Sunday, August 14, 2011


Recently, I travelled some distance to break the monotony for a dear friend who had been stationed in isolation.

Our first morning began with a beautiful breakfast and stash of travel goodies before ensconcing ourselves in the black beast which found its way to a quaint country town a few hours east.

On the outskirts of the town is a disused mill which houses a weekend market. We purchased locally made cinnamon rolls and date scones, and perused the wooden and woollen handicrafts before cruising into town.

We found a lolly shop filled with all those favourites synonymous with sunny memories as children. Dusty second hand stores were stuffed with unwanted oddments; a discarded collection of other people's lives.

Along the main street is an old restored courthouse staffed by a local lady, who told us how she made butter as a girl and rode, three to a horse, to school.

And then there was the Motor Museum housing some of the regular regional favourites, and a few absolutely astounding unique vehicles. One was a Chevrolet Eldorado Biarritz of which there were only several hundred made. There are reputedly only 20 left. She is a hard top convertible who puts her roof up when it rains even if you are not there. You really must see the photos:

We then had a local lunch where I accidentally spilt my malted milkshake across the lap of my trusted driver just before we departed. I found this disaster in vanilla incredibly amusing because of the poker face, (and thankfully the grace) of my travel companion. After many tea-towels and some surreptitious sponging we rejoined the beast for a roundabout return along the country roads. (Which was punctuated with my bursts of giggling in recollection of the incident, much to my driver's chagrin ...)

The way home was as beautiful as the roads we had taken to come. Fields of canola crops coloured our journey home (as did sour worm lollies and ginger biscuits).

In retrospect I found our day filled with all the things I loved.

My spontaneous visit to cheer a dear friend four thousand kilometres away was also a wonderful weekend for me.


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