| `Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English) ... |
| What Alice said, indeed! This house is next door to that which I showed you yesterday. This one, however, has a heritage listing indicating value of a local variety. It is called "Roselea". It last traded in August 2007 for $794,000 and sits on 665 square meters of land. |
| I would love to know the provenance behind this structure! It stands in High Street, Willoughby, and last traded in August 2001 for $660,000. At the moment, it is valued at about $2,000,000 give or take $200,000. As you might suspect, the front is deceptive as Google Maps reveals it to be an extensive property, with banks of solar-panels to heat an outdoor pool. It sits on 672 square metres of land. Willoughby is an old suburb, and weather-board houses, although not rare, are not a dime a dozen, either. But, what is with the shingles, and the key-hole cutout? |
| As Harper Lee described it, "The house was low, was once white with a deep front porch and green shutters, but had long ago darkened to the color of the slate-gray yard around it. Rain-rotten shingles drooped over the eaves of the veranda; oak trees kept the sun away. The remains of a picket drunkenly guarded the front yard - a 'swept' yard that was never swept - where johnson grass and rabbit-tobacco grew in abundance." |
| "To Kill a Mockingbird", Arrow Books (2010), P.9 |
| The drizzle persisted as I slipped across the road, keeping in the lee of the old gum. He did not appear to be aware of me, simply propping the rapid rail against the gutter, turning slowly on his worn, leathered heel, and disappearing through the slip-rail. He was non-descript, in the way that long-in-the-tooth academics of a classical bent could be said to favour: beige slacks, creme, grandfather shirt with narrow navy-and-grey stripes, buttoned to the throat, with the flimsiest whorls of mock-pearl. I followed, at a respectful distance, but was stopped in my tracks by the hot-house: a new structure, of shiny aluminium, and unstained shade-cloth. This was unexpected; I stepped back onto the crumbling footpath. Beyond the lychgate, and through the louvres, I could just discern, through the gloom of the afternoon, the most glorious, pristine-white Cymbidium ... |
| Robert Street, Willoughby Sunday |
| I must admit that I lose track of the plethora of "Year of"s. However, being a passionate historian, and Family Historian, this one holds a spot close to my heart. This exhibit is at the State Library of NSW in the over-bridge to the Galleries and Exhibition Rooms. It is one of my favourite spaces in the library complex, little used as most visitors use the stairs rather than the elevator. Their heads-up to International Map Year centres upon the production of a series of Sydney Suburban Borough maps in the mid 1890s, by Higinbotham & Robinson. The boundaries of the local parish are included in the municipality map. These parishes do not refer to religious divisions, but to the system used to record land ownership in our state from 1835. I live in the municipality of Willoughby. Back in 1890, it was mostly bush in my part of Sydney. The first estate was not carved out in the suburb of Castlecrag until 1920. |
| Back in the '80s when my children were kids, and even I was a young slip-ofa-thing, we were devoted to "Mastermind"- amongst others. It took perhaps two turns from me for those sweet poppets to twig that my poor old brain craved balance. This front entry in Alexander Street is most pleasing to my eye. However, that Murraya hedge (or is it English Box?) is a smidge out of kilter. |
| Of course, for every one of these houses that has been restored, rather than renovated, there is another next door, or across the road, that has been totally botched. Of course, the owners will contend that family requirements have altered over the last century. And this is probably true. But why oh why totally stuff the external appearance of the front. I understand if the rear of the house has been opened 'out'. If the garden is an extension of an enlarged living area. But if the frontage faces either west or south, why bother stuffing it up with pretensios to grandeur. Just go pourchase a different property, as this one is obviously not for you. The houses shown this week would, in my estimation, fetch between $1.75m and $2.25m in the Sydney property market. |
| Sometimes stepping back enables one to get just that little more perspective on the issue. I read somewhere today that photography is warping the way that our brain stores memories. There are times, like the dance concert in which my grand-daughter performed on Sunday, where I do not even take a camera with me. I just want to see what she does, rather than setting up my fingers, and my eyes, for that preordained, perfect keeper. Obviously, though, this house is a keeper, being between 80 and 100 years old. Although, I suspect it is like my father's axe, having had three new heads and a dozen new handles! |
| Perhaps not Bedford Street, but in that general vicinity. Seem to remember turning a corner, and the fall of the sun is slightly different. |
| On my meanders back from High Street, I try different 'ways through the woods'. This way had me looking through windows with a view on the past, a favoured view. This week the focus is upon a selection of awning windows on Federation houses in Bedford Street. |
| Some coffee shops are straight out of 'Home Beautiful", with their white interiors, with aluminium trim, and blonde-wood floors. Other coffee shops, are really greasy burger joints, making ends meet by repackaging their grey-water effluent. |
| However, MY coffee shop has that gritty patina that screams inner-city-leftie-bleeding-heart-up-yerself-liberal-academic. The coffee is yummo. The croissants are to die for. The baguettes are freshly baked (every 20 minutes), and overflowing with filling. High Street Bakery, owned and run by ex-pat Vietnamese, is ALWAYS busy. A great place in Willoughby to sit and watch the world go by, lost in one's own thoughts. |
| My departed father used to sing the ditty of this post title, with its two circular lyric lines, bounced among four melody lines. I enjoyed it mostly because Dad was so crap at anything remotely musical! |
| So here we are knee-deep in our wellies among the California Bungalows of Willoughby, just across Eastern Valley Way from where I now live. Streets and streets and streets of lovely examples of simple renovations to a wonderful model, such that a tacky job stands out like the proverbial. I guess if you buy a house, what you do is up to you, unless there is a heritage order of some sort. And if so, why buy the house in the first place. I only get to critique the street frontage of these houses. I fully expect the rear to be altered beyond all recognition, seeing the heyday of the CB was the 1920s and family living has undergone just a smidgen of change in that time. This last image is a doozey ... |
| Here are two California Bungalows each of which has been extended in its own unique way. The first one, while keeping the shape with a double-pike, appears soul-less. Something renovated to appear in House & Garden, rather than renovated for a family to live in. Perhaps they purchased based upon location rather than in admiration of the style. The second house, has kept all the trim, plus the windows that are essential to the style, but then have tacked on a second floor, with windows that are an abomination to the style. |
| Remember the days when a garage was located discretely down the side of a house, or was accessed through the rear of a block? This first shot is for Jo, who had to put her shoulders into a solid garage door to coax it open as a kid. The next two shots are abominations of old n new. Halfway houses of convenience. At least they are not the modern penchant for massive double rollerdoors that gawp at passersby from the very facade of a house, indicating our massive love affaire with the motor vehicle, that surely has to stop soon for those of us living in urban spaces. |
| A paperbark tea-tree (Melaleuca quinquenervia) cut off at ground level, Oakville Road, Willoughby |
| Along Oakville Road, Willoughby stands this wonderfully preserved example of late Victorian shop frontage, now housing a private studio. Originally designed to sell stock feed, the verandahed shop was attached to the building next door (separated by a U-shaped internal courtyard) which was the main shop with private residence at rear. This is just how I remember my grandmother's shop in Florence Street Hornsby, which she owned from 1931 until 1956, even down to the stock feed, which she sold from massive hessian (or jute) sacks along the wall with their tops rolled down, and a metal scoop lying on the inside. |
| Way back in the '70s, I hiked through the New England Tablelands of NSW with a bunch of friends. It is a very beautiful area of Australian bush, but the stand-out memory is the rotting cow carcass. By instantly renaming the area to 'Dead Cow Gulch' we created for ourselves a short-hand nomenclature to last down the ages. Which brings me to Flat Rock Gully which from 1940 to 1985 was a municipal tip [or dump]. |
| On the map, the area is split in two by Flat Rock Drive [we are nothing if not original!], with the left being Flat Rock Gully, and the right being Bicentennial Reserve, the location of Walter Burly Griffin's incinerator. The ash and debris from the incinerator was disposed of in the council tip. From 1998 to 2003 the tip was 'remodelled' into public reserve with walking and cycling tracks. This culvert goes under Flat Rock Drive and connects the reafforested reserve to the playing fields of Bicentennial Park. We will take a wander through Flat Rock Gulch in my next post. |