Avoid Deutsche Bahn at all costs

Walk if you have to, rather than take a DB train: it will be faster, and even if you only have one leg, it will be more reliable.

This is a stub for a blog entry, explaining just how atrocious their "service" is. If they meet my requirements for fixing their failure to provide an alternative to a booked passage, cancelled with just five days' notice, this statement will be withdrawn. This introduction explains why this spavined and disgusting wreck of a once proud service has chosen the wrong person to annoy.

For now, I will not detail the nature of their failure here, because I have explained it to them. This is about their complete inability to understand and manage their own organisation, a matter I have raised with them a number of times over the past month. Deutsche Bahn AG should have listened. In the process of privatisation, they have lost their way.

In the early 1960s, I worked in Papua with a team of locals. I picked up a new language, learned to respect their ways, and also knocked around with anthropologists. From them, I learned how to gather useful information about new cultures. Then I went off to University, an entirely different culture. 

By the early 1970s, I had my first degree, I knew the culture of taxonomy, and had my first taste of office politics. As a trained debater, I always won. I had become nationally famous as a quiz star, disliked the popular culture that worshipped such people, resigned my army commission, grew a beard, and moved on.

By the early 1980s, I was dealing with my first case of fraud, which involved understanding how frauds worked. I then set up the first IT and systems unit in my department that combined professional and clerical/admin staff. That required new cultural insights.

In 1985, we faced a major catastrophe, one not of our making, but because we worked as a unit, we solved the problem, completely. As  result, I became my Minister's favourite head-kicker. Only once did he reject my advice (on the ground of "unwarranted ferocity", but when I showed him the dirt I had on the target, he withdrew his objection).

A little later, I worked for The Australian newspaper for a year, taking the Dirty Digger's dollar and helping people. That meant working in a dog-eat-dog culture, but I flourished.

Can you see where this is leading? Even before I became a management consultant, dealing with fraud and IT systems, I had an instinctive insight into broken cultures and how to mend them.

So when I say DB's systems are broken, I mean it. They do not work.

A link to this statement goes to selected board members and mangers at DB. Now if anybody knows of any left-leaning German press organisations who would like chapter and verse on DB's failings and malfeasances, they have only to ask.

In less than four days, we have no train from Göteborg to Hamburg, and DB have sent me a link to fix this, a link that does not work. We have been through this before, and in the end, they will repay me, but I am fed up.

So now, unless they work some very magical PR in a serious hurry, it's going to be

No more Mr Nice Guy!

In short, DB, Armageddon is coming...all your failings will be set out, in  brief for the prosecution.

It will be a pleasure, and in the right hands, the information I have should sink you. You see, I kept all the emails.

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Post card from Norway #3

This is a stub, to be completed later. It follows on  from #2.

We will begin with Finnkirk Rock. The thing about Norway is fiords. The next thing is cross-cuts, so there are nests and nets of channels, and before there were maps, the early Scandinavians must have had something like what we Australians have learned to call song-lines. That meant naming features, and remember that this area was not just the Germanic Vikings: there were Russians, Sami people (Lapps, if you must), and Finns.

Post card from Norway #2

 This follows on from an earlier post, but it is a work in progress.

Up near the Russian border. there are signs in Cyrillic for the odd border-crosser. We saw a couple of mini-buses coming through, an a girl on  bicycle, who was apparently headed for Russia. Kirkenes was heavily swarmed by Germans and heavily bombed by the Russians, who then liberated it, and apparently behaved nicely enough. For me, the best thing was birch trees,  well north of the Arctic Circle, and more significantly, loads of mistletoe, the clumps in the tree here.

This is a novelty for Australian botanists, because we all know very well that the tree line cuts out where the snow line comes in, and we are far to the north of the snow line. There is even sea ice: not ice bergs as such, but floating lumps.

 

As we came into Kirkenes, we saw our first sea-ice. These are slim planes of frozen fresh water. At first, they were less than obvious, but then they were more numerous and thicker.

Once upon a time,  ports up here were blocked in winter, but this is growing rarer. We knew about this from complaints in Amsterdam that one could no longer skate on the canals. Shortly after, on Saaremaa, a sand island off the Estonian coast, we heard how the moose that bred on the island could no longer escape over the sea ice in winter. 

But climate change is, as we all know, a  myth.

I have been amusing myself catching snow flakes in my beard, and leaving tracks in the snow on the deck. After a first walk on snow, wearing spikes as overshoes, we have now mastered the art of spotting and avoiding slippery ice.

Skate-boarding and wheelchair work would be a challenge up here, but I was very much taken by this snow-ready version of a Zimmer frame, and I saw a man scurrying along on a ski-based push scooter.

Back at Kirkenes, I saw a snow cannon in action, and we asked why in such a place of deep snow, they needed to make more of it, but apparently there will be National championships in a ski-based motocross competition.

We nodded sagely, and went to get what we called a Norwegian hot chocolate. At least our sense of the ridiculous has not yet frozen solid.

Here is yet another port that we called into yesterday. Hurtigruten got started as transport for local people and freight up and down the coast, but now it is mainly for tourists. Even in the time we have known the service, the vessels have grown larger and more luxurious. It is no longer rough and scruffy, but that's the down-side of tourism.

That's enough: more later, perhaps. I thought these were puffins, but they weren't.

These sea eagles, on the other hand, near Finnkirk Rock, were the real McCoy: I will come to tge rock in #3

And that ends #2

I have already created the stub for #3, but nothing much there, just yet.

Post card from Norway #1

We are one week into our travels, so its time to show and tell. This will come in dribs and drabs when I find time away from shore excursions (as I start this, we are near Nordkapp, as the very top of Norway. Anyhow, bookmark this page, and drop back in to read more.

We flew Sydney-Dubai -Oslo, got our bags and asked a young man how to get seniors' tickets to Oslo-S, and he said that as seniors went at half price, I should go through the turnstiles at full price, while he ushered Christine around them. We congratulated each other on our joint mathematical genius, and reached Oslo in no time at all.

The next morning, we caught a train to Bergen, which took us over the mountains, where the notion of spring had yet to catch on, as seen by the icicles sighted near Myrdal. Then came the bummer: it was Easter Sunday, the train stopped at Voss ("technical reasons"), and all of Norway was driving back from the mountains, so it took three hours, not the promised hour and a half.

With jet lag biting in, we grabbed a cab, and got absolutely ripped off. That's life...

English is the primary second language of Norway, and they seem to assume that even foreigners will speak it, give this sign from an Oslo bookshop. On the cruise, announcements are in Norwegian, English and German: the French, it seems, are expected to manage to understand the English.

Tours off  the boat are in German and English, though some of the guides give more detail in German. We toured Alesund with a German couple, and got a great deal of social history.

They were a bit short on the humour side, or perhaps they just did not know what skate boards  are, but my delight in finding a troll on a skate board left them cold.

On with the tour  then, we are travelling along the cost of Norway in what was once a freighter line that took a few passengers, and expanded. This is our third visit to Norway, so we know they are very strong on managing and climate change, but when jet lag saw me out of bed before dawn, I snapped this island, and totally failed to se the wind generators out on the ridge behind. Eat yer heart out, Don Quixote!

The next morning saw me also up befores dawn, trying to catch sunrise in the mountain tops, but the intense (to us) cold drove me in before I saw it. There is snow and ice everywhere!

As we had been to Nordkapp in summer (a chilly 18C at midsummer, we gave today's excursion a miss,.

Still, as we pull out from the wharf, we are all being plied with hot chocolate and apple cake, so I will post this much and finish it later. At least you have the pics.

After dinner and slipping in a bit more, this next one marked where we crossed the Arctic circle.

And here is Chris, looking happy, just after we did so.

Interesting to us: trees well north of the Arctic circle. Two typos in that line: time for bed.

We went on a coastal walk. The 'guide' was of little value: failed to point out the barnacles, and gave us a load of old cobblers about a tsunami putting the Dogger under water, when it was a case of melting glaciers.

He also failed to mention the lichens and this moss, and had no knowledge of how Hrafna-Floki used ravens to find Iceland. In short, not much chop!

When people are going into guiding, they really need to be able to stay ahead.

Then again he failed to point out these snow-covered rocks, which tell a very relevant story.

The antique physics teacher in me said nothing, but I certainly thought it.

Back on the boat, this snowy hill was beautifully framed by a bridge. Norway has many, many bridges, and even more tunnels.

Trees, however, are another matter. All the same, this one was north of the Arctic Circle,  as were the ones below, clearly planted to act as an extra snow fence.

This last one in this first tranche is of Honningsvåg, and it reminded me of a style I knew as a child. I thought it might have been like L S Lowry, but an artist mate, Tamsyn Taylor, tells me it is reminiscent of Breughel. See what you think...

Here ends the first round. I ill put a link to the others as they kick off. (The next one is now complete.)

A botanical rural dean

This text is drawn from chapter 6 of my book, Curious Minds, because Woolls emerged in the midst of a Facebook discussion on the flower Woollsia pungens.

William Woolls (1814 – 1893)

You get a sense for the way the old botanists worked, when you read William Woolls adding extra comments like the following, wherein you will recognise two recent acquaintances of ours [mentioned earlier in the book]:

There also I noticed the remarkable shrub Atkinsonia ligustrina, of the Loranthus family, which is very dissimilar to the other species of the order. This plant, at my request, was named by Dr. F. Von Mueller, in honour of my friend Miss Atkinson (now Mrs. Calvert), who collected many interesting specimens during her residence at the Kurrajong, and to whom the compliment was especially due.

Sydney Morning Herald, 31 March 1871, 2. 

As we have already met the baron and Ms Calvert (née Atkinson), let us now consider these three masters of 19th century Australian botany: Louisa Atkinson (Beata Ludovica Calvert), Ferdinand von Mueller (who referred to Louisa in that way) and William Woolls, but mainly the latter.

Woollsia pungens was always the first plant collected by Botany II students in the 1960s, when we were sent off at the end of Lent term to collect “70 native species”. Back before the glaciers started tumbling, Woollsia was one of the few plants flowering in chilly May.

Prior to my diversion at 14 into the science stream, I had acquired a smattering of Latin before I was told ex cathedra by Wally the Deadmaster: “Boys who do Physics don't do Latin!”. This dictum was probably delivered at the urging of the dragon lady who taught us Latin, but I digress. The point is, I could make sense of most of the Latin names, but having collected and pressed my specimens, I wondered “why Woollsia?”.

On the left, Dr, William Woolls, as he appeared in the Australian Town and Country Journal, 5 October 1872, on the right, Woollsia pungens.

I asked Professor Roger Carolin, who said it was named by von Mueller for William Woolls. Jump forward to the twenty-noughts when I was a Trove-fiend, working through old newspapers, and I either deduced or was told that Woolls used to write about botany and nature as ‘W.’ for the Sydney Morning Herald, so one lazy night, I searched out and tagged most of his articles with his name.

I still didn’t know what the plant was first called, but as I am doing this second edition, I dug deeper. Antonio Cavanilles called it Epacris pungens in 1797, but Robert Brown later moved the species to a Western Australian genus, Lysinema, something I had deduced from a pencilled note in my copy of Florence Sulman’s little book, The Wildflowers of New South Wales. Some prior owner had noticed the error and corrected it (while getting the spelling wrong).

The correction that set me on the right track.

As an avid reader of old Herald copies, I knew von Mueller had named Atkinsonia after Louisa Atkinson, later Mrs Calvert, and here is how Woolls explained why von Mueller did so:

This plant, at my request, was named by Dr. F. Von Mueller, in honour of my friend Miss Atkinson (now Mrs. Calvert), who collected many interesting specimens during her residence at the Kurrajong, and to whom the compliment was especially due.
— Sydney Morning Herald, 31 March 1871, 2.

Now you are ready to tackle a mix of abbreviations and odd Latin: the first line below tells us Antonio Cavanilles named it Epacris pungens, the second says Robert Brown moved it to Lysinema. Line 6 tells us Louisa Calvert (her married name) collected it in the Blue Mountains, and the author of the treatises (auctori opusculorum) in line 7 is William Woolls.

Ferdinand von Mueller, Fragmenta phytographiæ Australiæ, 8. 1873, 55.

Woolls’ article was mainly about his Species Plantarum Parramattensium, or Plants of Parramatta, and that was the key, when you burrow into von Mueller’s Latin. Keep in mind that in those days, scientists mainly learned “on the job”.

Born in 1814, Woolls was his parents’ 19^th child, and shortly after his father’s death in 1830, the 16-year-old William emigrated to Australia, where he soon became a teacher, and spent a generation educating the sons of prominent colonists. While he was a staunch Anglican, Woolls resisted ordination, but in 1873 became a deacon, and six months later a priest at Richmond, and in 1877, became a rural dean.

In 1871, he received a Ph. D, from the University of Göttingen for his work that we have already met as Plants of Parramatta, but they said of Christopher Wren, si monumentum requiris circumspice: to see his monument, look around. Woolls’ monument is all over Australia’s east coast.

Woollsia pungens, without a doubt one of the hardest heath flowers to photograph.

---

[i] 

When did we begin to say that?

William Strutt's depiction of
an Australian giving a cooee.

This is a prologue to my pitching a very different sort of book to publishers: it is about the words and phrases that we Australians use among ourselves, to the utter confusion of outsiders.

Here you see a refined selection from a far larger number of entries in my ms, and these all start with A. Right now, there are 1160 distinct expressions (you can find them all listed at the end of this page) and some 2450 quotations from carefully recorded original sources. In most cases, I have been able to push the first use date from what you will find in other similar works: each entry has been meticulously checked: I am right, and they are wrong.

The print sources are all sorts of books, the the Trove newspaper archive, on which I am an active voluntrove. The collection presents Australian English at its most inventive.

The main surprises in this sample:

* how early some Australians realised that our indigenous people were being ripped off;
* how early some expressions crept into the language;
* that alligator in The Rocks  (it had to be a goanna;
* how we learned to make floors out of ant bed;
* how soon we started marking Anzac Day;
* when we started saying 'Australia'.

I could go on about the rest, but just scroll down to the list below. Here is a collection of sample entries:

Aboriginal blood: 1837

John Dunmore Lang, An Historical and Statistical Account of New South Wales, 2nd edition, 1837, volume 1, 37.

There is black blood, at this moment, on the hands of individuals of good repute in the colony of New South Wales, of which all the waters of New Holland would be insufficient to wash out the deep and indelible stains!

Aboriginal land: c. 1852

Rudston Read, What I Heard, Saw and Did at the Australian Gold Fields, 252.

I heard a native in the town of Sofala … amusing a lot of diggers by chaffing a sergeant of mounted police … asking him what business had he or any other white fellow to come and take his land, and rob him of his gold? What would he … say, if black fellow went to England and “turn em Queen out”?

aborigines: 1798

David Collins, An Account of the English Colony in New South Wales, vol. 1, 1798, 454.

Conversing with Bennillong after his return from England, where he had obtained much knowledge of our customs and manners … I then asked him where the black men (or Eora) came from? He hesitated; did they come from any island? His answer was, that he knew of none: they came from the clouds (alluding perhaps to the aborigines of the country); and when they died, they returned to the clouds (Boo-row-e). He wished to make me understand that they ascended in the shape of little children, first hovering in the tops and in the branches of trees; and mentioned something about their eating, in that state, their favourite food, little fishes.

absentee: 1803

The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 11 September 1803, 4.

JAMES WEST, a Convict-servant, By HIS EXCELLENCY’S Permission taken off the Store.
All Persons are hereby strictly Cautioned against Harbouring and Employing the said Absentee; and whoever will give Information concerning him to Henry Kable, at Sydney, shall be handsomely Rewarded.

absquatulate: 1846

South Australian Gazette and Colonial Register, 8 August 1846, 2.

When Governor Grey “absquatulated” to New Zealand, he carried off with him, by no, other authority than his own that we ever heard of, about £6000 of money belonging to the colonists of South Australia …but [as] a second supply of money of nearly the same amount is on its way to New Zealand, it is time to inquire by what authority is the money of the colonists misappropriated?

according to Cocker: 1826

The Australian (Sydney), 27 September 1826, 2. This phrase means reliably or correctly calculated.

Consequently, only one fourth of the whole number of flocks and herds in the Colony graze on the waste lands. That is, according to Cocker, out of profits amounting to one hundred thousand pounds, a Government Regulation in one instant deducts twenty thousand pounds, and abstracts that sum from the pockets of settlers…

act your age, not your shoe size: 1995

The Canberra Times, 18 April 1995. 24.

Peper was also told that the spectator was drunk, and that he had also clashed with Norman last year. “Last year Greg evidently told this guy to, ‘Start acting your age, not your shoe size’. This guy held the grudge for a year.”

aerial ping pong: 1945

The West Australian, 24 November 1945, 5. Article ‘Brave New Words’.

The most popular Army gamble is the “swi game,” from the German for two. Rugby is “organised wrestling”; Australian rules football, “aerial pingpong.” Any type of dessert is “pudding”; rice is “Ah Foo Ballast”; sausages are “snaggers”; tea is “chi” or “brew.”

Aeroplane jelly: 1928

Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga), 12 July 1928, 5.

AEROPLANE JELLIES AND CUSTARDS: 5½d Packet...

aggro: 1970

Tribune (Sydney), 5 August 1970, 2.

The present society gives them their values, turning their aggressive revolt against their boring school or factory existence into physical aggression (“aggro” in skinhead language) and a philistine hatred for culture.

all froth and no beer: 1889

Newcastle Morning Herald and Miners’ Advocate, 14 December 1889, 9.

Sympathy without something substantial is all froth and no beer.

alligator: 1788

Arthur Bowes Smyth, Journal, HRNSW (2), 394. It was actually a lace monitor, or goanna.

16 February 1788 An alligator, ab’t 8 feet long, was seen close by where I go to birdlime just behind the camp, and has been seen among the tents at night more than once.

all over, red rover: 1984

Port Lincoln Times (SA), 24 August 1984, 32.

Coffey tried hard all day and took some good marks, but mistakes further down the line wasted these precious opportunities. At the last change it was all over red rover unless someone was. able to perform a miracle.

ambo: 1928

Western Mail (Perth), 27 December 1928, 2. Very early, but is it related?

“Ambo” (Perth) writes: “From what is the word ambulance derived?” The word ambulance is derived from the Latin “Ambulare,” to move about, and has come into English through the French, the substantive “ambulance” being formed from the objectival participle “ambulant,” as in “hopital ambulant” (moving hospital.)

ankle-biter: 1900

Referee (Sydney), 12 September 1900, 5. (A different meaning?)

But the optics of the young millionaire fairly, glistened as they lit upon a speaking likeness of Mr. E. H. Fry, side by side with an ‘ankle-biter’ of Mr. ‘Joe’ Thompson.

another pair of sleeves: 1850

The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser, 2 February 1850, 3. Filler from the US: indicates origin.

Hurrying back to the bank, he informed the paying teller that he had made a mistake. “We rectify no mistakes after the parties have left the bank,” was the reply. “Yes, but you’ve paid me too much money.” This was quite “another pair of sleeves.” The officers of the bank were instantly on the qui vive. Mr. Jesserun handed in the 1000 and received a 100 in return, without even a “thank you!” by way of difference. [New York Globe.]

ant bed floor: 1890

The Australasian (Melbourne), 12 July 1890, 43.

Consequently he stopped, and going down upon his knees on the ant-bed floor, opened his box, took out a bundle of papers and a small packet.

ant bed floor: 1893

Mrs A. (Julia) Blitz, ‘An Australian Millionaire’, serialised in Evening News, (Sydney), 18 September 1893, 7. At the close of the 19^th century, Julia Blitz felt she needed to explain ant bed to the readers of her novel. The drawing room she describes was in a house that was once a station manager’s quarters.

The “drawing-room” floor was of ant-bed, which, when crushed to powder and mixed with water, hardens like cement; the walls were papered at intervals with woodcuts from illustrated periodicals and some painted almanacs, which served to partly conceal the ungainly fissures of the slabs and curtain their ugliness.

ant bed floor: c. 1896

K. (‘Katie’) Langloh Parker, Australian Legendary Tales, 1896. The dardurr was the Yuwalaraay name for the Eora gunya.

The young men did as they were bade. When they had the bark cut and brought in, Wirreenun said: “Go you now and raise with ant-bed a high place, and put thereon logs and wood for a fire, build the ant-bed about a foot from the ground. Then put you a floor of ant-bed a foot high wherever you are going to build a dardurr.”

ant bed: 1899

The Northern Miner (Charters Towers), 11 November 1899, 5.

…office and store for tools, detonators, &c., combined, 12 by 10 tent, with the added luxury of an ant-bed floor…

ant caps: 1896

Kalgoorlie Miner, 28 October 1896, 2.

In about six or seven weeks hence the members of the local Presbyterian denomination will worship in a new building in Cassidy-street … Bricks have been used for the base work, and these have been covered with ant caps.

ants: 1770

Sir Joseph Banks, The Endeavour Journal of Sir Joseph Banks, vol. 2.

23 May 1770…upon the sides of the lagoon grew many Mangrove trees in the branches of which were many nests of Ants, one sort of which were quite green. These when the branches were disturbd came out in large numbers and revengd themselves very sufficiently upon their disturbers, biting sharper than any I have felt in Europe.

ants: c. 1844

Louisa Ann Meredith, Notes and Sketches of New South Wales, 69. This is a bull ant.

Many various kinds of ants inhabit New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land: I know about a dozen species myself. One is a very formidable-looking personage, full an inch long, with a shiny coat of mail gleaming purple and blue, and a threatening sting, which I am told inflicts a most painful wound, as severe as that of the hornet.

Anzac: 1915

The Advertiser, 8 June 1915, 12. At this early time, ‘Anzac’ is a place, or HQ.

During the progress of the fight I received information from Anzac that enemy reinforcements had been seen advancing from Maidos towards Krithia.

Anzac biscuits: 1916

Sunday Times (Perth) 4 Jun 1916, 7. A recipe contest: she got an engraved electroplated butter knife. The leading winners were melon and lemon conserve; chilli wine and wheaten meal biscuits.

Fourth prize is awarded to Mrs. M. Sutherland Grosvenor, Mt. Kokeby, for recipe—
Anzac Ginger Biscuits.
Ingredients: One cup treacle, quarter-cup dripping or butter, quarter-cup sugar, quarter-cup milk. Put on stove to make hot. Then put in dessertspoonful of ginger, one teaspoonful of baking soda and enough flour to roll out stiff. Cut round. Bake in moderate oven.

ANZAC Day: 1915

The Advertiser, 28 August 1915, 2. Note that this was to be October 13. The April 25 day was still a long way ahead.

The Executive Committee of the MONSTER PROCESSION, PAGEANT, and CARNIVAL to be held on WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13, in aid of THE WOUNDED SOLDIERS’ FUND, has decided that the day shall be known as ANZAC DAY. The Souvenir offered by the Committee to the person whose suggestion for a title was adopted has been awarded to Mr. Robert Wheeler, Prospect.

ANZAC Day: 1915

Barrier Miner, 13 October 1915, 3: this is the 161st instance of “Anzac Day” in Trove, and the first from outside South Australia (but it is from Broken Hill, which always looked to Adelaide).

Mr. James referred to the “Anzac Day” celebration which, was to be held in Adelaide in connection with the Eight Hours’ Day celebrations there the proceeds from which were to be utilised to swell the South Australian Wounded Soldiers’ Fund.

ANZAC Day: 1915

Sydney Morning Herald, 14 October 1915, 10. Before this event, there were almost 220 “hits”. This one was in the interstate press notices—on page 10!

ADELAIDE, Wednesday. This year the Eight-hours Day committee sacrificed the identity of its celebration by conducting a carnival in aid of the wounded Soldiers’ Fund. The committee was enlarged to embrace all sections of the community, and the day was observed as Anzac Day. Many thousands of people witnessed the street procession.

ANZAC Day: 1915

The Advertiser, 20 October 1915, 14: a brawl had broken out between drunken soldiers and police—but this ‘Day’ was on October 13, not April 25.

THE STREET RIOT. Incidents connected with the riot in King William-street on Anzac Day were again related in the Adelaide Police Court on Tuesday, when Allen Dalziell was charged with having hindered Constable Feudeloff in the execution of his duty, namely, while he was arresting John Davoren on a charge of drunkenness.

ANZAC Day: 1915

Gippsland Times, 16 December 1915, 3: yet another date for the day, 17 December. There were more than 400 instances of “Anzac Day” before this.

The … Lord Mayor’s Central “Button” Committee has fixed to-morrow as “Anzac” day, and have issued at special “remembrance” button to be sold throughout the Commonwealth at the usual price of 1/ [one shilling], the proceeds to be divided between all the tents working for the welfare of those under arms either at home or the front, viz., Y.M.C.A., Churches of England, Presbyterian, Roman Catholic, Methodist, and Salvation Army.

ANZAC Day: 1916

The Brisbane Courier, 10 January 1916, 8, and now the pattern was set. ANZAC day would be April 25.

Proposed Celebration in Brisbane. A public meeting will be held in the Exhibition Hall this evening to discuss the steps to be taken for the celebration of Anzac Day on April 25.

ANZAC Day: 1916

The Register (Adelaide), 10 January 1916, 4. He was an early adopter!

(‘Well, I was 70 years old last birthday,’ remarked the gentleman from Blackrock, ‘and I am not likely to forget it, because it was April 25, Anzac Day.’

apples (she’s): 1941

Western Mail, 18 December 1941, 35. This and the next entry both come from W.A.

Darkness, was approaching, so the three anti-tank gunners, reconciled to their unhappy position, placed the ammunition in a handy place ready for use … The corporal came along and during a “once over” found that in the hurry of the previous night the ammunition had not been primed! Imagine the feelings of the three anti-tank gunners! After the first dread thoughts had passed away out came the postal orderly’s final remarks: “Wouldn’t it ——. Anyhow, she’s apples.”

apples (she’s): 1945

The West Australian, 24 November 1945, 5, Article ‘Brave New Words’.

Anything satisfactorily arranged or done is sometimes “sewn up” but more frequently: “she’s apples” or “she’s caster.” The roots of both phrases are unknown.

argy-bargy: 1888

Shepparton Advertiser (Vic.), 16 August 1888, 1. Note that this is Scots dialect.

I winna argy-bargy wi’ ye, Tammas; but I dinna see hoo ye cud get at it by presentiment.

artesian water: 1881

Gippsland Mercury (Sale, Vic.), 5 May 1881, 3.

By direction of the mayor, the artesian well water was allowed to stream into the street during the afternoon hours, and considerable interest was manifested by our visitors in the, to them, unusual sight.

artesian water: 1881

The Sydney Mail and New South Wales Advertiser, 17 September 1881, 513. It needed explaining.

The great under current is tapped at last. Mr. J. H. Angas has got Artesian water 2.5 miles north of the Blinman, and it runs to the surface. We shall have the real Australian rivers upon the surface yet.

Arthur or Martha: 1943

Daily Mirror (Sydney) 7 September 1943, 6. The fish wrapper newspapers carried syndicated stories like this. There had been an indecipherable instance of A or M, in the Inverell Times 16 May 1941, long before Japan entered the war.

Some of the warships built a smokescreen on either flank and the landing boats surged forward into the valley in between. Others steamed offshore from Lae and pounded the town and the ‘drome. Bombers dropped their loads on Lae until the Japs didn’t know whether they were Arthur or Martha. Then the shelling of the beach suddenly ended and the time for wondering was over and the time for action had come.

Arthur or Martha: 1948

Truth (Sydney), 14 March 1948, 17. See Rafferty’s rules.

THE LATE lamented Mr. Rafferty would have jumped with joy had he been at Erskineville Oval yesterday, when Eastern Suburbs and Newtown staged trials for the coming League season. Players were all over the place like Brown’s cows, and most didn’t know whether they were Arthur or Martha. Still, the season’s only beginning, and Rafferty will be put to shame later.

arvo: 1926

Sydney Mail, 25 August 1926, 16.

‘And the shivoo’s this arvo?’
‘Er — yes.’
She slipped over to the window. Red and Alf were still busy with the car.
‘Slip off yer shoes,’ she said curtly. ‘Now follow me.’

ash tray on a motor bike: 1990

The Canberra Times, 18 February 1990, 9.

Here is one more piece of very important advice. Check the expiry date on your card before your leave home. If it expires while you are overseas, it will be as useful as an ashtray on a motor bike.

Aussie Rules: 1907

Coolamon-Ganmain Farmers’ Review, 19 July 1907, 11.

JUNEE SLOW TO START IN AUSSIE RULES GAME.
On Saturday, Junee Australian Rules team went down to Holbrook after a very slow start. Junee, it will be remembered, were very slow to get going against Yerong Creek after pushing The Rock to 10 points the week before, but on Saturday they slept through the first half until awakened by coach Roy Hart in the dressing room … but they had shut the gate too late.

Aussie salute: 1966

The Australian Women’s Weekly, 1 June 1966, 10. Almost there…

On to Alice Springs, where Pat said she was given the traditional Aussie salute flies! “Not that they bothered me much. Those fly sprays are pretty good.”

Australia: 1813

The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 30 January 1813, 3. A poem called ‘Effusions of Gratitude’, by Michael Massey Robinson. First Australian use in print.

FROM Albion’s blest Isle have we cross’d the wide Main,
And brav’d all the Dangers, of Neptune’s Domain—
The Hurricane’s Whirlwind, the Tempest’s loud Roar,
An Asylum to find on Australia’s rude Shore
For the Genius of Britain sent forth a Decree,
That her Sons should be exil’d—once more to be free!

This is a good place to stop, because this pre-dates Matthew Flinders' often-cited use of Australia in a footnote

Now get your chops around this lot, and ask when you last mullenised something. or wore a donkey-supper hat...

Aboriginal blood: 1837;  Aboriginal land: c. 1852;  aborigines: 1798;  absentee: 1803;  absquatulate: 1841;  according to Cocker: 1826;  act your age, not your shoe size: 1995;  aerial ping pong: 1945;  Aeroplane jelly: 1928;  aggro: 1970;  aggy: 1899;  all froth and no beer: 1889;  alligator: 1788;  all over, red rover: 1984;  ambo: 1928;  ankle-biter: 1900;  another pair of sleeves: 1850;  ant bed: 1890;  ant caps: 1896;  ants: 1770;  Anzac: 1915;  Anzac biscuits: 1916;  ANZAC Day: 1915;  apples (she’s): 1941;  argy-bargy: 1888;  artesian water: 1881;  Arthur or Martha: 1943;  arvo: 1926;  ash tray on a motor bike: 1990;  Aussie: 1915;  Aussie Rules: 1907;  Aussie salute: 1921;  Australasia: 1793;  Australia: 1793;  Australian Rules: 1865;  babbler: 1904;  back-blocks: 1862;  back chat: 1895;  backhander: 1894;  back of beyond: 1830;  back of Bourke: 1871;  bad trot: 1914;  bagman: 1841;  Bagman’s Gazette: 1900;  bail up: 1844.;  balls-up: 1970;  Bananaland: 1881;  bandicoot: 1799;  banker, running a: 1866;  barbie: 1973;  bar, bull: 1979;  bark hut: 1815;  barney: 1855;  barrack: 1883;  barracker: 1881;  barracking: 1878;  bar, roo: 1977;  bash hat: 1950;  basket weavers: 1982;  bastard: 1945;  bastardry: 1945;  bathers: 1911;  bathing: 1810;  bathing dress: 1830;  Bathurst burr: 1850;  battler: 1901;  beak: 1838;  beanie: 1945;  beano: 1908;  bean (without a): 1891;  beauty bottler: 1957;  bee’s knees: 1874;  belly buster: 1933;  belly-flop: 1924;  Belyando spew: c. 1864;  berko: 1988;  berley: 1871;  bicycle: 1851;  big hat no cattle: 1994;  big note: 1938;  big smoke: 1854;  big wigs: 1825;  bike: 1898;  bikkies: 1890;  bikkies (money): 1977;  bilby: 1886;  billabong: 1838;  billy: 1827;  billycart: 1898;  billy lids: 2000;  billy-o: 1887;  bindi-eye: 1907;  bingey: 1882;  bint: 1945;  bite his lug: 1900;  bitser: 1926;  bitumen, leave the: 1926;  blackbirding: c. 1827;  blackfellow: 1831;  blackleg: 1865;  Black Maria: 1868;  black stump: 1865;  black tracker: 1828;  Blind Freddy: 1907;  bloke: 1848;  blokey: 1990;  bloodhouse: 1901;  bloody: 1853;  blow: 1929;  blowfly: 1829;  blowie: 1911;  Blucher boots: 1821;  bludger: 1897;  bluegum: 1803;  blue (in the sense of lose money): 1898;  Blue Mountain parrot: 1823;  Blue Mountains: 1793;  blue, start a: 1938;  bluetongue: 1849;  Bluey: 1845;  bluey: 1880;  blunt: 1826;  bob (shilling): 1838;  bodgie: 1950;  Bogan: 1987;  bogey: 1788;  bog roll: 1988;  boiling down: c. 1843;  bolter: 1827;  bombora: 1901;  Bondi tram, like a: 1943;  bonzer: 1851;  boodle: 1898;  Boofhead: 1924;  boofy: 1993;  boomerang: 1804;  boots and all: 1838;  borak: 1893;  boring as batshit: 1999;  boshter: 1903;  bosker: 1912;  boss cockie: 1875;  Boss-of-the-Board: 1900;  Boss-of-the-Board: 1900;  Botany Bay: 1786;  boundary rider: 1860;  bowerbird: 1894;  bowlo: 2004;  bowyangs: 1889;  box tree: 1834;  brass razoo: 1927;  breakaway: 1893;  brekky: 1900;  brickfielder: 1829;  brickie: 1902;  brick short of a load: 1992;  bright-eyed and bushy-tailed: 1954;  Brown’s cows: 1841;  brown-eye: 1981;  brum (penny): 1861;  brumby: 1871;  brush: 1788;  bubbler: 1912;  Buckley’s chance: 1887;  budgerigar: 1845;  budgie smugglers: 2006;  bugger me dead: 1975;  buggy: 1806;  Bullamakanka: 1948;  Bulletin: c.1880;  bullock driver: 1813;  bull-roarer: 1888;  Bundy clock: 1905;  bunger: 1891;  bunny: 1952;  bunya bunya: 1841;  bunyip: 1845;  bunyip aristocracy: 1853;  burning off: 1805;  burrawang: 1831;  bush: 1801;  bush bashing: 1943;  bush carpenter: 1902;  bushed: 1847;  bushfire: 1831;  bush inn: c. 1850;  bush lawyer: 1835;  bush lemon: 1910;  bushman: 1832;  bushranger: 1805;  bush store: 1847;  bush telegraph: 1863;  bush tucker: 1884;  bushwoman: 1869;  busier than Bourke street: 1877;  busier than Pitt Street: 1869;  B.Y.O.: 1968;  Cabbage Garden: 1842;  cabbage tree hat: 1799;  cabbage tree mob: 1841;  cabs: 1852;  Cab Sav: 1974;  cackleberry: 1918;  call a spade a bloody shovel: 1897;  camp: 1788;  canary: 1853;  cane toad: 1935;  cark: 1983;  cart: c. 1854;  caser: 1892;  cask wine: 1975;  Catherine Hayes: 1859;  cedar: 1795;  celestials: 1856;  chalkie: 1928;  champagne tastes on a beer budget: 1941;  chap: 1898;  chardonnay socialist: 1987;  charged like a wounded bull: 1976;  chateau cardboard: 1987;  chats: 1917;  cheap as chips: 1875;  chewy: 1922;  Chico roll: 1958;  chocolate crackles: 1937;  chockers: 1990;  choof off: 1965;  chook: 1889;  chook raffle: 1956;  chook with its head chopped off: 1982;  Chow: 1855;  chow: 1899;  Christmas beetle: 1893;  chuck: 1838;  chuck a u-ey: 1975;  chuck a wobbly: 1986;  chunder: 1954;  churchyarder: 1900;  chyack: 1873;  cigar: 1859;  Circular Quay: 1836;  civvies: 1946;  Clayton’s: 1983;  clean skins: 1868;  clearing: 1788;  clear out: 1831;  clobber: 1884;  clothes hoist: 1911;  clothes props: 1846;  coach travel: 1821;  coal: 1797;  cobber: 1890;  cobbler: 1827;  cobbler’s pegs: 1864;  cockatoo: c. 1854;  cockatoo fence: 1842;  cockatoo (lookout): 1991;  cock-eye bob: 1884;  cockies: 1878;  cockie’s joy: 1901;  coffee: 1902;  coffee tent: 1852;  coldie: 1985;  Collins street cocky: 1924;  come good: 1948;  come in spinner: 1919;  comic cuts: 1922;  Compo: 1921;  concertina: 1892;  conchy: 1917;  constables: 1826;  cooee: 1826;  coolamon: 1854;  coot: 1915;  corduroy road: 1856;  corn: 1834;  Cornstalk: 1827;  cossies: 1903;  cot case: 1915;  could eat a horse and chase the rider: 1934;  country store: 1834;  Cousin Jack: 1864;  cove: 1817;  cow cocky: 1907;  cracker night: 1890;  crack hardy: 1897;  crack onto: 1974;  crawler: 1864;  creek: 1790;  cricket: 1804;  crimson: 1883;  crinoline: 1839;  cronk: 1900;  crook: 1896;  cropper, come a: 1859;  crow-eaters: 1870;  cry crack: 1871;  cuddy: 1826;  cultural cringe: 1951;  currency: 1822;  cut lunch: 1913;  cut out: 1867;  cycling: c. 1895;  cyclists: 1899;  dacks: 1982;  dag: 1971;  dags (wool): 1928;  Dagwood dog: 1951;  dam: 1869;  damper: 1825;  darg: 1879;  date: 2003;  dead cert: 1877;  dead flat: 1900;  dead marine: 1856;  dead set: 1954;  deaf adder: 1832;  deaner (shilling): 1892;  death adder: 1845;  death warmed up: 1922;  demo: 1952;  derro: 1976;  devon sausage: 1994;  didgeridoo: 1918;  did his block: 1904;  didn’t come down in the last shower: 1893;  digger: 1817;  digging: 1849;  dill: 1946;  dilly bag 1829;  dilly-dallying: 1826;  dingbat: 1887;  dingo: 1788;  dinkum: 1917;  dinky di: 1914;  diphthong ships: 1852;  dipstick: 1982;  disperse: 1805;  divvy: 1885;  Dixie: 1918;  do a Melba: 1950;  dob in: 1953;  dodgy: 1856;  dog’s breakfast: 1903;  do his lolly: 1954;  doing the Block: 1854;  dole: 1915;  dole bludger: 1975;  dollop: 1833;  Dolly’s wax: 1909;  donah: 1889;  done like a dinner: 1838;  done me dash: 1915;  donkey engine: 1852;  donkey-supper hat: c. 1897;  donkey vote: 1894;  don’t bust your foofer valve: 1884;  don’t give a rat’s: 1994;  doover: 1941;  double dink: 1914;  double-headed coins: 1885;  dowak: 1848;  down the gurgler: 1979;  down under: 1907;  drafting: 1836;  drag the chain: 1840;  dray: 1820;  drink with the flies: 1898;  drongo: 1837;  drop bear 1967;  dropsies: 1952;  drought: c. 1842;  drought: 1878;  drover: 1814;  drover’s dog: 1868;  dry-blower: 1869;  duchess (v): 1944;  duck’s disease: 1940;  dud: 1918;  duds: 1900;  duffer: 1853;  duffing: 1856;  dummy: 1896;  dumper: 1912;  dunny: 1942;  earbash 1944;  echidna: 1828;  ecology: 1905;  education: c. 1830;  elastic-side boots: 1896;  elderly: 1900;  emu: 1788;  emu eggs: 1829;  emu oil: 1860;  enemy origin place names: 1916;  Eora: 1798;  every man and his dog: 1902;  exclusionists: 1826;  fair cop: 1897;  fair crack of the whip: 1902;  fair dinkum: 1880;  fair go: 1863;  fairy bread: 1915;  fairy floss: 1906;  fart-arse around: 1975;  fat lamp: 1827;  fed up to the back teeth: 1919;  fell off perch: 1857;  Female Factory: 1826;  fence: 1788;  ferals: 1992;  fibro-cement: 1905;  finger talk: 1934;  first fleet: 1817;  fizzer: 1861;  Flash Jack: 1826;  flash your dover: 1872;  flat chat: 1986;  flat out like a lizard drinking: 1930;  fleahouse: 1935;  fleas: 1803;  flick, give him the: 1979;  flicks: 1918;  flies: c. 1842;  floater (pie): 1923;  Flying Doctor: 1922;  flying fox: 1793;  fly veil: 1849;  football: 1829;  foot in mouth disease: 1910;  footpath: 1803;  footrot: 1822;  footy: 1894;  forester: 1861;  fossick: 1852;  four by two: 1898;  freebie: 1991;  Fremantle doctor: 1873;  Freo: 1947;  fruit fly: 1862;  full as a goog: 1942;  full board: 1875;  funnelweb: 1927;  Furphy: 1915;  gaff: 1901;  galah: 1861;  gallows: c. 1838;  gammon: 1826;  gander: 1939;  garbage: 1823;  garbo: 1950;  gas lamps: 1855;  g’day: 1848;  gee-gee: 1898;  geek: 1953;  gerries: 1991;  get a guernsey: 1902;  gibber: 1793;  gilgai: 1868;  gin: 1831;  ginormous: 1942;  Gippsland earth-worm: 1889;  give it a burl: 1911;  give me the drum: 1925;  glory box: 1904;  goanna: 1832;  goat (act the): 1881;  go bush: 1871;  goldfield: 1849;  gold mine: 1788;  gone bung: 1868;  good fist of it: 1856;  good oil: 1914;  good on ya: 1973;  goog: 1914;  goolies: 1922;  goonack: 1873;  goon: 1972;  go-slow: 1916;  go you halves: 1870;  gramma: 1874;  grass-tree: 1831;  grazier: 1804;  green bough: 1896;  greenhide: 1836;  greenies: 1982;  gremlins: 1942;  grog: 1788;  groupers: 1946;  gully-raking: c. 1837;  gum-sucker: 1849;  gum tree: 1788;  gunya: 1798;  gutless wonder: 1936;  gutser: 1917;  had it: 1945;  hairy eyeball: 1982;  half a mo: 1898;  half drunk half the time: 1967;  hambone: 1964;  handkerchiefs: 1901;  hang around like a bad smell: 1941;  hanging up: 1853;  happy as Larry: 1857;  hard: 1896;  hard case: 1900;  hard up: 1827;  hardwood: 1823;  harness cask: 1827;  hashmagandy: 1883;  hatful of arseholes: 1957;  hatter: 1858;  have a bash: 1943;  have a lash: 1892;  have the wood on: 1889;  have your guts for garters: 1888;  hawker: 1818;  hidey: 1863;  history, Australian: 1888;  hobble: c. 1830;  homestead: 1817;  hoon: 1983;  hooroo: 1916;  horizontal scrub: 1860;  hospital paddock: 1888;  hot-cross bun maker: 1903;  Hoyts, man outside: 1935;  humpy: 1838;  hundreds and thousands: 1899;  Hungry Tyson: 1877;  hunk: 1883;  huntsman spider: 1914;  Hyde Park: 1810;  Hyde Park Barracks: 1829;  icebergs: 1905;  ice block: 1934;  idiot box: 1959;  illywhacker: 1985;  indications: 1885;  inexpressibles: 1824;  inland: 1806;  in good nick: 1878;  invasion: c. 1798;  ironbark: 1803;  iron gang: 1826;  iron lace: 1919;  iron lace: 1944;  itchy grub: 1925;  jackeroo: 1845;  jack jumper: 1882;  Jack the Painter: 1846;  Jacky Howe: 1900;  jake: 1918;  jigger: 1898;  jilgie: 1873;  jimmy brits: 1942;  Jimmy Grants: 1850;  Jimmy Woodser: 1876;  jinker: 1861;  jirrand: 1827;  joey: 1841;  John Chinaman: 1839;  Johnny cake: 1827;  Johns: 1915;  journo: 1969;  jumbuck: 1841;  jumper: c. 1853;  jump-up: 1828;  Jungle juice: 1941;  kangaroo: 1770;  kangaroo dog: 1806;  kangaroo feathers: 1900;  kangaroos in the top paddock: 1987;  kangaroo paw: 1892;  kangaroo skins: 1898;  kangaroo tail soup: 1837;  keep nit: 1890;  keg: 1803;  kelpie: 1879;  kerfuffle: 1935;  kerosene: 1854;  kibosh: 1835;  kick the bucket: 1832;  kindergarten: 1890;  kindy: 1933;  king hit: 1938;  kip (swy): 1910;  Kiwi: 1918;  knock off: 1825;  knockabout: 1856;  knock your socks off: 1978;  koala: 1804;  Kokoda track: 1908;  Kokoda trail: 1942;  kookaburra: 1829;  koori: 1972;  koradji: 1834;  kylie: 1842;  laced lizard: 1789;  Lady Blamey: 1942;  lag, old: 1831;  lagerphone: 1946;  lagging: c. 1830;  lagoon: 1803;  lamb down: 1838;  lamb’s fry;  Lamington: 1901;  land mullet: 1916;  larrikin: 1870;  lawn tennis: 1874;  leaks like a sieve: 1840;  leeches: 1817;  leg in: 1871;  legless: 1986;  leg pulling: 1890;  like a hairy goat: 1913;  like the clappers: 1920;  lime burners: 1804;  lime-juicer: c. 1855;  lime-juicer: c. 1855;  line ball: 1849;  lingo: 1825;  lippy: 1927;  little bottler: 1855;  little ripper: 1912;  lollies: 1846;  long neck: 1827;  long service leave: 1898;  lower than a snake’s belly: 1914;  lubra: 1838;  lumper: 1843;  lurk: 1904;  lurk merchant: 1945;  lumber: 1805;  lyrebird: 1800;  mad as a cut snake: 1946;  makarrata: 1937;  make a crust: 1860;  making wages: 1851;  mallee: 1882;  mallee bull: 1862;  march fly: 1843;  marmalade: 1808;  marsupial: 1829;  matches: 1841;  mate: 1860;  mateship: 1857;  meatworks: 1872;  meet the eye: 1827;  Melbourne: c. 1895;  metho: 1922;  mia-mia: 1847;  miles to Griffiths tea: 1913;  milko: 1904;  Minties: 1924;  missed the bus: 1893;  mixed-bathers: 1911;  mob (of animals): 1834;  moleskin: 1823;  mongrel: 1889;  moniker: 1888;  monotreme: 1876;  moonlighter: 1878;  moonlight flit: 1834;  more hide than Jessie: 1925;  mosquitoes: 1828;  motza: 1923;  mouse spider: 1947;  mozzies: 1922;  mucker: 1899;  muck up: 1896;  muck up: 1904;  mud map: 1896;  mug: 1888;  mug lair: 1924;  mulesing: 1939;  mulga: 1858;  mullenise: 1884;  mulligrubs: 1832;  mullock: 1889;  mushies: 1904;  mushies: 1915;  muso: 1956;  mutton dressed up as lamb: 1893;  myall: 1829;  my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut: 1933;  myxomatosis: 1938;  nark: 1885;  native raw materials: 1798;  nature strip: 1928;  neck, to get it in the: 1893;  Never Never: 1861;  new Australians: 1940;  new chum: 1827;  New year’s day: 1789;  nick: 1889;  nines, dressed up to the: 1835;  Norfolk Island pine: 1829;  not backwards in coming forward: 1991;  nothing between the ears: 1938;  not much chop: 1857;  not the full quid: 1947;  not worth a crumpet: 1947;  no worries: 1970;  nulla nulla: 1808;  numbat: 1854;  Ocker: 1971;  off her kadoova: 1883;  old hand: 1827;  offsider: 1871;  off the beaten track: 1855;  old hand: 1902;  omnibus: 1851;  one armed bandits: 1939;  one oar in the water: 1994;  on his hammer: 1932;  on his hunkers: 1851;  on spec: 1845;  on the nose: 1942;  on the ran-tan: 1854;  on the wallaby: 1858;  onion, to be off: 1879;  open go: 1882;  open slather: 1916;  ophthalmia: 1819;  other-sider: 1865;  outback: 1868;  out station: 1824;  overlanders: 1840;  packer: 1873;  Paddle Pop: 1954;  paddock: 1807;  pademelon: 1842;  patta: 1803;  Pavlova: 1934;  Peach Melba: 1912;  penny farthing;  peppered: 1851;  perish, doing a: 1881;  perve: 1968;  petrolhead: 1986;  piano 1788;  picnic: c. 1854;  piece of piss: 1987;  pig’s arse!: 1977;  pig-root: 1896;  piker: 1909;  Pinchgut: c. 1842;  pissed: 1984;  pissed off: 1981;  Pitt Street farmer: 1918;  Pivot City: 1855;  plant: 1835;  platypus: 1821;  plonk: 1916;  plute: 1900;  poler: 1848;  Pompey dodger: 1855;  pong: 1928;  portable soup: 1821;  pobblebonk: 1990;  poddy: 1864;  pointing the bone: 1901;  poison bait: 1847;  poisoner: 1900;  poke in the eye with a burnt stick: 1887;  poke mullock: 1912;  poker machine: 1895;  pokies: 1967;  Pommy 1912;  pooch: 1927;  possie: 1917;  possum: c. 1839;  possum skin cloak: c. 1840;  post: 1827;  preselection: 1857;  prezzies: 1998;  prickly pear: 1827;  Prince Alberts: 1894;  printing press: 1795;  privy: 1813;  Progress Association: 1860;  prospecting: 1849;  prospector: 1849;  puddling: 1851;  punt: 1834;  purler: 1848;  Push, the: 1899;  put the acid on: 1898;  put the boot in: 1906;  put the frighteners on: 1973;  quarantine: c. 1842;  Queen Street cocky: 1926;  quid: 1866;  rabbit-oh: 1894;  rabbit-proof fence: 1886;  rabbits: 1860;  rack off: 1976;  Rafferty’s rules: 1906;  ratbag: 1925;  rat with a gold tooth: 1953;  rawhide: 1849;  real corker: 1886;  redback: 1883;  redgum: 1816;  red ned: 1949;  reffo: 1945;  rego: 1972;  rellies: 1978;  remittance: 1864;  ribuck: 1891;  ridgy didge: 1974;  riding attire: 1900;  right as rain: 1874;  righto: 1902;  ring-barking: c. 1844;  ringer: 1870;  road: 1788;  road train: 1913;  ‘rock carvings’: 1788;  roof rabbit: 1891;  ropeable: 1847;  rort: 1901;  rosiner: 1930;  rotgut: 1831;  rough around the edges: 1952;  rough as bags: 1911;  rough as guts: 1920;  rough end of the pineapple: 1950;  rough spin: 1868;  rouseabout: 1907;  rum: 1826;  run: 1834;  runners: 1961;  runs like a dream: 1919;  rustbucket: 1949;  ruthless and toothless: 1945;  sacred sites: 1927;  Saint Andrews spider: 1939;  saltbush: 1848;  salted: 1854;  sand: 1846;  sandgroper: 1881;  sandy blight: c. 1865;  sandshoes: 1884;  sandy blight: 1900;  sanger: 1987;  saucy: 1860;  sausage roll: 1842;  sawney: 1826;  scab: 1842;  scads: 1925;  scallops: 1994;  scalp: 1852;  scalper: 1898;  schools: 1796;  scrammy: 1857;  screen door: 1903;  scribbly gum: 1886;  scrub up well: 1977;  scrub-bash: 1929;  scungy: 1927;  sea-breeze: 1830;  search party: 1833;  selector: 1862;  selfie: 2013;  semaphore: 1836;  semi-detached: 1850;  Send it down, Hughie: 1910;  sent out: 1882;  Seppo: 1998;  serve, give him a: 1986;  servo: 1985;  settler: 1803;  shag on a rock, a: 1843;  shandygaff: 1848;  shanty: 1830;  shanty: 1832;  shearing: c. 1840;  sheep dog: 1821;  sheila: 1921;  she’ll be right: 1848;  sheoak: 1803;  sheoak: 1803;  shicer: 1853;  shicker: 1883;  shindy: 1828;  shingle, lost or loose: 1846;  shirty: 1865;  shivoo: 1881;  shit for brains: 1984;  shivoo: 1882;  shonky: 1958;  shoot through: 1944;  shoot (wave): 1910;  short and curlies: 1982;  short arms, deep pockets: 1951;  shout: c. 1852;  show pony: 1940;  shypoo: 1881;  sick as a dog: 1830;  sickie: 1952;  silent cop: 1921;  silly coot: 1900;  silver-tails: 1879;  Simon Pure: 1832;  sin bin: 1968;  since sliced bread: 1952;  skedaddle: 1874;  skid lid: 1953;  skite: 1887;  sky-pilot: 1900;  slab of beer: 1911;  slanguage: 1896;  sledging: 1979;  sleepout: 1914;  sling off: 1891;  sling off: 1892;  sling your hook: 1884;  slip rails: c. 1845;  slop clothing: 1805;  slope: 1852;  slow as a wet week: 1923;  sly grog: 1825;  smallgoods: 1865;  smalls: 1945;  smoke: 1891;  smoke-oh: 1893;  smoodger: 1907;  snaggers: 1945;  snow-dropper: 1827;  Snowy Mountains: 1825;  Snowy River: 1834;  snuffle buster: 1875;  soldier settler: 1917;  songman: 1949;  sool: 1901;  sort: 1945;  southerly buster: 1854;  sparrow’s fart: 1942;  SP bookie: 1920;  Speewah: 1892;  spider: 1858;  spieler: 1881;  spifflicated: 1848;  spine bashing: 1941;  spitting chips: 1899;  spit the dummy: 1979;  split: c. 1833;  spruik: 1905;  squatter: 1825;  squiz: 1905;  standover: 1936;  station: c. 1860;  St George’s Terrace cocky: 1914;  sticky beak: 1917;  stiffener: 1906;  stir the possum: 1894;  stock horse: 1837;  stock station: 1823;  stockwhip: c. 1858;  stockyard: c. 1838;  stone the crows: 1913;  stonkered: 1918;  stony: 1899;  stony broke: 1883;  storekeeper: 1899;  stork (as a bringer of babies): 1920;  stoush: 1887;  strapped for cash: 1924;  stretcher: 1828;  strides: 1913;  stringybark: 1803;  Struth: 1895;  stubby: 1965;  stunned mullet: 1902;  such is life: 1880;  sucked in: 1863;  sulky: 1810;  sulky: 1900;  sundowner: 1906;  sunnies: 1961;  suss: 1994;  swag: 1851;  swag, humping the: 1851;  swag, humping the: 1852;  swagman: 1861;  swy: 1945;  Sydney Harbour: 1822;  Sydney or the bush: 1849;  Sydney side;  Sydneysider: 1852;  TAFE: 1974;  taipan (snake): 1932;  Tallowfat: 1862;  tall poppy: 1864;  tanks: 1791;  tanks: 1803;  tar pot: 1870;  tart: 1898;  Tassie: 1878;  Taswegian: 1940;  tea: 1834;  telephone: 1880;  Territorian: 1868;  The Ashes: 1882;  the pip: 1872;  the raw prawn: 1942;  The Rocks: 1803;  thick as two short planks: 1975;  thief: c. 1855;  thingummybob: 1945;  thongs: 1959;  thumb buster: 1873;  tickets of leave: 1806;  tickets on self: 1901;  tinny (beer): 1976;  tinny (boat): 1986;  tip the bucket: 1947;  tomahawker: 1873;  tommy: 1850;  too-hard basket: 1950;  too right: 1917;  Top End: 1923;  track: 1817;  tracky daks: 2000;  traps: c. 1831;  Traymobile:1919;  trey (threepence): 1900;  triantelope: c. 1845;  troppo: 1942;  truckie: 1945;  true blue: 1826;  tucker: 1852;  tucker bag: 1871;  tucker box: 1867;  turn dingo: 1940;  turps, on the: 1929;  turps, on the: 1962;  two-bob watch: 1922;  two men and a dog: 1887;  two shakes: 1839;  two up: 1855;  typhoid fever: 1883;  underground mutton: 1903;  under wet cement: 1978;  union: 1896;  union camp: 1887;  up a gumtree: 1845;  up the country: 1788;  up the duff: 1975;  up the pole: 1915;  up the spout: 1832;  urger: 1921;  Vandemonian: 1842;  veg out: 1986;  verandah: 1802;  vote with the feet: 1940;  waddy: 1801;  wag: 1885;  Walers: 1859;  walkabout: 1859;  wallaby: 1798;  wallaby stew: 1859;  wallaroo: 1828;  wanker: 1974;  waratah: 1797;  warrigal: 1841;  washing (for gold): 1849;  wash house: 1901;  water: 1788;  water bag: 1858;  wattle: 1789;  Wattle Day: 1895;  weather-board: 1838;  weirdo: 1968;  wet behind the ears: 1935;  whacko: 1934;  whaler: 1900;  wharfie: 1911;  wharf lumper: 1875;  What do you think this is? Bush week?: 1945;  what the cat dragged in: 1923;  wheelie bin: 1986;  whinger: 1907;  whiskers: 1829;  white-ant: 1919;  white ants: 1804;  wide awake hat: 1846;  widgie: 1950;  widow maker: 1990;  wigwam for a goose’s bridle: 1916;  wilga: 1879;  willy-willy: 1875;  wire: 1899;  within a bull’s roar: 1934;  within cooee: 1858;  wombat: 1799;  women in trousers: 1835;  Woolloomooloo: 1829;  woomera: 1793;  Woop Woop: 1910;  wouldn’t be dead for quids: 1921;  wowser: 1903;  wrinklies: 1969;  wurlie: 1839;  yabby: 1861;  yacker: 1875;  yarraman: 1846;  yobbo: 1975;  yonks: 1981;  your blood is worth bottling: 1903;  zack (sixpence): 1912;  Zambuck: 1926;  zonked: 1943;