By A Special Correspondent
IN LONDON during World War I the
Australian soldier was known as a lean and bronzed individual of more-than-ordin ary height.
The word "lean" had also another signifi- cance to the Londoner. The Anzac was celebrated for his habit of resting with his shoulder against the nearest lamp post.
Just after the war, in fact, "Punch" pub- lished a cartoon showing a London street with all the lamp posts bent at shoulder height. The cartoon was captioned "After
the Australians Had Left."
The tradition seems to have some substance -and goes back much further than the 1914 1918 war-if we go by the picture above.
The photograph, taken by a Mr. Bürgin, ophthalmic optician, of Parramatta, shows the gibe-that the lofty Australian's angle was influenced by prevailing winds-to have been inconsistent with fact. The citizens, portrayed in variously negligent attitudes, are leaning in all directions, and as far as is consistent with dignity and the laws of grav-
In those days a newcomer from the Old Country, after a few years seasoning into cornstalk habits,- could always boast, truth- fully enough, that he had taken up a good post in the Colonies.
HAZARDING a guess at the states of
assimilation achieved by the sextet shown, one could say that most of them were thorough Australians.
The solid figure on the left, aloof from all posts, may have been a recent arrival, or per- haps the proprietor, who felt that he was called on to show some distinction. On the other hand, of course, he may have been nettled to find, on being summoned from the shop by the photographer, that the hitching posts nearest the camera were all occupied.
The smart fellow on the right is probably only semi-assimilated. He is barely on nudg- ing terms with posts and his man-about-town air and garb proclaim him, if not from Bond Street, at least on subscription terms with
'The Tailor and Cutter."
Presumably, the bearded burgher second from the left knew his personal centre of gravity, but we cannot help feeling uneasy that a slight move further from the perpen- dicular, aided by a slippery kerb, might pro- ject him and his black homburg into the
APART from the photograph's significance as a sidelight on an old Australian custom, it has considerable historical interest,
A young man named John Hamilton, who opened the first bakery business in New South Wales, back in 1826, took over these premises in Church Street, Parramatta, in 1844. The bakery is still in operation.
When Hamilton died the bakery passed to Henry Harvey, whose nephew, Henry Granger, took control in the forties, and the bakery is still in the hands of the Granger family, more than 100 years later.