My boss was kind enough to grant me the day off work today - heck, he is away himself, but said I could take a day off to visit my wife and daughter who are holidaying with most everyone from Ballarat down by the beach - the Great Ocean Road, no less.
So into my new car I get, or as Roots Manuva, wise-head (pot head) UK rapper calls it, Brand New Second Hand. It's a Peugeot - basically a small-medium wagon, with the benefit of stylish French design and without the fuel costs of comparable mid-size wagons. That's my story anyway. I got it from a used car dealer in Ballarat, who no doubt got it for 50% of the price I paid at auction in Melbourne. And the auction house got it from a lady in Lorne.
And where did I drive it today, 5 days after I got it? Lorne.
You can tell it's been owned by someone in Lorne immediately - it gleams in the sun, looks like it's been under a white sheet in a dust free, polished concrete-floor garage (think Cameron Fry's dad's garage in Ferris Bueller), and best of all, it has brand new $400 Pirelli P7's. That's $400 per tyre.
Today was the second time I got to drive it at length, after a quick trip to Melbourne last friday night when I collected it. And boy it's nice to drive.
Lorne's one of those places you simply have to visit every now and then, to remind yourself of how the other half live, to observe the interactions of tanned 16 year old girls in rowing jerseys from Ballarat's top schools, and 18 year old guys in skinny jeans who build their social capital while serving fish and chips in waterfront shops. And to see what wealthy farmers and city folk do when they have $800k for a holiday pad, "but let us avoid Sorrento or Dinner Plain this year and head west and see how we can spend our money down there".
So now I sound like one of those jealous middle class types, driving a Peugeot myself and recycling grey water and planting natives in the front yard, then day tripping to Lorne so I can live the dream briefly but roll my eyes at everyone else doing it. So maybe I am. But maybe it's not that simple.
To me, Lorne seems like the kind of place you might have wanted to be in 5 or 10 years ago, before it was full of people who holiday there and need to be seen with other people who go there to be seen with them. It's a furious episode of air kisses and long lunches, year round tans, people dressing up by dressing down, designer prams and op-shops staffed by elderly women in gingham and First perfume. It's captivating and hypnotic, but you're never sure if you like it or think it's weird: a bit like Heston's Feasts.
Today I had a beautiful lunch - a burger at The Bottle of Milk. Ballarat desperately needs a shop like this - the new wave burger movement probably kicked off in Melbourne about 5-6 years ago with Grill'd, then moved to edgy places like this one. They are outstanding burgers - great variety, meat and vego, home made relishes, local artisan bread rolls (oops, now I sound like a Lorne local) and plenty of salad. Good value too. They wrap them really tightly in this thick paper and you carry it off in a sturdy brown paper bag, like a little Leave it to Beaver lunch order or something.
I recommend this place highly. I also recommend the coffee at Kaos Cafe. Allpress beans, creamy lattes, fair price given the location.
And now I get to the point of my commentary. Without the fantastic burgers and consistent good coffee, and much else like it, Lorne couldn't sustain the wealthy local clientele or get punters like me in the door each day. Yet it's the fact these cafes need to be there, to give us all the service and experience we now expect, that shifts such locations from their once-idealised beach side retreat to the Melbourne by the beach that is has become. I contribute to this by eating there when I visit. I expect that quality now. Many of us do. But for the locals, the old lady up the street who moved there in 1950 when hubby died in the war, and raised some kids with her new husband who was a fisherman, this must be quite a sight. Wye River is the same, Apollo Bay and Anglesea too.
Do we still love these places? Or do we love the childhood memories? I think its the memories that bring people back to towns like Lorne each year - recollections of simple childhoods, when the days were long and money wasn't an issue and the best a parent could do was turn a blind eye to us sneaking out to sit on the sand at dark with some boy or girl from the other side of Melbourne. But as an adult, what's our attraction? We want to give our kids this experience, and we should. And we should allow them to have these experiences and be kids, not spectators in our adult world.
(My childhood memories of beaches don't include Lorne - they include fish and chips in a baking hot car in a car park at Seaford. We didn't have much money then, so this was living. I appreciate those moments now more than ever, simple as they were, but on the flipside, those experiences of the beach as a youngster are why I don't much fancy it as an adult. And so it goes.)
My other topics today are much more brief and probably a whole lot more serious: bushfires and political spin.
On the way back in to Ballarat this afternoon I drove through the area near Mt Clear where there was a rather large fire (sadly started by a 12 yo) on new years eve, which I fortunately missed while I was away in the northeast. It was in a pine plantation, which remarkably is bang in the middle of the suburbs. When I saw this a few things struck me: 1) fires are a mighty impressive phenomena, totally devastating the land. That's obvious, then it hits you when you see it. It's a moonscape now. 2) I live very close to a whole lot of bush, and a fire could easily take out many homes and lives on my door step. 3) There is a pine plantation bang in the middle of town.
Does anyone else find this interesting? Maybe it's a city thing, being a city boy and all, but I just love that not only is there is fully operational gold mine (though in some financial trouble) right under us, there is also a major plantation just out of sight of most people. It no doubt employs many locals, directly and indirectly. I love that - so many things happening right in front of us, which we never really see or care to know about.
Spin. Premier Brumby was on the radio talking about some nonsense, and every time he speaks he reminds me how tricky he is with language. He speaks at great length without saying a thing. I am sure he is revered for this in some circles, but when we have dire fire conditions and stretched resources, alcohol violence each week, attacks on foreign students (don't start me on Simon Overland's comments that Indians are safer here than in India. Wow, that's inflammatory), and Melbourne's woeful public transport system, sometimes we need straight talk and lots of it. Or better still, action.
Other than spend federal money on infrastructure projects, particularly roads to move more traffic around and pipes to shift water around, what does this government do? Or more philosophically, do we need state government at all?
Big idea 1: time to do away with three tiers of government. No more state or local government, but instead regional and federal governments only.
With respect to K Vonnegut, thanks for reading.
Scooter No. 10
15 years ago
