This past weekend, two friends and I went to Castlemaine, Victoria, an old gold rush town, for a weekend away in an old converted courthouse, where the only goal was to sit around in our sweats and uggs (or really fuzzy socks) and read. Oh, and eat nothing but bread, cheese, olives and some fruit.
I think we did fairly well at accomplishing our goals, though we did venture out on Saturday to walk along the 'downtown' area of Castlemaine, which firmly falls into the 'small but quaint' category. We hit a couple of bookstores, because we were committed to our goals, and a book haul was built:
Also acquired, but not in the picture because I'm currently reading it, is a copy of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke. It's a doorstop, but the glowing reviews finally sucked me in. There are two upgrade titles in the stack: The Horologicon, and Why Shoot a Butler? and a new anthology put together by Martin Edwards called Cozy Crime Short Stories, whose front cover also says Gothic Fantasy, and includes a round selection of, let's call them 'vintage' authors - some expected (Conan Doyle), some not so much (Anton Chekov).
For the curious, a selection of photos from the trip:
The gold fields, or more accurately, what's left of them.
A Superb Fairywren.
And while I was away, MT took this picture in the pitch black darkness of our garden. I pulled as much out as I could, but let's all just pretend I've applied an old school vintage filter instead of calling it the crap photo it is; I include it because it's a momma bush tail possum with her baby on her back, walking along our fence line. Probably on her way to eat one of our trees bald.