It’s Beaudesert and It’s Government Rotten


DEPARTMENT OF HOUSING. (BEAUDESERT AREA)


Discussions on Bligh/ Queensland Housing’s” immoral disregard and ill-treatment of decent Public Housing tenants going over to: “Comment On Queensland.”

 
 

Well before the computer came along to compliment the great wisdom of man, I had accumulated a fair bit of ballast. Cheap hard-back reprints of the classics became poor-mans collector’s pieces in the early sixties, and my sets are packed away awaiting a like-minded receiver or a genuine donee of such stuff. Kin, typically, aren’t much help. When a practicing member of the 1st estate, acting like a possessed ascetic, or in the style of his elder brother, a true abstinent, rejected outright the idea he take care of a century old, ten volume encyclopedia.

A loud thought at the time that the few remaining relics of working-class ancestors might interest future generations didn’t cut any ice. Another fellow, once a knock-around sort of chap, would take a certain object off my hands, he offered, if I sign some legal bullshit absolving he and his family from damages should that object come to grief while in their ownership. What with the quaintly named con-man, Beamish-White giving me a hard time, it has slowly dawned on me that given such crass pricks as relatives, I must have ran over more than one Chinaman in my time. These relatives, unless I suffer a comprehension problem, have a reason for hating, after all they know me much more intimately than do immature and illiterate Queensland Housing silly fillies.

It was not an unexpected response with handed down and family photos getting the finger two decades before. I am too selfish for my own good for wanting a happy result for what was once the centerpiece of our parents limited library, a curiosity admittedly, which never got anywhere near the number of ‘hits’ as did the Arthur Mee Children’s encyclopedia.

My appreciation and thanks to David for taking custody of this and a few other small tomes and regret losing touch with his Mum, a letter-writing devotee, who asked the fate of the popular well used and tattered Arthur Mee Children’s Encyclopedia. Its attraction to the kids of that era probably led to the trivia craze of a few decades later, passé nowadays what with the P.C. taking over. Most of us have to answer for our misdeeds, and I wasn’t at all happy to admit my folly in not checking a caravan’s roof until it was far too late.

Our parents encouraged ‘quiet times’ during which we sat at the dining-room table, well-worn lead-pencils and scarce pieces of stationary our tools, the smart one of the day lording it over the other whoever got the pencil-top eraser. War-time austerity it was called and notwithstanding one’s material worth, we were in the same boat when it came to commodities. Funny the things you remember; when an accidental on purpose, bump to my elbow made a scrawl across the page, I was quick to report its cause to the intended receiver, Aunty Maggie, who with Uncle Bill, were popular Mundubbera cream producers at the time.

Aunty Mill laughingly retold that story on gatherings that thinned as memories of the second world war receded. A child’s farm experiences ! Pushing a flanged-wheeled flat-top loaded with cans of separated milk up milled timber tracks to condemned pigs a favourite, a far greater preference to the doppelganger Hornesby. The farm’s party-line phone number, an un-forgettable 4U. Was much later I learnt the farm was our ‘safe’ home, to which we were shipped when imminent Japanese occupation seemed possible. A false belief that a remote spot would save western kids from Japanese steel. The nips much preferred stringing their prone victims above quick growing bamboo and watch the fun as bellies were pierced. In the dry inland, the slitty-eyes would resort to another favourite in which rats in a tin were affixed to the victim’s stomach.

I reckon Dave’s Mum, the letter-writing devotee would have been happy with herself had she utilized the document part of the p.c. I persevered with elementary stuff like getting a page up despite the strong advice of two ‘instructors’ that watching tv might be my technical limit. Will send her an old-fashioned letter to test the waters.

The need to work, to play up and experience life saw writing take a back-seat and with retirement, its genesis reborn and given another span of life. Since those times, letter writing became a dark art and its followers censured by the finger-pointers for being different to the herd. And so, with my embracing of the computer a couple of years ago, I began this nondescript little blog, “A Letter From Les,” not especially to sate my limited literacy skills, but also in following advice that the minutest of events and the thoughts of the day should be recorded.

I’ve never denied my dimness, but negative attitudes always astonish me when so confronted, and this morning when I heard how the deaths of many local horses, about twenty I believe, is now looked upon as suspicious. Many hard to explain and diabolical things happen in this area and vengeance crimes against animals surprises few locals; it has happened in the most appropriate place and where at my late stage of life, discovered how hate and personal vendettas are an accepted nay, an expected part of surviving in a Schouten/Hillhouse vendetta-driven Housing Department.

One morning a couple of weeks ago, I was momentarily stunned to find my bedroom or north-facing fly door was on fixed lock. This can happen only by using the key on either side and I don’t sleepwalk. Had a fire or an emergency occurred necessitating a hurried exit, I would never have realized I was locked in. I’ve lived with acts like this since trained eviction tenants, Woodward and the diseased Hidee intensified their hopeless little mind games, Departmentally stasi approved bullying stunts, condoned, approved and encouraged by Schoutens/Hillhouse.

There are some 60 files on Queensland Housing and QBuild operations in my computer, their rorting actually of little concern to me. I am much more concerned how accepted freedoms been gradually removed from Queensland public housing tenants by nanny state Sister Ratcheds. My plan is to clean out a disorganized document library and make an on-going working file on the neglected sub-domain, “Comment On Queensland.”

 

 

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