Reminiscing

It's amazing how much you can remember about your early years when you revisit old haunts and chat with people who were actually there at the same time. Because my father was the local vicar, I figured that if I could find a few locals around my age or older then someone would surely remember him.

We decided the local museum (formerly the railway station) would be a good place to start looking. As luck would have it, we turned up at exactly the same time that the museum committee was concluding its monthly meeting and enjoying a cuppa and cake in the sun on the old railway station platform. Among the committee were several women who'd lived in or around Nyngan all their lives. The newly appointed Vice President of the committee, Gwen Wardman, not only remembered both my parents, but also remembered that dad had presided over her confirmation at St Mark's when she was 13.

Through Gwen and the other lovely women there I discovered that my childhood friend, Jocelyn, was now living elsewhere and I was given a phone number for her sister, who still lives in the district. I haven't made the call yet, but will at some point. I also found out that the Rectory, where we'd lived, had been demolished long ago.

Gwen kindly treated us to a guided tour of the museum, which by country town standards was one of the best I've seen. There was a large collection of artefacts and memorabilia, documenting the town's history from settlement through to recent years. Seeing so many old photos of the town brought back more memories: watching films in the outdoor cinema; making mud pies in the laneway behind Jocelyn's house; playing in the dried up river bed (the same one that's now overflowing and a great place to swim if you're a Labrador); and watching with awe as my grandmother slaved for hours in a hot kitchen making Christmas pudding, inserting sixpences and threepences before hanging it up to await the big day. Both my grandmothers came from England for several months one summer - I've no idea how they survived the experience. And although I came to know my father's mother later in life, it was the first and only time I met my maternal grandmother, and I remember her well and very fondly.

So that's it for Nyngan. Thanks for indulging my trip down memory lane, normal service will be resumed once we move on down the road. And many thanks to Gwen and the ladies of the museum for their generosity of time and conversation.