Avril Brotherton

Story

Welcome to Australia Ð 1951 Style

Orient Lines ‘Otranto’ sailed to Woolloomooloo

Disgorged her British migrants and lost most of her crew

The date was first of January nineteen fifty-one

When we landed in Australia beneath the midday sun

At midnight we shipped out on a creaking wooden train

Rattling over mountains till we reached the Western Plain

At Bathurst in morning light surprised by the disclosure

We were behind barbed wire in a prisoner of war enclosure

The week we spent in Bathurst was the strangest of my life

We looked at one another with a kind of disbelief

D.P.\’s from Holland ran the place, they issued us with tin

Tin forks, tin knives, tin cups, tin plates to put our pigswill in

We queued for watery stew served straight from the pot

A chunk of bread on top of the stew and butter on top of the lot

The announcements were in German and afterwards in Dutch

Then broken English last of all to keep us all in touch

They consulted every husband and just ignored the wife

Was this what we had come for, the Australian way of life?

The hostel we were sent to was Bankstown number two

Built on the edge of an aerodrome everything brand new

Twenty Nissan huts were there of corrugated tin

Allocated half a hut we began to settle in

Restrictions were forgotten, left in England one and all

We settled down in Sydney and prepared to have a ball

The canteen was a big bare hut with dŽcor non-existent

Lino covered tables and cockroaches quite persistent

In the middle of each table a penny candle stood

No way was this for romance but to let us see our food

For 1950\’s Bunnerong could not supply the power

Blacked out Sydney every night Ð just a dinner hour

The kitchen staff were European displaced in World War two

They spoke no word of English a very motley crew

Whatever they had learned, in their struggle to exist

Catering for Pommies was never on the list

The food was quite atrocious, no-one could ever finish

Pig bins always overflowed Ð especially with spinach

No-one else could stomach it but our baby daughter

This green and white repulsive mess swilling around in water

Gathered round our table crowds looked at her demolish

Her plateful of spinach with quite obvious relish

With two little fists she stuffed into her mouth

All that she could swallow of this revolting stuff

The blame should not have fallen on the staff who had to cook

We had a catering manager who was really quite a crook

The powers-that-be provided all the very best of food

Which he would have delivered to the butcher down the road

The hostel kitchen then received the rubbish he did swap

Half our milk was sold in town then topped up from a tap

One day we went to lunch we really were amazed

The room was so transformed that we simply stood and gazed

There were flowers on every table and a cloth of snowy white

Salt and pepper shakers and cutlery so bright

They even gave us napkins and some food that was delicious

We thought we were at last to have meals that were nutritious

It didn\’t last Ð we quickly found the flowers and preparation

Had been for an inspection by the Minister of Immigration!

Next day in the newspapers we read to our surprise

We were just a mob of whingeing Poms caught out telling lies

But the visit had a side-effect that we could not foretell

The fridge had been inspected and was empty as a shell!

It seems our Mr Furphy had been exposed at last

He got in his motor car and took off very fast!

He heard that the police were very keen to track him down

So he resigned by telephone from somewhere out of town

Caterers came and caterers went, they could not stand the pace

Every other week that came we saw another face

One assistant manager with fortitude undaunted

Tried to ascertain from us exactly what we wanted

He failed, and in a fury, these words passed through his lips

‘All you bloody Pommies want is bloody fish and chips!’

There\’s more to life than food and drink, this should be recognised

To buy a home, we\’d have to work and this we realised

We had no money in the bank but we were young and healthy

Twenty Ð three, with a baby girl, who needed to be wealthy?

The childrens\’ cr�che left women free to go and find employment

Home from work at the end of the day, you could always find enjoyment

Australian whisky lighting us up and four-and-sixpenny plonk

Sitting on our doorsteps for our pre-dinner drink

There were parties in the Rec room on a wonderful dance floor

With extra dancing partners from the Air Force base next door.

It wasn\’t always fun and games, un-interrupted gladness

Two months after settling in, the camp was struck with sadness

That year, within the first three months, in New South Wales alone

Twelve hundred kids caught polio, one wa

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