It’s only early August, but we felt compelled to keep you informed … 
A couple of weeks ago we said a fond goodbye to our General Manager of many years Stuart Loone who is moving on to bigger and better things in the cultural space. In his time at The Mill, Stu has resolutely negotiated The Mill’s tenuous path from outright hostility in the local community to hugs all round, and has been totally responsible for the success of all of our amazing musical events. We thank him and wish him well in his new life.
The guy hugging Stu is Don who’s been with us forever. Happiness for Don is driving a machine that digs, pushes or carts stuff! Lot’s of it … Don’s favourite machine is the excavator. His other toys include…
And about time we got down on one knee and acknowledged the brute strength and skill of the mighty Dillon Builders who are transforming this pile of history into something that will astound.
Chris Dillon is a modest chap despite his fierce reputation across the Apple Isle for delivering the highest build quality and sticking to his promises. More of the Dillons in a later edition, but getting to the power behind the throne, herewith Mrs Trish D and daughter Lou (pictured below) preparing Trish’s home baked cake for the recent farewell much enjoyed by many tradies…
Observant twitchers among you will notice the magpie intruding everywhere is neither dead nor alive, but is a stand-in for a real pet maggie that regularly invades the lunch room on foot. His name is Buckley because of the footy coach thang… Get it?
Meanwhile, stuff continues to happen. These fabulous sandstone ‘floaters’ have been carefully selected and taken off-site to be sawn into slabs to be laid on the new-fangled courtyard of the amazingly refurbed ‘admin’ building. The guys who sawed the rocks tell us they were so hard they wore out several expensive rock-cutting saws. Sorry about that!
And because we have high hopes of attracting a sophisticated crowd to Mill events we are cleverly coating the sawn version of these million-or-so-year-old rocks with some magic formulae to protect them from hipster exuberance and red wine. Beer has the decency of blending in with sandstone.
Meanwhile, as builders build and Don and others dig, it’s reassuring to know that above us in the clear air, the number of wedgetails and sea eagles hovering generally seem to be on the increase. Is the attraction the cold pizza left over from tradies lunch boxes or something deeper..?