Rural NSW travels and the Blue, Black and Gold Ball.
Last night we celebrated my Godson Michael completing Year 12 by attending the Blue, Black and Gold Ball in Bathurst. This was a whole new world for me. I have never attended a Scottish ball, this one came complete with Haggis Party (yes the sheeps stomach carried in on a platter offered to all guests after a ceremonial stabbing - gross), pipe and drum marching bands, dancing displays (fit girls in kilts leaping) musical items etc.
It was a wonderful night - we were all in our very finest and tried hard to remember our manners. How royalty, celebs etc keep up appearances I do not know. Once a year dress ups is enough for me. I wore my most formal dress (the floor length electric blue one which caused much discussion years ago at playgroup regarding in/appropriate undergarments - remember that one Susie). This dress requires the 10cm heels that I only wear once in a blue moon. I was a little concerned but I even managed to dance in them! Michael (17) put up with the formal photos and even danced with me. To make the experience even more unique, we danced to the band playing ACDC ‘Its a long way to the top when you want to rock and roll’ complete with a guy from the school playing bagpipes. I feel a great sense of accomplishment - its the small things really!
Hugh and I had a great time, we came home round 1am. Looking at the stars & the town lights out from the Ovenstone’s driveway brought back memories of good nights out in Bathurst when I was at Uni and used to go to Fran and John’s for holidays. Its so clear and calm out on their property at night (well till the late night party people come home). We even got a sleep in till round 9am when the phone rang - one of Frans neighbours wanting a bale of hay. Fran cooked us brunch at 10am - she is such a good friend!
The other interesting thing that happened was stopping for lunch on Saturday. We had just driven into Cowra and noticed a “Sat $5 special roast” offer at the corner pub. Attracted by the thought of cheap lunch we turned off the highway. There, hitched to a pole outside the pub was a lovely chestnut stockhorse. We went inside and at the bar was one very drunk stockman who asked Hugh if his wife wanted to pat the pony … I didnt know if I should be alarmed or amused! Hugh came back with a witty quip about at least the guy had a designated driver which sent the locals into laughter. “Yep the horse knows its way home” was his comment. I wonder if you can be booked for riding under the influence? Is a horse still considered a vehicle? Returning from Bathurst today we were stopped at the other end of Cowra for a random breath test - perhaps the police were inspired by the stockman, but he was nowhere in sight.