Almost Disaster

The trip out to set up the caravan almost ended in disaster. The thing towed beautifully, notwithstanding the load in the truck. Unfortunately, Bell had been hit by a massive storm the night before and there were trees down all along the last 10k of road into town. The block had not been mown in years, and the native grass was about shoulder high, and now thoroughly saturated. We got there quite late in the day – misjudging the time involved. We learnt a lot, very quickly, about the quality of the clay soil of the block. The caravan slid, and skidded and bogged in the manoeuvring process. We dug the hell out of the neighbouring block and the corner of the pub land – and no doubt provided great entertainment for the locals drinking on the balcony of the pub, watching the mad antics of the city folk.

We had no way of anticipating, however, one very critical factor. As soon as we disturbed all that long damp grass, the mosquitoes came out with vigour. We had intended to sleep in the van that night, and by dark we were wondering whether we were going to be able to sleep anywhere. We had the whipper snipper with us and so Paul was desperately cutting a patch of grass down to put the van onto. The air was thick with both mosquitoes and bile as we struggled to get the van relatively level. It was a marathon job and by the time the van was actually reasonably in place, the next issue became the job of jacking it level. The jacks kept sinking into the saturated ground, as did the tyres.

Still – mission was accomplished, we had a dry bed to sleep in and after a bit of a punch up to clear the air, we settled down for the night. It was only a 2 night stay, power was supposed to be on to the building, but the storm had knocked the power out, so no lights.

Reminded me of the night we arrived in Raglan, me 7 months pregnant, to a rat and mosquito infested garage in somebody's backyard, with my former life packed in boxes around me and my future life asleep at my side. The adventures never end.

The Journey Begins....



Very 70's



We settled on the Bell project in mid-December and made an eventful journey out with our new small caravan – with the intention of it being the interim accommodation. It had a certain 70's feel to it and at 12ft, was very reminiscent of the 10ft bondwood number in which we lived with Josh as a toddler in Perth – and still found time and space to get Luke underway. Of course, by the time he was born we had advanced to a 20ft van, which was far more luxurious. This new number is a good buy, has a neat annexe and so far, doesn't leak. It has a small kitchen, a dining configuration which has converted very nicely to a queen size bed, it has a fridge and all power works. Perfect-o!

The good folks at Central Park have had to endure it parked in the front street for 3 weeks prior to taking it out, but no mind – the urban life coughs up all those sort of trials and tribulations.

I have it all kitted out, with the essentials for life on the bush and we will head off mid-December to set it up on the block.

This (Unencumbered) Life.


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The Old Bell Bakery, c. 1912



We are Baby Boomers – the year of our birth defines us.  We avoided the Vietnam War (by the pure chance of a lottery draw), we cut our cultural teeth on Woodstock, Sunbury, the Stones, the Beatles, Billy Thorpe, Deep Purple, Johnny Farnham, the choice of half a dozen jobs when we left school, flower power, children at an early age (contraceptive pill notwithstanding), no thought of super – just work and a yen for life. 

Personally, we had our children early, worked, struggled constantly, had limited time and funds for travel.  We raised boys, took them surfing and camping, lived the ‘hippie’ lifestyle, kept chooks, grew vegies, bottled fruit, baked cakes, moved from east coast, to west coast, then back again.  Life was good and finally we jumped on the investment bandwagon in the 90’s, bought, renovated, sold, moved, made money, lost it – spent it, like quicksilver it came and went. 

Suddenly – at almost 60 – life is not quite as we anticipated it would be.  The thought of not working just doesn’t occur – although it would be nice if it could be that work was a bit less of a necessity.  There has been a long spell of travel, philanthropy, doing stuff we have always dreamed of and always promised ourselves we would do, if we ever had the money.  Still, however, we have the anchor of an unwanted mortgage – until recently.

We had been looking for a reprieve from the frantic lifestyle of our home – living in a much-loved holiday destination is sending us quietly crazy – and the country has beckoned for a while.  Other folks surf the net for electronics, porn, music, videos – I surf for real estate.    How does one, tiny, inexpensive property have escaped my laser research?  Because it was under the $50,000 minimum search criteria, I think. 

So we are now the proud owner of a beautiful old sandstone building, formerly the town Bakery, built in 1912, in the small town of Bell in the shadow of the Bunya Mountains in SE Qld.  So much history there for the embracing – if we have no true roots of our own, then we will happily graft onto somebody else’s roots.  It will be a labour of love to restore, and a joy then to live within that small stone haven.   SE Queensland is full of these lovely little communities – races and rodeos, art shows and gymkhanas, bowls clubs and garden shows, proud little schools and beautiful small churches, golf clubs and walking trails, every weekend a market to be had somewhere nearby,  hard working country folk and ratbags escaping the modern era  – so much to offer and the trade off is.......... well, I haven’t quite worked that out yet.    I don’t for a moment buy the argument that as we age we must all cluster around our doctors and hospitals, nursing homes and services – waiting to die, encouraging illness and neuroses.  Personally, I’ll take my chances with what life has in store for me -  preferably, I want to fall off a mountain in the Himalayas, pack on my back, eyes wide open to take in the view and launching joyfully into the next adventure. 

So much to tell about this little place – but for us, the price tag of $30,000 (and yes, we put it on our credit card and got the Frequent Flyer points)  was worth every cent for something incredibly precious and rare.  We shuffled some funds around, paid off the card and – VOILA – Grand Designs Bell was born.   A few weeks after purchase a piece of paper arrived from the solicitor – it was the title to the property, registered in our name.  We had never actually seen one before, they had always gone directly to Mr Big Four Banker.   Please feel free to join us  on 12.12.12 when we throw a 100^th birthday party for our beautiful little building  -  finally, a place of our own. 



West across the Downs



Someone else's big plans





Watch this space for earth works