The Secret Garden

Date of Adventure:
Thursday, 20 January 2011

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Maps of Adventure:







Before we offer an explanation of the title of this adventure, we should mention that this adventure took place a year, to the day, since our last one. At this rate, we are scheduled to finish this project in December 2040, weather permitting. But, we press on.

The title was given in honour to the extraordinary prominence of vegetation in this adventure. As we weave this narrative together for you, dear readers, we will reveal various botanical aspects to you.

The area covered was bounded by Holyrood Street, New Street, South Road and Margarita Street. It is a beautiful, magnificent area that we have had little to do with in the past. There have been, however, some exceptions for me, which I will go into during this account.

Even in Hampton, one can have "wards" or areas that may be unfamiliar to other Hamptonians. I have reflected that there may be people who have lived here for generations and for whom this is Hampton, and other parts of it (our parts) may be as foreign to them as Caulfield or Footscray.

We started off at about 2.40pm. on a beautiful, sunny and warm summer day. We began by heading west on the north side of Holyrood Street, from the corner with Margarita Street. We turned into Hardie Street, and outside number 1-3 (at which, some hideous building development is taking place) a contractor or project manager arrived, had a look at something and said to his sidekick "Rich, get your phone and ring up those idiots from Abco Hire".

Sasha insisted on taking this photo at 7 Hardie Street of a mailbox inside the fence.



She didn't like it. She also took this photo of a keen bowler in full flight, across the road at the Hampton RSL and Bowling Club.



Outside the bowling club, in Hardie Street, is their hot water service.



I wonder if I'm the only person who thinks it odd that a club or private premises can install their hot water service on a public footpath. I might try that and see how long it will be until I get sued by someone who skateboards into it one night.

This is a view of the Hampton RSL and Bowling Club in full splendour, taken from Holyrood Street.



The pine trees were grown from seeds brought back from Lone Pine, in Gallipoli, by Lance Hill.

Summing up the jolly feel of the area, was this house number in Holyrood Street.



Heading east down an unnamed lane from the corner of Holyrood and New Streets, we noticed how residents, whose properties are adjacent to the lane, use the lane as their private gardens. Good on them! In keeping with the garden theme, we have never seen such a concentration of fig trees in one area. They were everywhere.

In Bolton Avenue, outside number 20, was this inspirational archway across the footpath.



I'll have to create something similar in Bluff Road.

My only previous involvement with Bolton Avenue was back in 1981. I was in my final year at Hampton High, and a girl in Form Five invited all us form-sixers to a party at her home. I think that her name was Nicole or Andrea, or something similar.

Of course, teenagers experiment with alcohol, and we were no exception. Consequently, I remember nothing about the party. But, I do remember trying to get home in an inebriated state with, probably, Paul and Mark. We were set upon by a couple of chaps from a rival party. They sprayed us with a barrage of tracer fire from fireworks that were available at the time, known as "six-shooters". It was like some night-time battle during the Balkans War. I was hit several times and my new, tight, beige polyester/wool blend jumper was singed. Maybe not a bad thing after all. After the culprits were out of ammunition, Dutch courage told me that they had to be chased and punished. Now, I don't speak Dutch, but I did chase them, yelling obscenities, and it worked; they ran off.

At the eastern end of Bolton Avenue, there is a lane, which joins it to Gordon Street to the north. It is this path that inspired the name of the adventure. I'm not sure what happened to the drought, but I don't think that it had much of an effect in this lane. It has the thickest, most lush examples of every botanical specimen know to man. You could be forgiven that you were in Baron Ferdinand von Mueller's private garden. There is just enough room for a man to pass through and, perhaps, a horse. There was also the peculiar, but distinctive, smell of beehives in the area.

To demonstrate the whimsical nature of the gardens in the area, 27 Bolton Avenue has a large wooden wombat installed in the front yard. Anastasia just had to sit on it.



Alexandra took this photo outside 3 Bolton Avenue of a purple flower from a tree, which seems to be endemic to this area.



Like the figs, they are everywhere. What are they? Can someone help us out?

A stunning example of some of the magnificent architecture in the area, is this house at 36 Bolton Avenue.



We can only pray that decency and common sense will prevail in the looming conflict between residents and developers, who may seek to demolish some of these masterpieces, in order to make a quick profit.

In Hoyt Street, we found a cumquat tree, whose branches overhung the footpath. Naturally, we all sampled these marvellous fruit. It was Alexandra's first time and she approved.

I have a very interesting connection to Hoyt Street. In the few months since this adventure, Victoria has had a new governor sworn in - Alex Chernov. Governor Chernov is a member of the Russian Community and, as such, was a family friend of my parents. The governor's parents lived in Hoyt Street; I vaguely remember visiting the house. In 1969 we moved into Carr Street, Moorabbin. I was a five year old and needed to find a State (Primary) school. Hampton State was our preferred school, but Carr Street was outside the zone. To remove this dilemma, cut through the red tape and put everyone out of their misery, a plan was hatched where I would be officially registered as residing with Mr. and Mrs. Chernov in Hoyt Street. Problem solved. Just don't tell anyone in the Education Department. Within a year, we were living in Littlewood Street anyway.

In keeping with the recurring theme of dead rodents on our adventures, here is another one outside 15 Hoyt Street.



We finished on the spot where we had started and, as a bribe for having the pleasure of Alexandra's company, we debriefed at one of her favourite ice-cream parlours: Cold Rock at Shop 4, 63-73 Fitzroy Street, St. Kilda. I can't remember what Anastasia or I had, but for Sasha, it was doughnut ice-cream with cinnamon doughnut chunks. Enough said.

Papugai

Conned By Connex

Date of Adventure:
Wednesday, 20 January 2010

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Maps of Adventure:

We just couldn't resist the play on words in the title. By the time of this adventure, Connex was not operating our trains, but they were the ones that had refused to re-open the New Street Gates after an accident about two years ago. It seems ludicrous that their closure for over two years can be claimed to be "temporary". I'm sure that if the combined intelligentsia of the State Government, the Bayside City Council, VicRoads, Connex, or their successors Metro Trains, really wanted to make a decision - any decision - something would have been done quick smart. Instead, they have lent support to the notion that it is easier to do nothing than something. The resulting traffic chaos during daylight hours in Hampton Street is akin to something like Chapel Street on Market Day, or Punt Road during a Collingwood-Carlton match at the M.C.G.

Of course, some people living in close proximity to the gates benefit from this arrangement. Our friends Pat, Steve and Rachel arrived from England about a year ago and moved into the southern end of New Street. They love living in the "new", quiet New Street and describe it as like almost living in a cul-de-sac. They have not known it any other way.

It seems that all the warring parties are all wound up in the usual sticking points of safety, convenience and heritage, and all of them only seeing a win-loss situation. Our solution, which is a sort of inverted Wisdom of Solomon outcome, is where all the competing aspects are actually integrated into a new co-operative entity. Perhaps restoring the heritage gates (as well as the little hut) but having them fully automated would be a solution. Keeping the employee there to oversee the operation, as well as providing a new pedestrian crossing across Beach Road at that point, might also work. Another solution would be to have them operating only at peak times to relieve some of the traffic problems.

Anyway, that is where we started our adventure: the triangle formed by the eastern side of the beach bike path, South Road and New Street.

Here is a photo of Anastasia and Alexandra at the now-infamous gates with a train and a camera-shy employee in the background.

He didn't even help us cross the tracks. Here is some advice on how to do it yourself.

The journey up the bike path and down Beach Road was pretty uneventful except for spotting a yachting regatta about a kilometre off shore

and this sticker on a pole.

Obviously, the people who left it do not share in our respect for our police force.

Up we went on the other side of Beach Road to the junction with South Road and all its myriad obstacles: slip lanes, traffic islands, railway tracks and boom gates. We negotiated all these successfully and ended up walking along the centre reservation. Up near New Street we came across this dead animal.

We couldn't tell whether it was a possum, a rat or a lemur of some kind. Perhaps someone at the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine could help us out. They're good at this type of thing.

Now, the main issue with this adventure is whether the target area is classified as Hampton or Brighton (Beach). We are in no doubt that currently the area is regarded as part of Brighton and even in the olden days it was in the municipality of the City of Brighton. There is, however, evidence that approximately 25 years ago it was regarded as being in the suburb of Hampton and had a Hampton post code. That is good enough for us. So, for the purposes of this project, it is in Hampton. Of course, we know that both sides of South Road, as well as the first row of properties on the southern side, are legitimately and unambiguously in Brighton. This means that the Brighton Beach Bowling Club




and the Brighton Beach Oval take up a significant portion of this triangle.

In the Melway, it appears that Mair Street is a dead end. However, if you're on foot, there is a secret path along the railway tracks to Seaview Avenue. This is good to know if you're being pursued by foreign agents or Bayside City Council officers, who may be looking to fine you for letting your cat outside after the nine o'clock cat night curfew.

As a child, I remember seeing a very tall tower with a large purple ball on top of it after leaving Hampton Station on a train, heading for the city. It was located on the premises of the Association for the Blind and, if anyone out there could inform me, I'd love to know what it represented or what function it served. It is now long gone and the place has been renamed the more politically correct Vision Australia.

Next to it is the swish-looking Elanora Aged Care Facility. I said to the sisters that they could put me in there when I'm old enough. They scoffed at the idea; I'm not sure why.

On the southwestern corner of South Road and New Street we found this plaque to stockbroker, and significant public identity of early Melbourne, J. B. Were.




As mentioned earlier, our friend Pat and her family live around here and this is their house (with sisters).




It was around here that we heard some loud public swearing. I expected to see a lout under the influence of alcohol. Instead, we saw a well-dressed young man shouting into his mobile telephone. Sometimes clothes do not maketh the man. He deserved to have a large rock thrown at him. It was also around this time that a careless tree walked into Papugai.

Around the corner in Seaview Avenue we encountered a completely different and better-behaved mammal than the swearing one: a beautiful, friendly, affectionate and entertaining cat. We could have spent hours with him.

After that, it was a quick stroll down to the finish point at the Gates and then back to the car. We debriefed and collected ourselves at the magnificent Chocolatier, a chocolate and drinks wonderland at 444 Hampton Street. It's good to see that some businesses still take their work seriously and do an excellent job.

'til next time,

Papugai

Hitting The Wall

Date of Adventure:

Wednesday, 30 September 2009

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For other data, click here.
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Maps of Adventure:

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Hitting the wall indeed! It's easy to be overambitious on a project such as this. Looking at a map and thinking "we can cover this area easily" is easy. Doing it - not necessarily so. Distances can be enormous, the weather can be unpredictable, and the effects of fatigue, heat and thirst can cause havoc. So it was in this case. We had plenty of drinks, the weather was good, but the blue zone distance (getting to the starting point) was relatively huge. We ended up covering eleven and a half kilometres, so nobody can say that we didn't try. However, it took so long to get to the starting point, that it took away distance that we could have given to the red zone (exploratory area). We planned on covering the triangle formed by the beach, South Road and New Street, but ended up just going up and down the numerous paths between Beach Road and the beach. As a consequence, we have decided that in the future, for any adventures west of Hampton Street we will drive to the area so that we can devote more time and energy to actually exploring (the red zone).
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On this occasion, Ekaterina (who is now a statuesque sixteen year-old) didn't participate due to work, social or shopping commitments. It was the school holidays, after all. Maybe next time.

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After trudging up Bluff Road, Ludstone Street and Holyrood Street, we came to the famous New Street (railway) Gates. We will speak more about these gates in our next adventure, but we will mention that, much to our surprise, a Connex employee still does occupy that little shed. He is, obviously, not there to open the gates, but to make sure that pedestrians cross safely. Isn't that sweet?

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From there, we walked 200 metres along the beach to a point where I thought I had picked up an unusual stone 37 years before. I was eight or nine years old at the time and had gone for a walk along the beach by myself (from home). Those were the days... Anyway, I was convinced that the stone contained fossils of some kind and the conical shapes with segmented diagonals seem to vindicate this position. See what you think:

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While I was taking these shots, Anastasia and Alexandra were taking a well-earned break:

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They didn't go in too deep, as they "believed" that a large dark shape in the water was, in fact, a sea monster. It's actually a crescent-shaped rock formation and can be seen in satellite photos at Google Maps.

Near where South Road finishes at Beach Road there is a modern pavilion with toilet and shower facilities (on the beach side). It is in an exact line with where the long-gone Brighton Beach Baths jutted out into the sea. Many a good time was had here by the local kids over the years. All the local schools sent their children here to do their Herald Swimming Certificate (as well as numerous others) for which one had to swim 25 metres (or yards?) in whatever fashion one chose; anything but sinking and drowning. My favourite memories of the Baths were landing like a stone in the water after jumping off the high dive, and trying to break my back whilst attempting a reverse pike (with two and a half twist) dive off the springboard.

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After this, we headed southeast along the beach wall. This wall was built during The Depression in the thirties by sustenance workers in the belief that Beach Road was in danger from erosion. The bluestone blocks were taken from demolished wings of the Old Melbourne Gaol. It was traditional that when a prisoner was executed, his or her initials were carved into a bluestone block that was part of the wall of the building. Given that some of these blocks were used in the construction of the sea wall, it is possible to find several of these blocks if one looks carefully. More about this here.

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Another attempt at fortifying the beach involved dumping huge amounts of bluestone (basalt) rocks along the length of the road, from the road down to the beach. This ended up having the opposite effect and, for many years, Hampton had no beach until groynes were installed, the bluestone rocks were removed and sand was pumped in about fifteen years ago.

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One of my memories of the bluestone rocks (from the road to the water - not the cemented wall) are as follows: back in about 1971 or 1972, my sister's then-boyfriend, one Garry Vincent, arrived at our place looking "as pale as a ghost" and demanding a glass of brandy or vodka or something to "settle his nerves". Garry had been driving southeast along Beach Road when the car in front of his suddenly veered to its right, drove across the northbound lanes of traffic and down the bluestone embankment, where it came to a violent stop. It was supposed that the driver had suffered a heart attack, and had died either from the heart attack or as a result of the collision. After Garry had finished his drink, we all piled into someone's car and drove to the scene. The car was being winched up by a tow truck and we could see broken shards of the front windscreen sitting in blood along the dashboard. The person or his body had already been removed. R.I.P.

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After getting back up to South Road along the walking path, Alexandra declared that she'd had enough and would not be continuing any further. I explained that this was fine, but that we were at the opposite end of Hampton to our house and we were without a car. The promise of an ice-cream seemed to lift her spirits and we came back down the bike path towards the New Street Gates, to our (new) official finish.

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At the South Road end of our home straight, we found the entrance to a tunnel under Beach Road/The Esplanade that once contained a tramline between a long-gone pier and the Brighton Beach Railway Station.

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There is also a plaque near the tunnel:

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The problem is that this entrance and the plaque lie on the bike path. The path, at this point, is in a very steep dip, so that cyclists coming from either direction try to maximize their speed on the downhill to make the uphill as easy as possible. Pedestrians will stop and loiter to admire the tunnel and plaque at precisely the point of maximum velocity for cyclists, creating all kinds of mayhem. This happened to us several months later while we were cycling in that area.

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After getting to our finish point, we crossed Beach Road and began the long way home. We got to Picasso's pizza restaurant in Hampton Street just before five o'clock and found ourselves hanging around outside waiting for them to open at five so that we could get our ice-creams.

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Halfway up Ludstone Street, at the milk bar, we again stopped for some icy-poles and drinks. Then it was a kilometre or two home for some well-earned rest.

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Ciao!

Papugai

Circumvolution

Dates of Adventure:

Part 1 - Saturday 8/12/07
Part 2 - Sunday 9/12/07

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Maps of Adventure:

Part 1:

Well, we're nothing if not persistent. A year and a half after the first adventure, we finally get a chance to write it up. I've heard it said on several occasions that life gets in the way of a good hobby. Most normal people would have pulled the pin and said "we don't have time for this". Not us. We are still here, Hampton is still here and we don't have any deadlines on this project. Remembering small details from the first adventure will test our memories, but I think that we'll make a decent fist of it. So, here goes.

We had every intention of completing the first adventure in one day, however Mrs. Papugai had other ideas. We were required at the new home of Mrs. Robyn Green and family in the early evening for "Christmas" drinks and socializing. The weather was perfect: not a cloud in the sky (well, it hasn't rained for about 15 years) with a mild top of 26.2°C for the day. A little bit on the warm side for Papugai but we were well prepared with water, hats, sunscreen and sunglasses. From previous walking experience, it was decided to completely circumnavigate the target area, eliminating the need to later backtrack in covering both sides of a thoroughfare in border areas. We decided on clockwise; I can't remember why. It started off easily enough until I realized that the photo-count was going to be massive; it was a big red zone, and many aspects of Hampton and borderlands on December 8th. (and 9th.) had to be recorded for posterity. Actually, we hadn't left the driveway before Mrs. Papugai snapped us, as we were about to head off.

Heading south down Bluff Road, we had barely gone 50 metres before the next photo was taken: the corner of Bluff Road and Widdop Crescent.

It shows our spirited Irish neighbour Nora's house and our (formerly in-law's) blue car. In order to protect this car from major collisions that might happen by parking it on Bluff Road (as had once happened with a work car that I wasn't supposed to have) we thought it would be safe around the corner. Nothing doing. There is a perpendicularly aligned parking area on the opposite side to this car, belonging to the Housing Commission flats. On at least four occasions (it's a bit worse since this photo was taken) some "sticks" have backed into it from the parking bays, making it look like it's been in a demolition derby. Of course, it's not worth repairing; we're just waiting for someone to take out the entire side and get their insurance to pay for it. Here is a shot of the flats.

Nothing special, except that recently (May '09) a strange short, metal-type fence (with lots of gaps) has surrounded them, for no apparent reason other than for some government department to claim that they are "improving" them.
In the blink of an eye, we were at the southeast corner of Hampton on the corner of Bluff and Highett Roads, where the 7/11 has been doing a roaring trade selling Slurpees to the older sisters on their way home from school in summer.

We proceeded west along the southern side of Highett Road. As most residents will testify, Highett Road in this area is excruciatingly narrow and long. This is because it was built on the eight-miles-south section line (that is, eight miles south of Batman's Hill in the city). Way back, landowners were loath to give up anything but the bare minimum width of their land when the government decided to construct a road.

Next, a photo taken by Anastasia of the Sandringham Line looking south from Bridge Street towards Sandringham Station.

Like I've said earlier, interesting things just seem to happen and by the time Highett Road "turns into" Bridge Street, we observed this interesting scenario:

The sisters were amazed that there really was a person called a sheriff outside of an American Western or Nottingham Forest, and that he goes around Melbourne clamping cars. We considered stealing the clamp as a souvenir, but we hadn't brought the appropriate tools.

From an overhanging tree on the corner of Bridge and Arthur Streets, we collected these unidentified berry samples. Mulberry perhaps?

On the corner of Beach Road and Bridge Street is a modern Safeway service station.

In its previous incarnation, it was a rundown Solo service station that was the target of several armed robberies in the eighties. It was during an attempted robbery in 1987 that one Arthur Ganas was shot and killed by police as they staked out the place. Mr. Ganas's resting place is very close to father-of-Papugai's and is well looked after. The old service station was also once the workplace of Stephen Wadley, an old school chum of Papugai's, who got into a spot of bother there with his employer and the police.

Next is the Beach Road Oval (what an inspired name; no wonder it was recently changed to the Trevor Barker Oval) without its legendary hideous concrete wall.

Home of the Zebras? Legend has it that they passed on the following names for a mascot: the mighty Stallions, Centaurs, Mustangs! No, they liked zebras. One day we hope to see a match there.

Hidden in bushes behind the oval is a curious building belonging to a curious organization: the Victorian Headquarters of the Australian Volunteer Coast Guard.

We have volunteers guarding our coastline? Methinks it's just a front for a social club so that one can get away from the family for a few hours and go for a ride in a boat. "I'm just off to headquarters for a few hours, luv. You know, guarding the coast and all that". Actually, this building has even stranger memories for Papugai. Back in 1979, Papugai mentioned to Tracy Wilkinson how he lamented the dearth of roller-skating facilities in Hampton and that something should be done. Tracy replied that she knew of a secret, very exclusive place and that if I played my cards right, she could get me in. I was instructed to attend in at seven o'clock, in winter, in pitch-black darkness behind the-then almost derelict oval. In keeping with the theme, the surrounding bushland was about ten times as thick as it is now. Nobody in their right mind would have ventured there, but I was young and up for anything. I thought, "This will be interesting". After making it to the front door without being mugged or abducted, the door was opened and it was as if I had stepped into roller-skating heaven. There was an enormous, cavernous skating arena and it was well lit, spotlessly clean and professionally appointed. There were only about four people in there, all private members. It was explained to me that I was permitted two sessions as a probationary potential member. After that I would need to join as a full member, provided that I satisfied certain qualifying requirements. These included school reports and references from respected members of the community attesting to my good character. Finally, all of this had to be collated, more paperwork filled in by my parents, and all this witnessed and signed-off by a Justice of the Peace. In the midst of this maelstrom, I inadvertently attended a third, unauthorized session. Halfway through, the mistake was realized and I was to immediately cease skating and be escorted home by a senior member of the organization. Luckily for me, this was a shapely 20 year-old female, so that when I got out of the car, I impressed my neighbours by loudly declaring "I'll see you same time next week!" Not bad for a fifteen year-old. But to attend again, I really needed to get on to a J.P. Those of you who know of Disney's Newsagency might remember old Mr. Disney, who has since passed on. Mr. Disney was about to become my J.P. This involved dragging my father to the shop one cold, dark night. My father's written English and understanding of grammar was excellent; it was necessary training for a career as a naval officer. However his accent, and occasionally his syntax, let him down. Old Mr. Disney didn't help either; at this stage of his life, the effects of progressive deafness and senility were just becoming noticeable. Monty Python could not have come up with a more ridiculous scenario than having my heavily accented father trying to explain to a thoroughly confused and agitated Mr. Disney what it was that we wanted from him, in order that I could join this secret roller-skating society. For his part, my father couldn't understand why it was more difficult to get into what was essentially a sporting club, than into the Kremlin. A bizarrely appropriate ending to all this, is that after I had been accepted as a member, I never attended again. At this point of the journey we were in Sandringham and strictly speaking, this building was not in our red zone. However, it seems that the border runs through the oval, so going around it was necessary.

Getting back into Hampton, we found ourselves in some fire-ravaged foreshore, near the Guides and Scouts Sailing Centre. Imagine that: a bushfire in Hampton!

From the Hampton-Sandringham border we took the following five photos, including some shots of the Sandringham Yacht Club and Marina, and some panoramic shots of the bay.

It looks like something on the French Riviera, and partly explains Hampton's popularity and high property prices.

At Hampton Pier, we explored some old and leaky boats.

Leaving the pier, we stumbled upon a group of youths enjoying the beach. Much to Ekaterina's horror, they were boys from her school and we deftly skirted past them so that her "coolness" wasn't compromised.

Ahead lay a 2.4 km. stretch of beach with a few rock groynes, wading and some sand drawing to keep it interesting.

The Nippers were making their own fun at the Hampton Lifesaving Club.

From one of the groynes, we took this shot of the houses of the nouveau riche on Beach Road.

Worth millions, whether or not you like this type of architecture.

Near the northern-most groyne we found some vintage graffiti, for which I have a soft spot. A bit hard to read though...something Carla loves Hank 1968?

It was at this point that Alexandra's patience and stamina finally deserted her and she refused point-blank to walk out to the end of another groyne, even though it was the last one. No amount of appealing and bribery could change her mind. We resolved to have the rest of us complete it and were given an assurance from Alexandra that she would complete it next time.

Getting to Brighton Beach just south of Green Point seemed like some sort of milestone and we decided to cool our heels.

All that lay ahead was a straight line up South Road, then right into Bluff Road and home.

Some way up South Road, we came across this unusual traffic control sign.

It restricts most vehicles from entering the street from this direction, but seems to exempt some individual or organization. It would appear that someone has taken issue with this perceived privilege and has vandalized the sign beyond recognition.

The next couple of shots are of Kiora at 81 South Road, Brighton.

Any local worth their salt calls this Queen Anne-style mansion "the Munsters house" after the sixties American comedy. When I was five years old we first moved into the area, just around the corner in Wolseley Grove. I was an ardent watcher of The Munsters at this time and when taken shopping or for a walk by my older sisters, would often pass this house and believed that the Munsters actually lived there. One of the remarkable things about this property is that apparently, Tommy Bent had nothing to do with it.

Next was a rest stop at the B.P. service station on the corner of South Road and Hampton Street for some drinks and icy poles. Forty years ago there was also a B.P. service station here until it was demolished in the seventies. Then it was vacant for a while until a convenience store rival to 7/11 called Food Plus was built. Food Pluses first had large red signs, which, for some reason, were changed to large yellow signs. It was therefore a minor cosmetic change when Food Pluses disappeared and B.P. took over the store/s.

Further east on South Road is the well-regarded St. Leonard's College.

Several of our nieces, nephews and cousins have attended here and it has been the site of many a Hampton Primary School production; who could forget This Fabulous Century, Jungle, The Big Bloomin' Botch-up, etc.?

Soon after this, we had reached a pre-designated time as directed by Mrs. Papugai, and we had to abort, ring her up and wait outside 183 South Road, Brighton East for her to pick us up. We can only hope that the residents of 183 were watching all of this and (especially) the next day when Mrs. Papugai dropped us off at precisely the same spot.

Part 2:

After being dropped off at 1.15 p.m. the next day, we continued east up South Road.

Some time back, I read an article in the local paper about residents being concerned with the possible loss (due to reconstruction and renovations) of inlaid street names on footpaths in the Brighton area. I had never heard of these things, much less seen them...until I read the article. Then, I was almost tripping over them whenever I went to Brighton. Here is a photo explaining what I'm going on about.

At Letchworth Avenue we took a slight diversion into the blue zone, which, strictly, was outside our target area. Slight, but highly significant. This street has barely changed in the 30 years that I have known it, and I suspect in the 30 years before that.

Coincidentally, at the time of writing this, the Bayside Leader carried a front-page story concerning an elderly lady who was about to be evicted from her Housing Commission home after 54 years! No doubt so that the State Government could sell it to a developer and make a tidy profit. Sounds a bit like The Castle to me. Anyway, back to the reason for us being in the street. At number 15 Letchworth Avenue is a house that once belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Mazur and family.

Mrs. Mazur is my sister and the sisters' aunty. They lived here between 1976 and 1986, during which time I was aged between 12 and 22. During these years there were countless visits, parties, sleepovers, house-sittings (the house), baby-sittings (the kids) and an enormous number of great memories. Far too many to contemplate listing, so I'll pick out just one at random. In about 1980 when my nephew Andrew was about 12 months old (he is now a big hairy man with a wife and child of his own) I was babysitting him and his older sister Tanya, who was about four. For many years and occasionally to this day, Andrew was called Malysh - a Russian nickname meaning "little one". A much-needed nappy-changing operation was about to be performed on Malysh on an unusually-highly-elevated single bed in his and Tanya's bedroom. Having forgotten to take a clean nappy, I asked Tanya to mind Andrew and make sure he didn't fall off the bed. This request Tanya dutifully agreed to, and promptly ignored. I heard some worrying sounds and turned around just in time to see the malysh bouncing off the floor in all his naked glory, with apparently no (arguably) long-term damage. Everyone (who could speak) was sworn to secrecy and we all got on with our lives. Another interesting feature of this house is that its internal layout is/was 90% identical to that of our own house. It was an unusual feeling walking around our house for the first time in 1994, with most of the rooms having a strangely familiar feel to them.

Next, we trudged up to the South Road/Cummins Road intersection. On the western corner there once stood a Caltex service station run by a very intense-looking Italian man called Frank. Frank specialized in auto-electrical matters, and talking. We always went to Frank when my father or I had electrical problems and he looked after us very well, given my dad's Italian heritage. At some point in my youth, I realized that "Caltex" was an amalgam of the words California and Texas. Several years ago, McDonalds applied to build a restaurant on the site. It makes you think: Caltex...McDonalds...Safeway, etc. We really are beholden to the business interests of the United States. By the way, the application was defeated by locals and this is what is on the site now.

This is the eastern corner:

Nothing special, except that people may not realize that as recently as the eighties this was part of Moorabbin. There is obviously something wrong with the name "Moorabbin" as large chunks of it have been swallowed up by neighbouring suburbs or renamed into a new suburb. This corner is an example of the former as it is now a part of Brighton East, with Bentleigh further up South Road past the Moorabbin (?) Junction. Even the Moorabbin Hotel at the junction couldn't stand to have "Moorabbin" in its name and is now officially known as the Nepean Hotel. An example of the latter is "Hampton East", which was formerly known as Moorabbin (or Moorabbin West if you like).
I can remember when there was no S-shaped connection between Cummins and Bluff Roads; both roads terminated at T-intersections on opposite sides of South Road, very close together. Predictably, this led to traffic mayhem but the pre-acquired land on the eastern corner of South and Bluff Roads was home to the Nellie Kelly Passionfruit Nurseries, who proudly declared that they were "The Largest Growers of Passionfruit Vines in the Southern Hemisphere". That's a lot of Pavlovas. Not only did they evidently have an abundance of passionfruit, but they obviously had bucket-loads of passion as well. Take note Caltex and McDonalds. Now this space is occupied by The Concierge ("I'm not a madam, I'm the concierge!"- The Producers 1968) an upmarket retirement centre.

We nipped across the road to the 7/11 on the opposite corner for some more refreshments and the back to the eastern side of Bluff Road for the home straight. Here is a shot of the entrance to the N.G. Wishart Reserve.

Known colloquially (at least by us) as the Piggy Park because of the presence of large and colourful pig murals, these days we may as well call it Swine Flu Park, in tribute to its availability as a venue for midnight trysts. Animals featured prominently in our naming of parks when the sisters were tiny: Ducky Park, Froggy Park, etc.

Whilst the tone, language and intent of this blog is to be family-friendly and not to be overly morbid, there are certain events which must be chronicled for the purposes of documenting our lives and times here, as well as being significant parts of Hampton's history. Yes, it's another petrol station and another couple of tragic deaths. Back in December 1986, a fellow former student of Hampton High School took it upon himself to attend the petrol station with a rifle concealed in a sports bag. Many theories exist about what transpired that night, but the end result was that a taxi driver was murdered. John Robinson was filling up and about to knock off when the gunman approached and asked to be driven a short distance. Eventually, Mr. Robinson was put into the boot and shot. The cab was then driven to Jerilderie, N.S.W. where it was found several days later. The body was found 30 kilometres away in Finley. At the time, I was studying and driving a taxi on Saturdays. It absolutely terrified my father (not to mention me) and he couldn't understand why I was driving taxis anyway. It took quite an effort to convince my parents that I would be all right, and that I would pick up only nice people in safe areas. As for the gunman, he was identified, caught, charged and jailed on remand. In jail he took his own life, but there have always been rumours that he was "helped". The old petrol station was demolished and this is the new one, run of course by friendly and chatty members of the Indian community.

It was now a short stroll home, passing by our other neighbours' (Doreen and Darren's) house. For some reason we didn't take a photo.

As far as I can determine, Bluff Road sits on the five-mile-east section line. Section lines were the boundaries of early Melbourne's land sales' subdivisions. Ideally, they were in one square mile blocks in a "north-south" orientation. The "north" was actually magnetic north in about 1836/7 and was about seven degrees east of true north. This is why most of Melbourne's major roads are skewed at a strange angle in respect to the compass points in the Melway. Some major roads were built on many of the section lines and Bluff Road seems to have been one of them. "Five-miles-east" means that a line five miles west and parallel to Bluff Road would run through the now-defunct Batman's Hill (near Spencer Street in the city) and Flagstaff Hill in the Flagstaff Gardens. This line is known as the North-south Datum Line and was crucial in Melbourne's early land sales and subdivision.

Here are a couple of photos outside our place. One looking north up Bluff Road,

and the other going south.

So comes to an end the first instalment of our adventure. Hopefully there will be many others, though none will be anywhere near as lengthy and long-winded as this one. They will be in small discrete chunks, and so should be relatively easy to compile and write up.

'til next time, do svidaniya!
Papugai