Our Great Southern Land

Crikey Dick, some people take their religion, like their alter whine, just a tad too fiercely, eh?
Been reading about a fab church (with drool-worthy architecture, stained glass windows and stone masonary work to  covet) in NZ with a sense of humour - yes, yes, some churches and ministers have learnt that humour is not a tool of the Devil and can be effective in encouraging people to venture inside a church to see what it's all about.
First the measuring fish billboard was a hoot.
But the latest one got some hot and bothered both under the sheets and under the collar.
Pity it wasn't the sheets in question on the billboard and the 'dog collar' that authorised it certainly wasn't bovvered.

Read this tale HERE about a message from Santa in an over-due library book with social and historical connections.
Then encourage Lisa to pen a book on the tale; it would be a great way to document the whole thing and convey it to the next generation of history lovers, just as she's proven with her previously published book The Zoo War.

As we've just about lost all of our lovely old red public phone boxes *sniff* have a gander at the ones in NZ.
And, seriously, if NZ can have all these fab murals covering the dull, ugly grey traffic control boxes - exactly the same kind of traffic control boxes we have this side of the ditch - and Brisvegas has embraced the concept with beautiful results why oh why can't someone organise murals for our hideous ones instead of leaving them to be tagged?
I say sic a Kiwi on 'em - they might be flightless but those beaks are savage!

Oh, I can hear Pell, Benny, et el becoming incandescent with rage...so much so one could probably light a papal vote off them *snort*
Yes, our Mary may soon become our first home-grown saint, whom we'll proudly wheel out alongside the first home-grown tomatoes picked before Xmess.
It doesn't hurt that Mary was a feisty gal who gave the Vatican her proverbial finger a couple of times; the first occasion when some tool of a Bishop (oh, I'm so going to Hell, hey?) excommunicated her for *gasp* daring to beg after she'd taken a vow of poverty as the Church didn't like beggars.

Mary and Father Woods had started the Sisters of St Joseph in 1866 which was dedicated to the edumakatshun of poor kiddies; it grew like Topsy with gals everywhere taking up the fight of schooling children of the poor by following them (miners, farmers, itinerant workers, etc) into isolated and hard terrain.
Mary had a will of iron, probably forged from her Scottish-born parents when she herself was pupped in Fitzroy in poverty in 1842. When she refused to stop begging, cos she figured God would provide like it says somewhere or other in the bible, she got done for insubordination in 1871.
Oh, and cos her school kids sang excessively.
Yeah, really bad stuff.
Mary held her ground and the Bishop admitted he'd stuffed up, re-communicating Ballsy Mary six months later just 9 days before he fell off the twig.
In 1883 the cute gal was in strife again when she'd dared try to put across that the Church should be an equalitarian instead of hierarchical bother of Bishops.
Tsk tsk tsk. Goodness, didn't she know her place in this male dominated world?
Bishop Reynolds told her to get thee hence from his diocese in Adelaide so Mary upped sticks and established the headquarters of the Josephites in Sydney.
This good looking chicky-babe had been a governess, took the veil, rejected all worldy goods (unlike some of the men-folk in the church), saw that the education of all children, even those living in poverty, was a right not a privilege they needed to attain permission for and stood up for what she believed in.
Yeah, I'll be waving my pom poms on the sidelines when she gets the nod from Benny-boy in Rome, she's a girl I'd like to have known, chatted over a cuppa alter wine tea about fixing the screw ups of the world and the like, she's worth every bit of a sainthood.

Now, we just have to get Rome to re-instate 'rebel priest' Father Peter Kennedy, read the book detailing the battle with the stuck-in-the-Dark-Ages hierarchical brotherhood and celebrate the ballsy bloke who actually practices what the bible preaches.
Hmmm....not a lot's changed in over a hundred years....

There was a country-born and bred chap, Oliver Gilpin, who owned a successful drapery business that soon became a chain of drapery shops (which was ahead of its time and set the standard for employing only women and girls as managers and shop assistants) and soon he was considered "comfortable" in the hip pocket.
Oliver had knocked up a lovely home called Nyora in Normanby Ave, Thornbury (which is now the Normanby House Reception Centre) with a factory, fernery, tennis court and established a private bowling green next to it which he then invited others in 1907 to form the Thornbury Bowls Club soon sold them the land and club, becoming the first president.
He then moved his family to the new house in Finch Street, Malvern called Kia Ora (click HERE to drool). Having a hankering for bowls Oliver helped create the short-lived Malvern Heights Bowls Club right beside his new house, the grounds containing lakes, ferneries, croquet and tennis courts,  ran from the corner of Finch and Central Park Rds to Belson Rd where he had an office from which he managed his chain of stores.
But he wasn't satisfied with this lovely home; he bought and built big...he built Idylwylde.
Yes, click through the pics, enjoy the gorgeous lavishness of it all and keep in mind all of this 20 acres still existed intact in 1978 in Balwyn (Melway ref 46 F6).
Now, having looked at the spacious home, try to picture how much bigger it would have been had Oliver lived to continue his plans of extending Idylwylde another 8 storeys high!
According to his biography Oliver had installed avaries, a private zoo of Aussie animals but sale ads of Idylwylde at the time state Oliver had not actually lived in it.
I quite like this bloke; he ran a successful business, was forward thinking enough to employ only chicky babes (at a time when it Wasn't The Done Thing), created a fleet of vans/trucks to deliver his goods promptly, was considered an honest and reputable business bloke and if he married three time with a couple of divorces in between, who are we to condemn a chap who still believed in romance?
And romance he must have believed in to have chosen the design of the three beautiful homes he owned. 

I likes yer style, Mr Gilpin.

*Edit -
Just found out Oliver Gilpin's granddaughter Muriel Perry authored a bio titled "Just a Pocket For The Money; The Story of Oliver Gilpin and His Stores".

Long story short - Dad's wheelchair buggered up recently, we got lucky and found another near-new (much better) one.
The Spouse transferred the foot grips (the rubber grips the person pushing the chair puts their foot on to raise the seat or tilt the chair to negotiate kerbs) from the old one to the new one.
Yesterday some Chrissy-seasoned turd decided to steal them off the flipping chair (seriously, WTF?!).
Today the owner of a newly opened BMX bike shop nearby gave, for free, a pair of rubber hand grips to replace the stolen ones.
Ol Skool BMX and Street Shoppe, 79 Warrigal Road Oakleigh .
They rock!
Go buy stuff from them.
They really are fab people.

Have a nice Xmess!