A QUICK GLANCE AT THE REUNION WHICH BROUGHT US TO TASMANIA (21 - 24 OCTOBER 2017)

This is pure self indulgence, and I'll do my best to keep it brief. As I went through the photos to add to this missive I realised that most of them depicted a raised glass or two, and in fact that's it in a nutshell so to speak. 

But having made that admission of sorts, it is fair to comment that there was a lot a chat and the need to keep the vocal chords appropriately lubricated was critical.

Things kicked off with Registration at the Old Woolshed Hotel at the top end of Macquarie  Street, the reunion venue, late on the afternoon of Saturday 21 October. Liz and I had actually first gone to the airport to pick up my old mate Garry, one of the South Australian contingent. How could we not, we thought, we were right next door.

Once the formalities were completed it was off to the bar at The Woolshed for the first round of reunion drinks whilst we awaited the arrival of the stragglers or the appearance of those who were already here and had been out and about.

By the time the sun was setting the decision was taken by 'my' group that our stomachs needed something a shade more substantial than fizzing hops and malt. So we set off in search of sustenance, a quest which took us but one block south along Macquarie Street.


Here we found salvation and the answer to our quest in the shape of the Hope and Anchor Tavern.

Now I would not want you to think that we poured into just any old pub for this special occasion. Not a bit of it. The hostelry we chose to grace with our presence on this first night of revelry quite reasonably claims the title of the oldest continuously licensed pub in the country. It first opened its doors to the thirsty throngs in 1808 but not under its present name. 'The Hope' has traded under a raft of titles, 'The Whale', the 'Royal Alexandra', and 'Kelly's Taproom', to name but three.

It is indeed a grand establishment, not that we saw much of it on this occasion. It was getting on, we were starving, and there was dining to be done. But I have filched a couple of shots from the pub's website just to give you an idea of what is on offer here in Hobart.

Now what about this for a bar?

Or this? There is apparently an upstairs museum in which an array of memorabilia and other odds and ends associated with the pub's history are on display. Liz and I have this in our sights for our return to Hobart in the New Year (before dinner!)

But there were to be no historical tours for our jolly band as we rejoiced in the good luck which saw us all seated at the last remaining table in the front bar/dining area. Poor long suffering Liz held down four roles on this occasion....token female, official photographer, driver and seeing eye dog! 

The staff at 'The Hope' were marvellous, and obviously well used to dealing with a bunch of boys behaving badly! And the meal was equally good. I'll not go into any more detail about this opening joust other than to say it was a hoot.....'lend me a shoulder brother Garry!'

The following day found us again gathering at The Woolshed at the very sensible hour of mid-day for the reunion luncheon and briefing. By now all had landed in Hobart and there was much backslapping as the 'warries' began.

We were delighted to share a table with several members of the 'Fighting 8th' (Liz is sitting next to Sue and Les, a Tasmanian couple who now live in Devonport...Les served with me in Cyprus and we have plans to catch up with them both early in February)

This function also provided our President with the opportunity to formally welcome us all and give us a reminder brief on the schedule of events which were to occupy the next few days.

And then, of course, there were problems to be solved. My good mate Greg, with whom Liz and I have spent many a convivial hour in Darwin (several years ago) and in Perth in 2013 (he was involved in the organisation of that reunion...he and his delightful wife are great friends) can always be guaranteed to raise matters which require intense discussion (or incredulous laughter!).

And what better way could there be to finish off a fine lunch but with a stroll along the Hobart waterfront down to Salamanca Place where we though it highly necessary to discover if the interior of Irish Murphy's pub was as grand as its facade.

Well, let's be completely honest here....who cared? It was all perfectly adequate and most inviting,

with its quaint little booths and masses of memorabilia, but more importantly,

it dispensed Kilkenny on tap! 

Again, on this occasion, I was blessed to have a driver, but the following day Liz and I caught the bus into town. 

It seemed quite unfair that she should have to refrain from enjoying a cold libation or two whilst cruising the Derwent and beyond in this trusty red and white cruise boat which was on today's reunion agenda.

The day had dawned somewhat overcast, but thankfully the rain held off and more importantly, the winds were feather light. We drew away from our dock with great expectations of the views we were to have of Hobart from the water, and were not disappointed. I shall share these in a later blog dedicated more specifically to this wonderful city.

By the end of the afternoon we were cosying up to the skipper who was an absolute mine of information (as you would expect) and for those occasional few minutes during which we could keep Garry quiet, we learnt much.

Once we had returned to port, our walk back towards The Woolshed (and in our case, the bus stop) was rudely interrupted.

How could we possibly ignore the open and inviting doors of the dockside Customs House Hotel. There was more history on offer, surely!

I'm not sure about the history, but there was certainly more Kilkenny......The Three Musketeers were still on song!

But not for long. Liz and I had a bus to catch (which we did by a whisker I might add...and it was the last one for the day) whilst the others had to make a dash for their digs and a quick costume change for the formal reception that evening at Government House. Liz and I had decided that this was all just a tad too hard. Getting back to our van, changing and then returning to the city after our day on the water was all too much. So this reception went ahead without us. 

We were disappointed inasmuch as the formal residence of Tasmania's Governor is recognised as the grandest and most finely decorated and furnished in the Commonwealth (this is a shot taken during our boat cruise on the Derwent), but it was just too hard.

After the shenanigans of the past couple of days it was time to get serious and much more formal for a while. Tuesday 24 October is recognised now throughout the world as 'Peacekeepers' Day' and for those of us gathered in Hobart this meant a church service in the morning followed by a reception at the Hobart Town Hall to be followed by the climax of the bash, a formal dinner at the Wrest Point Casino that evening.

So bright and early it was on with the good clobber and gongs, and off to Hobart's St David's Cathedral which is situated on the corner of Macquarie and Murray Streets. In a sad break with tradition, we all made our way independently to the church. The town fathers considered the importance of Macquarie Street as a main city thoroughfare too great to allow us to formally march to the service, and I have say, having now seen the way in which Hobart city traffic operates, this was an understandable decision. We would have created gridlock in no time flat.

St David's is a stunningly beautiful building, of such size that it is quite impossible to capture it in a single photograph. 






I have therefore resorted to this shot of the cover of a book on the history of this magnificent building (courtesy of 'snipshot') to give you some idea of just how large it is. This building is one of a group on this intersection which, it is argued, represents the finest example of a Georgian streetscape to be found in the country. I would not disagree (we'll see much more of this during our Hobart ramble in due course)








At the appointed hour we duly took our seats inside for the service which was jointly conducted by the AFP Chaplin, Padre Neuhaus and the Dean of St David's, the Very Reverend Richard Humphrey, who presented an address of wit and style.




And then we had another of those extraordinary 'meetings on the road'. As we left the church I asked the good Chaplin if he had any relatives in Adelaide. Indeed he does. "I don't suppose it happens to be Peter Neuhaus by any chance?" It was....his cousin. So what, I hear you ask. Peter is a member of the Keswick Barracks Officers' Mess. Liz and I have shared a dinner table with him and his good wife at the Mess on several occasions. Small world!





After the service, several of us from the 8th Contingent gathered on the front steps for the obligatory 'team photo' before trouping off down Macquarie Street 









to the Hobart Town Hall, another of the magnificent buildings which are to be found throughout this city.











Here we assembled in the main hall of a building which was completed in 1866 and is another Hobart building of of significance in respect of its architecture and decor....a grand example of the neo-renaissance style.




After an address of welcome by the Deputy Mayor, the city fathers treated us to a right royal round of canapes and other delectables (and very wisely restricted the beverages to those of a non-alcoholic variety) 





before we managed to round up the remainder of the members of the 8th for yet another group photo,

followed by one with my good spouse














and a final photo of the 'Three Musketeers',  just to prove that we can all tart up and behave properly when necessary!





It was then 'back to barracks' for a rest and to prepare for the big night, which in my case meant battling to get my newly acquired Mess Dress jacket adorned appropriately with badges and gongs all in the right spot (there is a real protocol to all of this.....and I was decidedly out or practice).

Liz and I had decided that the Hobart bus commuters were not quite ready for the sight of us decked out in full bib and tucker. The Cab fare of $40 to take us to The Woolshed for the bus to Wrest Point seemed a small price to pay for privacy and comfort.





As always, this final dinner was a somewhat grand affair. The Wrest Point staff were most attentive and the meal and accompanying wines of a high standard (we noted with some degree of smug satisfaction that all but the bubbles were from SA). 







We were a little disappointed that for some reason the table settings did not allow for all members of the same contingents to be seated together, but at least we had the pleasure of the company of one of my old colleagues, Dennis Percy, and and his good wife Alexis (an Adelaide girl).





The after dinner speaker was an absolute stand out. Paul Field, who is the brother of one of 'The Wiggles', Anthony Field, has had a varied career to say the least. His life to date has seen him employed as a supermarket worker, teacher, rock musician, legal clerk, Royal Commission operative (the Wood Commission) and today, as the manager of The Wiggles. 



In addition to all this, Paul is also an author of note and his address to us tonight was an introduction to his latest work 'Gimme Shelter'. As noted at the beginning of the book, this a collection of 'Stories of courage, endurance and survival from the front line and back home'. In essence it details the experiences of soldiers and others who have had to battle with the aftermath of the trauma and hardships they faced on the battlefield and elsewhere.


John Watkins commented thus in his most compelling forward, 

"Gimme Shelter should be compulsory reading for every political leader and bureaucrat responsible for sending young Australians in to violent confrontations and those responsible for caring for them on return. This book makes clear that the trauma of violence, especially war, is never done with and that there are too many stories of Australia not living up to its responsibility towards those the nation has relied on to do its most difficult tasks".

I am the proud owner of a personally signed copy of this work, and now having read much of it, all I can say is "hear hear".

Paul spoke to an appreciative and understanding audience. It was one of the best addresses I have heard at functions such as this.

After the formalities had concluded, the very good band struck up and the dance floor was soon crowded with revellers of varying degrees of skill, including your scribe and his dancing partner (fortunately not captured on film).






But I did manage one shot of the most elegant young Liz as she chatted with Alex and took much needed refreshment before another bout on the dance floor. Belles of the ball, both!





This had been, as previous such functions have, one to remember, and provided a fitting end to what was a marvellous reunion.

Let me conclude how I began, with the comment that this missive is one of pure self-indulgence but will hopefully provide you with some idea of why we are keen starters for these reunions every second year or so. We were delighted to hear that our next gathering will see us returning to Caloundra on the Sunshine Coast. This was the venue of the reunion which saw us make our first long caravan trip in our old Coromal over eight years ago (when we still had a home which did not move!)  How things have changed since then.