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Sleepy fishing village
Sep. 6th, 2009 02:10 pmYesterday I went to the annual book fair in Port Fairy, where I was Very Strong and didn't buy anything. Nothing at all! Oh, except a loaf of bread, but I would have bought that wherever I was, so that didn't count.
It's a strange place, Port Fairy. If you were to imagine a 'sleepy fishing village', Port Fairy is the place you're imagining. It's quite lovely, really: lots of colonial bluestone cottages and a jolly little harbour and a population of salt-of-the-sea fishing types. All very quaint.
About twenty years ago, though, Port Fairy was Discovered. Now there are regular arts festivals - books, folk music, classical music, indigenous music - and all those original cottages are filled with day spas and guest houses and tea rooms (the few that come onto the market sell for the sorts of prices that make even capital city property owners go pale). It's all a bit over-rated, really, although I may be biased remembering when I was at school all the bogan kids came from Port Fairy and the high point of their cultural calendar was the New Year's Eve parade of home-made floats. I sort of miss that.
On the way home I took a quick spin around Tower Hill*, which is full of water for the first time in ages. There were black swans nesting on the lake and emus wading in the shallows and a kangaroo bounded across the road right in front of me. I must go back when the weather clears in a few weeks and actually climb the hill.
(By the way, the person who felt like a dried-up piece of roast goat without his morning coffee, from my poll a few days ago, was J.S. Bach.)
* If you happen to click on that link, the 'game' in 'state game reserve' means that the animals aren't domesticated. Not that they can be hunted. It's quite a crucial difference.
It's a strange place, Port Fairy. If you were to imagine a 'sleepy fishing village', Port Fairy is the place you're imagining. It's quite lovely, really: lots of colonial bluestone cottages and a jolly little harbour and a population of salt-of-the-sea fishing types. All very quaint.
About twenty years ago, though, Port Fairy was Discovered. Now there are regular arts festivals - books, folk music, classical music, indigenous music - and all those original cottages are filled with day spas and guest houses and tea rooms (the few that come onto the market sell for the sorts of prices that make even capital city property owners go pale). It's all a bit over-rated, really, although I may be biased remembering when I was at school all the bogan kids came from Port Fairy and the high point of their cultural calendar was the New Year's Eve parade of home-made floats. I sort of miss that.
On the way home I took a quick spin around Tower Hill*, which is full of water for the first time in ages. There were black swans nesting on the lake and emus wading in the shallows and a kangaroo bounded across the road right in front of me. I must go back when the weather clears in a few weeks and actually climb the hill.
(By the way, the person who felt like a dried-up piece of roast goat without his morning coffee, from my poll a few days ago, was J.S. Bach.)
* If you happen to click on that link, the 'game' in 'state game reserve' means that the animals aren't domesticated. Not that they can be hunted. It's quite a crucial difference.