The Roots Of Heaven : The Book & The Movie

My latest read for the Gaia Reading Challenge was The Roots of Heaven by Romain Gary, considered ” the first identifiably ecological novel in the literature of France, and perhaps the world.”- David Bellos

I had watched the movie of the same name earlier in the year featuring Errol Flynn, of course playing the town drunk. Sadly, I doubt any acting skills were required and released only twelve months before his death should be enough to paint the picture. Poor ol’ Errol.

It’s not a good movie, prone to preaching, being over wordy, and all the big name actors try to outshine each other which grates: Trevor Howard, Eddie Albert, Orson Wells, and Juliette Greco’s bosoms. However, the storyline about a wildlife enthusiast who attempts to protect African elephants from being hunted for their ivory was interesting enough to encourage my pursuit for more information which surely says something positive for the movie. (As does the cinematography featuring jumbos in all their magnificence in  French Equatorial Africa.)

The book, written between 1953-54, received the Prix Goncourt for fiction ( “for the best and most imaginative prose work of the year”) and was translated into English in 1957. It too is wordy though beautifully written, and a great deal of effort goes into explaining the motivations of each of the characters’ stance on the killing of elephants. 

In begins with Morel, played by Trevor Howard in the movie, seeking signatures on a petition to cease the hunting. In all, he obtains only two names. Even the local Priest refuses to sign as he has enough misery in solving the issues of the Africans with their leprosy, poverty, illness and starvation. Morel bellows, “this is nothing to do with politics – it’s a matter of humanity“. All the misfits come together – the nightclub hostess (Greco), the American outcast dishonourably discharged from the Army ( Flynn), the journalist (Albert) – after much navel-gazing in an attempt to thwart an attack on a large herd. 

Of course, the novel isn’t that simple with a cast of characters with different viewpoints; the “environmentalist” capturing elephants as zoo specimens, the commandant in charge of the territory with political aspirations, the Jesuit priest, the politician using the demise of the elephants to promote the view that Africa’s natural resources are being “stolen”  promoting Africa’s stance that it should become an independent country. 

” There’s a law which allows you to kill as many elephants as you like when they are trampling down your fields and threatening your crops. It’s a wonderful excuse for the good shots among us. All you have to prove is that an elephant has crossed your plantation and has trampled a field of squash, and there you are, free to decimate a herd, to indulge in reprisals, with the government’s blessing.”

Honestly, it all becomes too complex especially when you realise the elephants become a symbol for human life. 

John Huston, the Director of the movie, said he was “completely responsible… for the badness of The Roots of Heaven. I really wanted to make that one and Daryl Zanuck got me everything and everybody I wanted. But I had the screenplay done by someone who had never done one before, and it was bad. By then the cast, crew and me were in Africa; it was too late to turn back, we would have spent a fortune for nothing, so we went ahead and did the best we could.”

Producer, Zanuck (and sheet warmer for Greco) said “This picture is really great for us – intellectually great. Whether it’s commercially great, whether people will grab on to it, we must wait and see. If they grab on to a man in love with a bridge, then why shouldn’t they grab on to a man in love with an elephant?” 

Answer : Because there comes a point when a line is drawn between being lectured and being entertained.

30,000 Elephants killed in a year. Horrendous!

Wattle

Wattle Day has been celebrated on the first day of September each year since 1992, the official start of the Australian Spring. Prior to this, each State acknowledged the day at separate times depending on when the Acacias were in full bloom in that territory.

During my childhood growing up on a quarter acre block surrounded by suburban bushland Wattle Day was celebrated on the 1st of August, sharing the day with Horses’ Birthday. This meant wearing a sprig of Cootamundra Wattle, which flourished in Sydney, to Primary school on that day which seemed such a special event all those years ago.

I read something from our First Nations people (Dance of the Plants) about Wattle this morning which made my heart sing:

“GARRON( Wattle) season is upon us. But if you believe in a little magic then you must listen to my Elders and my late Auntie Lennah♥️ a senior Bunurong Elder, she told us that we were never to bring GARRON into the house. It was to be hung on the door, outside the house, where it would keep the bad spirits away. If you bought it inside then you would get bad luck. The GARRON is a very important plant to Bunurong people, not only for food and medicine but also for bush dye, wood and a thousand other things.Enjoy the sunshine it brings right now as GARRON tells us the season is turning, soon it will be PAREIP(Spring).”

I have always loved Wattle. I have always lived with Wattle. Here’s one I planted as a sapling in the koala corridor that my house backs on to (to replace the palm trees that some idiot planted and which are not native to the area).

Some Wattle Trivia:
( courtesy of https://theculturetrip.com/pacific/australia/articles/golden-wattle-11-facts-about-australias-national-flower/).

-Australia was only federated as a nation in 1901, so its World War I efforts were integral to the formation of a national identity, and the golden wattle played a significant symbolic role. Wattle flowers were sold to raise money during the war, it became tradition to send pressed wattles in letters to wounded soldiers in Europe, and fallen diggers were often buried with a sprig of wattle.

-The flag might be red, white and blue but Australian sporting teams have been wearing green and gold on their uniforms since the late 1800s. The hues were officially recognised as Australia’s national colours in 1984 and these days you won’t spot a national sporting team decked out in anything other than green and gold. It even earns a mention in the cricket team’s victory song: “Under the Southern Cross I stand, a sprig of wattle in my hand, a native of my native land, Australia you f***ing beauty!”

-The designs of the Order of Australia medal (the highest honour an Australian civilian can receive), the National Emergency Medal and countless Australian Defence Force honours are based on the golden wattle. The national flower is also a common motif in works by iconic Australian artists Albert Namatjira, Sidney Nolan and John Olsen, as well as pieces like Banjo Paterson’s 1915 poem We’re All Australians Now, and John Williamson’s song Cootamundra Wattle.

– A sprig of wattle has appeared on the official symbol of the Commonwealth of Australia since 1912 … but it’s botanically incorrect. Wattle frames the kangaroo, emu and shield representing the country’s six states, but technically the spherical flowers and green leaves don’t provide an accurate depiction of the acacia. Ssssssh. Keep that one to yourself.

-Koalas can supplement their diets with Wattle if they are short on Eucalypts ( or aren’t too lazy).

Lee Kernaghan and The Avenue of Honour at Yungaburra, FNQ

Saw the documentary film Lee Kernaghan : Boy From The Bush on the weekend and am still soaring from the buzz. In no way a country music fan I saw Kernaghan in concert in a little country town pre-Covid and let me assure you country music in a rural township surrounded by Akubras is a totally different animal. Right up there amongst my favourite concerts, with the added bonus of The Wolfe Bothers. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The movie includes archival clips from Kernaghan’s childhood and early career as well as spectacular views of the Australian outback in all its beauty and brutality. (Tip for Tourism Australia : Forget the “where the bloody hell are you” and “throw another shrimp on the barbie” campaigns*. Boy From The Bush is the real deal.)

Kernaghan is a musical story teller with a deep love of the land and its people. He has raised millions $$$ performing around the country to assist farmers struggling from drought, bushfire and flood. Absolute respect and he seems the sort a bloke with whom you could share a plonk and a cheese platter.

A new song about to be released in collaboration with Mitch Tambo and Isiah Firebrace, both indigenous, written whilst sharing a campfire on the banks of a river bank deals with reconciliation – Come Together – sent chills up the back of my spine. 

In June I shared my plans to visit Yungaburra in North Queensland to visit The Avenue Of Honour in commemoration of the fallen in the Afghanista conflict. See Serendipity Part 1 : Yungaburra, FNQ.

Lee Kernaghan had written a song with lines taken from a letter written by Private Benjamin Chuck to his wife whilst deployed and held by the Australian War Memorial, for his Spirit Of The Anzacs CD which culminated in Ben’s Dad organising The Avenue of  Honour in respect of his (late) son and his brothers in arms.

These will be the last holiday photos that I share but for anyone travelling to North Queensland, Yungaburra on the shores of Lake Tinaroo is an absolute must. I shed no tears, but rather, choked on the tranquility, the quiet beauty, and the powerful reminder of the young Australians lost during Afghanistan. This memorial parkland is just so well done.

The figure on the left represents Commando Benjamin Chuck. The rock represents the harsh Afghanistan environment.

Bordering the Avenue are Flame Trees which flower from October through to December. Their flowers are bright red to coincide with the red Poppies of Remembrance Day in November.

Lest We Forget

* Aussie’s do not throw shrimp on the barbie. We do not have shrimp. We have prawns. We throw prawns on the barbie with a dash of oil and a couple of teaspoons of freshly crushed garlic. “Don’t come the raw prawn” means don’t tell lies or fibs. And blokes use Prawn as a derogative when a woman with a tantalising body has an unattractive head. End of todays kultya lesson

Far North Queensland and Movies

Over 1,700 kms (1,000 miles ) away from home in Far North Queensland and I’ve bumped into a friend from the Adelaide Hills, way, way down south and along way from the east coast. When I say bumped, I mean literally. My facial recognition skills are shonky at best, and when face masks, sun screen and floppy sun hats are added to the equation the result isn’t pretty. Funnily enough, it was actually her husband I recognised from photos, though we’d never previously met.

Carol and I became friends 12 years ago because of our shared love of Australian movies. We both wrote reviews for a mutual literary friend.

So it was perhaps apt that I bumped into this woman at the North Queensland Army Museum in Townsville where a knowledgable volunteer was enthusiastically extolling the virtues of an army truck exhibit which was driven by Nicole Kidman ( AKA Our Nic) in the movie Australia.*

It’s a fascinating museum manned by volunteers and Army Reservists with entry by donation. At the entrance is a sculpture that represents the Australian tunnellers involved in blowing up Nazi bunkers near Ypres in Belgium during WW1 as depicted in the movie Beneath Hill 60. (From the book of the same name by Will Davies and based on the memoirs of Captain Oliver Woodward. An excellent read!) The movie was shot in Charters Towers, 135 km south west of Townsville, with the sculpture donated by the film crew.

In an attempt to elevate the 20 month old grandchild’s education to a higher plateau – afterall, you’re never too young to learn about Errol Flynn, are you? – we visited the popular Australian Hotel in the trendy Palmer Street Precinct for a refreshing bevvy. In my quest for Flynn memorabilia I visited this area forty years ago only to find the Errol Flynn Room – so named because he stayed there prior to his move into acting and before his New Guinea escapades – closed for refurbishment. Back then the pub was a lonely dilapidated shell of a building down by the Port ; these days the area has been gentrified and the accomodation is as swank as. Sadly, the Flynn Room no longer exists. ( Wretched millennials?)

A further 400kms north to Cairns and we came across the Australian Armour And Artillery Museum. About over museums by this stage, though if you have an interest in the movie Fury featuring Brad Pitt then this place with its movie memorabilia ticks all the boxes.**

Lastly,  looking over from Caldwell to Hinchinbrook Island where Nim’s Island was filmed. Lousy weather which made it all the better for investigating Australia’s biggest memorial park commemorating the Battle of the Coral Sea.

Coming full circle and travelling south once again we stopped at Bowen, famous for its summer mangoes .The township of Bowen hit a high note when the main street was transformed into a 1942 Darwin for the movie  Australia. Think the beef cows being shunted down the main street and along the wharf…..

Of course there is more movie paraphernalia in Far North Queensland. It’s just difficult when your hands are full – peeling prawns.

* Manual windowscreen wipers – very handy during a cyclone

*My advice? Get your hair done while the lads knock themselves out.

Castle Hill, Townsville – Indigenous name : Cootharinga

Castle Hill  dominates the skyline in Townsville, in Queensland’s Far North. Not only is it the landmark that provides orientation in this city, the views across to Magnetic Island are just spectacular.

In my previous visits to Townsville I’ve always had an uneasy relationship with the giant pink granite monolith that sticks out like a sore thumb, though this trip I’ve finally made my peace. Rising to a height of 286 metres (938 ft) above sea level it is only 62 ft short of being claimed a mountain. It was listed on the Queensland Heritage Register in 1993.

The Hill’s vantage was used by visiting American soldiers during World War II. An observation bunker still sits on one corner of the Hill. ( According to local legend, the visitors famously offered to demolish the hill and use the rock to build a bridge to Magnetic Island.)

Looking back at Townsville from Magnetic Island.

With six months of a weekly Walking Group routine under the belt we thought we’d tackle one of the walking tracks to the summit. No better time than winter because of Townsville’s soaring summer temperatures as well as the Death Adders (snakes) that inhabit the bushland.

After studying the options in a guide that ranked the tracks by designating the number of PUFFS to complete – 5 PUFFS being the hike requiring the most physical effort – we selected the 1 PUFF Hiking Track. This was not a matter of being slack, but rather for romantic notions. You see, the Erythrina Track is also known as “The Ladies’ Track” because it was the inconspicuous route that ‘female friends’ took to visit the soldiers manning the pillboxes on the top of the Hill in WWII. Aaaargh, ain’t love grand……….

The 360 degree views were spectacular though I would argue the 1 PUFF ranking and suggest it be better considered 1 Breathe Away From Rigor Mortis. 

Looking across to Magnetic Island. The white structure in the right hand corner is the Far North’s latest cultural icon : the football stadium.

Next visit we aim to join the annual swim across Cleveland Bay to the Island. Only joking. Life is too precious…..

Heirlooms

From personal experience a common lament from empty nesters who are in the process of downsizing is that their offspring have no interest in the precious belongings handed down through the generations. The crystal punch bowls that were the crux of wedding parties all those years ago, the vases and all of those other family heirlooms simply have no place in todays modern homes with their all white interiors and granite bench tops. ( Didn’t anyone ever tell them that white shows up the dirt?)

My daughters were no different and the Wedgwood and Royal Doulton all went out with the cardboard moving boxes. And that’s fine.

My eldest however did have a special request. “Mo, these would be handy. May I have these?”

According to Australian Food Timeline the Jaffle Iron was “designed, named and patented in Australia in June 1949 by Dr Ernest E.Smithers”.

When the Jaffle Iron was first advertised in 1949, the device was described as a “pressure toaster”. Its advantage was that the edges of the bread were pressed together to contain the hot filling.  According to my reading the jaffle iron was embraced with some fervour. There were even cookery demonstrations showing how to use it ! One advertisement said:

It may be used over any type of heat and we suggest that if you are having a barbecue it might be an idea to provide your guests with three or four bowls of appetising filling and let them make their own. Haute Cuisine!

I remember these jaffle irons as a child from Easter mornings sitting around a man made barbeque carved out of blocks of local sandstone with a billy tea over the flames. Instead of lacy lingerie they also accompanied me on a honeymoon around the National Parks of Tasmania where I shared breakfast with potoroos and wallabies. ( There may have been some lacies but given the temperatures more likely thermals).

Many years beforehand, prior to my existence even, they accompanied my parents on camping trips to Cobbity in western Sydney before it became suburban sprawl, where they would spend their days swimming and shooting bunnies for home made rabbit pie.

Good choice, Pocohontas. Much more interesting than the crystal.

Platypus Matters : The Extraordinary Lives of Australian Mammals by Jack Ashby

Jack Ashby is the Assistant Director of the Museum of Zoology at the University of Cambridge, and an honorary research fellow in the Department of Science and Technology Studies at University College London. His first book was Animal Kingdom: A Natural History in 100 Objects and Platypus Matters: The Extraordinary Lives of Australian Mammals was published in 2022.

Let me start by saying that Jack Ashby is a marsupial loving eccentric and I just love him. His favourite marsupial is the platypus, followed by the echidna and then the wombat. He puts his special regard for these three creatures down to the fact that they “waddle”.

Ashby may well be a science nerd but he sounds like great fun around a barbie. In this book he makes the case that Australia’s wildlife is not a collection of oddities or creatures that can kill you as is so often presented in the media. He argues “why it matters that we think about how these animals are portrayed – how we talk about them, how we represent them on TV and in museums, and how we value them” . He states that “our unique wildlife is disappearing at a rate unparalleled by any other large region on Earth, and its conservation is surely tied to how these animals are understood.”

What could have very easily become another catalogue of interest only to other scientists or zoology students is fast paced, humorous and fascinating. Ashby’s respect for the platypus shines through with not only a discussion about their physiology, but also their history in relation to Indigenous Dreamtime, early colonial poetry, and an array of information which I have stored in my Trivia Bank.

For instance, newborn platypus ( or platypups) require mothers milk though platypus do not have nipples. They have milk patches. Who knew! The male is venomous, and war hero Keith Payne VC testifies that the pain from an affliction is worse than a gun shot wound.

And did you know that in 1943 Winston Churchill asked Prime Minister John Curtain for six live specimens as moral boosters and to promote the relationship between England and Australia during the middle of World War 2 ? (A Japanese submarine ruined those plans…..)

Facts about the other mammals are also intriguing : how echidnas have intimate relations, wombats pouches face backwards and why their poop is cubed, and taxidermy does not simply involve retaining an animals skin and stuffing it with tissue paper.

Many of these creatures aren’t well known around the world and even the qualified staff at international Natural History Museums are quite clueless. Did you know that Echidna’s back feet are backwards for digging purposes though taxidermied specimens do not reflect this, and the half a dozen Tasmanian Tigers around the world all have erections.

Great read. Jack, I’m in love…….Now feeling pumped for the next Trivia comp at the local bowlo.

Old Man Platypus

by AB Paterson

Far from the trouble and toil of town,
Where the reed beds sweep and shiver,
Look at a fragment of velvet brown –
Old Man Platypus drifting down,
Drifting along the river.

And he plays and dives in the river bends
In a style that is most elusive;
With few relations and fewer friends,
For Old Man Platypus descends
From a family most exclusive.

He shares his burrow beneath the bank
With his wife and his son and daughter
At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank;
And the bubbles show where our hero sank
To its entrance under water.

Safe in their burrow below the falls
They live in a world of wonder,
Where no one visits and no one calls,
They sleep like little brown billiard balls
With their beaks tucked neatly under.

And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl
As he goes on his journey lonely;
For he’s no relation to fish nor fowl,
Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl;
In fact, he’s the one and only!

Note :

Platypus are secretive creatures that travel alone. I have been fortunate to have spotted several in their natural habitat; once in the Royal National Park in Sydney and at a bush property on North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. I also live 1 km walking distance down a bush track to what was once a Platypus Reserve. I keep walking down that way in case I luck out and spot another……

Positive Outcomes : June

With blue skies returning throughout June I was finally able to extricate myself from the couch. So far it’s been Queensland’s coldest winter in over a hundred years which means I’ve been pushing forward if only to keep warm.

It’s been a productive month, including having bags packed for my travels north to warmer climes where crocs, leeches and Irukandji jellyfish are the norm.

Harry’s Book Cart is ready for delivery, though not convinced it wont turn into a carrier for his baru collection.(Indigenous for crocodiles).

I’ve been busy cooking marmalade from fruit that friends tend to let fall from the tree to rot. Never made it before, only ever eat it on scones, but have jars going everywhere: Tangelo and Lemon, Ginger and Lime, and Grapefruit. Orange and Whiskey next on the agenda.

Lots of small achievements and interesting outings which made June a beaut month. Even washed the windows and disinfected all kitchen cupboards. Is it sad that this provided joy?

Completing projects makes me feel useful. I need to feel useful. The Little Community Library had a Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover promotion and fellow Blogger, Gretchen from Thoughts Become Words, last year threw suggestions out into the Blogosphere about swapping books in aid of the Indigenous Literacy Foundation. On to it : more news next time.

However, have now hit the wall and need to head north for some R & R.

Happy Trails to all…….

Serendipity Part 2: The Airfix Kit

Before Covid I suffered a major attack of the vapours whilst in bed one evening scrolling through social media. The aeroplane in which my father and his Bomber Command Crew had flown during WW2 had become a newly released Airfix Kit. It was the unmistakeable nose art that alerted me. (Yes, an Airfix Kit : one of those model aeroplanes that comes in a thousand tiny pieces that you have to glue together. Very easy to suck up in the vacuum cleaner from personal experience…) 

Suffered a similar attack recently which I shared here having discovered that my father’s war diary outlining his missions flying over the skies of Germany ( as well as numerous dalliances with young women) had been earlier this year handed in to the Australian War Memorial as part of a Deceased Estate. Okay, so it was more of a hissy fit.

I have not been able to peruse said diary yet, though my youngest daughter had a two hour viewing session donned in a plastic coat and white gloves.

I had been chasing information about the meaning of the artwork. Depicting the crew members I’ve been trying to ascertain which of the figures represented my father. Since the death of my favourite aviation tragic and friend, writer Justin Sheedy, the military knowledge has been a bit light on so I joined a Bomber Command social media site. Oh, Justin mate, they speak a whole new language……

I also learned that after the completion of their Second Tour the crew, including my father,  were dispersed to become flight instructors or to other squadrons.

Further scrolling of the social media site and I was once again alerted by familiar nose art. SPOOKY. I learned that it was only weeks later that the plane with its new crew was lost over Germany. SPOOKY. An accompanying post from one of the crew’s daughters advised that her father had been taken to Prison Camp to sit out the war. SPOOKIER.

I’ve had kind offers of assistance to complete the Airfix Kit from site members. I purchased several kits, one for each of the grandchildren. It’s just a pity I never wear my glasses when I’m vacuuming.

The Lucky Galah by Tracy Sorensen : Book Review

This novel is an unexpected entry in the Gaia Reading Challenge and is most definitely on the quirky side. You see, the narrator is a female Galah by the name of Lucky who translates from “screech to English” the events in a remote coastal village on the north coast of Western Australia in the 1960’s, just prior to the moon landing.

Admittedly, I’m a sucker for Galahs. I had my first as a pet when I was 10, Andrew, followed by Sam, playmate Lah Lah , and then Lenny who replaced Sam when he died. Lenny was a hormonal teenager so I had to rehome the latter two birds when I downsized. Neighbours were unimpressed with the noise : Lenny was like a recalcitrant teenager and squawked whenever anything that moved came into sight.

Sam and Lah Lah. I had a pink dressing gown at the time so I’m sure Sam saw me as a large Galah.

The fictional town of Port Badminton is on the open mouth of the real Shark Bay which Charles Darwin noted on his first visit to Australia as having “excessively beautiful parrots“.

Lucky introduces herself before she begins to tell the story of Port Badminton’s role in the 1969 moon landing :

“I’m in my cage on the Kelly’s back verandah. I sit here, unheard, underestimated, biscuit crumbs on my beak. But fate is a curious thing. For just as Evan Johnson’s story is about to end (and perhaps with a giant leap), my story prepares to take flight…”

Lucky shares her journey, “nestling with her siblings in our hole in our  gum tree “ on the riverbank,  feeling “a human hand reach in, making exploratory movements” , to finding herself in a cage on a back verandah of one of the locals.

Her position on the verandah provides a view of the happenings within Port Badminton as well as all the characters ; the prawn fishermen, the dingo shooter, the town drunk, the aboriginals, as well as all the newer families to town who are  connected to the Dish, instrumental in keeping communication lines open to the astronauts.

Lucky focuses on the arrival of Evan Johnson, radio technician, and wife Linda who is keen to start a new life away from the Big Smoke. Of course, although Evan is distracted by his work, Linda is like a fish out of water and doesn’t cope.

The small town of Port Badminton becomes every small town, and the dynamics of its inhabitants are both familiar and the perfect combination of nostalgia and brutality. We feel the excitement for the scientists achieving their goals, and pity for the women who are simply making do.

The author includes authentic trivia from the 1960’s including pre dinner snacks of curly celery, feathered carrots, and radish flowers, cereal boxes containing collectable toys, home made Grappa at barbeques,  Brownies raising funds ( Bob-A-Job), and  washing the sheets in a copper each week. Who remembers those? *

The Galah is an intelligent animal, despite its reputation as a clown and a lightweight. A captive Galah needs constant activity if it is not to decline into depression. Tearing up books, page by page, is a mental, physical, and spiritual workout for me; as good as any gym, yogaclass or university”. Lucky’s most recent book is Donald Horne’s “The Lucky Country”.

Then there are the wonderful descriptions of the environment and landscape. ” Tropical Cyclone Steve, a male cyclone with a beer belly and long, grey, windswept hair, thongs flapping at his feet, formed out of the ether somewhere in the Pacific” and “she watches the water suck back, back and then hears the flute-like sound, a roar, as the water comes crashing in again, sending a giant white fountain into the air. It drops and chases itself back down its lair in streaming white foam rivulets. The gurgling, sucking noises are thrilling.”

This read is a gem. It is not as simple as it seems with layers of storytelling including the frailty of relationships, expectations, and our interconnectedness with the environment as well as with animals. The descriptions of both the natural environment and the wildlife that live within it are totally authentic. Loved it!

*We used the copper for cooking freshly caught sand crabs and prawns. Must have been worth a few bob as it was the only item stolen from the family home after my father passed.

Washing Copper.

* NOTE :

Galah is also a derrogatory term that means a “loud-mouthed idiot.” Named specifically for the galah, a native Australian bird that makes a distinctive (and quite funny-sounding) call.

“Oh, Scotty, ya bloody galah! What are you ON ABOUT?!”

from the Urban Dictionary.