Memories
from Joan, 83
My
first experience of electricity in the bush was quite dramatic.
Arriving in Sydney in July 1947, I was driven up to Cunnamulla
in an ex-army jeep. We reached my future in-law's homestead
just on dark, finding the place a blaze of light. Alas! As
we pulled up at the back verandah the brand new 32V lighting
plant suddenly ceased to function and we were plunged into
darkness. Everyone was mortified but the blackout didn't last
long.
Five
years, a marriage and two babies later we got our own 32V
plant and what a relief that was. By then the second boy was
a year old and we got through many a torch battery attending
to the children during the night.
I will
draw a veil over the picture of the girl from civilisation
ironing with Mrs Potts' irons, then a petrol iron. With that
great break through I only burned one tea towel and one parachute
silk baby's dress.
For
the third child we had a concrete mixer type of washing machine
and how wonderful they were. Then there was a mixer and an
electric iron, which was always too hot or not hot enough.
These items were largely powered by a very efficient wind
charger. The tower for this was also the site of a magpie's
nest and I was often bombed during the breeding season.
In
1967 we bought a 240V plant but a year later it was burnt
along with the hangar and outbuildings. It was, however, quickly
replaced and lasted until rural power arrived in 1980. This
miracle came to us much later than to most people as we had
two neighbours who, incredibly, did not want to join the scheme.
I think they were the last generation to imagine that enduring
inconvenience was a virtue in the bush.
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