GOVERNMENT HOUSE

 Before I tell you tales of Government House, I have to confess that I had completely missed the point that "Boorloo" is the indigneous name for Perth. Here am I spending the month of April exploring the city during the "Boorloo Heritage Festival" and I didn't realise the significance of the name.

My confession over, lets move on to another one. At the 1925 St John of God Ball held at WA's Government House Audrey Jacob calmly, and in front of hundreds of witnesses, shot and killed her ex-finance Cyril Gidley. Although she was seen and was alleged to have confessed "I did it" on the night, an all male jury managed to find her not guitly. How is that even possible? And the answer, according to a PhD candidate at UWA is that "there was a popular understanding that respectable women who had been seduced and abandoned, or jilted by their fiance or lover, have the right to take their revenge." 



My experience at Government House was fraught but not that extreme. In the early 1970s, at the end of high school, one was expected to make one's debut - in other words, be presented in public to the Governor. I refused. And then Betty blackmailed me into it. "Your Auntie Dot and Uncle Pete probably won't live to see you get married so this will be the only time they'll see you in a long formal white dress". I succumbed but had my own mini revenge by making and wearing a crocheted dress in cream. I refused to ask a boy to accompany me so the son of a family friend was cajoled into being my partner. We had to attend Government House every Sunday for a month to practice our dancing in preparation for the event at the Government House Ballroom. Having been in various Government Houses across the country, I can now look at the Ballroom and find in a pleasant but modest space but at the time, the whole debut process was torture and the walk towards the Governor felt as if it went on forever.


We went to Open Days at both Government House and the Supreme Court on 13 April. At the former, we were accosted on the lawns which were covered with crocheted and knitted poppies by a lady from the Food Bank stall. She came over to over to offer us a chocolate nut ball and to tell us that we were "cool chicks". Once again, the colour of clothes and our glasses made us stand out from the crowd. I wonder if secretly that's what I was trying to do in 1972 with my crocheted debut dress?



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