Many moons ago, Chris and Dasher May, abetted or directed by Gill and Ian Taylor, said “Let’s meet up at the Lost Trades Fair in Bendigo in March”.  We, being entirely biddable, said, “Yes”. Well, what an excellent decision.  They also abrogated pretty much any responsibility for where we might stay, so we introduced them to Hipcamps and, indeed, to Somerville Park, at Fosterville, about 20km outside Bendigo.  It was just a big paddock, it was ludicrously under-priced imho, it came with a very talkative owner…but it was ours.  Even better, we were also joined by Judy & Mike Ellis and Sue & Neil Clubb, making a party of 5 assorted “recreational” vehicles; we circled the wagons and set up a campsite for a handful of nights.  No campfire (bummer) but then, it was as dry as a chip. 

Two things you know when you buy a Bendigo Lost Trades t-shirt: it’s actually made completely in Australia and it carries the motto, “Knowledge not shared is knowledge lost”.  What a great event it was. 

There was a wonderful collection of ever-so-slightly-mad people (I know, we were there) both, showing off their wares and looking at those same wares – even buying those wares on occasion.  For example, for years, I’ve been looking for a substantial-width plaited belt, so once found, I paid a ludicrous amount for a belt I love.  “Long after the sweetness of low price has disappeared, the bitterness of poor quality lingers on”.  No bitterness here – I was so proud of these people – no-one, I mean literally no-one, was selling anything “on the cheap”.

Imagine, if you will, any and every old-time trade – blacksmith, founder, potter, leatherworker, bookbinder, carpenter, weaver, spinner, chandler, carver, tinker, tailor…you’re quite right – there were no soldiers or sailors, but there was an armourer! Many of the artisans impossibly young – almost a hippy vibe.  All the fun of the fair, and the lookers-on were almost as fascinating as the artisans.    

And all of that paled into insignificance once we got back to camp and plunged into the Culinary Wars!  How is it possible that Dasher had never even thought of roasting a chook in his baby Weber?  How is it possible that Ian hadn’t even bought a barbie before the price rise?  Mysteries abound. 

Nonetheless, Dasher and Trev proceeded to a “chook-off”, roasties included.  Sadly, no pics exist, but an honourable draw was declared and a re-match will occur in the fullness of time.  Our delicious and quickly consumed chook efforts were quickly overtaken by the Boiled vs Baked fruitcake – significantly different, but both equally yummy, only held back by an overall Muscat deficit (not in the cakes, in our cups).  And then, of course, the Vanilla Slice – this from a commercial venture out of Shepparton, clearly supplying most of regional Victoria, heavily awarded as “Best in Show”, and celebrating one of Judy’s family traditions. 

Obvs no winner, except that the nearly-full moon rose over the treetops, Ian played and sang, some of us joined him a bit, and eventually we all retired to our various abodes total winners, as happy as clams (why are clams happy?).  It’s also true that our personal “big van” clambake with hot water abounding and internal ensuite, was a tiny bit smug.  

Monday dawned, people departed.  We weren’t returning home but never has “tired but contented” felt more accurate.  AND, we had a date with destiny (well at least with the McGormans) in Yarrawonga, at the NRMA caravan park, with lots of competitive golf in the offing.  What could possibly go wrong?