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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
