I traveled to Goulburn on Friday night because it was convenient to go via Parra and try on a bridesmaid dress. Disappointingly, I was a size bigger than I hoped. This (and bad outfits) is what happens when you have no full-length mirror at home. However, on the bright side the dress has a secret corset under it, which is fun, and I'm generally in proportion so there is no drastic refitting. I wonder if I can sell it afterwards and recoup some money?
I had a fair wait at Campbeltown for the Goulburn train, so I caught the next train to Macarthur Sq because, hot tip, you can get out of the station there to use the nice shopping centre bathrooms and buy dinner and get back in without dipping your ticket. I got Subway including a hot and fresh cookie.
I spent my visit crocheting, napping, drinking tea, and going for walks in the cold bad weather, which was a relief from the stuffy warm house. I looked at the old houses around Goulburn and kicked through drifts of leaves and admired the melancholy and listened to carefully chosen music. It was fun in a mellow sort of way. Like when Sally Sparrow in Doctor Who said "Sad is like happy for deep people." It's a pity I didn't take my camera with me, I want to look at photos of bare trees and frost-bitten grass.
My grandparents were both slow and wobbly. They're in their 80s and until some accidents they've been super energetic. So it was kind of sad to contemplate how frail old people get, especially when you realise that old people used to be young people. It's a reality that escapes me most of the time.
I had some nice talking over the tea and newspapers though, and found out how Grandfather built the floors, and how Granny made a lot of kid's clothes from old clothes. It's pretty impressive to learn that he hand mixed all that cement, built the house floors room by room and the kids helped. What a different time, when a bloke can build his own house. With kids helping. And when you had 6 kids in a 3 bedroom house. And when it was cheaper to make clothes than buy them. And growing food and making preserves wasn't a lifestyle thing, it was just a cheap and healthy necessity.
I went to the Argyle Book and Record Emporium in the old police station building, and bought an Arthur Upfield mystery. $10, which is a lot for a second hand paperback, but that's how much Upfields cost on ebay too. The man in the shop said people ask for them, they are in some demand. Upfield is Australia's Agatha Christie, his detective is a half-indigenous university-educated tracker called Bony. The mysteries are all set on cattle stations and in small towns. I found out that in one TV adaptation Cameron Daddo played Bony, with his face blacked. Hahahaha. But I think they should be adapted again. They are set long enough ago to be interesting and nostalgic. And vintage rural Australia is a very nice backdrop. Old cars and trucks, horses and dogs and livestock, beards and bushmen, tea in the kitchen, dry humour. I guess it depends on casting Bony though.
I got up at 5am Monday to catch the early fast train back to Sydney, because it was that or spend the day waiting for the afternoon bus/train combo which was slower, and it's better to spend the day at home rather than waiting to go home. When I got home I baked bread and spent the rest of the day in bed under the blankets listening to ABC radio and a Bony audiobook and crocheting. This is my progress after 2 weeks:
I wanted to buy some more grey wool, but I ordered a lighter colour. Annoying. So I'm working it cleverly in, dark in the middle and light on the outside. I think I can get 16 squares, which by the time I edge it will make a small lap rug.
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