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Country roads take me home...

LindaGlamour/Beyond Blonde
Feb 27, 2016
2 min read

At the end of a nearly straight road three hours long is the small country town of St Arnaud. Driving through Australian bush and skirting around the regional town of Ballarat, I'm glad when I make it through Avoca and am only 45 kilometres away. The last 45 k's are the most boring but that may be just because by that time I've been sitting in the car for 2 1/2 hours and the feeling of 'just wanting to get there' has kicked in. By this time too I have tried to stop counting the dead kangaroos on the side of the road.

The town is named after the french explorer Jaques Leroy de St Arnaud and his statue graces the public gardens in the centre of town. Google Maps uses the french pronounciation "st arno" and this always makes me laugh. There is little in St Arnaud that resembles a french village or that draws upon its explorer's heritage. Lamartine is the exception I guess.... a renovated old corner Pub, it is now a black and white bar/bistro. Ian and I have drunk champagne, played scrabble, watched the local workforce guzzle espresso martinis and eaten here...we are recognised now from one visit to the next but not as locals.

Arriving at Ian's rental property, I feel at home. The brown brick 1970's house reminds me of my childhood home, but its bigger and this yard is dry and dusty. There is little here in St Arnaud that is green. The interior is clean and spacious - furnished with remnants of my and our past houses and apartments. The small black leather sofa from our time on the Geelong Waterfront, so too the diningroom table and red shaded lamp. The Tessa armchair from our home in Newtown, purchased after an eventful trip to Sydney.

The pictures on the wall rescued from the packing box contents that could not make it to my own walls. From Ian's Docklands apartment - the artwork we were given as a wedding present and the Ikea bed, #2, like the one in Houston Texas. Feeling at home is based perhaps more upon the familiarity of contents than location. Do I want to admit that this familiarity includes living with Ian? The familiarity of cooking, talking, sharing, simply being....

This house in St Arnaud is the precursor to Ian building his house on the large block of land he has nearby. House plans have gone through numerous incarnations of design and the surrounding land is to be filled with vines, roses and agapanthus. I hope he builds this house. I hope he finds it to be the home he wants. I shall find mine too.