Out and about in New South Wales ... or, Ulmarra village of my dreams

 

It has been a rather eventful time for me, this last 10 days or so.  Yes, I know I came here to relax and to work ... sun, sand, sea and silence ... but ... well ...

And Paulie has a collection of musical compositions to launch on Spotify by this week ...

But family and friends, not to mention the occasional little outing (often connected with food), have joyously intervened ..

Renee and Nick arrived one lunchtime with an enormous fresh-caught fish, which Nick cooked and wow ...

It may not be the prettiest finny creature, but boy did it taste good ...

And, after lunch, why let's go get some more. Me? Don't be silly. I couldn't get down to the beach. I couldn't hold a rod. I never have (70 years ago, we just ran to string and a hook!) and what is left of my right arm would let a blighter like that go at first tug. And anyway I'd have to stand ...

We got to Whiting Beach. It was incredibly high tide. Paulie set me on track, and I wobbled towards the sand

Oh pffffft. My poor Rangiora Warehouse shoes! And why did I wear socks ... ahhhhh! I sank way above my ankles in the soft sand. 

Much to the amusement of the watching gulls

Ah! There's a wheelchair parking sign. Half drowned in the tide. I wouldn't bring my wheelchair down here ... oh. It's been uprooted and abandoned ...

The boys found me a dry place to sit and put a rod in my hand. 

Well, it might look convincing ... Paulie and I got a number of bites, but scored zero. Nick, however, as an experienced fisherman, hooked a lovely bream ... which Renee, who'd actually dipped wholeheartedly in the sea, posed with ...

Paulie cooked it for our tea .. bream, buttered cabbage and spätzle ... unspeakably lovely. I'd forgotten how different fish straight from the sea is .. memories of Rhodes 1972 came rushing back ..

In all the years I have been coming to my Winter Palace, I've wanted to go to Ulmarra. It's only 30 minutes from here. By the river. But I've only ever passed through on the bus to Grafton.

But, you see, it has a bookshop. And I suspected, in spite of its unpretentious outside, that it was a REAL bookshop.

And I was right. As soon as I stepped gingerly inside the door, I knew I was at 'home'

Rows and rows and rows of shelves of pre-loved books! And not just the gaudy fiction you see in many modern second-hand bookshops. I can see Victorian bindings and ... oh Lord, music!!  

I spent an hour and a half going through piles and boxes of music. Much of it thoroughly dilapidated or even disbound. But, again, not the stuff you usually find ... here were Italian opera libretti, oratorio scores (alas, mostly Novello editions), the usual ration of ballads ... I wonder what Oley Speakes would say of this one

Gerard who?

And omigod, what's the Finck doing here. In a small Australian pastoral town ...

But I'm not the truffle-hound I used to be. I can't get down to the lowest shelves .. I can't read some of the faded spines ... Paulie found me a chair and put the boxes on my lap .. but there was no room ... and when I came on half a disbound libretto of which I'd passed the other half several boxes back .. well, I didn't have the energy to start re-digging.

Why were there so many Italian libretti? Who in Ulmarra cared about the minor works of Cilea and Mascagni and who....? Well, I was not leaving this wonderful shop without a souvenir. I know. I am selling these days, not buying, but just ONE Cilea, and ONE Mascagni ... $3 ... half a coffee. 

Well, I've never heard of them. Anyone else? Who would cherish them?

I dragged myself from the sweet soft-spoken bookseller and his shop. It wasn't fair to stay longer for $3. Because there was another episode to our Ulmarra visit. Directly opposite the Bookshop is 

And Veronica had recommended me to the (home-made) sausage and mash. She was right. 

We sat inside (maybe a mistake? but I was wary of presuming on my forces) looking at the lovely outside ...

and I scoffed three lovely sausages, drenched in real onion gravy and accompanied by the best plate of barely-cooked greens you can imagine.

After lunch we wobbled outside, and gazed over the Clarence River ... 

and met a little friend ..

I hav'n't seen one this year at Yamba.

Before we left the village -- and, please Zeus, let it remain a village -- we had one more stop to make. On the main road there was an antiques shop. Well, we all know that 'antiques' in ebay parlance means anything pre-21st century. Not here. This was a REAL antiques shop. A collector of pressed glass would go WILD!  Once again, so much stock, a lovely châtelaine... but whereas a wobby quasi-octogenerian can do no harm in a bookshop, china and glass are something else ... I wobbled out ...

Oh, Ulmarra, you are my type of town. Village. Whatever. Thank you for a grand day.

I promise that tomorrow we will both stay glued to our work benches ...

Ps I found out about the two operas. 1905 Monte Carlo with Geraldine Farrar for the Mascagni; 1907 at La Scala for the Cilea. For two performances.

I wanna go back!!!!