Back to Booktown 2008

With a name involving 'Booktown', how could I possibly resist!? I invited Tara along, a writer friend who I met through the Supernatural fandom. Despite my warnings that I would buy lots of books, she could end up being my pack-horse and be relegated to wandering aimlessly behind while I salivated over book titles, she willingly agreed to come along. I collected her from her home at 8:30 and off we went in search of the Western Freeway and an eventual turnoff (somewhere past Ballarat) to Clunes.

I had music in case we couldn’t think of things to say, but we talked so much my throat got sore. We discussed everything from amusing brother-antics to television, books, writing, travel… I’m sure we left no stone unturned and the 2 hour drive simply flew by. Before we knew it, we were in Clunes.

The town’s main street had been cordoned off, turned into an impromptu open-air mall with food stalls down the centre and a band playing country music songs. We parked and started down the hill. They were running a free shuttle bus to ferry people around to the various venues, but it was never anywhere we needed it to be, and the different points of attraction weren’t that far apart so we walked.

First stop was a bookshop. Fancy that!? *lol* Despite seeing many books that could have taken my interest, I bought only one for $8, Jackson’s Track. Tara found a book on Ewan McGregor, so we both did good!

Down the street we trundled, stopping for a quick photo of a local sign as it featured the surname of one of the characters from Supernatural. We must never forget our roots.

Around this time I discovered that the little camera I brought along was useful only as a paperweight, and not really a very good one at that. Tara immediately nominated herself as tour photographer, which pleased me greatly. These photos attest to her ability to do a good job, and again I thank her.

At the junction of the main road through town and the main shopping strip was a lady sitting behind a card table with a stack of brochures and a cash box. Uh huh. It didn’t take much intellect to figure out that there would be no free programs for these little chickens. We kept on walking.

A book stall drew me like a bee to honey (or a wasp, but more on that later), but the books sucked and we didn’t stay long. Further along, more bookstores and then a small park with food stalls. I insisted we stop to eat, because… well, it had been such a long time (2 hours) since I’d eaten breakfast and I was ravenous! I got a Tuki Burger and Tara had baked potato. So, what’s a tuki burger, I hear you say? Hmmm… yummy!! It’s barbeque trout (fish) in a sour dough roll with salad and lemon/pepper dressing. Good gosh, it’s divine. And the fish has no bones, so no chance of me choking. I was the guy’s first customer and he delivered the treat to our table (plastic picnic table on grass) and then dropped by when I was smacking my lips and licking my fingers to ask how it was. I gushed. He beamed. It was all good.

We got a chocolate fudge treat for desert wherein I was told that the organisers had experienced difficulties with electricity, and then, behind us, the coffee man’s generator spluttered and died. Everyone seemed to be taking the power difficulties with good grace though. The street had a small town atmosphere with friendly people, lots of smiles and a general sense of ease and companionship amidst a shared love of books.

While we ate, the band, with a woman in the lead, crooned out a country version of Robbie William’s ‘Angel’. It’s one of my favourite songs and they put it out on a torture rack, stretched it until it wailed, screamed, cried for mercy. It wasn’t the highlight of the day.

From there, more bookstores. Seeing a pattern yet? *lol* I lose track of what I bought where. Oh, but one little treat was a tiny alley with tressel tables, people squished in so hard I could feel them breathe beside me, and books… books… books! Needless to say, I examined every one of what they had on offer, and scurried away like a packrat with my loot. One regret, I overlooked a book, noticed it only when an older woman had picked it up and was reading the back cover. She put it back down and I (with shameless lack of hesitation), grabbed it. Then guilt settled like a weight. She looked at me. I looked at her. You know, that moment when strangers connect. I caved in, offered her first pick. We did the courteous dance for a while, but eventually I bowed out gracefully, with no book. I felt like a better person, but I didn’t get the book. *gnashes teeth* Next time, I take no prisoners!

We extended our exploration, finding books in the old town hall, the library, historic buildings that were a treat to explore even if there had been no books. At each stop, my bags grew heavier. Tara volunteered several times to carry things and eventually I took her up on her offer, then joked that if some fell out (with help), I’d never know. Coincidentally, less than two seconds after me saying that, the plastic bag she was carrying split down the side and two books popped out onto the grass. I stared, agape, afraid of my psychic power.

We continued on, books safely stashed into new plastic bags, and more being added at each stop. Eventually, wearied and needing a toilet break, we headed across the bridge in search of the bowling club, a venue we knew was holding writer’s talks at 2pm. It was just about 1pm by this point.

At the toilets, I commented that we’d not come across the CFA’s ‘nothing over $5’ stalls yet. I figured that we must have already done them but they just weren’t well signed. We went into what we thought might be the bowling club, instead to find tressel tables upon tressel tables of books. My Lord, there were books as far as the eye could see! Tara laughed. I squealed. In we both went.

Books were $1 or 50 cents. I expected to get armfuls and was wondering how to carry them all back to the car, but I ended up with only 7 or so. I must be too fussy.

Outside was a sausage sizzle. The grilled onion smell was driving us insane, so we stopped for lunch. As we ate, we were visited by wasps. At one point I made complicated airplane actions in the air with my sausage in an attempt to dissuade the marauding wasp. It worked. Then it went for Tara. *grin*

From there we went to the bowling club, listened for a while to a poetry recital by Anthony Lawrence where I discovered that I enjoy poetry when its read out loud. Anthony’s poetry had a dark mysticism, maudlin and beautiful. I could listen to him all day, entranced.

Tara and I stayed until he finished, which was only a short while because it was getting cold and we’d gotten there too late to get a seat inside, and there really wasn’t anyone speaking that we couldn’t live without hearing.

Back up the hill we went, carrying our bags, talking about books and writing. That conversation lasted all the way home, and then some. It was a great day.

Here's the loot! Well, not all of these were bought in Clunes, only about 18 of these were, but they've all been slotted into my bookshelf. Yes, these three tightly packed shelves are books I have yet to read. *contented sigh* I am such a nerd! :-D