The trip down the Hume from Sydney and across on the Federal Highway to Canberra was uneventful except that the traffic was doing it’s best to play speedway aces in the pouring rain. The scariest thing was a young woman with two kids in a clapped out old Barina tailgating other cars in the pouring rain. I was thinking of calling the cops on the mobile and getting the highway patrol to pull her up for her own safety. But she didn’t look like the kind of person likely to respond well to advice. And there are always the Darwin Awards to consider….
Anyway, we stopped at Goulburn Maccas on the way and the crowd on Jan 2 was eight deep. The carpark was almost overflowing. We gave it a miss and fell back on the Express kebab shop where the trade was brisk but not ridiculous and the service was friendly and civil. But the food was, well, edible.
We met up with our mates and really enjoyed the Paris Exhibition at the National Gallery. Do book an earlybird session. You pay an extra ten bucks and gain entry at 9:00 – an hour before the hoi polloi which gives you a fighting chance at a really good squizz without the three mile queue. Book it through the web if you like. We had breakfast before the Sunday early session and we complained about the crappy food break situation going from Sydney to Canberra on the highway. One of the crew told us to stop at Marulan on the way back. There’s a huge roadhouse there. We did, and we didn’t. We decided to pull off the highway at Marulan and survey the town (avoiding yet another Hume monster roadhouse).
And this is what we found. A three generation tea place – Nan, Mum and preschool daughter, serving soup, light lunch and tea. No crowds, hearty soup and toasty bread, reasonable prices and personal service. Delightful stop. Try it.
This is what a bypass does to a little town.


When we bought our farm in Brayton, our neighbour who’s got two thousand acres, told us that we were lucky because our property is not a result of a subdivision but has always been a small farm.
Didn’t know then what he was on about, but later on realised that’s why we got all the lovely old trees and the very old historical cottage on the property, not just a nice seventies farmhouse.( Built by two boys from Balmain)
Out of the three big farms surrounding us two have started subdividing. It’s done well in hundred or two hundred acre blocks, but even so they lack the charm of an old farming property.
Funnily enough , we met two our Balmain people at the new year eve’s party; one an architect building his dreamhouse and another having vinyard twenty ks away; we sampled his first drop. This bloke used to live two doors away from us in the same street.A wonderful lot of people.
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We just got back from Sydney and there is Marulan on the Pigs.
Our lovely Brayton is just 13 km from Marulan. It got bush- fired out many years ago but a lovely grave yard survived. Now Brayton is the name for a locality.
Yes, you won’t get blinded by the night-lights at Marulan. The Wattle Glen Tea place’s ‘Nan’ is a lady who has published two books on Marulan and Greenwich Park.
We celebrated New Year’s Eve at Greenwich Park, which if you have a spare 11 million can be yours. It takes just 30 minutes to get to Goulburn now, but years ago, it would take a week.
Some years ago it was bought by Taiwanese people who leased it to Tom Hughes whose bloody cows would forever eat our much greener grass. There is some old squatter’s rule that apparently allows both sides of riverbanks to be eaten and shared. I wasn’t going to fight it, our alpacas never crossed the river!
Greenwich Park had its own school, church, post office and a community of many workers associated with that property. The present owners (and our New Year’s hosts) are busily subdividing and new owners are starting to kick some life back into that glorious area.
There is a painting by Brett Whiteley ‘Wollondilly River’ which was painted when he was young from the Brayton Road towards ‘Big-Hill’.
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I remember the roadhouse well. We used to stop there when doing various activities in the area. The mixed grill was a must on our visits there. I remember 13 of us there once trying to pay over a 2.5 hour period. For whatever reason they wouldn’t take our money in the end we just left. I also recall running out of petrol between Marulan and Goulburn. The fellow who owned the roadhouse also was the NRMA man. He tried negotiating a price for the jerry of petrol. I said I’d pay pump price. He apparently tried that with all those who ran out of petrol. I also remember the coppers you never sped around Marulan.
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I seem to remember a ‘Paragon’ cafe at Goulbourn, opposite the park. Is the Paragon still there? Or have the Golden Archways edged it out?
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Tutu and I have eaten there years ago before the highway got moved
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The Paragon is still there and so are many other places. They are all mainly owned by Greeks and thank Zeus and Apollo for that. The Paragon is very busy with special 3 course lunches for $12.-
Helvi and I often go to Bryants, which is near the Paragon. They bake bread and a range of pies and lovely salad ‘with everything’ sandwiches.
They provide all the latest newspapers and have a lovely blond girl with a dazzling smile serve the coffee.
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MJ:
Ah ha! I hoped you’d do a review of the exhibit. The Marulan tip is a bonus. (Speaking of which, isn’t that the site of that other tip?) Alas, my brilliant plan to combine old favourite masterpieces with racking up some decent hours in my daughter’s L plate log book has been placed on indefinite hold due to her having injured her left arm. I am spitting chips. Had been really looking forward to a big mother-daughter outing. Will postpone in the hope she can handle it in a few weeks.
Warrigal:
I’m being really good.
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Maybe tomorrow a review, Voice. Marulan – a tip. Definitely, Waz. Hung – So true. Very lucky run we had. The First Mate has a new Alfa – but we was being good. Just like Voice.
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When I was on the road the Marulan Roadhouse was a “must stop” place. They did a fabulous mixed grill and a ham steak this thick!
If you’re all really good, one of these days I might tell you about the night we did a gig at The Mount Pleasant Sports and Social Club and were then up for an overnighter to The Eureka in Geelong. It started to go wrong in the car park before we left and certain critically flawed decisions were made at the Marulan Roadhouse that turned the next week into an unforgettable rollercoaster that ended in a series of inconclusive court appearances for one of our number and me dodging a few bullets that on mature reflection I should’ve taken in the chest.
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Marulan, full of coppers
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Waz,your post reads like something out of Gatto’s book of which I’ve only got a few pages left to read and which had me in stitches many times. His little liaison with racing horses is an absolute must read. A small book, nowhere near as good as our Foodge but it’s the view of one (surviving) member of the “Carlton Crew.” As he describes his very young days at school (left at 13) memories came flooding back of all these kids I thought who were recalcitrant all the way to the tip of their little pinky.
A great, quick read, particularly if you’ve already read about the Gangland wars.
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…all those kids I taught…”
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Warrigal, careful now, aren’t we revealing a little bit too much here…
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If I ever tell that tale, or indeed the one set on the Gold Coast which saw me end up in court being described by the vile old beak as a “recidivist”, or any number of other “on the road” yarns, you can be assured that the names will be changed to protect the innocent.
Which is not to say that I or any of the other players was all that innocent; it’s just that like me they may have grown up a little and probably wouldn’t want their youthful indiscretions trumpeted about here or anywhere else for that matter.
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Gorrrd, Warrigal, I wasn’t referring to any courtcases or any naughty things from the past, but more that you are, or might be telling us, what you were doing “on the road”. Or in other words giving a bit of insight into Warrigal…
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None of these tails would contain actual harmful naughtiness, certainly no violence, though some might contain real criminal behaviour, and they’d all be told with tongue firmly in cheek. The truth of it all is that they’d be humorous cautionary tales. “The Brothers Grimm” meets “The Dharma Bums” meets “No One Here Gets Out Alive” meets “No Commercial Potential” on the set of “200 Motels” as told by a kind of Molong equivalent of Garrison Keillor. (If only I had his deft touch and sensitivity to quirky human nature. I just Love “The Prairie Home Companion” and his tales of “Lake Wobegon”. Now that’s an insight right there!)
As for further insight into me; why would you bother? Alternatively, I would have thought that my confessional style here would amount to some “insight”. Though perhaps that’s me thinking it’s more important and “meaningful” than perhaps you and the other piglets do.
Truth is there’s not a lot to me when it all boils down, and it is boiling down nicely.
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I’m a huge fan of Garrison Keillor too, Waz. I’m very into laconic mirth. He does a fine line in detective lunacy too – with his detectives Noir and Blanc.
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Warrigal, I found out about Garrison Keillor when we saw the movie “The Prairie Home Companion”, very nice, we both loved it. I even liked Meryl Streep, she was actually singing, she was lovely and natural…I never thought I would say that about Meryl. Still, she was good, but in a different way good, in “The Devil wears Prada”.
No need to keep it boiling , simmering will do just fine.
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I used to listen to the Prairie Home Companion when it was a Minnesota radio program. I can’t imagine how. Perhaps it was on double J when I was in Sydney for a couple of years. He had a very soothing voice and style.
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You can get the PHC online. You can listen to the streamed show “live” and it has the most recent broadcasts plus an archive of previous broadcasts that you can download.
I listened to one the other day that had Ry Cooder as a guest, both picking and playing, as a down at heel bum in a waterfront scene in the regular Noir detective yarn.
Keillor is a man who has found his subject and knows its themes intimately. His people are so real because they are, in a very important sense, real people. His own family, the people he grew up with. He seems to have been sensitive to every passing moment and has saved a memory of each of them to weave into the gentle fabric of his stories.
Like all masters he makes it seem so easy, like one of his yokels falling off a log.
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I googled Garrison Keillor, and found out that he’s got the same birthday as Gerard, 7th of August, but not quite the same year. He’s also a fellow Lutheran, so there is always something tying us together 🙂
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Interesting.
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Julian, are you imitating HOO?
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Well JL was the first to call me HOO so he might be
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