March 1973 ~ Aussie Board

Reading 1973: a quick guide for non-Australian readers

Heat, dust, and the blunt edges of discipline shape much of this chapter. What follows is a short, spoiler-light guide to the slang, sounds, and textures that may be unfamiliar if you did not grow up in Australia, so the March scenes can settle in their own place.

“He told himself it was envy. But the heat in his throat felt like recognition.”

---

Read Chapter 1, March 1973 here

Where we are

March in Wagga brings heat that never quite lets go. Uniform collars stick, asphalt radiates, and even the cicadas seem restless. The rhythm of school and suburb sits inside that atmosphere: screen doors banging, the cough of a Ford ute, the hum of radios drifting from verandahs.

The oval is still there, but so too are the paths that stretch beyond it. One runs past the cemetery gates, a shortcut that students take when they want quiet, or when they need to arrive unnoticed. Another leads down to the Civic Centre bins, always stinking of milk and plastic in the sun. These are not just routes, they are part of Wagga’s geography of adolescence.

Everyday places and objects

The Wagga Baths. Everyone calls it the Baths. Chlorine in the nose, concrete under bare feet, whistles cutting the glare. Change sheds in corrugated tin, towels clutched high, swimmers tugged quick. If you turned your back to the wall, you could hide what you did not want seen.

The change sheds. Corrugated iron, chlorine in the air, concrete underfoot. At every country pool, the sheds were where boys learned what bodies looked like side by side, and where bruises could be hidden if you turned quick enough.

The ute. No vehicle is more Australian. In 1973, every street in Wagga had one parked out front, usually battered, with its tray rattling under the weight of scrap, firewood, or tools. Wayne’s old Ford is typical, coughing awake before dawn and leaving a haze of diesel.

The screen door. The soundtrack of a household. Light timber frames banged open and shut a dozen times a day, flywire stretched, hinges squealing. The noise carried across whole streets.

Milk Arrowroot biscuits. Arnott’s most modest offering, always slightly soft in summer, set out on saucers in libraries or church halls. A small, shared comfort, as much ritual as food.

Language and school culture

Bloody. The most ordinary intensifier, woven into complaint, anger, or casual banter. In Wayne’s mouth it lands heavy, sharper than a shout.

Deputy head. The title given to the second in charge at school, common in New South Wales through the 1970s. Standing on a portable stage, microphone in hand, delivering patriotism into the heat.

Cheers. A small but telling word. At thirteen, Christian says it to Mary with a crumpled hat in hand. Australian shorthand for thanks, tossed lightly, but carrying more weight than he realises.

The Sound of Autumn

Australia in March has its own soundtrack. Cicadas at full cry drown out thought. A dog behind a gate barks itself hoarse. A ute coughs awake. Radios fizz with static and news of Vietnam. At the Baths, music from a tape machine cuts through, clocks ticking, voices asking strange questions, and the ordinary afternoon feels suddenly foreign.

A mini glossary from the chapter

• Bloody – everyday Australian intensifier

• Ute – utility vehicle, Australia’s pickup

• Screen door – light door with flywire, distinctive bang

• Wagga Baths – public swimming pool complex

• Change sheds – corrugated iron pool changing rooms

• Milk Arrowroot – plain Arnott’s biscuit

• Biro – ballpoint pen

• Deputy head – senior school leader title

• Cheers – Australian thank you

• Cicadas – deafening insect chorus of summer

Then and now

In 1973, the discipline of school and home is blunt. Teachers bark, fathers lift belts from hooks, and words like “lazy” or “princess” mark as clearly as any bruise. Corporal punishment is routine, disappointment sharper than cruelty.

Yet the detail is what locates it: the slam of a screen door, the smell of diesel, the soft bite of a Milk Arrowroot, cicadas screaming against the heat, and boys turning their shoulders in the change sheds of the Wagga Baths.

Questions welcome

If anything still felt unfamiliar, say where you stumbled in the comments, and I will expand this guide so the next reader can ride the current more easily.