Slammed it out to Shep (and a bit) and back via Yea, always a shitfight within 90 minutes of Melbourne (shout out to the insane P plate van that kept a 30cm distance from every car up to Kilmore). Tripped on site and bruised my left thigh, thankfully it’s not too bad. Constantly on edge with pay not coming through, thank fuck it did. Harassed by boss about something so I had to stop via the office.
I’m finally home. I’m pooped. I’ve gotta drive to Point Cook on Sunday so I’m not even going to LOOK at my car tomorrow. That’s enough driving for a while. Ow my leg.
A lot of the people I met today live or work in Tatura! It’s bigger than I thought. There are some fun town names to the north west like Wycheproof or Teddywaddy West.
Oh sweet! Yeah it’s a cute little town. The local museum has a lot of like WWII stuff donated from my family, because my grandpa couldn’t go to war, so he sang apart of his church choir at a lot of the POW camps. And so a lot of the Germans gave him like coins and stuff. So it’s very cool from a historical standpoint, but a lot of is like… Nazi shit, so while a cool piece of history, it’s something that I don’t want in my house once my grandma kicks the bucket.
Oof. Yeah, those were different times indeed. Probably several other museums that might take some of that stuff. Fascinating history though, thank you for sharing! All I really knew about Tatura until now was the butter
Oh yeah, Tatura and like Murchison had a bunch of POW camps that are still pretty accessible (though it’s not like what it was back then, it’s just a plot of land but there are markings of things). I found out a few years ago that a friend of mine, her grandpa was a POW and was in one of the Murchison camps, and so it’s probably likely that my grandpa was singing songs at the same time he was there. So it’s pretty interesting how that works out.
Whenever someone would go out to a pub with my grandpa, and you’d get given the Tatura butter, my grandpa would lean over and go “that’s Tatura butter”. I’ve now started to do it as just a joke. Man, he was something else I tell ya.
Slammed it out to Shep (and a bit) and back via Yea, always a shitfight within 90 minutes of Melbourne (shout out to the insane P plate van that kept a 30cm distance from every car up to Kilmore). Tripped on site and bruised my left thigh, thankfully it’s not too bad. Constantly on edge with pay not coming through, thank fuck it did. Harassed by boss about something so I had to stop via the office.
I’m finally home. I’m pooped. I’ve gotta drive to Point Cook on Sunday so I’m not even going to LOOK at my car tomorrow. That’s enough driving for a while. Ow my leg.
Oof, that’s rough. My grandparents are from Tatura, so while I haven’t had the fortune to drive that, being a passenger is the worst.
Though my dad and I would make little games along the way. Whenever I see Seymour I say “you always see more at Seymour”.
Tats SUCH a shit hole.
A lot of the people I met today live or work in Tatura! It’s bigger than I thought. There are some fun town names to the north west like Wycheproof or Teddywaddy West.
Oh sweet! Yeah it’s a cute little town. The local museum has a lot of like WWII stuff donated from my family, because my grandpa couldn’t go to war, so he sang apart of his church choir at a lot of the POW camps. And so a lot of the Germans gave him like coins and stuff. So it’s very cool from a historical standpoint, but a lot of is like… Nazi shit, so while a cool piece of history, it’s something that I don’t want in my house once my grandma kicks the bucket.
Oof. Yeah, those were different times indeed. Probably several other museums that might take some of that stuff. Fascinating history though, thank you for sharing! All I really knew about Tatura until now was the butter
Oh yeah, Tatura and like Murchison had a bunch of POW camps that are still pretty accessible (though it’s not like what it was back then, it’s just a plot of land but there are markings of things). I found out a few years ago that a friend of mine, her grandpa was a POW and was in one of the Murchison camps, and so it’s probably likely that my grandpa was singing songs at the same time he was there. So it’s pretty interesting how that works out.
Whenever someone would go out to a pub with my grandpa, and you’d get given the Tatura butter, my grandpa would lean over and go “that’s Tatura butter”. I’ve now started to do it as just a joke. Man, he was something else I tell ya.