Another long day on the road awaited us....all 53 kilometres of it! The incredibly short distances between places of interest remained one of the great attractions of Tasmania. We were making our way to Lizzie's 'bucket list' town, Mole Creek, but en route had another town on our Tassie Pub Crawl list to check out.
Like so many other northern Tasmanian towns, Railton began life as a timber town in the late 1800's. Farming followed, and in 1885 the railway arrived, the line which connected Deloraine to LaTrobe.
One could be forgiven for immediately assuming that gave rise to the town's name, but dear reader, this is not so. And how do we know this? Well the fact is that the town had been named by 1883, and as you now know the railway did not arrive until two years later.
So how did this little town, of a current population of about 1,000, come to be called Railton? This area was originally called Reedy Creek and the first postmaster here was one James Railton. He could well stake a claim to fame, but the general consensus is that the honour actually belongs to his daughter. The real answer has been clouded by time.
The Railton of today remains a service centre for the surrounding farming area. It is also home to a large cement works which mines the raw product from a nearby quarry and produces over a million tonnes per year which is shipped out from nearby Devonport.
But apart from that, and the fact that it lies in a pretty location, there was not much to give visitors reason to pause in Railton.....until 1999 that is. More shortly....firstly we have to get there and settle into our new digs.
We came into town on the B13, which took us past the cement works quarry and factory,
although we could not see these from the road. This Google Earth shot shows just how large this enterprise is, but it is shielded from a passing view by the large roadside trees.
The highway into the northern end of the town took us past the rather impressive red brick building
which bore the equally impressive name of 'The Kings Hall', the town's community hall which rose on this site in 1926 amid (unsurprisingly) a deal of local controversy about need and expense.
But local history was the last thing on our mind at this point as we pressed on into town,
and crossed the railway line, (which was to be of some later significance in our lives)....note the trees on the left of the photo....more shortly) in search of the Railton Hotel, our planned overnight stopping point.
We did not have far to look. There it was right in front of us.
What a fine looking pub, we thought,
and sure enough, there on the front wall, the welcome sign was out. So far so good....but that's as far as it went!
We drove in past the limited number of stalls of the Railton Saturday market,
where, if nothing else took one's fancy the purchase of a ferret could be considered,
and into the Railton Hotel camp site only to be greeted by this sight.
What had been sadly omitted from our Tassie pub stay notes was the fact that here in Railton at this time of the year, backpacking produce pickers invade in significant numbers,
and spread themselves about in grand and typical disarray.
Our hearts sank. What a bloody shambles. We could only but imagine what things would be like here overnight, even if we could have found a space big enough to accommodate our rig.
I could not for the life of me work out why I had broken my golden rule of a recce by foot before driving onto a site, but I soon paid the penalty for that stupidity by having to accomplish a very difficult about turn manoeuvre without crushing some hapless backpacker's temporary accommodation.
Once out on the street again our immediate problem was obvious....where the hell were we going to stay, if at all?
Fortunately a sign on the road opposite provided an immediate solution.
It directed us down the oddly named 'The Esplanade' to the entrance to the town free camp.
With the entrance negotiated,
we were soon set up on the flat gravel surface with a row of trees behind us.
Before doing so we had nosed into the area immediately adjoining our park, where a camp kitchen and other facilities seemed much more inviting.
We soon discovered that this was a private ground available only to members of a caravan and motor home club, a fact quickly brought to our attention by the highly vigilant and very quick camp attendant who appeared from nowhere to put us in the picture.
He actually seemed a bit miffed when we declined his invitation to sign up on the spot (was commission involved we wondered?) and made our second about turn for the day to take up the spot we did, where insult was added to injury by the fact that we could gaze across the intervening space at those luxuriating on grassed sites and enjoying hot showers.
For us plebs in the free camp, more was to come. Let me remind you of the trees of which I spoke earlier....they were all that stood between us and the railway line which ran through the town.
Again I shall rely on Google Earth and a couple of my shakily drawn arrows to make this a little clearer.
The blue dart shows the position of the Railton Hotel, and the red our camp site, and from this you can see just how close we were to the railway track. This had not dawned on us until about 0200 hours that night when, as by now I am sure you have guessed, we thought our world was about to end.
Even having been 'blooded' by the proximity of the train to the park in Penguin, the roar of the early morning freight train as it thundered by no more than fifty metres from our domicile here in Railton gave 'train spotting' a whole new dimension. In our startled sleepy panic we would have both sworn the line ran right through our van!
So, with all this drama you could be forgiven for thinking that our Railton experience was less than favourable. Not so, dear readers. This was one of the most extraordinary spots we had visited. Why was this so?
From the time of its birth as a town, Railton had almost nothing other than its picturesque location to attract visitors. This all changed in 1999, and as I promised earlier, here is the story.
In that year, one Neil Hurley, a Railton local, floated the idea of transforming quiet country Railton into 'The Town of Topiary'. I suspect that even he had no idea of what would eventuate.
As Aussie Towns note, "Railton is a perfect example of one man's obsession and how it "grew" literally into a town's major tourist attraction..........with very little to cause the visitor to pause ... except for the topiary sculptures which, when combined with local arts and crafts and a boutique brewery - Seven Sheds - makes it a town worth exploring".
How right this is. Let me share our jaunt, one on which I thought the camera would go into melt down. This presentation is another which I've had to strictly edit, but which will hopefully bring a real feel for the incredible effort to which this town's population have gone to embrace Neil Hurley's vision.
We began our stroll at the junction of The Esplanade and the main street through town, Foster Street. Here we had our first taste of topiary....one which you'll have to peer closely to spot. Just above the street bin next to the white down pipe is the leafy sculpture of a man posting a letter. It does get better, I promise!
As you can see, Foster Street is very wide by normal Tassie town standards. It was designed to allow the bullock teams, which hauled timber to the railway in the early years of the town's development, to be able to turn around. This is something which is quite normal for those familiar with many country South Australian towns, but here on the Apple Isle it is something of a novelty.
Each side of this rather grand avenue for such a small town, the twirled shape of the roadside trees resembled a row of oversized corkscrews.
And here, tucked in between these two buildings on the corner of Crockers Street, is where it all began.
This is Neil Hurley's planting, a horse drawn plough, which inspired the folk of Railton to develop the incredible display we were now enjoying.
There is an official topiary map available for those who may be determined not to miss a single offering, but we had chosen to meander about and 'be surprised'.
So at this point we wandered off the main drag and down Crockers Street where we came to a large open space in which the town name was spelt out. Here we noted that sculpting hedges can present more challenges than merely attaining a desired shape.....it is rather central to the art to keep the plants alive and green!
Next to the town name, the Cradle Mountain National Paddock was home to Tassie devils and other assorted local fauna,
and, at its far end, this very clever offering of two fly fishermen. I was peeved by the fact that the 'fish' on the end of their lines (the roundish blob below the hedge) was all but obscured by the high grass in front of it....not good enough Railton!
Not all the topiary was frame based and free standing, and whilst I could make out the octopus and shark in this large clipped hedge, the first two figures still have me guessing. Perhaps we should have grabbed the official brochure after all!
Crockers Street is also home to another of Railton's tourist attractions, the Seven Sheds Brewery, Meadery (?...author's comment) and Hop Garden. Its Kentish Ale rates as one of Australia's best. As you might imagine I was sorely tempted, but the day was young and we had much to do. Perhaps a quick nip down the road later after a thirst had been acquired......but this did not happen...we went to the RSL instead!
Almost opposite Crockers Street, the junction of Foster and Kimberly Streets sports the town supermarket on one corner, and one the other the Railton Lions Park,
where the proud clipped lion came as no surprise.
What did take us back a little was this placard which demonstrated just how involved the community really had become in the topiary adventure. This had become a project for young and old.
In the park shelter shed we came across this map which shows just how widespread and varied the clipped shrubs really are.
We probably saw a good percentage of them, but as I mentioned earlier, I am being careful in this presentation to (hopefully) avoid boring you all the death with it.
Not surprisingly, the topiary project and the resulting influx of visitors has spawned new commercial enterprises in the town.....cafes and craft shops, a couple of which were right next to the Lions Park. But not the first building, a charming private home
where in their tiny side yard the occupants had done the right thing!
Every 'tourist' town must have a bakery, and Railton is no exception, but rather than contribute with a living sculpture at the front of the business, here the proprietors have decorated the end wall with a mural, and this was not the only one.
The wall of the topiary and craft shop next to the Hurley sculpture is decorated with a bullock team,
whilst the presentation on the nearby Railton Neighbour Centre building was less colourful, but equally striking.
We wandered on south along Foster Street, past a somewhat sun scorched elephant,
towards the southern end of the town CBD. Here the road curved slightly and the cluster of commercial buildings ended,
but not the topiary.
The large and, as we were to discover later, well run and spacious local RSL was not graced by clipped greenery immediately in front of it,
but across the road, right next to the town War Memorial plinth it was a different story where the uniformed figures of a nurse, soldier, sailor and airman all stood strictly to attention.
As we pushed on further south out of town, we came across this example of a 'work in progress', where this guitar had some way to go, sorry, grow, before becoming the real deal.
By now we had reached the 'rural' end of town, where next to one of the town churches,
the extensive and well done mural on the wall of this shed stood out in complete contrast to its rusting roof.
And in this section of the town an odd looking stone wall, set below this delightful mass of mature trees, caught my eye.
Closer inspection revealed it was a local memorial,
in which the central stone dedicated to those who had fallen during WW1
was bordered on one side by this quaint and obviously amateur effort
and on the other by this professionally produced tribute to the wall's builder. What an odd little lot this was.
Still shaking our heads, we meandered on, past the local primary school with its most apt little clipping gracing the sloping front yard.
Here we had another town surprise. The end wall of one of the school's out buildings was decorated with this delightful mural, one which captured the natural attributes of this area just beautifully.
By now we had reached the 'city limits' and found the statue about which we had previously read.
The plaque attached to the base stump says it all. Norman was nothing if not generous and clearly cared for the local youngsters.
About turn! Enough exercise for one day. As we once more tramped the broad section of Foster Street in the Railton CBD on our return,
I could not help but note that even the local boys and girls in blue were in on the topiary act, well, in the police house front yard at least.
Until we found the 'half grown' guitar, we had no real idea as to how all these varied and, in some cases, quite detailed leafy sculptures were possible. As we saw then, they are grown around a frame. In the store right next to the original Hurley planting, we saw a number of frames ready for the next town punters (apologies for this very poor shot...I could not get rid of the reflections).
So if you want to be the first to have a green donkey in pride of place in your front yard, you now know just where to go!
Enough of topiary. As I said at the outset, this is a highly edited offering.....there are nearly a hundred pieces spread throughout the town.
Now it's back to the pub. Although we were quick to decline the offer to camp behind it, we were more than happy to see what was on the menu, so in the course of our town tramp we called in.
We thought at first that this sign was somewhat tongue in cheek, but having met Kerstin and subsequently dined in this establishment, we now suspect that there is an underlying truth in what this says.
I took the opportunity whilst things were quiet to snap the bar
and a couple of the dining areas, one of which we suspected may be the 'backpacker bistro'.
This secluded nook was far more inviting,
and it was here that we booked a table with the redoubtable Kerstin, who, to our complete surprise as we did so, asked if we had any idea what we might be thinking of ordering. She appeared quite relieved when we suggested that something in the chicken parmy line would be likely. "That's good....I know we've got plenty of that in the freezer", or words to that effect was her response. I was too taken aback to even comment!
Despite the rather inauspicious prospect of an evening of fine dining this encounter had prompted, we did present ourselves at the appointed hour, but not before having wandered down to the local RSL beforehand where Lizzie did the honours at the sign in counter.
Our first impressions from the outside, that this appeared to be a large and well managed establishment, were proven correct. With full size billiard tables,
interesting and well presented memorabilia nooks and crannies,
and a well stocked (and patronised) bar to complement the inviting dining area where we had signed in, this was one of the better RSL's in which we had enjoyed a few drinks and some very welcoming company.
I did suggest to Liz that we were subconsciously fortifying ourselves for our date with the Railton Hotel, but, as it turned out there was no need for concern.
We did imbibe a little more in the quaint pub snug, where the excellent chesterfield seemed quite out of place in a room furnished otherwise with bar stools and metal tables and where rewiring was obviously a work in progress,
and despite our qualms about what might appear on our plates, concerns which were admittedly diminishing by the glass, we actually enjoyed a well presented and more than acceptable meal followed by what was a peaceful night (other than for the period when we thought we were about to be joined in our bed by the passing freight train!).
Railton is certainly not a town to be missed by any who have the time to visit whilst in Tasmania. It is unique. We were more than pleased we had included it on our itinerary, but now Mole Creek was calling (and Lizzie was becoming excited!)
Like so many other northern Tasmanian towns, Railton began life as a timber town in the late 1800's. Farming followed, and in 1885 the railway arrived, the line which connected Deloraine to LaTrobe.
One could be forgiven for immediately assuming that gave rise to the town's name, but dear reader, this is not so. And how do we know this? Well the fact is that the town had been named by 1883, and as you now know the railway did not arrive until two years later.
So how did this little town, of a current population of about 1,000, come to be called Railton? This area was originally called Reedy Creek and the first postmaster here was one James Railton. He could well stake a claim to fame, but the general consensus is that the honour actually belongs to his daughter. The real answer has been clouded by time.
The Railton of today remains a service centre for the surrounding farming area. It is also home to a large cement works which mines the raw product from a nearby quarry and produces over a million tonnes per year which is shipped out from nearby Devonport.
But apart from that, and the fact that it lies in a pretty location, there was not much to give visitors reason to pause in Railton.....until 1999 that is. More shortly....firstly we have to get there and settle into our new digs.
We came into town on the B13, which took us past the cement works quarry and factory,
although we could not see these from the road. This Google Earth shot shows just how large this enterprise is, but it is shielded from a passing view by the large roadside trees.
The highway into the northern end of the town took us past the rather impressive red brick building
which bore the equally impressive name of 'The Kings Hall', the town's community hall which rose on this site in 1926 amid (unsurprisingly) a deal of local controversy about need and expense.
But local history was the last thing on our mind at this point as we pressed on into town,
and crossed the railway line, (which was to be of some later significance in our lives)....note the trees on the left of the photo....more shortly) in search of the Railton Hotel, our planned overnight stopping point.
We did not have far to look. There it was right in front of us.
What a fine looking pub, we thought,
and sure enough, there on the front wall, the welcome sign was out. So far so good....but that's as far as it went!
We drove in past the limited number of stalls of the Railton Saturday market,
where, if nothing else took one's fancy the purchase of a ferret could be considered,
and into the Railton Hotel camp site only to be greeted by this sight.
What had been sadly omitted from our Tassie pub stay notes was the fact that here in Railton at this time of the year, backpacking produce pickers invade in significant numbers,
and spread themselves about in grand and typical disarray.
Our hearts sank. What a bloody shambles. We could only but imagine what things would be like here overnight, even if we could have found a space big enough to accommodate our rig.
I could not for the life of me work out why I had broken my golden rule of a recce by foot before driving onto a site, but I soon paid the penalty for that stupidity by having to accomplish a very difficult about turn manoeuvre without crushing some hapless backpacker's temporary accommodation.
Once out on the street again our immediate problem was obvious....where the hell were we going to stay, if at all?
Fortunately a sign on the road opposite provided an immediate solution.
It directed us down the oddly named 'The Esplanade' to the entrance to the town free camp.
With the entrance negotiated,
we were soon set up on the flat gravel surface with a row of trees behind us.
Before doing so we had nosed into the area immediately adjoining our park, where a camp kitchen and other facilities seemed much more inviting.
We soon discovered that this was a private ground available only to members of a caravan and motor home club, a fact quickly brought to our attention by the highly vigilant and very quick camp attendant who appeared from nowhere to put us in the picture.
He actually seemed a bit miffed when we declined his invitation to sign up on the spot (was commission involved we wondered?) and made our second about turn for the day to take up the spot we did, where insult was added to injury by the fact that we could gaze across the intervening space at those luxuriating on grassed sites and enjoying hot showers.
For us plebs in the free camp, more was to come. Let me remind you of the trees of which I spoke earlier....they were all that stood between us and the railway line which ran through the town.
Again I shall rely on Google Earth and a couple of my shakily drawn arrows to make this a little clearer.
The blue dart shows the position of the Railton Hotel, and the red our camp site, and from this you can see just how close we were to the railway track. This had not dawned on us until about 0200 hours that night when, as by now I am sure you have guessed, we thought our world was about to end.
Even having been 'blooded' by the proximity of the train to the park in Penguin, the roar of the early morning freight train as it thundered by no more than fifty metres from our domicile here in Railton gave 'train spotting' a whole new dimension. In our startled sleepy panic we would have both sworn the line ran right through our van!
So, with all this drama you could be forgiven for thinking that our Railton experience was less than favourable. Not so, dear readers. This was one of the most extraordinary spots we had visited. Why was this so?
From the time of its birth as a town, Railton had almost nothing other than its picturesque location to attract visitors. This all changed in 1999, and as I promised earlier, here is the story.
In that year, one Neil Hurley, a Railton local, floated the idea of transforming quiet country Railton into 'The Town of Topiary'. I suspect that even he had no idea of what would eventuate.
As Aussie Towns note, "Railton is a perfect example of one man's obsession and how it "grew" literally into a town's major tourist attraction..........with very little to cause the visitor to pause ... except for the topiary sculptures which, when combined with local arts and crafts and a boutique brewery - Seven Sheds - makes it a town worth exploring".
How right this is. Let me share our jaunt, one on which I thought the camera would go into melt down. This presentation is another which I've had to strictly edit, but which will hopefully bring a real feel for the incredible effort to which this town's population have gone to embrace Neil Hurley's vision.
We began our stroll at the junction of The Esplanade and the main street through town, Foster Street. Here we had our first taste of topiary....one which you'll have to peer closely to spot. Just above the street bin next to the white down pipe is the leafy sculpture of a man posting a letter. It does get better, I promise!
As you can see, Foster Street is very wide by normal Tassie town standards. It was designed to allow the bullock teams, which hauled timber to the railway in the early years of the town's development, to be able to turn around. This is something which is quite normal for those familiar with many country South Australian towns, but here on the Apple Isle it is something of a novelty.
Each side of this rather grand avenue for such a small town, the twirled shape of the roadside trees resembled a row of oversized corkscrews.
And here, tucked in between these two buildings on the corner of Crockers Street, is where it all began.
This is Neil Hurley's planting, a horse drawn plough, which inspired the folk of Railton to develop the incredible display we were now enjoying.
There is an official topiary map available for those who may be determined not to miss a single offering, but we had chosen to meander about and 'be surprised'.
So at this point we wandered off the main drag and down Crockers Street where we came to a large open space in which the town name was spelt out. Here we noted that sculpting hedges can present more challenges than merely attaining a desired shape.....it is rather central to the art to keep the plants alive and green!
Next to the town name, the Cradle Mountain National Paddock was home to Tassie devils and other assorted local fauna,
and, at its far end, this very clever offering of two fly fishermen. I was peeved by the fact that the 'fish' on the end of their lines (the roundish blob below the hedge) was all but obscured by the high grass in front of it....not good enough Railton!
Not all the topiary was frame based and free standing, and whilst I could make out the octopus and shark in this large clipped hedge, the first two figures still have me guessing. Perhaps we should have grabbed the official brochure after all!
Crockers Street is also home to another of Railton's tourist attractions, the Seven Sheds Brewery, Meadery (?...author's comment) and Hop Garden. Its Kentish Ale rates as one of Australia's best. As you might imagine I was sorely tempted, but the day was young and we had much to do. Perhaps a quick nip down the road later after a thirst had been acquired......but this did not happen...we went to the RSL instead!
Almost opposite Crockers Street, the junction of Foster and Kimberly Streets sports the town supermarket on one corner, and one the other the Railton Lions Park,
where the proud clipped lion came as no surprise.
What did take us back a little was this placard which demonstrated just how involved the community really had become in the topiary adventure. This had become a project for young and old.
In the park shelter shed we came across this map which shows just how widespread and varied the clipped shrubs really are.
We probably saw a good percentage of them, but as I mentioned earlier, I am being careful in this presentation to (hopefully) avoid boring you all the death with it.
Not surprisingly, the topiary project and the resulting influx of visitors has spawned new commercial enterprises in the town.....cafes and craft shops, a couple of which were right next to the Lions Park. But not the first building, a charming private home
where in their tiny side yard the occupants had done the right thing!
Every 'tourist' town must have a bakery, and Railton is no exception, but rather than contribute with a living sculpture at the front of the business, here the proprietors have decorated the end wall with a mural, and this was not the only one.
The wall of the topiary and craft shop next to the Hurley sculpture is decorated with a bullock team,
whilst the presentation on the nearby Railton Neighbour Centre building was less colourful, but equally striking.
We wandered on south along Foster Street, past a somewhat sun scorched elephant,
towards the southern end of the town CBD. Here the road curved slightly and the cluster of commercial buildings ended,
but not the topiary.
The large and, as we were to discover later, well run and spacious local RSL was not graced by clipped greenery immediately in front of it,
but across the road, right next to the town War Memorial plinth it was a different story where the uniformed figures of a nurse, soldier, sailor and airman all stood strictly to attention.
As we pushed on further south out of town, we came across this example of a 'work in progress', where this guitar had some way to go, sorry, grow, before becoming the real deal.
By now we had reached the 'rural' end of town, where next to one of the town churches,
the extensive and well done mural on the wall of this shed stood out in complete contrast to its rusting roof.
And in this section of the town an odd looking stone wall, set below this delightful mass of mature trees, caught my eye.
Closer inspection revealed it was a local memorial,
in which the central stone dedicated to those who had fallen during WW1
was bordered on one side by this quaint and obviously amateur effort
and on the other by this professionally produced tribute to the wall's builder. What an odd little lot this was.
Still shaking our heads, we meandered on, past the local primary school with its most apt little clipping gracing the sloping front yard.
Here we had another town surprise. The end wall of one of the school's out buildings was decorated with this delightful mural, one which captured the natural attributes of this area just beautifully.
By now we had reached the 'city limits' and found the statue about which we had previously read.
The plaque attached to the base stump says it all. Norman was nothing if not generous and clearly cared for the local youngsters.
About turn! Enough exercise for one day. As we once more tramped the broad section of Foster Street in the Railton CBD on our return,
I could not help but note that even the local boys and girls in blue were in on the topiary act, well, in the police house front yard at least.
Until we found the 'half grown' guitar, we had no real idea as to how all these varied and, in some cases, quite detailed leafy sculptures were possible. As we saw then, they are grown around a frame. In the store right next to the original Hurley planting, we saw a number of frames ready for the next town punters (apologies for this very poor shot...I could not get rid of the reflections).
So if you want to be the first to have a green donkey in pride of place in your front yard, you now know just where to go!
Enough of topiary. As I said at the outset, this is a highly edited offering.....there are nearly a hundred pieces spread throughout the town.
Now it's back to the pub. Although we were quick to decline the offer to camp behind it, we were more than happy to see what was on the menu, so in the course of our town tramp we called in.
We thought at first that this sign was somewhat tongue in cheek, but having met Kerstin and subsequently dined in this establishment, we now suspect that there is an underlying truth in what this says.
I took the opportunity whilst things were quiet to snap the bar
and a couple of the dining areas, one of which we suspected may be the 'backpacker bistro'.
This secluded nook was far more inviting,
and it was here that we booked a table with the redoubtable Kerstin, who, to our complete surprise as we did so, asked if we had any idea what we might be thinking of ordering. She appeared quite relieved when we suggested that something in the chicken parmy line would be likely. "That's good....I know we've got plenty of that in the freezer", or words to that effect was her response. I was too taken aback to even comment!
Despite the rather inauspicious prospect of an evening of fine dining this encounter had prompted, we did present ourselves at the appointed hour, but not before having wandered down to the local RSL beforehand where Lizzie did the honours at the sign in counter.
Our first impressions from the outside, that this appeared to be a large and well managed establishment, were proven correct. With full size billiard tables,
interesting and well presented memorabilia nooks and crannies,
and a well stocked (and patronised) bar to complement the inviting dining area where we had signed in, this was one of the better RSL's in which we had enjoyed a few drinks and some very welcoming company.
I did suggest to Liz that we were subconsciously fortifying ourselves for our date with the Railton Hotel, but, as it turned out there was no need for concern.
We did imbibe a little more in the quaint pub snug, where the excellent chesterfield seemed quite out of place in a room furnished otherwise with bar stools and metal tables and where rewiring was obviously a work in progress,
and despite our qualms about what might appear on our plates, concerns which were admittedly diminishing by the glass, we actually enjoyed a well presented and more than acceptable meal followed by what was a peaceful night (other than for the period when we thought we were about to be joined in our bed by the passing freight train!).
Railton is certainly not a town to be missed by any who have the time to visit whilst in Tasmania. It is unique. We were more than pleased we had included it on our itinerary, but now Mole Creek was calling (and Lizzie was becoming excited!)
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