Community diversity learning at Badgebup-Rockwell Country Women's Association May meeting held in Katanning
The Badgebup-Rockwell Country Women's Association branch held their monthly meeting on May 26, with members of the group coming to Katanning to learn more about diversity in their local community.
Members enjoyed a talk by local Read Write Now facilitator Kerry Palmer about assisting CaLD (Culturally and Linguistic Diverse) people in Katanning.
Read Write Now is a facilitated playgroup in Katanning that offers English language lessons for women along with developmental programs for children.
The lessons are designed to support mothers from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds to learn English in a welcoming local setting, while also providing early childhood learning experiences for children.
For years Ms Palmer has helped culturally and linguistically diverse families in Katanning via two weekly sessions for migrants and refugees, one for men and one for women, helping them understand both the English language and the Australian way of life.
With the diverse nationalities and levels of literacy, it is a daunting task but enjoyed immensely by Ms Palmer and her helpers at the playgroup.
Delegates from Badgebup-Rockwell will also join members from the other 123 branches from around the State at the 101st Country Women's Association of WA State Conference in Albany in June.
The theme of the Conference is Beyond 100: Reimagining our Impact.
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West Australian
a day ago
- West Australian
Anxiety Aunt: My family never say thank you for anything — how do I teach them manners matter?
Dear Aunty, As a mother of two, grandmother of three and great-grandmother of one, I suffer a great deal of disappointment as to why none of my offspring seem to know the words thank you. Since when did we drop these gracious words from the Australian vernacular? The words 'thank you' in the family environment seem to be totally neglected and unfamiliar. It is very hurtful to my soul of giving and I don't know how to tell them. I have tried dropping hints by going overboard with my thanks to them. I take photos of flowers they give me and send them back with a big 'THANK YOU!!' message. But my good example does not seem to be working. What should I do? Yours, Underappreciated Dear Underappreciated, One knows exactly how you feel, Underappreciated. Hell would freeze over before old Bert Saunders from next door ever uttered the words thank you for all the things your Aunt does for him. To be fair he did take your Aunt away on a holiday once, which was probably partly his way of saying thank you without having to utter the words. But One isn't fool enough to think One was top of a long list of options he had. The man isn't exactly sparkling company so only has himself to blame for his lack of friends. Mind you, One does need to go a bit easier on him now because, as he tells your Aunt, he has now been diagnosed as neurodivergent which, according to him, means One cannot hold him 'to the same standards' that One applies to others. That makes it sound like your Aunt makes friends jump through hoops when really One would just appreciate if he took a break from ranting on about his verrucas, psoriasis, ingrown toenails and gallbladder issues. One would also like if he brought more than a half-melted tray of ice cubes to our veranda gin sessions, and, like you say, Underappreciated, One wouldn't mind all that so much if he said thank you once in a while when your Aunt supplies the gin, mixers and often lets him stay for Uber Eats when One gets too tiddly to cook. One really isn't sure what the best approach is, Underappreciated, other than simply trying to reinforce good manners in those who will carry your genetics into the future. One doesn't know whether it is just the nature of this fast-paced world where people are getting ruder and less polite or if it is a case of familiarity breeding contempt when it comes to those closest to us, but One believes you should not give up pushing for your family to display better manners. It's somewhat passive aggressive but can be excused in the pursuit of a greater good if you just start inserting responses to the words thank you where they have failed to say them. So, for instance, if your granddaughter asks for a drink and you pour her one, if she takes it without a word of thanks you could pointedly interject with 'you're very welcome, my dear!' Or a slightly cheekier response might be if you give your son or daughter a gift and they say nothing, you could quickly quip back, 'oh, please, don't mention it — it was my pleasure'. Hopefully by highlighting the fact that they are failing to be courteous with your slightly scathing replies, they will be less inclined to let basic good manners fall by the wayside. Good luck, my dear.
The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
‘Tactful disharmony': An interior designer's offbeat path to success
This story is part of the June 7 edition of Good Weekend. See all 14 stories. Tamsin Johnson is perched on a white sofa, sipping ginger and lemongrass tea beneath a 19th-century French crystal chandelier in her Darling Point home in Sydney's east. Before her, roses nestle in a vase on a marble coffee table next to a pair of oak armchairs by Frank Lloyd Wright. Looming behind, a large religious icon, painted by the Indigenous-Australian artist Dan Boyd, is half obscured by an antique console laden with coffee-table books with titles like Equestrian Life in the Hamptons and Haute Bohemians: Greece. Every detail in the room is a quiet signifier of cultural erudition and taste. Indeed, there's so much to admire, the harbour view feels like a distraction. At 40, Johnson has become one of Australia's most sought-after interior designers. Locally, her work ranges from the Byron Bay hotel, Raes on Wategos, to the Bondi store of jewellery designer Lucy Folk, while international jobs include a Dubai members club and Frank Sinatra's former Hollywood office. In 2021, publisher Rizzoli New York released her first book, Tamsin Johnson: Spaces for Living, while a second is now in the works. 'Tamsin is a true artist,' says Nick Smart, the fragrance entrepreneur behind the Libertine Parfumerie boutiques. He enlisted her to design his Paddington flagship store, which includes parquetry flooring and antique marble basins from France. The cost of decorating the 200-square-metre space exceeded $1 million, but Smart is keen to use Johnson again. 'People emulate Tamsin's style, but they don't make it look good,' he says. 'She puts together pieces from different eras in a breathtaking way.' 'Tactful disharmony' is how Johnson describes her mix-and-match approach. 'It's about finding the balance of elements that might not have necessarily worked together – the old and the new, the pristine and the slightly messy, the weird and the super polished.' She points above her fireplace to a contemporary mirror whose jagged edges counter the curves of an antique bronze nude. Similarly, offbeat notes pepper Johnson's own look. Tall and slender in a floaty, pinstripe shirt and cream slacks, she sports a jumble of accessories, including a Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso watch in burgundy, a diamond tennis bracelet, and a mishmash of rings that includes vintage sapphires and a dark-green bloodstone. Her husband, Patrick Johnson, is also a tastemaker. In 2009, the 44-year-old launched his P. Johnson tailoring brand that today also encompasses womenswear, and has expanded to 10 shops as far afield as London and New York. The couple have two children, Arthur, 8, and Bunny, 7, but parenthood hasn't curbed their panache. Damien Woolnough, fashion editor of The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, believes the pair's aspirational image – the holidays in Tuscany, the artworks, the clothes – feeds into P. Johnson's appeal. 'You so want to be them, and that lifestyle justifies the price as much as the cut and fabrics.' In one showroom, an antique chandelier beams onto a portrait of André the Giant. Johnson decorates her husband's showrooms to evoke a refined but playful mood of relaxed hospitality. In the Windsor location in Melbourne, for example, an antique chandelier beams onto a portrait of the late pro wrestler, André the Giant. 'I never wanted spaces that were all old wood and leather, like a traditional English tailoring shop,' Patrick says. 'I wanted the interiors to be an extension of our lives and the things we found beautiful. I wanted people to feel like they're coming into our home.' Johnson's eye for an art-deco sideboard also started at home. Her parents, Edward and Peta Clark, were successful antique dealers, and she grew up in Melbourne playing beneath Louis XV sofas and Venetian gilt mirrors. Her father's big break had come in 1974, when he negotiated a huge sale from the Maharajah of Mysore that included a lavish collection of royal carriages. 'I made a few bob and I've lived on that ever since, really,' Clark admits. The proceeds bought the family's former home, the converted Golden Crust bakery in Armadale, that Domain describes as one of 'Melbourne's truly great homes'. From a young age, Johnson and her sister Tess accompanied their parents on buying trips to Paris markets and Rome galleries. 'Subconsciously, I was learning, not just about furniture and antiques, but about selling as well,' Johnson reflects. She instinctively mastered the latter. When she was eight, her father recalls taking her to Camberwell market, where Johnson bought a gold bracelet for $5. 'An hour later, she resold it from my stall to a lady for $15.' Lauren Kozica, a high-school friend from Wesley College, remembers Johnson constantly hurling herself into extracurricular projects. 'Tamsin's always had the energy and stamina most people search for in a tablet.' As a teen, Johnson took sewing classes and began tie-dying petticoats and making her own clothes. By 18, she'd sold a line of beaded necklaces to Scanlan Theodore. That early win encouraged her to study fashion at RMIT; she then clinched an internship in London at Stella McCartney. After-wards, Johnson got a job with a London PR firm and during that period, she met her future husband in a pub. 'She just radiated this energy, this brightness,' Patrick says of his first impression. Raised on a 4000-hectare farm north of Adelaide, Patrick had already been in London for six years and was working for Robert Emmett, a high-end shirtmaker on Jermyn Street. Tamsin, meanwhile, was turning away from fashion. Recognising her sartorial taste would never be sufficiently edgy to stand out, she enrolled in a course at Inchbald School of Design in Chelsea: 'The minute I walked in, I was like: 'This is absolutely my field.' ' In 2009, the pair returned to Australia. While Patrick set up his tailoring business, Johnson got an interior design job at Sydney practice, Meacham Nockles McQualter. 'When Tam arrived she was well-travelled, with a broad knowledge of the history of art, design and architecture, which enabled her to develop designs with a distinctive language,' says her former boss, Don McQualter. Johnson credits her four-year stint with teaching her the fundamentals of her profession. But in 2013, she resigned to go out on her own. 'It wasn't a surprise,' says McQualter. Loading Her first job as a sole practitioner was with one of Patrick's tailoring clients, and in a business where social cachet matters, it proved to be heaven-sent. The Bondi home belonged to James Packer. Johnson turned the opportunity into a springboard. Her three-women team currently has 20 jobs on the go that range from overhauling a seven-bedroom home in Vaucluse to fitting new wardrobes in a child's bedroom. Johnson also runs a Paddington antiques shop that she opened in 2015. Each year she trawls the antique fairs in France, Italy and Spain for stock, shipping back five 12-metre-long containers laden with new (old) treasures. Sitting with her, I get the same pang of unease you get from too much Instagram, when you inadvertently compare your own reality to glimpses of the unattainable. It's not just her jet-set lifestyle. My kids are the same age as Johnson's, and we've twice had to get our sofa reupholstered due to peanut-butter stains and worse. How is her white sofa so pristine? 'We've always made sure the covers can be slipped off and cleaned,' she shrugs. What about the juggle of raising two children while running an internationally successful business? The family has help on Mondays and Tuesdays, when a nanny collects the kids from school, but Johnson admits to being pathologically efficient: 'If I've got something on my to-do list, I need to get it done. On holidays, I'll write an itinerary that Patch [Patrick] jokes is down to the minute.' As if to validate her working-mum credentials, Johnson's phone rings. It's her daughter's school: Bunny has a tummy-ache and needs collecting. Apologising, Johnson dashes out, urging me to finish my tea and try a piece of shortbread. Cut into heart shapes, even her biscuits are charmingly photogenic. Loading A week later, we chat on the phone. Johnson is driving to Melbourne Airport after seeing clients in the Otways who want an American ranch-style interior. I'm curious to know what her next chapter holds. She's already living the dream: where does she go from here? 'I've got a small, personal business and that's the way I like it,' she insists. 'I'm not trying to set up an office in London or New York. I like that we can still deliver amazing outcomes for clients that are super personal. Also, I want to raise my own kids.' She mentions how her signet ring, a gift from Patrick, is engraved with a turtle. 'I think it was to remind me to slow down.' Suddenly, I'm reminded of a recurring detail from her house. Beside the Bill Henson in the hallway, on the antique Spanish dining table, by the custom-made sofa, there were vases of mixed roses everywhere. Are they a visual cue, like that ring – a literal reminder to stop and smell the roses? 'Well, they are my favourites,' Johnson laughs. 'But maybe subconsciously, yeah.'
Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘Tactful disharmony': An interior designer's offbeat path to success
This story is part of the June 7 edition of Good Weekend. See all 14 stories. Tamsin Johnson is perched on a white sofa, sipping ginger and lemongrass tea beneath a 19th-century French crystal chandelier in her Darling Point home in Sydney's east. Before her, roses nestle in a vase on a marble coffee table next to a pair of oak armchairs by Frank Lloyd Wright. Looming behind, a large religious icon, painted by the Indigenous-Australian artist Dan Boyd, is half obscured by an antique console laden with coffee-table books with titles like Equestrian Life in the Hamptons and Haute Bohemians: Greece. Every detail in the room is a quiet signifier of cultural erudition and taste. Indeed, there's so much to admire, the harbour view feels like a distraction. At 40, Johnson has become one of Australia's most sought-after interior designers. Locally, her work ranges from the Byron Bay hotel, Raes on Wategos, to the Bondi store of jewellery designer Lucy Folk, while international jobs include a Dubai members club and Frank Sinatra's former Hollywood office. In 2021, publisher Rizzoli New York released her first book, Tamsin Johnson: Spaces for Living, while a second is now in the works. 'Tamsin is a true artist,' says Nick Smart, the fragrance entrepreneur behind the Libertine Parfumerie boutiques. He enlisted her to design his Paddington flagship store, which includes parquetry flooring and antique marble basins from France. The cost of decorating the 200-square-metre space exceeded $1 million, but Smart is keen to use Johnson again. 'People emulate Tamsin's style, but they don't make it look good,' he says. 'She puts together pieces from different eras in a breathtaking way.' 'Tactful disharmony' is how Johnson describes her mix-and-match approach. 'It's about finding the balance of elements that might not have necessarily worked together – the old and the new, the pristine and the slightly messy, the weird and the super polished.' She points above her fireplace to a contemporary mirror whose jagged edges counter the curves of an antique bronze nude. Similarly, offbeat notes pepper Johnson's own look. Tall and slender in a floaty, pinstripe shirt and cream slacks, she sports a jumble of accessories, including a Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso watch in burgundy, a diamond tennis bracelet, and a mishmash of rings that includes vintage sapphires and a dark-green bloodstone. Her husband, Patrick Johnson, is also a tastemaker. In 2009, the 44-year-old launched his P. Johnson tailoring brand that today also encompasses womenswear, and has expanded to 10 shops as far afield as London and New York. The couple have two children, Arthur, 8, and Bunny, 7, but parenthood hasn't curbed their panache. Damien Woolnough, fashion editor of The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, believes the pair's aspirational image – the holidays in Tuscany, the artworks, the clothes – feeds into P. Johnson's appeal. 'You so want to be them, and that lifestyle justifies the price as much as the cut and fabrics.' In one showroom, an antique chandelier beams onto a portrait of André the Giant. Johnson decorates her husband's showrooms to evoke a refined but playful mood of relaxed hospitality. In the Windsor location in Melbourne, for example, an antique chandelier beams onto a portrait of the late pro wrestler, André the Giant. 'I never wanted spaces that were all old wood and leather, like a traditional English tailoring shop,' Patrick says. 'I wanted the interiors to be an extension of our lives and the things we found beautiful. I wanted people to feel like they're coming into our home.' Johnson's eye for an art-deco sideboard also started at home. Her parents, Edward and Peta Clark, were successful antique dealers, and she grew up in Melbourne playing beneath Louis XV sofas and Venetian gilt mirrors. Her father's big break had come in 1974, when he negotiated a huge sale from the Maharajah of Mysore that included a lavish collection of royal carriages. 'I made a few bob and I've lived on that ever since, really,' Clark admits. The proceeds bought the family's former home, the converted Golden Crust bakery in Armadale, that Domain describes as one of 'Melbourne's truly great homes'. From a young age, Johnson and her sister Tess accompanied their parents on buying trips to Paris markets and Rome galleries. 'Subconsciously, I was learning, not just about furniture and antiques, but about selling as well,' Johnson reflects. She instinctively mastered the latter. When she was eight, her father recalls taking her to Camberwell market, where Johnson bought a gold bracelet for $5. 'An hour later, she resold it from my stall to a lady for $15.' Lauren Kozica, a high-school friend from Wesley College, remembers Johnson constantly hurling herself into extracurricular projects. 'Tamsin's always had the energy and stamina most people search for in a tablet.' As a teen, Johnson took sewing classes and began tie-dying petticoats and making her own clothes. By 18, she'd sold a line of beaded necklaces to Scanlan Theodore. That early win encouraged her to study fashion at RMIT; she then clinched an internship in London at Stella McCartney. After-wards, Johnson got a job with a London PR firm and during that period, she met her future husband in a pub. 'She just radiated this energy, this brightness,' Patrick says of his first impression. Raised on a 4000-hectare farm north of Adelaide, Patrick had already been in London for six years and was working for Robert Emmett, a high-end shirtmaker on Jermyn Street. Tamsin, meanwhile, was turning away from fashion. Recognising her sartorial taste would never be sufficiently edgy to stand out, she enrolled in a course at Inchbald School of Design in Chelsea: 'The minute I walked in, I was like: 'This is absolutely my field.' ' In 2009, the pair returned to Australia. While Patrick set up his tailoring business, Johnson got an interior design job at Sydney practice, Meacham Nockles McQualter. 'When Tam arrived she was well-travelled, with a broad knowledge of the history of art, design and architecture, which enabled her to develop designs with a distinctive language,' says her former boss, Don McQualter. Johnson credits her four-year stint with teaching her the fundamentals of her profession. But in 2013, she resigned to go out on her own. 'It wasn't a surprise,' says McQualter. Loading Her first job as a sole practitioner was with one of Patrick's tailoring clients, and in a business where social cachet matters, it proved to be heaven-sent. The Bondi home belonged to James Packer. Johnson turned the opportunity into a springboard. Her three-women team currently has 20 jobs on the go that range from overhauling a seven-bedroom home in Vaucluse to fitting new wardrobes in a child's bedroom. Johnson also runs a Paddington antiques shop that she opened in 2015. Each year she trawls the antique fairs in France, Italy and Spain for stock, shipping back five 12-metre-long containers laden with new (old) treasures. Sitting with her, I get the same pang of unease you get from too much Instagram, when you inadvertently compare your own reality to glimpses of the unattainable. It's not just her jet-set lifestyle. My kids are the same age as Johnson's, and we've twice had to get our sofa reupholstered due to peanut-butter stains and worse. How is her white sofa so pristine? 'We've always made sure the covers can be slipped off and cleaned,' she shrugs. What about the juggle of raising two children while running an internationally successful business? The family has help on Mondays and Tuesdays, when a nanny collects the kids from school, but Johnson admits to being pathologically efficient: 'If I've got something on my to-do list, I need to get it done. On holidays, I'll write an itinerary that Patch [Patrick] jokes is down to the minute.' As if to validate her working-mum credentials, Johnson's phone rings. It's her daughter's school: Bunny has a tummy-ache and needs collecting. Apologising, Johnson dashes out, urging me to finish my tea and try a piece of shortbread. Cut into heart shapes, even her biscuits are charmingly photogenic. Loading A week later, we chat on the phone. Johnson is driving to Melbourne Airport after seeing clients in the Otways who want an American ranch-style interior. I'm curious to know what her next chapter holds. She's already living the dream: where does she go from here? 'I've got a small, personal business and that's the way I like it,' she insists. 'I'm not trying to set up an office in London or New York. I like that we can still deliver amazing outcomes for clients that are super personal. Also, I want to raise my own kids.' She mentions how her signet ring, a gift from Patrick, is engraved with a turtle. 'I think it was to remind me to slow down.' Suddenly, I'm reminded of a recurring detail from her house. Beside the Bill Henson in the hallway, on the antique Spanish dining table, by the custom-made sofa, there were vases of mixed roses everywhere. Are they a visual cue, like that ring – a literal reminder to stop and smell the roses? 'Well, they are my favourites,' Johnson laughs. 'But maybe subconsciously, yeah.'
