Rugby World Cup 2011 … or … Uncle Eric is a crap tipper.

Eric with my boys

The game of rugby has changed a fair bit since my uncle Eric Tweedale was a Wallaby. In 2011, Eric is our oldest* surviving Wallaby at the age of ’90 and one third’. (Turns out there’s an even older one. Eric told Gerry Collins of ABC’s Grandstand that the Randwick club ‘unearthed’ a bloke who toured in 1938.)

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He was a member of the Wallabies tour to Great Britain, Ireland, France, Canada and the USA in 1947/48 – an initial journey of over five weeks at sea and over nine months away from home.

“Most of the players who went overseas in 1947, half of them would have been ex-servicemen and half would have been youngsters coming into the team.”

“There’s been some great changes in the game since the days when we used to just play for the love and fun of the game. We used to train two nights a week, play on Saturdays and get a thirst up to go and have a few drinks after the match because we just loved the camaraderie of playing. But once a game becomes professional the attitudes and everything change with it. You can’t help it. You’re not playing for the love of the game anymore, you are engaged in your employment.”

What was the routine for players when he was touring?

“We trained every morning on the sports deck from 6am – 9am before the other passengers wanted the space. So we trained early every morning except Sunday and remained reasonably fit but it’s very different training on a ship to training on a football ground.”

And the money the professional players are paid today?

“On that tour of nine months, we were paid five shillings a day. We had to provide a lot of our own gear, our own football boots, our own practise gear. The Rugby Union issued us with a blazer, a couple of pair of grey strides (trousers), two ties and a pullover. That’s about all we got. Financially, we weren’t too well treated, but on the other hand, going back to the 40s, it was just the opportunity to travel. There was no possible way we could see the world otherwise. We only had two or three weeks annual leave, no long service leave, and you simply didn’t leave your job in those days. So to get a nine month free trip around the world, that was something really special.”

So who does Eric Tweedale think will win this year’s Rugby World Cup? “I think it will be an Australia v New Zealand final – but … BUT … I’m not very good at tipping.”

Enid and Eric

Eric Tweedale is also my uncle. His first wife was my father’s sister, Isabel. Isabel had been Eric’s childhood sweetheart. “I used to sit behind the three Duncan sisters at the movies, I wasn’t brave enough to sit next to them.”

They had one child (my cousin, Kay) before Isabel’s early death and Eric later remarried a wonderful woman, Phyllis. But Eric remained close to Isabel’s sister, Mary, for the rest of Mary’s life. That this terrific bloke remained part of the wider family, I am very grateful for. I am very grateful that my sons know him.

But there’s a part of this story I hadn’t heard before, and that is the story of Enid.

Eric and Enid were engaged to marry but called off their engagement before Eric married my aunt Isabel.

70 years after calling off that engagement in 1941, Eric and Enid are once again companions.

I recently met Enid for the first time.

Already I love her.

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The Weld Angel

Weld Angel by Matthew Newtown

 

The recent protest action in Newcastle over council’s plan to remove the cathedral of 80-year old fig trees in Laman Street as at times been inspiring.

And at times it has made me sad.

Because the actions of a tiny few have damaged the many. The many who would have these trees remain but who don’t take to the streets to vent their frustration. The many who have faith in ‘the system’.

Even when ‘the system’ lets them down.

I have little sympathy for those who would harm others in the course of their protest.

But I have nothing but love for true peaceful protest.

The story of the Weld Angel is one such protest.

This photograph of Allana Beltran by Tasmanian photographer, Matthew Newton, is one of those images that is seared into my soul.

 

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