|This is all I can show|
without getting intellectual
Before lunch, we drove to Gulmarrad Public School, the setting for the Lower Clarence Arts and Craft Exhibition. In previous years I have submitted entries in the photographic section but I have cut back on such endeavours this year. The place was alive with little old ladies protecting their intellectual ownership from mean middle aged men who night rob them of their property with a camera. I had no intention of taking shots of the artwork or the photography but was somewhat surprised when one old dear turned storm trouper and all but frog-matched me from the grounds for being rude enough to snap her friend at a spinning wheel and catch her in the background. She insisted I should have asked and when I erased the picture and asked after the event, I was given a resounding no as she stood up to her full height of 4'11" and strutted across the room to brag about her efforts to a friend. The spinner, meanwhile, said she'd be more than happy for me to take another photo and that "Agnes sometimes goes off like that". By then, I'd lost interest and declined the invitation.
At the fine art room - and some of it was fine art - I had the camera slung behind my back ... holstered as it were ... but before more than a word could be spoken, Katharine, the border guard on duty in fine art, said she remembered me from last time, knew my name and my reputation and forbid me from taking any photos. This was all news to me, as I was fairly convinced I had never previously met Katharine. Perhaps, like a regular throng of others, she thought I was Rolf Harris and the bastard ply-board flogger had been giving me a bad name by stealing the intellectual property of crafty old ladies across the length and breadth of the Lower Clarence. More likely, dementia is now a membership requirement of the LCACA.
The quilts were impressive.
Earlier, as we arrived, smithies were demonstrating the forging and manipulation of hot iron into many useful and remarkably cheap tools. They posed for photos, clearly in a state of intellectual abandonment.
We continued out along the road to the small village of Brooms Head, a postage stamp which clings to the coast mainly because of the caravan park which occupies a two level line along the water's edge. The elevated lookout is on top of the head itself and provided stunning views. In little more than a month, the coast view we'll be taking in will be in southern France. Its still disturbing our minds.
|Late, late afternoon|
We returned to Yamba via the shopping centre on the outskirts of town and then left the car at the flat and walked up to the Pacific Hotel for the sunset. On the way, I snapped a pretty rainbow over the ocean. I was on solid ground. With showers sweeping across the watery landscape, the ocean was in a variety of moods from bright sunshine to grey-out conditions. It was as stunning as it was yet again different.
Quiet night in tonight.