​I always loved arithmetic, and was fascinated by numbers. But as one of nine children, my parents couldn’t afford to pay for the sort of education that was required to become an accountant. Time passed, and I married a farmer in 1966 and realized how much of a role bookwork played in running a farm. My mother-in-law did the books for the business, but really had no idea. So, I taught her how to do it. But she wasn’t ready to relinquish the responsibility and oversight of the finances to the new family member.

Unbeknown to all of us, she was already dying of cancer. So, three years later I had to resume the role of bookkeeper. I ran a credit and debit cash book from statements, and took pride in a balanced outcome. By this time, we had a four -member partnership, plus two lots of kids.

For a start it was manageable to keep everything up-to-date, but it was becoming more and more difficult as the business grew. I asked the partnership to invest in a computer and was met with shock and astonishment, but I pointed out it was too much to do everything by hand and I would have to be paid wages to continue with the status quo. Reluctantly, they agreed, but, when walking past the computer, they would avert their eyes as though the computer was going to jump off the bench and attack them. I was 33 at the time, and it was 1992.

I enrolled in a computer course and competed with other students, among which, were some pretty hot looking chicks, who hogged the male teacher’s attention. I got the gist of how to turn it on and save, save, save. Mostly I learned by trial and error. I made up my own chart of accounts, and at the end of the financial year I was pretty pleased that everything balanced out and I could print it off to have a forever copy.

Over the years, because I had computer skills, I seemed to have landed every job as Secretary, in any organization I was interested in. It opened my world to lots of opportunities to help the CFA, VFF, and my Community of St James. It opened the doors to successful Grant Applications and improvements to amenities in the town.

At times I’m still shocked that some people are frightened of technology, even mobile phones. I have a love hate relationship with my mobile phone, because I can always be contacted. However, that is offset by the texts and emails that keep me in touch with my loved ones, who are scattered all over the place.
​
It can also be a burden to have these skills. With the red tape required to stay abreast of governance of volunteer groups, it leaves little time to spend on my own hobbies. They seem to be put on the back burner. I must learn to be selfish.


Kathy Beattie
July 2025

​England had suffered 2000 civilian losses, as well as nearly 700,000 from the combined British Empire in the First World War. The after effects on the English population was a country that was in dire financial straits, with returned soldiers being prioritised for jobs and the civilian population suffering from extreme poverty. Because of the lack of jobs my father, William James Hall, better known as Jim, became a £10 Pom, emigrating to Australia in 1923 at the ripe old age of 17.

When Jim first arrived in Australia, even though he was a qualified fitter and turner, he found it difficult to get a position that suited his trade. He worked on all sorts of job programmes, even grubbing out Mallee roots in the Western District on blocks set aside for returning soldiers from the War. He cleaned railway carriages, drove sheep and did general farm work. He gradually moved onto Tallangatta and got a permanent job on a farm where he met my mother. They married in September 1936 and by the time he was called up to the Army in 1940 they had three children.

Jim went on to become an important part of the team that finessed the treatment of rust in guns called the “Bluing Treatment.” This method helped to cut down the rust and corrosion on the guns, saving money in the war effort. It also cut down on the glare reflecting off the gun barrels, so important in combat conditions. The barrels were treated with a combination of Sodium Hydroxide and Potassium Nitrate in a solution heated to 200 degrees Celsius or 392 degrees Fahrenheit.  Sadly, my dad, was in hospital with severe burns when the big brass came and heaped praise upon the team for their excellent work.

When Jim was discharged, he returned to Tallangatta. By this time the children numbered six. He obviously had a bit of leave in between. The increasing need for irrigation water, and the near completion of the Hume Dam wall, meant it was only a matter of time before the Old Town would be under water.  They had to weigh up whether to stay, or move on to a bigger town, with a possibility he would eventually get a job as a Fitter and Turner. This was accomplished in 1947 and we moved to Wangaratta. We moved lock, stock and barrel, in the back of a truck, with Mum nursing the latest baby on her knee beside the driver.
​
As the family matured, one of the older brothers joined the Army serving in Borneo and Thailand, another brother did his National Service. Jim passed away in 1975 and Mum in 1987. We took the Grandchildren back to Tallangatta to acquaint them with their history and saw the monuments to the soldiers in the Gardens. Those monuments were dedicated to all of the soldiers who served, not only overseas, but here in Australia. Which is as it should be. They all contributed to the War Effort.

​

Kathy Beattie
​May 2025

His daughters had important jobs and families to rear, and even though they were very generous with the time spent with their Dad, it simply was not enough for his own safety. After his last hospital stay, his doctor decided that it was unsafe for him to return to his home. So, when a vacancy came up at McDonald House at St John’s in Wangaratta they jumped at the chance. It was only temporary, as they wanted a month to assess him and decide where he would be best placed. He had to wait it out, until the assessment, before he would have the freedom to head off on his mobility scooter.

His brother visited him daily, his daughter a local to Wangaratta would visit three times a week, whilst his daughter from Melbourne, fortnightly. After the month's trial is completed, at least we can make the room homey, with personal possessions and photographs. But there wasn’t much sense in setting it up if he was to be transferred.

His unit, was put on the market and sold within days, so we needed to clear out his belongings. The antique furniture was hard to sell as the present generation want the Scandi or Coastal décor. But it was the personal items that had to be disposed of, that first made me feel uncomfortable. On Sunday, word had got around that he had moved, and friends came out of the woodwork wanting the dinner set, or the beautiful figurines collected over many years. Or “I’ve had my eye on that set of plates” or I’ve always loved those two giraffes” It was the same with pictures etc. etc. All said to my brother, or in his hearing. They were like crows at a rotting sheep carcass. He was tired and confused at what was happening. and probably thinking of his late wife.

The next morning, he rang me to say, “Someone has pinched my undies, in fact I can’t find the cupboard where my clothes should be.” I said,” Walk round the room and open every door.”.  His reply was “I’ve already done that” I said, “Ask one of the Staff” The reply was, “They don’t know anything they’ve never been to my home.” I live 60 ks. away, his daughter from Melbourne had gone home, and his other daughter had gone on a well-earned weekend break. He didn’t know if he was at home or at St John's. 

Brother John, to the rescue. Well, sort of. When he arrived, Willie was on the front lawn complaining he had been locked out of St John’s.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.


Kathy Beattie
March 2025

"Our Lucky Break"

My son and I planned a working bee in the early hours of Sunday morning in a bid to avoid the heat of the day. We were clearing out an under-utilised shed, in a bid to store a hot rod and a vintage car. Over the years the shed had accumulated a few wasp nests, and a lot of panic weed which blows in from Moodie’s Swamp Wildlife Reserve.

We had removed a few bucketloads full, placing it in a hole where it could be burnt over the following winter. Coming back to give the shed a final rake, my son noticed smoke coming from the edge of the swamp.  It was a bad day with a strong Northerly wind and 36 degrees, so it sparked a bit of panic. Gavin rang 000 to report the fire and I rang young Tom to bring the tanker, which had been converted from a milk tanker to a firefighting unit. The CFA was instructed to enter on the swamp side, as the fire was heading across to the Tocumwal Road. With our tanker, we had our side under control. Not one CFA tanker took our advice, and every tanker arrived on the upwind side and had to be diverted.

Parks Victoria was notified and arrived fairly quickly, instructing their Parks crew as well as the CFA group where to position themselves.  A spotter plane and two helicopters arrived,  filling their tanks in tandem from our waterholes, where thankfully there were no trees to cause safety concerns. By this time, there were numerous privately owned fire fighting units arriving to help defend on our house side. We could not see how far the fire had progressed in the swamp because of the amount of smoke.

As private landholders, we were not allowed to go onto Parks Land, but remained tending to some trees that had caught fire on our side. My son Darren had arrived with the loader and pushed over a dry tree that was alight.  He asked Parks could he remove a dead tree on the boundary that was alight very high up from the ground, but was told he could not go onto Parks Land. Parks Victoria had by now arrived with the low loader and a bulldozer to scrape a firebreak, and attempted to remove the tree in question. The dozer driver gave the tree a few nudges, but the tree stubbornly remained. He dug around the roots, and still could not loosen it enough. By this times it was alight near the very top, and if it had fallen it would have started another fire, in an unburnt area.

Darren asked again if he could push it over and he was given permission. By lifting the front-end forks as high as it would go, and tilting the top of the frame, he got high enough on the trunk to give the tree a good shake, and then gradually got enough purchase to topple the tree so that it could be extinguished.

The fire did not burn very many acres in the swamp, due to the dampness from the previous year. But it was certainly a warning to surrounding landholders just what could happen. It is a safety hazard that we are used to living with, but luck was with us, with the direction of the wind protecting our assets. How the fire started is a mystery. But we believe that it was combustion caused by a bale of hay catching alight when the extra dry material was placed on top.

​
Kathy Beattie
February 2025

Whilst I was growing up my mother volunteered at the school, the church, Red Cross, and raised nine children.

When I got married, I volunteered at the St James Fire Brigade, the Red Cross, the Church and at both schools my two children attended. 

​When they left school, I fantasised about all of the free time I was going to have, and all the wonderful things I was going to do. Like write a book, paint, garden and spend time having a coffee or two with my best friend.

Instead of that, I volunteered to write for grants to renovate the St James Hall, to appeal to the County Fire Authority (CFA) to build a new fire station as the old one was falling down. Then came the silo art, the notice board and restoration of a heritage jail, as well as reproducing the photographic history of St James and District. There were also the Victorian Farmers’ Federation (VFF) and the Victorian Rural Fire Brigades Association (VRFBA). All took time away from home and family.

While I don’t regret any of those things, I wonder what the future holds for the communities where most of the young people have gone away to university or to jobs

We, the present volunteers are reaching the end of our use by date.   I worry that we are not planning for the future by getting the younger people more involved in continuing the tradition of spending at least some of their time helping others.

Our Red Cross branch is over 80 years old, but now we only have one meeting a year, with about five dedicated members in total from Devenish and St James. The VFF Branch has folded. The Tennis Club has folded. The Fire Brigade is struggling to keep enough numbers to manage what is shaping up to be a bad fire year. Our Community Group is made up of the older population, mostly exceeding 80 years old, and it is the same couple who prepare the hall, make the coffee or tea, bring the morning tea, then clean up afterward.

As older members of the Community with a fair bit of experience over the years, some of the blame for the above problem lays at our feet. We need to move over a bit, and not hang on to control. Yes, we are good at what we do, but we need to share this with the younger generation. Encourage them to participate and praise them for their efforts. Show them that becoming a volunteer has great benefits. Job opportunities are increased with a CV that shows that they are prepared to give up some of their spare time to help others.

I have enjoyed my life as a volunteer but realise I’m running out of time if I want to write that book. So, here I am.
 

Kathy Beattie
November 2024

In early 2018, a public meeting was called to decide if the Community of St James was interested in painting the grain silos. There was surprise all around at the crowd that turned up. There were speakers supporting the idea and among them was Kevin Howard  from Devenish who spoke of the process that Devenish had gone through to the present day. There were no punches pulled on the hard work it took, the importance of getting the right artist and the right committee. It went to the vote and it was unanimous that we would go ahead. Jim Kelly was nominated as President, Doug James as Treasurer, and I was nominated as Secretary.

Having lost my husband 18 months previous, two other deaths in the family and a daughter-in-law with cancer, I was hesitant in taking on anything of this magnitude. I had just finished with the restoration of the Hall and collating the photographic history of St James and was looking for a break. As Leanne was to have a scan the following week, I asked that they wait for the result before I could consider the position.

The scan showed she was all clear, but I was feeling the pressure. It would be very time consuming, and involved some very big decisions. My husband Knowles had always supported me in all of my community work over the years, but he wouldn’t be there this time. My gut feeling though, was that he would be saying “Go for it.” So, I did.

First thing was to select the artist. We wanted someone local, a good portrait painter, and someone who would illustrate our ideas.  I was familiar with Tim Bowtell’s work so it was on my suggestion that we asked him to meet with us and have a discussion about ideas, colour, timing etc. We were very impressed with his attitude, especially about us having control of the content. We hired him without any other interviews. Taking on Tim was a bit of a risk, as he hadn’t done such a big project before. That fact that he had trained as a draftsman was in his favour.

The subjects were whittled down from twenty to ten. We held a Public Meeting where we used a preferential voting system to choose our final five. By allowing the public to choose they would be more inclined to support the project.

Our history was all about grain and GJ Coles. So, from left to right a team of horses with a load of bagged wheat. The background of the second painting was a record stack of 135000 bags of wheat in 1915-16.  Next was the first motorised truck to cart wheat to St James. This was followed by GJ Coles and the North-Eastern Store. And last of all the bag sewers, Tom and Dick Wren.

The paintings were completed within the month of April 2019 and have been very successful. It was one of the most enjoyable projects I’ve ever been involved in.