Tales of the Subaru - Four Nights in Victoria

We were delighted when our Claytons niece Sara (the niece you have when you don't really have a niece) announced that she was becoming an Australian citizen.  Since her naturalisation ceremony was to be held in Melbourne, and I had long promised to provide the essential fairy bread, we packed up DeDe the Subaru and headed south, albeit just for four nights.

The trip down was a generational first.  It must be 25 years or more since I've done the drive in one hit but we were on a tight schedule this time around.  Three toilet stops later, one with lunch and the wander around the beautiful old bridges of Gundagai, we were pulled into Uncle Russell's driveway at Strathmore in Melbourne's north.  The trip took little over ten hours.

 

 

It's been three years since we were last in Melbourne for DeDe’s inaugural road trip so it was good to catch up with our old mate Russell and Miss Dog, his lovely Cairn Terrier Tess.  Uncle had dinner waiting which was a treat.  I'm usually the one putting food on the table so it was rather nice to have a plate simply appear before me for a change.

After a leisurely morning and yet another meal not prepare by me, I whipped up the promised fairy bread and we pointed DeDe a little further south the rustic Williamstown for a pre-do do at Sara and Mags’ place.  It was the first time Peter and I have met Mags and he gets a big thumbs up.  Well done Sara!  Mags’ family were present for the event as well and they clearly love our girl so I couldn't be happier.

After nibbles and chats (and quite a run on the fairy bread) we all headed off to nearby Altona Civic Centre, the administrative hub of Hobsons Bay City.  And oh my god, it was like being on duty in the K-2 playground - there were screaming, whining children galore!  Had I been the mayor I would have torn up their parents’ citizenship documents on the spot but no, they handed them out regardless or at least facsimiles thereof.

 

 

Nobody expected the Butcher of Manus and Nauru, Peter Dutton, to retain his Queensland seat let alone his portfolio at the previous week’s federal election.  And then there's the bizarre anomaly of the whole stinking bloody Morrison Government remaining in situ.  There was no responsible Minister to sign the naturalisation certificates - and there clearly won’t be one for the next three years.  The actually certificates will eventually be sent by mail.

My highly predictable cynicism aside, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge the woman who read out the names of all 70 new citizens as each came forward.  Some of them were so long and complicated that I'd have needed to take a toilet break half way through and I was an ESL teacher for 20 years.  She must have spent weeks practicing, poor love, and then transposed them into phonetic script to have even a hope of getting by.

So off we all went back to Williamstown and a Greek restaurant which could not have been a more appropriate venue for Sara to have her first meal as a citizen of Australia, especially a citizen resident in Melbourne.

I know I was at risk of memorable overload but the next day brought with it a reunion with my cousin Zelda who I haven't seen since 1968.  Zelda’s husband was my cousin Russell, the eldest son of my father’s older brother.  Russell, Uncle Noel and Dad have all now passed on but Zelda and I are still thankfully very much here so Peter and I trained and trammed our way to Caulfield North for a hastily convened reunion at the suggestion of Russell’s sister, my cousin Rae.

At this point we must be careful not to confuse Cousin Russell Cawthorne with Uncle Russell Cosgriff who is quite unrelated and not actually my uncle, he just looks like one.

Well great idea, Rae!  I had the best afternoon and Zelda seemed pretty chuffed about it all as well.  The cat fell immediately in love with Peter so all up it was just a perfect picture of happy families!  Seriously though, and I was actually being serious there, it was just the best get together and we hit it off famously as Enid Blyton might well have said.

I really didn't know Zelda back in the day and hardly knew Russell either.  He was 12 or 13 years older than me so I had much more to do with his four younger siblings then suddenly he had gone anyway, off perusing a career, getting married and then moving to Bangkok with his new wife.  That was the last time I saw them, a post-wedding/farewell do at Aunty Laurel’s house.  It was all quite jolly and Laurel put on a good spread as she always did - end of memory.

Work took Russell and Zelda from Bangkok to Hong Kong where their two children were born and raised so there really wasn't the opportunity to run into one another over the years.  But better late than never, my friends!  We really did have a most wonderful afternoon and it is so good to know there's another dyed-in-the-wool Labor supporter in the family.

Zelda & Glenn

Now if you hear me complain about passenger density on Sydney public transport feel free to say just one word to me and that word should be Melbourne.  We strolled back to the tram stop having a very pleasant chat en route with a woman who had a most interesting metal relief walking stick.  Walking stick users are drawn together in a particular kind of camaraderie much like dog owners but with more falls and generally less shedding.

Apart from a particularly lead footed tram driver who sent me flying, all was well until we turned onto St Kilda Road and headed towards the city centre.  More and more people boarded at every stop until there were arms and legs protruding from all of the windows - or at least there would have been were the windows able to be opened.  Getting upright and then to the nearest door appeared an impossibility but then about a third of the passengers alighted at the Flinders Street Station stop which was our own destination so we simply crowd surfed our way out of the tram which was quite exhilarating on reflection.

Next came the Craigieburn Line train which struck true terror into my heart as we descended reluctantly but inevitably to the platform on a relentlessly unforgiving escalator.  The true horror of the scene became apparent about a third of the way down but there was no turning back to spend a few numbing hours across the road at Young and Jackson’s.  It was like a Tokyo subway without the uniformed and gloved transit employees pushing people into the carriages.

I grabbed Peter and headed up the platform.  Never try to board a train at the foot of the stairs or escalator.  And this is where a walking stick truly comes into its own.  Wave it, wave it wildly and don't stop until you are seated on the train.  In fact, once aboard the train is when your most critical waving must be done because this is what will get you an actual seat if properly executed.

Melbourne Tucker Tip #1

That left me fully charged and ready for dinner at the Malaysian Mamak Kitchen which is a short walk from Uncle’s house in Strathmore.  It's been three years since we last ate there but not a week goes by that I don't crave their best ever Singapore noodles or just about anything else on the menu that doesn't contain duck, pork, beef or lamb and there's plenty to choose from.

Mamak Kitchen Singapore Noodles

We bad a fond farewell to Uncle Russell and Tess next morning and headed north to Rutherglen where we planned to break our homeward journey and pick up a case or two of wine at Chambers Winery which is my favourite such establishment in the region.  That's not to say the others aren't good, they've just moved upmarket and adjusted their prices accordingly.

Russell, Peter & Tess

Having effected a particularly leisurely departure the chance of arriving in Rutherglen for lunch was nil so we decided to stop at Benalla since neither of us had ever been there and what a find! 

We discovered an excellent variety store where we bought Kevin what we hope will be an overspray-proof litter tray.  They have heaps of homewares and great craft supplies as well as a little bit of nicely displayed kitsch.  Then we popped across to the local bakery where I got the best ever salad roll and Peter a pie (of course).

Armed with lunch we headed back to the park by the river and the amazing Benalla Ceramic Mural which is Hunderwasser meets Gaudi but more on the scale of the former rather than the latter.  It's an incredible structure and yet another reason to visit Benalla.

 

 

It was getting late and there was wine to be tasted so we pushed on to Rutherglen, checked into our motel and headed straight to Chambers which is as rustic and real as ever.  You always get a warm welcome and a glass then they leave you to it to try whatever you wish.  They are extremely helpful but not an any way pushy and best of all not wine wankers.

Winery Tip #1

Chambers do great fortified wines, fortifieds and gutsy reds like Durif being the hallmark of the Rutherglen region.  I've been through my Durif phase and they are a bit pricey these days so I'm good with muscats and tokays even though these have generally taken on other names for reasons of appellation.  I can't imagine why I left Chambers with a craving for cheese, preferably a strong cheddar. 

Rutherglen Tucker Tip #1

I make this recommendation not so much for the food but for the atmosphere and the delightful staff.

We checked out the Star Hotel which gets a good write up but its dining room is like a crowded refectory.  I was immediately reminded of taking kids to camp so we headed across the street to the beautiful old Victoria Hotel where there was only one extremely well behaved child in the much smaller and far quieter dining room so this was the place for us.

They serve very generous pub meals but here's a tip: don't order an entree if you plan to have a main as well.  We shared some excellent onion rings to start and the plate was in overload.  We both struggled with our mains and as tempting as the sticky date pudding seemed it just wasn't a realistic option for us.  Perhaps another time.

We were off again next morning on a six hour drive that took us just over ten but life should be about the journey, not the destination.  Somewhere along the way Sara messaged me to say it was right that we’d decided to drive and not to fly because I get enjoyment from seeing things and from talking to people and that's exactly what we did all the way home.

We felt one visit to Holbrook just wasn't enough besides, Darrell the fly hitched a ride with us on the way down and refused to leave the car so we felt a responsibility to return him home on our way back which we did outside Lady Gail's Books and Curios which was about 500m from where he initially joined us but we figured he'd make it the rest of the way home under his own steam.

Lady Gail is herself a treasure and runs the most organised, dust-free used book and bric-à-brac shop I've ever seen.  I was after green glass but of course so is everyone else.  That's also where we met Oscar's mum and dad, Oscar being a 7 week-old kitten they had been raising since 4 weeks of age and were in the process of socialising by taking him out inside his dad’s jacket.  What lovely people and what a cute little kitty!

From there it was on up the deserted main drag to the monthly market in the park and there went an hour.  We had Indonesian street food, bought apples as well as all manner of honey and just chatted with people.  It was time extremely well spent.

 

Holbrook has been of minor interest to me for years and it has absolutely nothing to do with their odd but very large landlocked submarine.  When I was studying geography in 5th and 6th form (now Years 11 and 12) the area around Holbrook, Henty and The Rock was our case study for a particular services threshold theory of urban geography which was formulated in Western Europe where it holds reasonably good.  Of course once you factor in topographic variables and a greatly diminished population it pretty much begins to fall apart here except for around Holbrook, Henty and The Rock in the early 1970s.  Not so now though.  The new motorway which bypasses everything and makes getting to larger towns and cities so much easier and quicker has buggered that and more than half the businesses in Holbrook, hence the deserted main drag to which I referred earlier.

On we went to Jugiong as recommended by my good friend and colleague Ruth who clearly did not visit on a weekend.  The whole small but very quaint town was absolutely infested by overdressed Canberrans with attitudes to complement their matching shoes and handbags and don't even think about starting me on the women!

We carried on to Goulburn to purchase a loaf of rustic artisan bread for the mushroom soup I was certain I had left in the freezer and indeed I had.  Of course we should have bought the rustic artisan bread at Jugiong which boasts a rustic artisan bakery but did we do that?  No!  We settled for a classic soft white cob loaf in Goulburn instead, the very same kind my grandparents used to buy along with jam rolls at the Hornsby Cake Shop in the 1960s.

But never mind, we were in Goulburn, home to the Goulburn Lilac City Festival which still persists when there is only one publicly owned lilac bush left in the entire City of Goulburn so with cob loaf in hand we went to pay it homage.  Winter is approaching so it was dormant and devoid of both leaves and flowers but should you wish to visit this botanical rarity you will find it right outside the public toilets in the park that's in the centre of town where everyone used to stop for a pee in the days before the bypass.  

The last public lilac in Goulburn

When we attended the Lilac Festival several years ago, expecting to see lilacs, this was it.  I sent a ‘Please Explain’ to the city council and received a prompt reply assuring me that there was in fact a second lilac bush betwixt footpath and road outside the Catholic School so the very next time we passed through town en route to Floriade in Canberra we went looking but there was no lilac, just some disturbed soil.

A woman who was tending her roses on the other side of the street called out “Are you looking for the lilac bush, luv?”  This was clearly a practiced enquiry so I marched briskly across and replied “Yes.”

Now at this point I might add that roses have supplanted lilacs as the national blossom of Goulburn and do in fact dominate the Lilac Festival which apparently nobody but me thinks is the least bit odd.

“Darl” she said, “It was a glorious thing that would sag under the weight of its own blooms but they had to dig it out.  Father Dominic used to hide behind it with his trousers down around his ankles and his cassock hitched up to his chest frightening the kiddies at playtime as some of them do, you know?  So that was that.  It was either the lilac or Father Dominic but he teaches RE so the lilac bush had to go.”

My least favourite leg of the trip now lay ahead of us, the Southern Highlands to home, especially to the junction of the M5 and M7 which witnesses the crescendo of the merging madness and its ensuing deconstruction as the traffic flow from the M31 unbraids itself onto the two other two routes.

Being as it was a Saturday night and we were headed away from the city we were home in an hour and once reconnected with Kev and The Girls.  That done I felt bound to settle back with a G&T that I garnished with a slice of kaffir lime from our garden to remind myself of the Mamak Kitchen in Strathmore.

Post script:  The new higher-sided plastic tub be bought for Kev in Benalla in hope that it would function as an overspray-proof litter tray has worked an absolute treat.