I stayed last night in Wallabadah — at the First Fleet Memorial Gardens.
After driving from Delungra, I was hot and bothered and surprised to find a Freedom Camp (campgrounds requiring a small donation while providing showers and toilets). The heat in NSW left me feeling hot and sweaty after driving for hours, so a shower was seriously welcome in my book.
The Memorial Gardens contained sand-colored headstones standing amid an oasis of green, commemorating the first fleet’s arrival. Hundreds of names were carved on the stones, an homage to those who endured the months long journey from Britain.
Here, it cost $10 a night with showers. Toilets. Water.
Short electricity poles stood around the campground at odd angles. But they no longer worked – I tried plugging into one but the holes for my plug didn’t match.
Blardy hot in Wallabadah.
The temperature inside Vera dropped by a few degrees as soon as I put a sunshade across the sliding door. Good to know. I’ll pick up another one, sooner rather than later, and THAT will improve my privacy as well as reduce the heat and glare in the summer.
As soon as Vera and I rolled this morning, I visited the smash repairer down the road. He said the bumper issue (see footnote) is more of a panel beating issue than a mechanical one. Told him I was on my way to Scone, and he recommended Steve in Quirindi as a smash repairer.
He gave me typical Aussie instructions:
– go straight through on the main road,
– right at the first roundabout,
– go past the clocktower and
– turn right at the last road on your right as you head for Tamworth.
But if I don’t know the streets how will I know which one is the last on the right?
I found it, AFTER I drove past the outskirts of town then turned back. Steve examined the roo-damaged bumper. He pronounced Vera in good enough health to drive to Melbourne if that was where I was headed — probably only required a new clip under the bumper.
In Quirindi proper, I bought Allertine tablets from the chemist and sleeping tablets, so I have a supply on hand for those pesky nights when sleep eludes me like it did one night in Wallangara (Queensland) — I was awake until 4 am making tea and wishing for a couple of hours of sleep before hitting the road again.
The chemist was loathe to provide sleeping tablets – asking suspiciously, who are they for? Did I look as startled as I felt with his question?
– Just me, I stammered.
– Do you take medication?
– None.
– Are you allergic to any medication?
– Not that I know of.
He looked a moment longer at my red eyes — still swollen from chronic hay fever — and reluctantly handed me a box with an authoritative aside, “These will make you dizzy and drowsy”
– Okay – I’ll take only half a tablet.
– If you wake in the morning and you’re still dizzy and drowsy, then please don’t operate ANY machinery.
I nodded my understanding though later I wondered if he meant all machinery or just the big heavy ones that drive on the roads. I giggled at the image of me liberating some personal device while half drugged.
Now in the library in Quirindi, I am seated and sated with coffee, an apple scroll, and the Telfast tablets have finally kicked in (I took 2 this morning). From here I’m listening to the gentle rhythms of a town and a library waking up.
The bakery where I bought the coffee and pastry was alive with the bustle of a working bakery, and every woman in there addressed each other and the customers as honey, lovely, darling.
So quaint, yet delightful, and so beautiful to witness a harmonious workplace. A refreshing contrast to the bakery in Glen Innes where one staff member turned to her colleague and spat, ‘Well? What is it you’re trying to ask me?’
I heard the warm morning greetings from the young librarian addressing locals compared with how she looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow as I staggered in with my backpack and my water and my coffee cup.
Her judgement was curiosity driven yet I wanted to say, ‘I’m a writer, you know, I have every right to take up space in your library.’
Not that I would dream of saying it aloud, but the retort was on my tongue for all of a nanosecond.
Pfft. I need to justify myself to nobody these days, and people’s judgements say more about them than they do about me.
Until I hit the road again I’ll push past the small-minded energetic spikes I sense and focus on sharing my days with you, dear readers.
Life is still good.
*Bumper issue – the previous day, while driving from Delungra to Bingara, I hit a kangaroo. It died roadside and I drove away sobbing with guilt. By the time I arrived in Wallabadah, I was drained from driving for hours in the heat, as well as crying for much of the way.
Image source: Google Images (creator unknown)
Christine Writer 