By Donna Kelly

I have been wondering how this year’s council elections will go with no ward boundaries.

The decision to remove them was made this year by the Victorian Electoral Commission, with input from councils and ratepayers.

Thirty councils will change to a single-member ward structure and four councils will change to a multi-member ward structure – Buloke Shire Council, Northern Grampians Shire Council, Surf Coast Shire Council and Yarriambiack Shire Council.

The final five councils will change to an unsubdivided structure – Campaspe Shire Council, Gannawarra Shire Council, Moorabool Shire Council, Strathbogie Shire Council – and Hepburn Shire Council.

So we keep the same number of councillors but we all vote for anyone from any ward. Well, the wards don’t exist after this election, so we vote for anyone from any town, hamlet, farm…

But I just don’t know how that will work. For example, in our little town of Glenlyon, which used to be in Holcombe Ward, we voted for people we knew cared about the region – hopefully because they lived there.

And because all the Holcombe Ward people were voting for someone in Holcombe Ward, someone in Holcombe Ward ended up on the council – hopefully pushing for the rights of our little ward.

But now there is no requirement for a certain amount of councillors to be voted for any area. So, for example, with the majority of the Hepburn Shire ratepayers living in Daylesford and Creswick, I would imagine the majority of those elected will be from Daylesford and Creswick, that just makes sense.

But who will put their hand up to help with a battle in Glenlyon, or Little Hampton, or Hepburn? I know, the councillors will be asked to represent all of their constituents but human nature being what it is, wouldn’t you help your neighbour first?

And surely this no-ward structure means the only people being voted in are those with the highest profile already – like Mayor Cr Brian Hood who is oft quoted in media reports.

Not sure who else – but you know, Alla Wolf-Tasker, who I am sure would never want the role, would have a good chance, or one of the local former AFL footballers could be in like Flynn.

Sadly old John Smith, who lives down the road at nowhere’s-ville, despite being a great bloke, really keen on transparency, knows all about due diligence and finance and has plenty of time on his hands to make a communnity contribution, doesn’t have a snow flake’s chance in hell.

Money is the other thing that could come into play. If you are watching free-to-air television at the moment, you would have seen myriad commercials about some convention Clive Palmer is holding throughout Australia – with some American guy coming out because our two countries are so similar with the same great values. Hmmm. Yeah, nah.

Anyway, love him, or like me, loathe him, Palmer has money – although his Queensland workers were left wondering where it was – and has tried before to buy an election with campaign dough.

So, if a local resident wanted hard enough to get voted onto the Hepburn Shire Council, they could up their profile if they had enough cash to spend a bit on advertising themselves. And that just seems a bit unfair to me.

Cash may be king, but we should be living in a republic by now. Please note, under commerical law, The Local must accept advertising from anyone. We can start your campaign any time you are ready…

Anyway, it will be an interesting election and I am keen to see who is going to put their hand up. I did once you know. Way back in 2016 I guess. Not sure what I was thinking but I failed miserably.

It was the day of the election and the counting was under way. I was still a bit hopeful and a bit “oh no, what have I done” when a woman wearing a hat covered in fake birds stopped me outside Coles in Daylesford.

“You came last in the count,” she announced, quite loudly. I laughed. Thought she was joking and replied: “Oh, no, they are just doing the count now…” “Yes, I was there,” she said. “You polled last.”

So a nice comedown, from a woman in a hat covered in birds, although I did get enough votes to get my registration money back. And to be truthful, while I was a bit miffed, I did think later I had dodged a bullet.

Mind you it was before Covid so there were plenty of long drives to council meetings in Clunes and Creswick, in the dead of winter, through sleet and snow. Now, it’s all on Zoom out of the Daylesford Town Hall.

If you decide to run, I would love to hear from you. You know, just for the scoop. And do I have a campaign package just right for you. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

What an extraordinary thing Ros Pyers has done. Generously donated to not just one but four organisations.

And that is after a lifetime of already donating her time as a volunteer to even more groups – and working as an educator, surely one of the most important roles in our community.

So it is no wonder the beneficiaries of her generosity are Hepburn Primary School and Daylesford Primary School along with the Daylesford Community Brass Band (pictured above) – her love of music shining through, and Daylesford and District Historical Society – another love, history.

As Hepburn Shire Mayor Cr Brian Hood, who attended a small celebration of the donations last week said, the impact of Ros’s generosity and compassion will be felt for many years to come.

“This is such a wonderful gesture and one that will make an incredible difference to our children and the wider community.”

Now I don’t know the Pyers couple very well – although in recent times I have spent a bit of time, in his role with the Daylesford Highland Gathering, with Ros’s husband of 67 years Keith.

I also know Keith as the go-to Justice of the Peace, who during those dark days of Covid, continued to offer his services with a desk and a couple of chairs on the verandah of the couple’s home. That is commitment and kindness, which is what Keith and Ros seem to be all about.

Keith was also a teacher and involved as a volunteer in many organisations – and has spent a lot of time and effort ensuring Ros’s donations came to fruition.

Congratulations to you both, and thank you from myself and your community. It would be wonderful if your actions encourage others to do something similar. It certainly has me thinking. Oh, and a very happy 90th to you both!

I would also like to thank our journo Narelle Groenhout for writing the story, on page 3 if you skipped past, with such love and kindness. I would have loved to have gone along myself but was away – and just knew this had Narelle’s name all over it.

You might remember Narelle writing about the terrible accident in Daylesford last year – she was there when it happened and felt compelled to share her feelings, again, all about love and compassion. And just between us, she and her husband Pat, did amazing, although they would never tell you that.

Finally, I really have enjoyed putting this edition together. Sometimes, to be honest, it’s work but this time it was just fantastic to see so many stories, and advertising, coming through. Like we are really back.

We started off with 28 pages and then more stories arrived, so I bumped it up to 32 pages and then more stories arrived so I made the decision on Friday to go up to 36 pages. Hopefully it will stay there, because I am running out of steam now.

But it’s a great edition and nice to get back into after our break in Japan. We had a great time, and our grand-nephew loved it too. He really “got” Japan which not every one does.

And here is a final Japan pic I just had to share. We found ourselves in a bar, strange that, and as I chatted to the manager in Japanese, he said he had a surprise for us. He disappeared and returned with a geisha. True story.

But Kyle was just a little too enamoured. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

A long, long time ago, just after the dinosaurs disappeared and the wheel was invented, I lived in Japan.

It was a very different world. There was no internet, well there probably was but I didn’t know about it, no Facebook, no Snapchat, no email, no Instagram.

We communicated by writing aerogrammes, filling every tiny piece of the very light, and light blue, paper to make sure we got our money’s worth. You could also make a phone call but they were incredibly expensive so you wrote everything down you were going to say so there were no blank bits or ummms and ahhhs.

Anyway, I had been to uni and got a BA or Bachelor of Arts, which my Dad also called Bugger All. I like to think he was joking and it was the days when the government paid for the degree. But still not sure. He was an engineer after all.

And then I found work at a newspaper as a cadet journalist in Rosebud on the Mornington Peninsula. My career was going well and over the next two years I moved to Frankston and then to the Mornington Leader where I was the editor.

Yep, at the grand old age of 22 I was chatting with MP Peter Reith as part of my role.

And then Mum found a newspaper advertisement. The Ministry of Education, or Mombusho, in Japan were looking for teachers of English. You needed a degree but no Japanese. I applied and missed out.

But about a month later I had a call from the Ministry saying a position had come up, about an hour out of Tokyo, and would I like it?

The next minute, or so it seemed, I had said farewell to a boyfriend of six years, told Mum to come and visit and I was on a plane to Narita Airport.

I was picked up after a nine-hour flight by four, very stern looking, Japanese men, none of whom spoke English, and we spent the next couple of hours sitting awkwardly in a limo before I was dropped off at my apartment in the smallish town of Ome.

They told me, in a sort of mime, they would pick me up the next morning at 7.30am and take me to the Board of Education, and promptly left.

I think I was pretty much in a state of shock. I had never lived away from home, spoke no Japanese and had left a fun journo job for the unknown of Japan.

I looked out the balcony at the snow covered mountain over the road, turned on the television, watched as Arnie sold some products in halting Japanese, turned it off, and looked around the two rooms which were my new home.

My new employees had already pulled out a futon mattress from the cupboard, and popped sheets and a duvet on top, and I think they left me a loaf of bread, being a foreigner and all, for a breakfast of toast.

Luckily I had a Western-style toilet and there was a lovely deep bath.

The next morning I got up early and was ready and waiting for my ride. We went straight to the office, no sight-seeing going on, and I met all the managers and took part in my first all Japanese meeting. It only went for three hours.

If you think Australian office meetings can be dull, try it in a language you don’t understand.

I also asked for the bathroom and nearly cried when I saw the Asian-style squat toilets. I decided to hold on until something better turned up but after a few days realised I could do some internal damage if I only peed at home.

The next day I started at my first junior high school where the students spoke no English and neither did the English teachers. It was a bit of a struggle at times, especially when the students asked if I was a virgin.

“Yes or no,” the English teacher prompted. Hmmm. I said “no” but I am from Franganistan, where a woman in her 30s is generally the grandmother. Only Frankston people can make these jokes.

What’s a woman in a white tracksuit? The bride. But I digress.

Japan turned out to be the biggest, most fun adventure of my life. I stayed for three years, made loads of friends, learnt the language and ended up being a tour guide back home in Cairns and on the Gold Coast.

I have so many fantastic memories and until Covid hit pretty much found my way back there almost every year, dragging Kyle along after we met in the 90s. And he loves it just as much as me, although you do need to visit to really “get” the place.

It’s all odd and fun and exciting at the same time. And sometimes scary. I was followed home a few times by strange men, had a few others on trains doing things under newspapers that are quite illegal, and worked for a friend in a “hostess” bar where I thought I was just serving drinks but some of the patrons had other ideas.

Mum loved it too. Kept turning up every few months to outstay her welcome – she didn’t care. The last time we went together was when she turned 80.

She had been really crook, almost gone, and then pretty miraculously recovered. We went during cherry blossom season, rented a tatami mat and sat on the ground drinking Asahi beers.

Mum laid down on her back and sighed. I asked if she was OK and she said she was just enjoying the sky and the trees.

I am in Japan this week and missing her so much. She would have loved one more visit. Love you Mum. Just sayin’…

by Donna Kelly

I love a cautionary tale. But not as much as I love a deserved refund. And I have two down and one to go. So feeling pretty happy.

The first one is from a furniture retailer. A big one. OK, Early Settler. I love this franchise. Really nice, interesting stuff. Great staff. But not so good at refunds.

A while back I bought some big, gold, clunky lights. I thought they would look great in the school. They cost a bit but I don’t spend much so, you know, why not?

Anyway, I got them home and then a few weeks went by and a sparky came to install them. But he just looked and told me I would need to reinforce the roof. Now that was a step too far, so I called the store and said I would return them. That was fine but because it was a big item I would lose 20 per cent and also could only have a voucher not a refund.

I must have been off my game because I agreed but recently I started thinking about them and if they were actually fit for purpose. So I called, and called and called. No answer. Then I emailed, and emailed and emailed. And finally someone called back. I told them the lights were not fit for purpose because under the pub test no one would buy lights thinking they needed to reinforce their roof.

They agreed, sort of, but said because they were big items they couldn’t do anything about the 20 per cent loss. (This is a furniture retailer, it’s all pretty much big stuff.) Then they said because I had taken too long I couldn’t get a refund, just the voucher. I finally cut and pasted something from the ACCC about the customer being able to choose a repair, replacement or a refund.

Suddenly the emails started coming thick and fast with the title “ACCC action pending”, which is not what I wrote, and I got the full refund within days. Noice.

The second was with the Bendigo Bank. Not the local branch, more operations. We asked for a credit card to be cancelled, I think it was misplaced, and instead they cancelled a totally different card which we never use. Something to do with the trading account.

Anyway, it meant we stopped earning Frequent Flyer points, which was annoying, but it also meant we got hit with a biggish subscription from a company for a service which we no longer wanted, and were not using, but had not got around to cancelling because we thought the card was cancelled.

So we called the Daylesford branch and the manager assured us all would be rectified but after a lot of argy bargy we only got the points back and were told by operations the bill was our problem, not theirs.

I even got an email saying, very oddly, “unfortunately we do not have a valid chargeback right to be able to dispute this transaction on your behalf as you have not provided any supporting documentation to validate your claim that you will be receiving a refund from the merchant”.

The whole point was that we were NOT receiving a refund. I wrote back with that and finally the money came through.

Last one is with Myer. Again, great store. Working there got me through high school and university. Anyway, I bought some very funky black cutlery, and because it was so nice, I also bought it in gold.

Only thing is that the colour wears off. So instead of lasting a few yearss, my colourful purchase is already a pretty boring grey.

Myer was a bit better but wrote “once the return reaches our store, our returns team will inspect it for any faults, and if needed, the product will undergo a repair process. If it cannot be repaired, we will proceed with your preference of a refund or replacement”.

I wrote back “my choice is a refund – check with the ACCC”.

The refund is on its way. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

So, we just hit the 300th edition of The Local. That’s a pretty big milestone for a little local paper. Well, not so little. This edition is 104 pages. Massive.

It created a little bit of consternation at the office. You see, our printer can only do 80 pages – something to do with staples. So as we reached 72 pages of real estate, The Local side of things was looking a bit sad. Just 8 pages for all the news, well no news, just adverts.

I was reaching for a chardonnay when I realised there was a solution. Two publications. And insert House.Land.Home.Premium into The Local. Problem solved.

And that is how we are at 104 pages. Seventy-two of real estate and 32 of local news. No wonder I am tired.

So what do you write about in a column for such a noteworthy event? Hmmm.

I have decided to go rogue and talk about three of some of the most fun times in my career. All which happened while working on the Centralian Advocate in Alice Springs. A corker of a paper where, when I arrived, was told by the editor to park any “Mexican ideas”, which I think meant any progressive thoughts about indigenous issues. I kid you not. Anyway, racism aside, here are my three top fun times.

First, when we first arrived, (and of course Kyle came along) I was sent to the Camel Cup. Yep, annual event, good fun. But being youngish, and having no money, we looked at the beer prices and decided just one would have to do. But then we found the Media Tent. Free booze! (Remember, these are the good old/bad old days.)

So we got stuck in and then went to check out the races. And watched as a jockey fell off his camel and dropped a little pouch of something. Being kind, and street smart, Kyle collected it up and returned it to the jockey who then asked if we would like to partake of a little gunja. Why not? Of course, like Bill, we never inhaled.

Anyway, after a bit we wandered off, me still holding a glass of chardy, to try and find the way to the highway but eventually came across some Aboriginal people who kindly told us we were heading the wrong way into the bush and pointed us back to the road where we hitchhiked a lift in the back of a ute.

The driver dropped us at the Todd River and Kyle jumped out first, gesturing for me to follow. I leapt into his arms, a tad lighter at that stage of life, and he caught me, before we went hurtling down into the dry river bed.

Well trained, I jumped up, fullish glass still in hand and off we stumbled home to Caterpillar Court. Fun times.

Alice Springs was also Ground Zero for all the nutters in Australia. They headed for the local newspaper office to talk about their adventures and trips – on bikes, on pogo sticks, on unicycles (Sam is not a nutter), and even on ponies.

Luckily we had a young cadet, Crispin, and it was his job to take on all the people who thought they were the only ones to ever make the trek across the centre of Australia.

One day we had a couple come in who said they had spent the night on a space ship before their arrival into Alice. “Great,” I said. “Just one moment.” And I ducked out the back calling out “Crispy, one for you.” Only seasoned journos know how nice it is to duck shove a nut job.

Final story. A very nice female journo was talking to a contact who we all knew she fancied. She chatted and flirted over the phone as she sort of interviewed him and then finished the call – with – drum roll please: “All I need from you now is a headjob.” I kid you not. She looked like a deer in headlights, dropped the phone down and fell to the floor.

Being the deputy editor, I said she had to call back immediately and ask for a head shot. She refused. The story never ran. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

Wow. Daylesford is the fourth most welcoming place on earth. Who knew. Well the good folk at Booking.com and they are busy spreading the word.

I know, it is easy to be cynical. A few people are saying things like: “Have they had a look at Grapevine?” or “Have they ever been in the Coles carpark on a Friday afternoon?”

I get it, not everyone is welcoming all the time. But I reckon that Daylesford and actually the Central Highlands is a pretty awesome place.

When we moved up here 19 years ago we loved the friendly nature of the people on the streets and in the shops and in the pubs. We chatted to strangers, made new friends and enjoyed wandering around the region, finding things to do and places to see.

And I will say one thing, it was a big change from Frankston, or Franganistan, as we born and bred people are allowed to call the city. I would take a pub in the Central Highlands over a pub in Frankston any day of the week. Sorry Franga.

When I saw the accolade for Daylesford I did stop and wonder if people were still as welcoming and I reckon they are. For our front cover photo we gathered a few people up.

Neil from the Bowlo always offers a big welcome whenever we are there and I get a hug and a kiss now Covid has wandered away, and Roger from Herbal Lore always has a smile. (Roger even made and gave away free sanitiser during Covid. Talk about above and beyond.)

Emma from Springs Medical always has time for a chat and young Pasha from Daylesford Meat Co. stopped after the photo shoot to talk us through the best way to cook a steak.

Then I just had a quick look through this edition. There’s Raman who’s only been here a short while but spends his time creating food and friendships. Check out page 20. And read page 5 about Rob and Annie from Mind Your Pet who for 19 years have provided welcome advice to pet owners.

I used to work next door at the old Advocate office and we shared hundreds of greetings and smiles and coffees – with Theo and the late Geof. Good times.

Oh, the Scottish Country Dancers on page 7 want more people to get involved and “everyone is welcome” regardless of their ability.

Then there’s the Historic Vehicle Show coming up at Clunes, which Jon says “is a time for everybody to come and enjoy themselves and relax”. Go back to page 8 if you haven’t already read the story.

I guess at the end of the day, if we are welcoming and also get some good publicity to increase our visitor numbers, that’s a great thing. I know we sometimes grumble about the tourists but we do need them if the region is going to thrive again.

We are also competing against many other one-day from metro Melbourne drives like the Mornington Peninsula and the Dandenong Ranges, and plenty of other overnight destinations including interstate and overseas again.

So if we can be welcoming, and it takes no longer than being taciturn, in fact, I think it’s quicker, why not?

I love that people come here and have the chance to enjoy what we probably take for granted too often. Friendly faces, fresh air, great stores, fantastic food and a wonderful free paper. Not many places have their own local newspaper these days.

Just sayin’…or maybe you’re welcome.

By Donna Kelly

It’s been a long time since I wore a mask but I did recently. It was on a little New Year break on a shortish flight to Queensland.

Covid was riding another wave and I thought “why risk it?” and donned my mask at Tullamarine. I thought I could just wear it on the plane and then when everyone had settled down, take it off and sip a chardonnay.

Wrong. I felt like I was on the Covid Express. From every corner of the plane came a cough or a sneeze or a snuffle. It was like an Emergency Room Orchestra, a splutter here, an ah-choo there.

If someone had started farting it would have made the trifecta. So I kept my N95 mask on for the two hours and decided to forego the beverage. If you know me, not an easy choice…

But it got me thinking about the pandemic. Not that I would ever want to go back there – and does it feel like a bad dream now to anyone else? – but some things were OK.

Wearing masks while shopping, for example. If you wore a decent mask, and in mid-winter, and let’s face it, mid-summer, a beanie, you were pretty much unrecognisable.

So you could do the whole supermarket run without a chat in sight. Bliss. Sometimes…you know what I mean.

Masks also meant you could have a glass of wine with lunch and still visit the doctor without the risk of being asked about your alcohol intake.

Of course that is no more than two standard drinks a day, with two days off each week. Of course.

And then there were the lockdowns. Boring yes but Kyle did manage to perfect two dishes, seafood linguine (thanks Claire) and a lovely ramen, he created on his own.

He only got it wrong once when he used a vegan chicken stock. Makes you feel better but just not the same.

I did not do the sourdough thing, too hard to keep feeding the stupid starter, but I did learn how to cook perfect baguettes. And I only burnt myself once.

We have a stock standard oven so I put a bowl of water in the bottom to create steam. Of course
I forgot when I opened the oven and out it blew. If you are interested, in the recipe not the steam burns, Google Chef John and baguettes.

We kept working so we didn’t get to clean out the pantry but we did learn that while you couldn’t buy chicken to save yourself, no-one wanted duck.

So that was a nice change from the tins of tomatoes and bags of rice I had stocked up on. I don’t
know why. Herd mentality perhaps.

There was also some time out which was OK. We got to know the characteristics of every magpie that landed in the garden – and even named them.

I think it was about then we started realising we were going downhill with our mental health. Sort
of kidding, sort of not. I mean, when Kyle calls out “hello, Uncle Bulgaria”, life has taken a turn for the worse.

Anyway, it’s coming up for our next vaccine, number five or six I think. I know a lot of people are not worrying anymore but what’s another vaccine in the scheme of things. It doesn’t harm anyone else so I just go along and get it done. And if I think I need to wear a mask I don’t mind popping one on.

I think on the plane about 10 per cent of the passengers were wearing them, which is about the same number of people who have not had Covid. Number crunching – anyone?

I just wish the people wearing the masks were also the people on the plane coughing and spluttering.

Yes it might be a summer cold but I don’t want one of them either. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

Sometimes I wonder if the world is going mad. Or is it me? Probably me.

During the Christmassy period we looked at footage from one of our cameras and found someone wandering on the property, with their dog, later seen peering through the front door.

We were away for a few days at the time so I posted the image on social media and asked if anyone knew “this clown” and asked them to email me if they did.

I mean, in the country things do go missing, so you need to be a bit careful. And Glenlyon has a pretty nice community who looks out for each other. So, just putting the word out as well. Who knows who’s next.

Then I got an email from “the clown”.

He said he was really sorry, was just interested in having a quick look and promised not to return. All good.

Nah. Of course he didn’t apologise. He said he was just wanting a look at the school, which everyone knows is up for rent while we try town life (as in Daylesford) for a bit, without the agent. Strike one.

Then he said he entered through the main entrance but of course another one of the cameras spotted him walking across the yard. Strike two.

Finally he said having a beer while walking a dog under our Eureka flag on our property was acceptable in his world. Strike three.

I wrote back and mentioned that in any logical world it was trespassing, we have an agent for a reason and a simple sorry would have been appreciated.

I think that was a pretty reasonable reaction. Nothing too crazy. Told the police not to worry about it. And didn’t think much more about it.

Until last week when I noticed a comment from a new participant under the original “anyone know this clown” saying they think I am the clown. WTAF? Apparently people should be allowed to wander on private property. Who knew?

I wonder if anyone has told the police, lawyers and the courts this snippet of information. Going to make a hell of a difference to the court lists.

The other thing that was a bit nuts this week was someone posting, again on social media, that a certain business was not offering great service. Just their personal opinion – no facts to back anything up. Who does this stuff?

Wouldn’t you just mention it to their face, or send an email or even just stop going there. Nah, rather be a keyboard warrior.

The annoying thing was, and there was a torrent of comments saying how wonderful this business actually is, it was also one of the many essential services that saw us through the pandemic. And they did it really well then too.

As did many other businesses, trying to survive yes, but also dealing with a pretty hard-to-handle public at times. I remember one staffer in a shop saying to me that the big takeaway from Covid was who were the arseholes.

So, although Covid is slowly wandering away, or at least not as scary as it was once, a big shout out to those businesses who kept their doors open and made us feel welcome and safe. And cared about QR codes, licences and wearing masks and providing sanitiser.

We, and many others, remember you. That goes to Tony too, our delivery driver, who fortnight in and out, and weekly for a bit there, delivered local good news to our readers.

Oh, and to our staff who when we said we had to let people go because we were doing it too hard, offered to work for free, to help us ride out that initial storm.

Let’s be kind everyone. Been a tough few years. And everyone has their own recovery time. But please, unless you would like to rent a wonderful old school, keep off my property. Just sayin’… (Oh, I deleted my social media post.)

By Donna Kelly

First of all, Happy New Year! It’s 2024 already – and the years just keep rolling around. My lovely Nan told me once that time goes faster as you get older, and it’s true. But getting older is also a privilege not open to everyone.

So who’s complaining.

This edition came out on January 1 and, as usual, we decided on a retrospective edition with just a few of the stories we wanted to share again, including the sad loss of a couple of wonderful community stalwarts. Vale Harold and Serge.

Of course, you can’t cover everything and some things are best left in the past.

We mostly try to be a good news publication but it’s hard sometimes. You know what I mean. It’s not that we are not thinking about those situations but just not bringing them to the fore. I hope everyone is OK.

And I hope you have enjoyed the past year of editions of The Local – we love putting it all together and have a fantastic crew who do all the hard yards. Thanks to all of them for their work, commitment and, most of all, friendship and support.

Also thanks to our advertisers. I hope that you do support them. It is not because of us, but because of them, that you have a lovely free read each fortnight. Have a look through the pages each edition and if you can thank them by using their services it would be much appreciated.

Now, as I said most of this edition is looking back but we do have new adverts, check them out, and also a bit of a distressing story on the potential closure of the Hepburn Wildlife Shelter by the Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action. Or DEECA. Formerly DELWP.

If you check out our story on page 4 by journo Eve Lamb you will read that the departmental threats come after the shelter, that’s been operating for 22 years, has refused to reapply to renew its authorisation (or licence) due to the imposition of conditions which its operators say are “unrealistic, unreasonable and absurd”.

Those operators are Gayle Chappell and Jon Rowdon. Both very experienced and trained wildlife carers who have basically put their lives on hold for those 22 years and dedicated themselves to saving wildlife. Day in, day out, night in, night out, theytake in injured wildlife and nurse them back to health.

There is no funding. They are helped by amazing volunteers who wash and dry bedding, make up formulas, feed animals around the clock, provide compassion, raise funds and collect donations of
sheets and blankets and anything that could possibly help an animal in need.

As far as I know no injured animal has ever been knocked back. They all get the care, and love, that they need in the most stressful time of their lives. I remember seeing Jon in town during the 2009 bushfires and he looked exhausted. Fifteen years ago – and still they continue with their life’s work.

I don’t know what’s going on with the department, but surely the fix is a helping hand not a fist. Maybe some of the department’s cost to change its name could have gone to wildlife shelters. I don’t think an injured joey gives a stuff if the overriding wildlife body is DEECA or DELWP.

Hmmm. Maybe if the shelter is shut down we take any injured wildlife to the nearest DEECA office? And if it’s after five, perhaps we drop them off at a manager’s home for the night. I am sure they wouldn’t mind doing the 2am feed.

This is just bureaucracy gone mad. This is an essential service. You help not hinder. Gee, a thank you might even be nice as well, for 22 years of service to the community. Oh, stop the press, read page 4 about a fundraiser at the Hepburn Golf Club! It’s such a great cause. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

Kyle and I are having an orphans’ Christmas this year. I literally am an orphan now, and one of his parents lives in another state and one in another country.

Now it may sound sad, especially if you are used to big celebrations, but we have had some of our best Christmases alone.

Two were in Queensland, one in Cairns and one on the Gold Coast. The Cairns one was quirky. We bundled up some chicken and bread rolls and champagne (simple tastes) and headed to some waterfalls known as the Crystal Cascades.

It was really hot and muggy and we ate and drank a little and then decided to go for a swim. But the water was dark and we kept thinking about crocodiles and in the end we freaked ourselves out and packed up the picnic.

We then headed back into town, watched a James Bond movie at the cinema and then had dinner at a Chinese restaurant – which was packed with Chinese tourists oddly enough. Wouldn’t you think they would be at an Australian restaurant sampling kanga and emu meat. Eating the coat of arms of Australia.

Quick fact. The emu and the kangaroo were chosen for the coat of arms because neither of them can walk backwards. So Australia is always moving forwards. Hmm.

The second Queensland orphans’ Christmas saw me working for the day. I was a Japanese speaking driver guide – back in the 90s – and the day started with picking up my itinerary from a darkened Gold Coast office about 3am then driving to collect my passengers from Brisbane Airport about 4.30am.

Then it was a day of fun, taking them to their hotels, then off to a sheep/ whipcracking place for breakfast, then Movieworld for the day, then out to dinner.

Kyle, who was not working that day, kept calling asking when I would be back. I finally turned up about 9pm and found a veritable seafood feast spread out on the floor as an indoor picnic. It was fantastic but had not been without difficulty.

Kyle had gone to buy all the goods from a local supermarket but at the checkout his card was declined. The staffer, instead of saying “do you have another card?” said nastily “you don’t have any money in your account”. So Kyle said something equally unpleasant back and stormed off.

Of course, he rallied, worked out his finances and returned, after a shift change, and shopped again. He is nothing if not determined.

Not sure what we will do this year, but I am sure lots of food and drink will be involved. And a few calls to friends and family. Maybe a present or two.

It’s been another funny, peculiar, not ha-ha, year. Covid is still sort of wandering around, but at least we don’t have that same fear which I don’t think anyone from other states understand.

And that terrible accident has taken its toll on many people and continues to be in the headlines.

So I hope you get a chance to have a bit of a silly season. I think we all need a bit of silliness or joy or whatever makes you smile. And drink the champagne (unless you are an abstainer!) and eat the pavlova and spread a bit of good cheer.

Our next edition is out January 1, 2024. The New Year. So this is my chance to say thanks for reading, for advertising, for supporting and for enjoying a publication that is all about Connecting the Community.

Have a wonderful Christmas, or whatever it is that you do, and catch you in the New Year. I hope it’s a good one, without any fear. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

I thought Heather Mutimer’s story on Madame Xenia Borovansky, the niece of the great Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, and who moved to Daylesford, was fascinating. It’s on page 13 (this edition of TL if you want a read).

You never know who has been/is here, in this region. I often wonder about the former life of the Glenlyon Primary School. I used to be able to imagine the kids running around outside, sitting in two classes by the two blackboards, things slowly changing all the way to gaining pen licences.

Now, of course, it’s more of a house, and it takes some imagination to think about kids in the kitchen and living area – but their footprints are still there. Some would be long gone, others still living in the region with their schoolday memories.

Hopefully they were halcyon days, and not too terrible with a mean teacher wielding a strap. And if they were I hope they went on to bigger and brighter things.

It’s not all about schooling, as we all know. I know lots of people who wish they had been encouraged to take up a trade rather than stay at school for that piece of paper.

Although, by the age I am now, which I need not divulge, many are keen to get off the tools with sore knees and backs and joints that need little groans to get moving in the morning. Still better than the alternative.

I also really liked Eve Lamb’s story on The Daylesford Foundation. This is a fantastic group of people who just get in there and get things done. They don’t ask for publicity, they don’t ask for recognition. The only reason we managed to finally get a story on them is because they want more young people to know about their scholarships.

So if you know someone who needs a hand, a young person who could do with a leg up, then get in touch with them. They are good people and they know how to make a difference.

I also loved chatting to signwriter Robbie Holbery for the story on page 5. We talked for about 40 minutes about this and that. Yes, he’s a great signwriter but was also with the Carlton Football Club, had the Hawthorn Football Club asking for him to recreate a shop window for its museum and was a regular runner in the Stawell Gift.

He keeps to beautiful copperplate and does everything by hand. Doesn’t even use anything to steady his hands as he works on the glass windows of shops from Melbourne to Daylesford and anywhere in between.

And he takes the time to chat to passers-by, loves a compliment and is very complimentary about everyone he meets. In that 40 minutes he never had a negative word to say about anyone or anything.

And who but a wonderful person would spend Covid, not cleaning out their pantry, or lamenting the state of the world, but writing wonderful copperplate letters of hope to complete strangers from old phone directories and posting them off without a return address? What a great guy.

Finally, I received some very nice notes about the last edition of The Local. It was a tough one to write, with the accident still very much vivid in everyone’s minds, and from what people said, we did well. We wrote with compassion and sincerity and love. And that’s what we try to do each edition. Well, less of the love perhaps, but certainly the sincerity.

We really do try to “Connect the Community” and I think we did that in the last edition. I hope you are getting ready for the silly season. Sometimes we need a bit of silliness. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly
I think most people heard about the tragedy in Daylesford last week. An alleged robbery and someone dying as a consequence. I don’t want to go into it more than that.
But I watched in horror at the social media onslaught – photos of the scene, jokes about the death, talk of karma and assumptions of drug use which may or may not be right.

Now of course you can’t defame a deceased person. And they can’t be charged. So it’s open slather time for some. But honestly, there are many things to consider, perhaps the first being humanity.
We are all pretty much just a few steps from helplessness and even homelessness.
Losing a job, an illness, not having a supportive network, a few bill payments missed.
Then there’s the slippery slope of drugs and alcohol. Most people I know have tried
a few drugs at times, some continue with them daily with no real side effects. And
everyone I know has a drink now and again, also many daily. But for some it becomes
a problem and it’s an easy break from the stress of life. Maybe bad choices follow,
maybe they don’t. But we are all still human.

Then there’s the family. I don’t know where they are but I do know the internet
reaches everywhere. And they will probably read comments they don’t need to see.
Everyone is someone’s son or daughter, and often a brother or sister, or a husband or
wife, or mum or dad. Few are immune to the slippery slope.
Finally, there are the people who were involved. This incident is now part of their
life. And they are locals who certainly don’t need to see this over and over again in
their Facebook pages.
We live in the wonderful region of the Central Highlands and most of us have
great lives. We work, play, have friends, gather for festivals and spend our money
at some pretty nice cafes and restaurants. But behind the facade are people doing it
tough. Just talk to Michelle at the Community Op Shop about the people they help
daily. Or the wonderful 5000 Club and Good Grub Club volunteers feeding the
masses and providing a chance at companionship for a few hours a week.
Maybe chat to the churches who offer clothing during winter to people perhaps
sleeping in their cars or couch surfing. And yes, people sleep in their cars in our
region. There’s also a nice spot behind the Daylesford visitor centre that gets a bit of
use, which I find ironic as the cashed-up visitors head to the front doors to find out
how to spend their money.
Look, I am not preaching. I am a journalist and have done some stories in my
time that I am not particularly proud of. All quite legal and above board but some
that kept me awake at night as I wondered how the family would feel reading the
news about a wayward relative in the morning. It was sometimes awful and I would
never dream of doing that now – and that’s why we concentrate on good news.
But these days social media can take things to a whole new level. Everyone has
a camera on them, everyone is ready to comment, everyone wants to know what
happened as quickly as possible, even if it is still under investigation. I get that people
are curious but maybe just take a breath, think about your own family, and how you
would like them to be treated. I am guessing with respect.

Oh, The Rex report. I talking to my brother about it. He is in Queensland and
works for a council. “They should take it to a council watchdog,” he said. “We have
those in Queensland.” “Yes,” I said. “We have them in Victoria too. It’s with them.”
Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly
I received some mail late last week. Snail mail. A padded envelope. Small. I opened it and inside was a blank piece of A4 paper. Nothing written on it, just a USB stick taped on. Hmmm, I thought. That’s going to be interesting.
And it would have been. But when I opened the document it was marked “confidential” so, of course, I quickly shut it down.
It was a leaked report by the Local Government Inspectorate. Yep, the one on Hepburn Shire Council and dealings with The Rex. And a few other things. The one that the Inspectorate refuses to release but never says why. As in the email I received last week after asking again why the report had not been released.
“Good morning Donna, Again, thank you for your enquiry. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in my previous email two weeks ago, we are unable to share any information at this time.” They are nothing if not polite.
I also talked to Hepburn Shire Council to see if they had asked again for the report to be released – just to clear up a few things. That would be nice, after all this time. CEO Bradley Thomas said the council had been in regular contact with the Local Government Inspectorate regarding the release of the report and “we have been calling for the release for some time – we can’t speculate on the reasons for the delay, but encourage you to contact the LGI directly”.
Now, I don’t know if I can share this document. I feel like it is in the public interest for ratepayers to know what happened with the purchase of The Rex. After all, councils don’t have money, it is our money. And there is the truth defence.
But The Local is not a big newspaper with lots of lawyers and money to back it up. Actually things got a little tight over the past few years. So if I publish it, or excerpts because it is pretty long, and I/The Local get sued, it would probably be the end of your free read. Even if I/The Local eventually won, because the court costs would kill us off. Which is really unfair because the report is probably the best story I have ever had the chance to publish. I reckon it would be a real page-turner. But I will ask people who are smarter than me about that, so watch this space.
But in the meantime, I don’t get why the Local Government Inspectorate is being so cagey. Surely they carried out a report for a reason and if they found something right, or wrong, they would publish that and enforce more regulation if necessary to stop it happening again. I think we all pretty much agree, in hindsight, and maybe in foresight, buying The Rex was not the best idea.
The Local Government Inspectorate has as its motto or charter that it is “Encouraging higher standards of integrity, accountability and transparency in local government”. But where are all of those in the Inspectorate? No one has been held accountable, there is a lack of transparency and until the report is published we don’t know how the integrity went down.
I think the current Hepburn Shire Council and its ratepayers, or shall we call them shareholders, deserve more than this. If the council was a company and it ran a business like this, the shareholders would be up in arms and there would be all sorts of people involved in the integrity, accountability and transparency of those making the business decisions.
The whole Rex debacle was a huge waste of money and has caused financial ripples across the shire and is not over yet. Bleakley Street units anyone? But if the report is never released isn’t that just another huge waste of money? Again, our money. (Oh, full disclosure, I may have taken a little peek.) Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

Konnichi wa. Finally heading back to Japan after quite a few years away. Well, not until April but time does fly.
I reckon it’s been a good five years – with Covid mixed up in there – since I last arrived in the land of the Rising Sun and I really miss it.
I lived in Japan for about three years in my early 20s and just fell in love with the place. I would call it my spiritual home but I am not sure if you are allowed to say that now. You can’t say you have a spiritual animal – only indigenous people can claim that, or so I believe.
I don’t know if this will still happen but the first hint of being “home” is the smell of cigarette smoke in the airport. Yes, inside the airport. Japan must be, or was, the last bastion of smoking inside. Now I don’t like cigarette smoke but it just triggers something. As I said, that home feeling.
Then there are the people. Love them. They know how to have a good time, are friendly and always ready to offer directions, a random umbrella or something from their home you have mentioned you like. I found that one out the hard way.

Oh, next is food. I know a lot of people who think Japanese food is all about raw fish but it is so much more than that. Soft, white bread sandwiches with no nutritional value at all, iced coffees so cold you get an ice-cream headache and so many things on sticks. Stick foods are so underrated. And if you really want to try a few different things, head to the basement of your local supermarket. Lots of free snacks to tempt you.
Then there’s the booze. Asahi Super Dry is my beer of choice but I don’t mind a nice cold Sapporo either. Tried a lot of them when I visited the Sapporo factory in Hokkaido many years ago. And the sake. One-Cup Sake is a wonderful invention – the perfect size and it just heats itself up somehow. (Even though drinking hot sake is a little gauche these days…) Once, again, head to your local department store but go up to the roof for an affordable beer hall. Like a year-round Oktoberfest.
Accommodation could be a bit hit and miss in the old days but now it’s all pretty modern unless you choose a ryokan or inn for the experience. Do that and you will probably find yourself sleeping on a futon mattress on a tatami floor and exercising your thigh muscles over a squat toilet. But all good fun. Well, the squat toilet on the shinkansen (bullet train) was interesting. Trains do move side to side quite a bit.

This time, to shake things up a bit, Kyle and I are taking our 13-year-old grand-nephew from New Zealand. Hmmm. Here’s the short version. The nephew came out to visit last autumn, on his own, and we hit it off. All three and then one night Kyle went to bed a bit early and the nephew and I stayed up a bit later, chatting. I may have had a glass of wine, or two. And I asked innocently where he would most
like to travel and he said “Japan”. And I said “we can take you” and he said “great”.
And while I forgot about the conversation the next thing we had the call from New Zealand about how excited he was to be going to Japan with his aunt and uncle.
Oh well. Just a few extra fares. And I do think it is going to be a lot of fun introducing a teenager to a whole new culture. And he’s still a really nice teenager – no angst happening yet. So all will be well. We are going to start some Facetiming early next year to get him and Kyle up to speed with a few Japanese phrases. Konnichi wa (hello), oyaho (good morning) and arigato (thank you). Kyle already has beeru ippon kudasai (one beer please) followed after a few by o’terai wa dochira desu ka (where is the toilet?) down pat.
Honto ni, tanoshimi ni shiteimasu. Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly
Wow, 10 years. It is a cliché but it really does feel like yesterday that we put together a little Word document and wandered the streets asking if people would like to advertise in it. For some reason many did. And thanks to them the first edition came out on September 2, 2013.
The front cover was Verna Baker’s grandchild watering daffodils, inside we featured artist Keele Breen and a nude, almost, Ian Tinetti. There was even a story on the Bridport Street bus shelter getting a makeover from a group of travellers.

The Local was meant to be a monthly publication but from the get-go we realised there was a real need for local news and a bit of fun. So that was the only monthly edition and after that we went fortnightly.
(You may remember during that first year of Covid we went weekly because we thought everyone needed a good read and real information. We also started Legends of Lockdown to give recognition to those helping others during that scary time. But it nearly killed us, being weekly, and we went back to our regular programming after a year.)
Still mostly it has been a lot of fun and we get great feedback on what we do. Sometimes we hold the council and the pollies to account, but that’s just part of the gig, mostly we focus on bringing you good news – to counter all that terrible stuff we see on TV each morning.
When we started Kyle asked what would happen if we ran out of stories. I told him not to worry – and we have never run out. People are always doing amazing things here and I really believe everyone has a story to tell. Well, almost everyone.
We have also had wonderful support with advertising from our clients, all of whom we know which is a really nice feeling. One of our policies is a “no arsehole rule” and we stick with that. We have told the team never to continue to deal with them and we have even lost a couple of advertising deals because they were not our sort of people. I know not many businesses can do that, but it is a great feeling. Also, we are too old to put up with crap. 🙂
But all the clients we have are lovely people and I hope you support their businesses because they are the reason you have a local community paper to read, for free. And while the world is slowly going digital I know many people still like their printed copy of The Local. So a promise that it will continue in print and online – unlike many other local papers run by much bigger companies than The Local Publishing Group.
With the anniversary I have also been thinking about my “best of” list over the years. Best front cover is easy – the council coming on a missile to get the geese – although the actual day they were taken was awful. Most interesting stories of mine have to be on The Rex. It was just the issue that kept on giving. From choosing a site, buying the building, Bromley paintings done before building works, building works, stopping building works, to council deciding to sell and the sale.
But then it gets hard. We have such a talented team, there are too many stories, great graphics and photos to choose from. So, a big shout out to our team and all those who have worked with us over the years. Many have stayed the course, including Nick and Lindsay, our wonderful sub-editors, who have been with us from the first edition. Now also working with Chester the Cat.
I hope that you have enjoyed reading The Local over the past 10 years and will keep reading for another 10 perhaps. After that it might be time for a new generation to come along. In the meantime, you’re stuck with us. Just sayin’…