If our grandmothers and great-grandmother were stranded on a deserted island, participating in the latest season of ‘Survivor’, I think they could win. They had skills! They could chop wood, start a fire, milk a cow, churn the milk into butter and make cheese.
Who wouldn’t love this face?
Whipping up a roast chicken dinner was child’s play: all they had to do was catch, kill, pluck and stuff said bird. Easy … for them. They knew how to turn fruit and vegetables into yummy jam and preserves andcreate delicious terrines and pates without giving everyone salmonella poisoning … unlike me. They were the original domestic goddesses.
Luckily for mere mortals like myself, dedicated modern day domestic goddesses, like Debra Allard, cheese maker, teacher and dairy godmother, are helping others rediscover these lost arts. I first saw Debbie at last year’s Sample Food Festivalwhich was held in Bangalow, just west of Byron Bay.
Judge Debbie at the R and A Dairy and Cheese Show, 2015
There she was on stage, demonstrating how hilariously easy it was to make mozzarella cheese in 30 minutes. When the chance to attend one of her classes arose, run by ACE education in Mullumbimby, I couldn’t wait.
I arrived, accompanied by my good friend, Annie Milic. Our ‘dairy’ for the day was all prepared. Taking our positions behind our bain marie’s, we examined our equipment and recipes. We donned head attire, obligatory for health and safety reasons. Suddenly we were transformed into Smurfettes, ready for any challenge.
After reading the instructions, the Smurfettes are ready.
Our first cheese was goat feta. This was a little complicated, but by carefully following Debbie’s instructions and keeping a close eye on my thermometer, I was able to navigate my way to curds and whey. The curds were ladled into a large hoop and regularly turned and voila, there was my feta!
My feta waiting for its briny soak.
All I had to do was take my briny whey home and soak my feta for a week. Then it would be ready for consumption. Apparently, it will last up to six months! Will it last that long in my fridge? Probably not!
But the day wasn’t just about making feta. We also made cultured butterwhich was truly delicious and paneer.I intend making a spinach and paneer curry with it but haven’t got round to it yet.
As well as learning age-old skills, Debbie provided morning tea (scones with jam and cultured butter) and lunch, a ploughman’s feast. There was crusty bread, Bangalow pork roast, home made pickles, salad and a selection of Debbie’s hand crafted cheeses. I particularly liked her take on blue cheese. All in all, it was a great day and Annie and I will be back for more. Perhaps we will graduate to Brieor Jarlsberg. If you are interested in attending one of Debbie’s classes, you can find details on her facebook page.
What does Bali conjure up for you? I visualised tropical forests full of exotic flowers and monkeys, rice paddies richly green in the sunlight, temples full of strange images andwooden pavilions adorned with comfortable day beds overlooking inviting swimming pools where I would be waited on by my own personal Ketut. Could I make my vision a reality? Kenn and I had only five days at our disposal. I contacted my niece, Amanda Sullivan who runs a wonderful travel agency in Cowra. Within an hour of my call, Amanda and her team at Dynamic Travel www.dynamictravel.com.au had us sorted. Flights, transfers, an exceptional hotel and very helpful notes on how to stay out of trouble were ours!
We flew with Garuda. To my surprise, it was an extremely comfortable flight. The in-flight entertainment, food and beverage were excellent. The portent of things to come, I wondered? Arrival was easy. My baggage wasn’t searched, no-one looked at me twice and I didn’t get lost in customs. Before I knew it, Kenn and I found ourselves ensconced in a very comfortable car with a friendly driver winding our way through the hills to Ubud.
Tropical perfection
Our hotel, the Maya Resort and Spawas simply lovely. Our room was very spacious and the bathroom was to die for. There was a lovely outlook from the balcony over the acres and acres of gardens.
Our room
Then there were the facilities! Both of us fell in love with the amazing lower pool which overlooked the jungle and the river. We swam leisurely up and down ( I didn’t want to splash other patrons with my attempts at butterfly or backstroke) and relaxed on our sun lounges while the helpful staff brought us drinks and little healthy treats to eat. There was also a lovely yoga studio. It’s always good to have a beautiful view to look at whilst attempting mountain pose.
Bubbles ahoy in the pool
I enjoyed Happy Hour and diligently worked my way through a slab of the cocktail menu. The restaurant was exactly what you imagine a Balinese restaurant should be. Every table overlooked a courtyard with its own pool and frangipani tree. The staff were unfailingly helpful and kind. It goes without saying that the food was fantastic. It was hard to leave the resort for the delights of Ubud. Especially memorable was breakfast. There were special treats like fresh papaya juice, interesting traditional vegetable and fruit porridges and an omelette man. You know it’s good when you can feel the kilos piling on but you can’t restrain.
Then there was the Spa!
My Spa Pavilion
This was an afternoon of total indulgence. I was ushered to my private pavilion and greeted by my therapist. My treatment began with a relaxing foot treatment and was followed by a Balinese massage. Every part of me seemed to be floating away. Next came body exfoliation. Stuff ( I’m not sure what – I was too far gone to remember) was rubbed onto me, allowed to dry then brushed off. Then a yogurty cream was slathered on and allowed to sink in. Just as I was almost asleep, my therapist ushered me to my private courtyard shower. There among the flowers, under the sky, I rinsed off before luxuriating in a huge copper flower bath which overlooked the river. Three hours later, I returned to Kenn and the real world. An experience not to be missed!
We did leave the resort to explore this part of Bali. We hired a guide who put an itinerary together for us. He took us to a Balinese Dance performance, Batik making, silversmithing, a traditional Balinese home and a temple celebration where we had to don sarongs and make offerings. It was busy, fascinating and humbling.
Batik in the making
We also went to the Kintamani volcano which is amazingly beautiful, visited a plantation and saw Luwak coffee being made. I felt sorry for the civets and couldn’t bring myself to taste the coffee. As far as I’m concerned, poo is poo. We wandered on foot around Ubud, but really only touched the surface. We found the Balinese people gentle, unassuming and unfailingly kind. They take pleasure in the simple things in life symbolised by the offerings they make every day to the gods. Thank you Amanda for making this such a wonderful trip.
For years now, I have been a closet GIT. Not a “silly, incompetent, stupid, annoying, senile, elderly or childish person” which is the Wikipedia definition of git ( though I’m sure at times I have been all of the above) but a “Grandmother In Training.”
I have undertaken my training diligently yet stealthily. After all, one doesn’t want to be perceived as putting undue pressure on one’s children or as wishing for early entry to a retirement home. As my nieces gave birth to adorable children, I practiced my knitting skills. These were quite rusty. Living for fifteen years in a sub-tropical climate will have that effect. So in a good cause, I knitted baby blankets and little jumpers. A certain speed and dexterity returned. I now had a legitimate excuse to hang out in the baby wool section of the craft shop and stock up and knit some more … and secretly put some aside for … later. Then my youngest sister, Tanya, fell pregnant. She knew she was having a little girl, so now I could peruse the baby wear sections of department stores. Did I like this little dress or was it a just a little too pink, I’d ask myself. Of course I had to cast my eye over the boys’ section as well. After all, something blue might be needed … one day. Younger work colleagues had babies too. Surreptitiously, I listened to their baby talk while I was supposedly marking essays and when given the opportunity, practised burping and rocking a baby to sleep. I hadn’t totally lost the knack.
My training has not been in vain. On May 6th 2015, Genevieve Grace entered the world. Kenn and I flew to Perth, Western Australia to meet her. She is without doubt the most beautiful baby in the world; a sentiment I’m sure, shared by all new grandparents. After her very first bath, she was angelically peaceful.
I feel so clean now!
Watching Kelly and Christian cradling Genevieve brought back such happy memories for Kenn and I. It didn’t really seem that long ago that I was nursing and playing with Christian.
Christian at two months
And now he’s nursing Genevieve!
Genevieve with Daddy
It’s like ‘the circle of life’ in The Lion King – minus Mustafa! All I had to do now, was decide on a title. In the end, I followed my family tradition and chose Nanna. I have very fond memories of my Nanna Lewis and Nanna Hayden. Hopefully, Genevieve will be able to say the same of me.
One day I will be big enough to play with Nanna Sealey
Nature’s big things are truly impressive. For instance, when my sister Jenny and I flew over the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, we were struck by its enormous scale: Deep, long and rugged, it was surrounded by beige desert so different from the colours in Australia. It was awe inspiring but somehow remote. We were only able to get up close and personal with the canyon when we landed halfway down on a rocky outcrop. We admired the view, stretched our legs and scoffed a champagne lunch. It was an unforgettable, exciting experience, after all you don’t get to ride in a helicopter or a limousine every day. But, there wasn’t time to immerse ourselves in the colours, textures, scents and spiritual history of the the canyon itself. This is not the case when you visit Uluru, Kata Tjuta and King’s Canyon in the Red Centre. There your senses are saturated as you trek, stroll or saunter along paths that have that have been part of Aboriginal Dreaming for thousands of years.
All of the walks are around 10 kms in length, vary in difficulty and take a few hours to complete. I undertook these walks with my husband, Kenn and friends, Helen and Phil. Although capable of setting new land speed records and clambering up cliffs like mountain goats, these three intrepid trekkers slowed their pace to accommodate my more slothful saunter. I suspect the thought of having to carry me back to base, a victim of exhaustion or a premature heart attack might have been part of their motivation.
Our first walkwas around the base of Uluru, the biggest monolith on Earth. It dominates the flat expanse of the desert for as far as the eye can see.
Setting a cracking pace. Sunset is not far off.
The path is well marked and the rock is there beside you, revealing different faces as the light moves.
I was surprised by the amount of vegetation and the sense of mystery you feel in the shadows.
Desert Oaks
We completed this relatively easy walk with enough time to get to the sunset viewing area. Nature puts on the most amazing light show as the rock lights up and the sky is smudged with many of the colours of the rainbow.
Smudgy colours soften the rock
Our second walk was far more challenging. We hired a 4WD and drove 300 kms to King’s Canyon. What I didn’t realise, until I reached the starting point of the walk, was that you have to climb 500 steps up a cliff face to begin!
I think I can, I think I can!
Kenn appointed himself as my personal water boy and with his help I made it. This was definitely the hardest part of the walk. The views from the canyon’s rim were amazing and almost made the memory of the 500 steps melt away. Almost ..
I think I can, I think I can!
We clambered over rock platforms and negotiated bridges onto sandstone spurs.
And … hidden away deep within the canyon was ‘The Garden of Eden’.
What a gem!
This place is significant for the Aboriginal people and it was easy to see why. In the midst of so much dryness, hidden from the unrelenting sun, the water is cool, sheltered by ferns and palms. It is very quiet there. Like all who went before us, we were refreshed and restored and finished this walk on a high.
Our third walkwas also challenging and in my opinion, the most rewarding of all. This was the ‘Valley of the Winds’ at Kata Tjuta or the Olgas. We decided to do the whole walk, which is a loop, but you can do shorter sections if you wish. It’s only about 50 kms from Yulara, the Uluru township. The first part of the walk from the car park to the base of the Olgas is quite long and for a time, you could easily imagine that you were walking on the moon.
Path to the OlgasKenn striding out in the moonscape
But then you turn a corner and find yourself walking in between the beehive domes of sandstone that are the Olgas. The wind whistles around you, an unusual experience as usually it is really quiet out here. In places there is enough water to support vegetation; we walked through a lovely avenue of ghost gums.
Part of the ghost gum avenue
Winding in and out of the domes, down and up rock faces, we reached the lookout. Again, like everywhere around Uluru, there was an amazing vista.
Lookout view
We scrambled down a steep incline. It was at this point that I started having a few worries. It was so steep that I negotiated most of it on my bottom. As I was sliding from rock to rock, getting rid of my cellulite, I started thinking about how I was going to climb back up! It would be a tough ask at the end of a long walk. I felt totally knackered just thinking about it. But we had come so far! At the bottom we found ourselves inhaling the scents of the savanna surrounding the Olgas, that unforgettable, eucalyptus smell of the Australian bush. Tramping through mulga, spinifex and assorted grasslands we had wonderful views both of the desert stretching away in one direction and the Olgas standing guard in another.
View from the Savanna of the Olgas.
We didn’t have to retrace our steps. I was saved from the slippery cliff of hell. A relatively gentle climb found us back among the Olgas via a different route and eventually we made our way to the car park.
All the walks were special and were, for me, the most memorable part of my visit to Uluru. It is a very personal way to connect with this ancient landscape and its dreaming.
If you haven’t visited Uluru yet, I hope you are able to soon. It really is a very, very special part of the world.
Camels are big! Really big! I didn’t appreciate their size until we signed up for a morning camel ride in the shadow of the Rock. Upon arrival at the camel farm, I spied our beasts, sitting in a row, elegantly attired in colorful Afghan saddles.
Waiting patiently in line
Even sitting on the ground, they came up to my waist. Mounting the camel was to prove a challenge. I had to sit on the front side of the hump as Kenn, being heavier, had to take the rear seat. But how to get into the saddle? My leg just didn’t want to go up and over. I’ve never been very good at Can Can high kicks. I can’t do the splits either. I was also worried that my leg could connect the head of the beast in the attempt. As if it could read my thoughts, my camel turned its massive head and gave me a penetrating stare and a warning snort: I froze. Everyone waited. Eventually, the cameleer came to my rescue and gave me a hoist up. But worse was to come. Camels don’t get up evenly on all four legs. They straighten their rear legs first, then unfurl their front legs. At one point, you are perched in the saddle almost perpendicular to the ground. “You have to lean back and hang on as your camel gets up,” we were told. And lean I did. My lean would have made a bare back rodeo rider proud!
The sand hill beckons
Soon, we were off on our ride through the red dirt. We kept up a sedate pace and all adjusted easily to the swaying gait of our ‘ships of the desert’. There were no dashes across the sand hills reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia but lots of interesting information about camels and our surroundings was imparted by our charming guides. For example, did you know that all camels think about, is food: finding food, eating food and bringing up food from one stomach to another. A highlight of the ride was the view from the sand hill. We could see both Uluru and Kata Tjuta!
Kata Tjuta
Back at the farm, we explored an interesting collection of pioneer coaches and paraphernalia. There was an especially cute baby camel that had been abandoned in the desert and hand raised on the farm. Just had to say hello.
My baby camel
It was a great way to spend a morning. That afternoon, a close encounter with Uluru awaited. Will share it with you next time. Rock on!
They say that in the desert, the stars are so big and so bright in the velvety, dark sky that you feel that you could almost reach out and touch them.
Dusk at Uluru
This is certainly true of the night skies that surround Uluru, (Ayers Rock),which is located in the centre of Australia. I travelled to Uluru last week with my husband Kenn and friends, Helen and Phil. Luckily for me, I had a window seat for as we approached Uluru, the pilot banked the plane on his approach and I had my first view of the rock. Even from the air, it’s huge: it dominated the landscape.
Settling into our rooms at the very comfortable Desert Gardens Hotel, we spent a couple of hours exploring the resort township of Yulara,
Desert Gardens Hotel
which is just 20 kilometers from the Rock before readying ourselves for our first encounter with the desert, ‘The Sounds of Silence” dinner. This was truly unforgettable. We were picked up by our coach as dusk was approaching and driven out into the desert, There we walked up a sand hill where we were greeted with champagne, a view of the rock and the haunting sounds of the didgeridoo.
Champagne and canapes on the sand hillDidgeridoo echoes in the silence of the desert
A couple of champagnes later and the sun had dipped below the horizon. We were ushered to our dining table under the stars where a wonderful Australian themed dinner awaited us. What’s not to like about wonderful food and wine in an unforgettable setting?
Fellow diners from Canada
While we dined, we were entertained by a group of young Aboriginal dancers. I really liked their youthful enthusiasm and the way the boys acknowledged their uncles and elders who had shared their dances with them. Then there were the stars: millions of them. We listened as a young astronomer pointed out some of the constellations and planets we could see and invited us to look more closely at them through a telescope. I have waited a long time to see the moons of Jupiter and Saturn’s rings with my own eyes!
When at last the final port had been drunk, the last chocolate consumed and the torches had burned low, we found ourselves walking back through the dark, in the silence, sheltered by the stars, touched by the magic of the desert.
While, relaxation has been my priority at the beach, some of my children, while on holiday, have viewed a visit to the beach as an opportunity to put their personal training ambitions to the test, with me as their subject. Not wanting to disappoint them, I found myself wading through waist deep water against the current. Encouraging words reached my ears. “This will be a great workout for your thighs, Mum. It’s not hard, they train horses like this all the time!” .Gritting my teeth, channeling my inner Phar Lap, thighs burning, I pushed, slipped and gurgled my way across the bay to the Pass. (The surf gutters were quite deep at the time.) Not content with trying to trim my pear shaped bits, my personal trainers also had a thing about cardio! Soon I found myself power-walking along the beach. Now this was not a good look. I found myself breathless and unable to talk, ( a serious impediment if you ask me.) I couldn’t stop to greet friends who were leisurely taking in the sights as my personal trainer would proclaim, “Come on Mum … you can talk later … come on … catch up … you can do it …”
Rockpools and yet more rockpools
But holidays pass and fitness trainers return to work. The beach has once again become a place where I can immerse myself in a natural mineral spa as I swim, surf or just float about in warm ocean currents. It’s a place where I can dabble my feet in the shallows, sink my toes into soft white sand and laze away an afternoon under the beach umbrella accompanied by a good book. This was especially true this week. Long sandbars appeared almost overnight in the bay. Wonderful rock pools were revealed, perfect for floating or snorkeling in. Thigh sculpting was impossible as the water was too shallow. I walked from the Pass almost to Main Beach, moving from sandbar to sandbar. I had to dawdle. Power-walking was impossible. After all, I had to watch where I was putting my feet. I didn’t want to find a hidden rock! . The view from the sandbar to the beach was so lovely! There were lots of five and six year old having their first snorkeling lesson. The excitement when they spotted their first fish hiding under the rocks was infectious. Maybe tomorrow I will put on my goggles and join them.
Gone snorkelingView of the beach from the walkway at the Pass
I am a relative newcomer to ‘Glamping’. Until recently, my camping experiences involved a tent, an airbed that hopefully would stay inflated and a sleeping bag. There were minimal extras: a little two burner stove, a gas lantern and a camping table. A lot of baked beans and tinned spaghetti was consumed. I have no champagne memories! But on a recent camping trip to Evans Head, my eyes were opened to a whole new world of camping realities, the world of ‘glamping’
Evans Head is only about 45 mins away from Byron Bay. The group we joined for a long weekend were seasoned glampers. We had waterfront sites at the Silver Sands Caravan Park and soon, remarkable hand crafted camper trailers were being unloaded, tents and tarps erected and kayaks and professional looking fishing gear stowed away.
Waterfront sites on the river at Evans
There was so much to explore and experience. First of all, we had to explore the track along the river, to the breakwater and the beach and test out the surf. The water was clear and very warm for this time of year.
passing the river beachsurfing beach
Soon, it was time for Happy Hour and a gourmet barbecue as we watched the tide run out on the river and the pelicans playing. Next morning, I was up early enough to catch the sunrise. I didn’t have to forego my beauty sleep as daylight saving hadn’t ended and the sun was kindly rising at 7 am. The sun peeked through the clouds and then burst over the ocean in amazing colours!
Sunrise over the breakwaterbeach sunrise
Walking back to camp, I noticed that the riverside cafe was open. No need to forego creature comforts while glamping. I thought, as I appreciatively sipped a large takeaway cappuccino.
Later that day we tested out the 4WD on the sand. You can drive north along the beach for quite a few kms and you don’t need a permit to do so. It’s just you, the sea, the sand and the seagulls and pelicans. Oh and the occasional horse and rider.
Testing out the Prado
We also explored the beautiful Chinaman’s Beach which is a little to the south of our campsite on the other side of the river. The beach is perfectly unspoiled and is fringed with amazing aubergine coloured rocks, tangerine, brown and cream striped cliffs and amazing rock pools. I love climbing over and through rock pools. It’s like there a new world just waiting to be discovered by you. What a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours!
Chinaman’s Beach
Back at camp, the troops had been busy. A visit to the fishing co-op and Tiger Prawns were on the menu. My baked bean days were over!.
And so the weekend continued. The Kayakers ventured upstream, circumnavigated a small island and let the current bring them back to camp. The fishermen had some success in the surf gutters. Blessed with perfect sunny weather and balmy nights, we swam, ate, walked, ate, fished, ate and drank a …a little. What’s a bottle or two of Pinot Grigio between friends? And I took the time to catch up on some reading and day dream about the next glamping adventure.
Secretly, for years, I have had a vision of myself as a lady golfer. Not the Kari Webb sort of golfer but the casual, carefree sort of golfer who happily swings away down a tree lined fairway, greets the local wildlife as they leisurely stroll by and tests their putt putt skills in the real world. A golfer who plays consistently enough not to feel intimidated in the presence of those who can really whack the ball and speak knowingly of hazards and back swings. But alas, while I was working, the vision never materialised, indeed at times it vaporised! While time always posed a problem: there was never a spare weekday morning where I could attempt to make my vision a reality, there was also my inner acknowledgement of my limited athletic ability. Although my legs and arms do work, my early experiences on the hockey field had left a dent in my self confidence – I vividly remember running for my life, as a mad teammate, hockey stick raised above her head, chased after me just because I had messed up her goal. Abandoning sport, I turned to the arts. However, even here my coordination was suss. My attempts at ballet resulted in a rendition of the Dance of the Dying Duck not Swan Lake
So, as you can imagine, it was with some trepidation that I agreed to join my friend Annie and participate in a beginners’ golf course. There we met our instructor, Nicole Dicken or Nicky to her friends. Nicky is a AAA rated coach but more importantly, she has the ability to see and appreciate the sometimes small improvements you are making and instill belief. Belief that you will improve, that you are a valuable member of the group and that Golf is a game that should be fun. Annie and I were hooked and we graduated to ‘Coffee Golf’.
Nicky runs a clinic most Tuesday mornings at Mullumbimby Golf Course and all are welcome. Just contact the Golf Club on 0266842273 for further details.
Mullumbimby Golf Course – view from the club house overlooking the 9th hole.
There, in a group setting, under her watchful eye, we practice hitting targets using different clubs, chipping and putting.
Chipping Mania!
After slogging for an hour, we return to the club house for coffee. There, overlooking the garden, we relax and regroup.
Canna lillies in the garden leading to the 10th hole.
Refreshed, it’s time for our game. We could play up to nine but usually call it a day after about five. There are many laughs, groans and mini triumphs as we make our way around the course. I take pleasure in little things – a drive off the tee that doesn’t hit the hazard or the trees, landing on the edge of the bunker and not in it, being able to spot my ball in the murky waters of the ponds and making a putt from the edge of the green. I tell myself., like Toad in Wind in the Willows, that,’it’s all fun and excitement.’
A wonderful morning spent, Annie and I make our way home to Byron and dream of golfing adventures to come. Playing Teven, Byron, Ballina …. Augusta?
Until relatively recently, my culinary skills could, at best be described as rudimentary. This I attribute to my childhood. The kitchen was a place where I had to mop the floor and peel potatoes. It was the place where my sister Jenny always got to wash up, while I had to wipe up and put away the dishes, a much more time consuming task. To this day, I don’t know how she managed to convince our mother that she was the superior washer upper when she completed the task in a time worthy of an Olympic 100 m champion. So, in protest at my unfair treatment (and a desire to finish my current book), I avoided the kitchen as much as possible. As a result, I left home knowing how to pour milk on cereal, boil an egg, cook toast and open a can of baked beans – real survival stuff!
But one of the joys of living in Byron Bay and the Northern Rivers is the foodie culture.. There are an amazing variety of restaurants and cafes to sample. This week, I revisited The Cyprus Tree,our local Greek restaurant. This restaurant never fails to deliver memorable and delicious food,from souvlaki to scrumptious seafood, perfect for a birthday dinner for my friend Annie.
Champagne not Ouzo was the order of the night!
As well, the area is full of really knowledgeable, capable people willing to share their skills and help you develop yours. This week saw the inaugural meeting of Byron Library’s Recipe Club. The club will meet on the third Tuesday of the month at 2pm, at the Library. There was a very promising roll up of interested parties. The guest speaker was the bubbly, Julie Ray.
I had met Julie before when I had attended her seafood paella class in Lismore at The Pepper tree Kitchen. I shared the photo of my success on that occasion with as many friends as possible. My culinary efforts had never looked or indeed tasted so impressive! So I was looking forward to listening to what she had to say. I was not disappointed. She came laden with ideas about interesting ways to use macadamias, a totally decadent recipe for a passionfruit cream curd cake and her chai energy muffins which we shared for afternoon tea. The muffins were delicious and you can find the recipe at Julie’s website, julieray.com. I noticed that she also had a great recipe for Gramma Pie on her website, that she had sourced from Bangalow grandmother, Mrs Jarratt. I love trying heritage country recipes. Maybe it’s because I love to daydream about all things historical.
Byron Dreamer 