So It Goes: when history has a future

I shake my head at the thought.  Just when did this turnaround occur? What happened to that school girl who told her classmates that history had no future (believing herself to be both insightful, prophetic and hilarious all in the one sentence) and choose school subjects laden with science.  Where is that girl who turned her back on history and geography in favour of physics, chemistry and biology?  When did she get interested in Australian explorers?

I believe this disinterest in anything that happened yesterday happened long before such insightful comments at high school.  I remember answering a social studies test at primary school with Captain Cook for every question and gaining at least one correct answer. (Captain Cook featured heavily in social studies at primary school, along with wonderful tales of the art of boomerang throwing and aboriginal art.)

To balance the scales, I also have fond memories of making eucalyptus oil, growing purple crystals suspended over a beaker and bleaching my friend’s hair. Let’s face it, I was not destined to be a scientist either.

But now I find myself smitten with stories of the past and adventurers.  

Perhaps it’s to do with travelling a bit more.  As a child, my travel was limited to holidays in Fingal and Christmases in Melbourne with my grand parents.  We did stop where the dog sat on the tucker box on the drive to Melbourne, but this bit of poetry was about as historic as it got.  Most of the time, I made up rhymes for the car number plates, sang made up songs incessantly and looked for a dog followed by a horse, which my grandmother told me meant good luck. (I realise now it was just her way of keeping me quiet as the rule was that the spell was broken if you spoke between sitings.)

Now when I visit a town, I am enamoured with its history.  My heart quickens when I see a brown sign, sure that this will lead to somewhere either picturesque or with a tale to tell.

And so to Hume.  Apparently he did great things and I intend to find out exactly what when Macklin launches his book Hamilton Hume: Our Greatest Explorer at the lunch (Friday,  September 30, cost $45, book on  3884 3000.)  I wonder if Captain Cook will get a mention.