Amherst

Amherst is such a lovely place to travel to.

The long drive and then belated feeeling of driving through the paddocks of Clunes after driving the many miles across the Western Plains. Driving the hours from Melbourne; the feeling of continuing beyond the Ballarat exit produces a gratifying sense of distance. Tussocks for miles and the trees in the distance; the unknown feeelings as one approachesand passes the Amherst milestones. Eventuallly the town greets you with tall treees, a the town centre recalling years gone past.

I never want to stop and meet the town.

I want to approach it, drive slowly through, and stop somewhere irrelevant beyond or before. Maybe just stop the car in a rest area or by the side of the road. Open the windows and wait and listen for a magpie song. Feel the chill in the air and pull, or hope to pull, a blanket over me.

It's a song of frost and coolie magpie song; a sweet old timer feeling, a trickle and roadside modern irrelevancy.