Every second Saturday night was ‘Picture Night’ – when the
two films sent from Brisbane would be shown on the outdoor picture screen.
The evening started in the afternoon of course – and had been a tradition
for many years – with everyone coming to Boatman from surrounding
properties, some travelling for hours for this treat. The parties included
staff – as many as could be fitted in the truck, car or wagon – along
with their supplies.
Huge outdoor tables and benches were permanently in place, as was the screen.
The Boatman kitchen was nearby, and of course the dining room for the ‘ringers’ – which
figured greatly later, but I get ahead of myself!
A barbeque was always lit, and each family brought a set item for the feast,
one would always bring a particular cake, like the traditional Australian
Lamington, which is a large cube of plain sponge coated in delicious chocolate
frosting and then rolled in desiccated coconut – guaranteed to make
you cough as you bite it – but Australian picnics would not be complete
without Lammies, as they are affectionately known!!
Another would bring sandwiches, or a sherry trifle – soaked with sherry
and topped with whipped cream at the last moment.
Of course lamb was always on the menu, along with steaks and sausages,
onions and mushrooms, all deliciously charred on the hotplate.
The bar was of course the centre of attraction, and stubbies – small
bottles of beer – nestled in great vats of ice, along with soft drinks
and cordials for the kids and ladies.
Spirits and mixers also tempt, some more than others, but everyone knows
what Mrs is like, and pay no attention til she has to be put to bed. I don’t
think she ever got to see a film while I was there.
The class division had to be seen to be believed, with distinct groups
of bosses, Managers, Jackaroos, Governesses and then other staff, even house
maids apart from kitchen staff – and no foot was put from one to the
other without invitation.
When the first feed had been had, and darkness fell, the first reel of
the first film was loaded from its can, and everyone settled in the canvas
seats to watch the entertainment. Of course there were a group of dedicated
projectionists, all liberally imbibing their favourite tipple, and between
the reels more refreshments were taken. It was often well past midnight
by the time the first reel of the second film was fitted into the projector,
and many is the time when it had to be removed and re-fitted, this time
the right way round. The interval between films lasted at least two hours,
with much socialising and refreshment taking.
When the films were finally finished, people unrolled their swags and made
themselves comfy for the night, ready to sleep a well deserved sleep. The
insect repellent of the day, was pretty basic, but worked fine if you could
stand the smell – but as there was little water around for mosquitoes
to breed in, they were not a problem. Moths were avoidable, and the flies
were asleep! It is amazing how quickly you become accustomed to living with
the insects, and these were a lot less of a problem than those in the Tropics!!!
The younger ones removed to the Staff Dining Room off the kitchen, and
moved the tables and seats and sprinkled that wooden floor with a powder
that is used on ballroom floors and danced the night right through. I was
taught the Viennese Waltz by a champion dancer, who in his day job was an
old ‘roustabout’ – no taller than me, with bandy legs
from riding horses all his life, but with the lightest feet you could wish
to find on anyone – and I had done my share of modern ballroom dancing
even at that age, as television had yet to reach the Tropics, and entertainment
for youngsters was the picture theatre – one film a week – or
the local dances, and in those days the Jive was only just reaching the
far north shores of Queensland.
The Sundays after ‘picture night’ were always very quiet, and
spent doing your laundry or just lazing on the verandah with a book, or
listening to the wireless, or writing letters.
I wrote to my parents once a week, and still to this day have the yellow
pigskin leather writing case they gave me. The fountain pen, a Parker I
think, has long long been lost, but the mail truck came on Monday and Thursday,
and letters had to be on the boss’s desk by Sunday night.
Ray was also in my life, but our story is a whole other tale – and
not for telling right here. Lots of letters were written, and none kept,
which is a pity!
Life just rolled on at Boatman, there was a very comforting routine to
it, and it was only broken when something major happened………
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