#AHistoryLessonWithMissManning

Today we headed to Port Arthur, which is an old convict ground that was used in the 1800s. We watched a painfully dreadful video on the bus that was attempting to be interesting and dramatic but also accessible to those with English as an additional language- after each sentence was a long 10 minute pause while they played the same video over and over again.

I fought off sleep as I learned very very slowly about some of the convicts that had lived at Port Arthur. Then I fell asleep feeling hungry and dreamt of a bakery. I was disappointed to wake up and not find myself surrounded by hot pies and iced buns but the bus had stopped at a lovely beach which was where they had stationed the dog wall and soldiers to attack any convicts trying to escape.

Some more time passed and when I woke up again we were there at the old prison grounds. We joined a walking tour that took us around some of the grounds and we were told about some general

facts about life as a convict there. The worst practice was a “progressive” asylum for the criminally insane where they kept the men in solitary confinement for 23 hours of the day and only let them out by themselves for some exercise for the final hour. But there were rules. No one was allowed to talk or communicate with anyone. They had to be silent at all times including not being allowed to sneeze or cough. When they went out they had to wear a hooded mask and walk head down and if they broke any of the 100+ rules, they would have to stay in the black box (a completely pitch black room again in silence).

They believed that they could strip the former personality and then rebuild a new healthy one but of course, most men just went even more insane.

Despite the dark history, the boat ride was nice, we sailed past an island that they used to keep the child convicts. Kids as young as 7 could be trialed for crimes and sent to Australia to serve their sentence and it was there that the first ever British juvenile prison was born. They decided they should be kept them separate from the men and they were taught trades and given an education. The prisoners built most of Hobart and many buildings in the camp too.

Some tried to escape, some tried to kill themselves. One man slit his throat and had it stitched up using a needle and thread without any anaesthetic or pain relief (the doctor described his neck as “tender” in his report). Yes doctor! I imagine it would be slightly tender after slitting it with a rock and having a needle and thread stitch you back together again! My Travel injections were *slightly tender* (although my mum said I was very brave!)

After our trip to Port Arthur, our tour guide led us to a chocolate factory, not really what I was expecting after the bleak stories from the morning. In the shop was a little 4 year girl called Rose whose parents owned the factory. She was the cutest little thing, chatting away, clearly bored out of her mind having to sit in the shop all day. She told us that her job was to stack the toy sheep on the shelves and she was very proud of how well she had done it. We all had our small slice of chocolate but I was more keen to return to the warmth of the bus and sleep until we returned to Hobart for my final night.