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Friends at Bright.

Mt Kosciuszko is our highest mountain at 7,300 feet. Many of you would say it is only foothills compared to yours. Yes that may be so. We get winter snow on that mountain and the surrounding high slopes suitable on which to ski. A delightful little town that supports the ski fields is that of Bright, elevation of about 1,000 feet. You might call it a tourist town supporting not only skiing but a slightly cooler location from which to shelter from the summer heat. Also renowned for autumn colours which are quite different from our evergreen eucalypt or gums trees.
Twelve miles to the south and slightly higher is the tiny location of Harrietville with its population of less than 400. A little narrow and winding road joins them both. For me they are both places to visit in the summer for I am a sook when it comes to winter. The first time my wife Patsy and I drove into Harrietville we spotted a shed storing 3 Model A’s. So of course we just had to stop and chat. They were going motorcars and may have well been restored many years before but never the less they had beauty only an A possesses. The daughter showed us the vehicles and we had a good chat. The owner was representing a flour milling company and was working in the middle east. We subsequently met him on another trip.
Now back to the little town of Bright. We also knew a couple there. He had written a book on agricultural flying and I had got to know him well. And his delightful wife Gwen. She was a kindly woman who would never say or do anything to offend a sole. They always provided the most welcome reception and hospitality and we enjoyed our discussions.

But one day she let it slip. There was someone in Harrietville she just didn’t like and she revealed just who it was. You will never know him she said, so I’ll tell you. It’s the baker.
There are things in our life we do regret. This is one. “Gwen, there is only one couple in Bright that I know and that is you and your hubby and two people in Harrietville I know and that is the baker and his daughter”. This kindly sole was broken.

Oh how I wished I had kept my foolish mouth shut.

A footnote. Both Gwen and the baker have long passed now so I am comfortable to tell this tale.