Last week's Guest Speaker: Jenny Old - McAllister
Posted by Franz Huber
on May 28, 2016
George Essex wrote a very deep poem specially dedicated to 'The Women of the West'.Well, not exactly in the case of Jenny: she didn't leave a mansion on the hill, she had returned from a stint in London, dressed in the latest European fashion (mini skirt etc). Not only was she a qualified Nurse, but her upbringing made her very well versed in the art of farming, a horse woman of outstanding skill. But what can come between two young lovers, who both have obvious capacity for such an enterprise as starting a farm literally in the middle of nowhere in the deep north of Queensland?
Last Wednesday, Jenny and Rick Old outlined their early years on McAllister, as their farm was named. "It was a completely blank canvas - no homestead..." Rick started off building a shed. The "kitchen" consisted of a 44 gallon drum... Fencing, yard building took up all their time. After six weeks, Rick presented Jenny with an engagement ring: "Will you marry me?" OK, the ring was not exactly of Fifth Avenue standard. It was made out of fencing wire (see picture on left). But, as a symbol of enduring love, it would be dearer than a 5 carat diamond. They had a formal wedding, under the theme of "Old Bull" (Jenny's maiden name was Bull). Then came Bessy. No, not their first child. That is what they named their first car they bought when on their honeymoon in the city: an old Holden FJ, worth $80.00. On the way back to McAllister, the Windscreen busted, so Jenny traveled with a pillow in front of her face to ward off the dust and the insects. Then they had to take the bonnet off, because it kept boiling over...
Look, dear readers, I could write half a book just from the 20 minutes presentation Jenny and Rick gave us last Wednesday. To get the full story, you'll just have to buy the book. Just go to their website: www.jennyold.com where you find not only a link to buy the book, but also a stack of photos. Truly inspiring! I started off with a poem, so perhaps it is fitting to finish off with a stanza of one of my favorites. From Banjo Paterson's "Black Swans":
Oh! ye strange wild birds, will ye bear a greeting
To the folk that live in that western land?
Then for every sweep of your pinions beating,
Ye shall bear a wish to the sunburnt band,
To the stalwart men who are stoutly fighting
With the heat and drought and the dust-storm smiting,
Yet whose life somehow has a strange inviting,
When once to the work they have put their hand.
To the folk that live in that western land?
Then for every sweep of your pinions beating,
Ye shall bear a wish to the sunburnt band,
To the stalwart men who are stoutly fighting
With the heat and drought and the dust-storm smiting,
Yet whose life somehow has a strange inviting,
When once to the work they have put their hand.