.

I know it’s 44 metres because that is one of the pieces of information I get from my discussion with Andrew, who is operating the drone. I find out that it is a DJI Phantom 4 Pro (DJI is the brand). The Phantom 4 Pro features an automatic obstacle-avoidance system. Andrew demonstrates it. The aerial beast rushes towards the nearby trees but then pulls up in the air and hovers. It charges through the air towards us but then, suddenly shy and diffident, keeps its distance about 2 yards in front of us.

This wondrous machine is about the size of an iPad with a rotor blade on each of the four corners. It has a small amount of superstructure underneath the flat surface, which includes a camera which is broadcasting sharp images back to Andrew’s handpiece.

I am absolutely entranced. People could talk to me or write about drones until they are purple in the face and I would show scarcely any interest. But to see one zipping about so rapidly and with great dexterity above our heads is absolutely intriguing.

The battery operating the rotors gives about 25 minutes’ flying time. The specifications for this model suggest that it has a reach which extends 6 km upwards and 7 km out. But Andrew will not be able to test that capacity at this site given the regulations for the operation of drones, which rest with the Civil Aviation Safety Authority (CASA).

“Australia’s safety laws for drones, or more technically correct, remotely piloted aircraft (RPA), as defined in the Civil Aviation Safety Regulations Part 101, vary whether you are flying commercially or recreationally/for fun.

When flying for money, or any form of economic gain, you need to have an RPA operator’s certificate (ReOC), or if you’re flying an RPA weighing less than two kilograms, simply notify us.

When flying for fun and not commercially, or for any form of economic gain, then the regulations are less restrictive and allow you to fly an RPA without needing to be certified, providing you follow some simple safety rules.

Check out our information sheet on the basic rules for flying RPAs.”

The model I am watching in the sky above me is made in China. It’s less than 2 kgs.  Cost: around $2500. Larger ones can cost up to $40,000. Judging from the dexterity with which he appears to be handling the drone I surmise that Andrew has many hours’ flying experience. In fact it’s about three.

Currently there are two sets of rules, one for sub-2kg drones and another for larger ones. Andrew tells me that much in the basic rules and guidelines is common sense.

The rules for commercial sub-2kg operation dictate that they may not be flown within 5.5km of a controlled aerodrome, no closer than 30m to other persons not involved in the drone’s operation, not over populous areas, and not over emergency situations (police operations, fires etc). They may only be flown during the day, and only one drone may be flown at a time by the one operator. ‘Populous areas’ include public parks and Raiders’ games – in case there is a fault and they fall on someone’s head.

Andrew has notified CASA of his intention to operate a sub-2kg drone commercially and is considering the further certification required to obtain a a remote pilot licence (RePL) and an RPA operator’s certificate to enable him to fly larger ones. (These further steps are quite expensive and time-consuming.) The certification he already has means that some of the stricter requirements that apply to non-certified sub-2kg operators do not apply.

One final question. And the answer is no: security clearance is not required.

I couldn’t wait to get home to tell of my direct contact with new technology. For someone who still doesn’t have a cordless phone, my degree of excitement was perhaps surprising.

It’s my personal introduction to one element of the ‘automation’ that is already proving to be such a boon and such a worry to communities and economies everywhere.

Note: thanks very much to ‘Andrew’.