Sent on Wed 14th Dec 2011. Highlands highlife.
I just thought I might share a few precious moments from last weekend in the Highlands, far from the madding crowd.
We had our first formal invitation – an ‘At Home’ at the home of an old school friend, Mark Darling and his wife Stephanie at ‘Kooyong’, Sutton Forest.
On the way we motored through Moss Vale where a ‘Carols’ function was being held in the main central park around 6pm. We slowed down to see throngs of people in what looked for all the world like a film set for a Miss Marple movie. And all the characters were there, from Santa to the priest … kids, old folks, young lovers, etcetera.
After a false turn into the wrong driveway we found ourselves at the homestead of our friends with a dozen or more fancy motor cars parked in the salubrious and extensive grounds, punctuated by a huge old oak tree and a row of Robinias. To be sure it was a ‘Highlands’ crowd … yet we managed to meet some delightful and interesting people nonetheless.
We initially were introduced to a pleasant older lady who, with her daughter, runs a business designing and marketing custom children’s toys from their home in Moss Vale Road. They send the designs to Manila where they are made up and sent back in appropriate quantities for the exclusive local market including David Jones in Sydney. We discussed the recent unseasonable cold weather, central heating, city and country life. I was intrigued that she stated that she never ate in restaurants.
Another man worked in the centre of Sydney near the Town Hall whence he commuted virtually every week day, leaving at ungodly hours. He described the train journeys on Melbourne, Canberra and local trains, each of which had advantages. He particularly enjoyed the saloon bar on the Melbourne express.
Next I moved in on the tallest man at the party who just happened to be Lee Macarthur-Onslow, a man I went to school with and who I had not seen for over 40 years. We neither recognised each other, understandably. His extreme height of about 6 foot 7 inches is only matched by his wit and lively personality. He waxed lyrical about the wealth and influence of his family over the past two centuries (“It was 1804, actually”) … one of his ancestors used to grace the two dollar bill until it was replaced with a coin. He even spoke about the acquisition of the hyphen in his family name. His mother and I worked together for some years at Rachel Forster Hospital for women and children where I was deputy superintendent for a time. Lady Macarthur-Onslow was a very impressive woman but sadly is very frail and ill at the present time according to Lee. He reminded me of another connection which was that Kimbal Ryrie, also a colleague from Cranbrook School, was partner of John Augustus, St Vincent’s anaesthetist who also worked at Rachel Forster Hospital until its closure in about 1985. John and Kim live just beyond Bundanoon, a hamlet nearby and on the way to Fitzroy Falls I believe.
Perhaps predictably, the most interesting people at the party were the only two refugees … an Italian man named Nerio and his wife. Despite being in Australia for nearly 60 years he still had a thick northern Italian accent. They were children at the start of the last war and we heard memories of Hitler’s forces coming to Treviso, Nerio’s home-town (she is a Roman), to take able-bodied workers to Germany for the war effort. His father had been taken to work in the Volkswagen factory in Bavaria. Nerio had been a tailor in Woollahra before opening a cantina and vineyard in the Southern Highlands where he and his son now produce high quality wines for a discerning consumer market. As we were leaving he came up to me and asked if I ever heard of a man called Barry Byrne, a decorator from Moncur Street in the “old days”. I exclaimed that in fact he was my cousin and was a right bastard! He said that Barry had once given him a small picture which he still had all those years later … possibly 30. We had been speaking a mixture of Italian and English and then got to comparing genealogies and it appears that his family originally came from the Italian-Swiss border country like my grandmother’s. In fact Barry’s mother Rita’s middle name was Helvetia, the Latin for Switzerland. She was born in Bathurst, NSW.
We were greatly impressed by what Mark and Stephanie had done with the property which presents as a friendly, welcoming establishment home. The rooms are enormous and ceilings stentorian. The gardens surrounding are a mix of new and old, all tasteful, measured and seasonal.
I was thinking of starting a blog on our move to the area … but on second thoughts there is little new except that we are discovering what others have been doing for many years. Any way, it remains a pleasure to be able to call ourselves a part of this wonderful corner of New South Wales.
After dropping the car at home in Burradoo we took a cab to Café Rosso just five minutes away where Sebastiano found us a table. He asked if there was anything in particular we might like and I said crab. He recommended some pasta with crab and seafood sauce and roquette salad. It was a delicious end to a marvellous day in the Highlands.
As a bonus later than night we caught a glimpse of a magnificent lunar eclipse. While initially obscured by thick clouds, by about 1am the moon became visible intermittently through the gloom and looked like a giant black balloon with a tiny white skull-cap. Quite a sight indeed – and no need for any fancy telescope.
Hope these notes are of idle amusement if you ever get such moments and reached the end.
‘The end’.
AB ..
