Small Towns

I know very little about the country.  My colleagues would argue that growing up in New Zealand, I had never been to a "real city" until I moved to Australia; "just like the rest of the sheep-shaggers from our Eastern state" (bastards).


During a student exchange year in Scotland, I watched a considerable amount of UK daytime TV.  A dated crime programme called Midsomer Murders taught me that a significant proportion of the individuals living in the country were closet serial killers.  If that programme was based on real life it would surprise me that there were any residents of rural England left who had not been jailed or placed into witness protection.


Just over an hour from where I live in central Melbourne, relatives of mine have made the move to an idyllic country property.  Complete with livestock, a large homestead and surrounding forest area, it is a slice of paradise.  When the chaos of honking taxis, screeching trams and the neighbourhood drug addict asking for money at the IGA gets too much to bear, I nip out for a visit and a chance to hear the sound of silence.


Tonight I have returned from one such weekend.  My relatives were away and I was asked to housesit (which can be loosely translated to "babysit the dogs").  I took a couple of friends with me and looked forward to a quiet country getaway.  


Over the course of the weekend I ticked a number of items off my 'never before encountered' list.  The first of these was an enormous brown snake; bailed up by the dogs in the forest.  I was very unprepared for the situation, and also the knowledge of how to deal with it.  Fortunately in this case, a raised and rather panicked "COME HERE" to the dogs got us all a safer distance from the reptile, which is fortunate given that I was wearing jandals (thongs, sandals, flip-flops for those of you not from NZ).  I have defended this type of footwear in many, many situations in the past, however even I am forced to admit that they are not ideal for encountering a venomous snake.


On the way home from the forest, one of my friends noticed a white, unmoving shape in the paddock.  Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a newborn lamb.  Two of them, in fact, and a sick ewe that was in no shape to deal with her offspring.  My afternoon became taken up with clearing items from the hay shed to construct a makeshift pen - including the displacement of an enormous rat living amongst the feed), moving the unwell sheep into the pen (with the assistance of the local vet who most conveniently lives across the road), and attempting to connect the mouths of two very hungry lambs with the udder of their mother.  An exhausting job!


As part of both my professional and my personal life, I spend a great deal of time on the open road.  Australia is rife with country towns, and the stereotypes associated with them.  My encounters have taught me that many of the common jibes are untrue; most countryfolk have both teeth and the correct genetic composition.  They ensure that their sexual partners have at least a different surname before procreating, and unlike the stay-at-home-mum in the city, they are justified in their use of a 4 wheel drive vehicle.


One thing I have noticed about small towns is the ratio of antique and craft shops to population; upon first glance I would estimate it to be close to 1.  Another thing I have noticed is the wide variety of names that people give to the ancient and unwanted garbage they find in dusty boxes in the back of the shed.  Stores selling such items are commonly seen with monikers such as 'antiques, collectables, bric-a-brac, retro/vintage', and the list goes on.  One store I have driven past on a number of occasions in Fremantle has gotten creative and added "Old Wares" to the shop title:

Another memorable small-town store for me is in Tirau, NZ.  Situated on the main highway in the North Island, I have passed through it more times than I could care to count.  Coasting up the main street (otherwise known as the only street), visitors are greeted by a colourful store, aptly named "Crafty Crafts".  I'm sure they are...


For the sake of good scones, pots of tea and open fireplaces, I hope small towns remain as they are for many years to come.  They provide a refreshing dose of normality and character, and an 'Antiques & Collectables' store per capita!