A lack of understanding of the Wot-Not

After my experience of the Outback, an experience that I loved, and to where I went back to on many occasions, I did look into other pursuits. One such pursuit was home decorating; however, I was always confused with the use of some of the bits and pieces that folk wanted to put in their homes.

It is with this in mind that I ask these questions: If you were given, or on an some ridiculous impulse purchased, a Wot-Not, would you use it to display thingamajigs or would it be more appropriate to put out your antique watchamacallits?

I purchased a delightful gizmo once, but as it had no user manual I had no way of knowing how it worked. It is in a safe place in the work shed waiting for its time in life to arise.

However, I digress, and it is needed that I return to suitable uses for the Wot-Not. I did suggest to one home decorator that she may use the Wot-Not to show off her wonderful display of gozintas, those magical items that go into some other magical, but otherwise redundant item of great cost but of little value. But her argument was the she had a special item, a one off, that she had trouble of showing with other valuable items of a different value and usefulness, which she had found useless.

I did see a great hoozibob in her cupboard, amongst the cups, which cupboards are designed to hold, I think, which I said would look nice in amongst her watchamacallits, and maybe a smattering of thingos of equal charm.

I did find out that collectors treat their finds like they treat their spouses in that they may not be worth a spit, but they are nice to look at, and if the truth be known, the value is no where near what you have expended. Some even try to sate their thirst of the collecting bug by seeking other worthless spits to display on their Wot-Nots.

I did find that a Wot-Not really displays do-dads to the best of their shine, and that an occasional statue of a whos-e-wot looked exceptionally exceptional. 

I never seem to get it right, so I gave up this pursuit and pursued other things worth chasing.

The Code of the West

Was there a code of the West in the Outback? Does it still exist? What is the code of the West?

One main thing I could remember, and it is a pity that it is still not 'the code', but anyone that pulled a knife in a fight would not last long in any Outback town. It just wasn't done, and anyone that did was labelled as a "Wog."

Now, I know that word is offensive to some people, but to cover myself from litigation, please recall the book and movie, "The Wog Boy", or expressions like "Wog Football". These expressions are used by many ethnic people in this country to this day.

It is odd, I know, but I never suffered a cultural cringe when I was in the back country. We accepted the Greek Café owners, the Greek and Italian pub owners, and they in turn, accepted us Australians just as though we were actually humans.

In a Greek Café you were sure to get more than you could eat if you asked for a mixed grill, and as many cups of tea or coffee as you wanted.

So, Code #1 was fight fair.

Code #2 was respect the people around you, the ones that would help you out without hesitation, the ones that fought nature's onslaughts, standing side by side with all other men and women of the West.

Code #3 was definitely the hand shake. To shake on a deal was like writing it in blood, and consequently if one reneged on a handshake, there would be plenty of blood to write another agreement. Mainly from the reneger!

To have a reputation for someone that cannot be trusted was probably worse than someone that was a bit of a mug, a fool, as they often could not help themselves.

Code #4, I remember well, was respect women. They were so few women in the Outback towns that it was more awe than respect. I remember only too well young Nerida in Longreach saying "Are you going to stop babbling and kiss me, or not?" I kissed her, but I am sure the red glow of my face gave her sunburn, so much was my awe of the fairer sex.

Don't ever steal from your mates ... this one could be any number but I will give it Code #5. You see, trust features in The Code in a big way, and if you lose your mate's trust, you lose your mate, and many more mates along the way.

Code #6: never leave a man in trouble, be he broken down on a dusty road, hurt in some fall or accident. I say fall, as many of us fell from horses, as well as falling for a girl or falling from the graces of a girl ... lots of falling about went on in the good old days. Life was a bit slower, and we had time to stand by a mate, or anyone else, for that matter.

Code #7, do not be a coward. If for some reason, during a drink or two in a pub, a bloke says "You ... out where the bull feeds," there is a good chance you have been invited to a bit of a donnybrook, out on a patch of grass, grown for that specific purpose in a good few of the Outback pubs.

Being a smallish bloke, I won a few of my fights by at least fifty yards. However, there were the times that I was forced to stand toe to toe, nose to nose, eye to eye, finger to chest and likewise, reciting the well known battle chant ...

"Yeah! Sez 'oo?"

"Me, I sez,"

"Yeah?" Jab with the finger.

"Yeah!" Jab back.

And this would go on until someone in the gathered assembly would say, "Come on blokes, these pair of pansies ain't gunna have a stoush ... let's go have a beer," and off they would go, leaving the combatants standing there glaring until one or the other would say "Your shout."

Later in the evenings the real 'blues' would be on, and some serious, well bet upon, fights would take place. I never saw a coward in my time. Many of these blokes would be the best blokes to have around you as you would ever find. In fun someone might say "YOU! Out where the bull feeds," quickly adding "And if I'm not there when you get there, start without me." But you had to be good mates to get away with that.

Code #8, although you might be called a pansy in circumstances like the one I relayed above, if you showed any sign of being what a pansy intimates you would have no mates, inter or otherwise. I do remember one chap in Aramac, that made advances to a young bloke in the middle of the night, and I tell you, I have never seen such a bloodied, almost corpse, in my life. I never came across him again in Queensland, and although his gear was still at the pub, he never came back for it to the best of my knowledge. Such was the Code of the West.

Editor's Note: These are thoughts and recollections on life in Outback Queensland in the 1950s and 1960s.