Returning to Miss Carey’s Reserve


Fifty years ago a little parkland reserve was officially named by the North Sydney Council after its creator, Miss Gladys Carey. It has been a couple of years since I last visited this special place near Careening Cove.

I had been invited by a group of  walkers from the Blue Mountains to come and share some of Miss Carey’s story with them. I arrived earlier to walk around the reserve and the neighbouring Milson Park which I had also planned to mention in my informal talk. These areas are places of my childhood, still rich in memories.

McDougall Street, which borders one side of Milson Park, was alive with activity. The purple blossom clouds of the Jacaranda trees that line this street were attracting a continuous flow of people with their  cameras.

The cacophony of maritime sounds coming from Careening Cove and the continuous noisy soundtrack that a city makes made me again aware of the changes that have taken place over the years. The reserve has always been a favourite place for contemplation and reflection. In the middle of this glorious Spring day, such cerebral activities, which i am sure Miss Carey would have appreciated in her park, were somewhat restricted. Even giving a talk here was a challenge. We headed to the far corner of the reserve, thereby avoiding much of the competing noise.

I found it a very satisfying experience to tell others about this dignified, gentle lady who still inhabits my childhood memories. Her generous dedication to the creation of a beautiful space for all to share is a wonderful story to tell.

Many of my songs and stories have had their origins in this park. The image of the park as an inspiration for these creations doesn’t escape me.

Since my last visit, the biggest change I noticed to the reserve was the new, rather intrusive, stairway that descends from High Street. There is also plenty of evidence that the reserve lacks the daily attention that Miss Carey provided.

Despite all this, I am sure Miss Carey would be pleased that this once wild space, which she transformed into something special, has been spared from the developers.


Bailed Up At Mogareeka


Mogareeka Inlet is on the northern end of Tathra Beach, on the far south coast of New South Wales. At lunch time last Saturday, we spent a quiet time sitting in neighbouring parkland eating freshly grilled fish. The sea and sky endlessly filled our uninterrupted, easterly view and a gentle sea breeze blew.

I commented that no visitors of the feathered variety had muscled into our space. Silly me! No sooner said than we were under attack. As we ate, two brightly coloured lorikeets literally tried to take the food from our hands, pushing and nudging us with their beaks.

Bailed Up At Mogareeka

The fish, fresh grilled
A lunch time treat
We watched the sea
From picnic seat.

Then from the sky
A dapper pair
Demanded that
Our food we share.

These young John Gilberts
Flashy dressed
Thought their antics
Would impress.

A noise nearby
Away they flew
No mug shots
For the Boys in Blue.