BROOKTON (30 MARCH 2015)

This visit to Brookton was not our first. We had driven through here over a year ago on our way from York to Busselton, but we were then hightailing it out of hay fever territory and had not tarried. We took the opportunity of this brief sojourn for a quick pre-dinner stroll around what we found to be a typical wheat belt town. Let me share a few glimpses before we make our final run into Perth.

The Brookton recreation centre and adjacent tennis courts were very impressive. We were not at all surprised to discover that this complex has only recently been completed. It serves as the club rooms for various sporting bodies, including football, hockey and tennis, as well as indoor sports such as basketball.

And those who wish to thrash up and down a pool are not forgotten.  A short distance beyond the sports grounds we came across the very distinctive sign on the outer wall of the town pool,

a very inviting facility indeed and one which was open for the last evening of the season before it closed for winter recess.

As we walked several of the town's main thoroughfares, we were in no doubt that we were in a country town. Farm implements and infrastructure requirements were to be seen everywhere, both on the move,

and stationary, on display in large showrooms

and on several vacant blocks opposite. many of these machines were impressively large.  Out of sheer curiosity I later checked the prices on the net.....no change out of a quarter of a million dollars for for this red monster. 

I haven't focused much on country churches for some time, but Brookton rekindled the spirit.  Two proclaimed their services (I suspect there are two puns buried in there somewhere)  

in a most colourful manner.

The poor old Uniting Church seemed to be lagging far behind in the spiritual promotional stakes or is this a case of reverse psychology?







And whilst on the subject of signs we did come across another beauty. Let me firstly set the scene.

Brookton boasts a couple of covered sheds which are home to several old horse drawn waggons, and, believe it or not, a stuffed Clydesdale.




So far so good, but please note the upright grayish looking rock on the right of the shot.












Each of the displayed waggons (and the stuffed horse) bears a small, relevant plaque, such as this on the old brewery dray.







So why was I banging on about the rock?  I did wonder about its relevance in this exhibition area when I first saw it......and then all became clear when I looked more closely at the tiny brass plate on its face.  





Someone in Brookton, with obvious clout, (this would have been neither cheap nor easy to put in place) has a sparkling sense of humour. This made my day.









But Brookton is not all nostalgia and whimsy and like so many farming towns on a railway line, the line divides the town in two. From this angle the old station looks somewhat ho hum,










but what a difference one can find at the front where it abuts the main street. Here things become far more grand.







Just beyond the station building that side of the street presents locals and visitors alike 

with the lawns, shrubs and trees of this small but charming street park, complete with its own rotunda and










water feature















fed from this most imaginative water source, an old steam engine boiler filling gantry. Somewhere within Brookton 'city hall' sits at least one person with a sense of humour (a la the 'undonated' rock) and a sense of history and style as seen here at this railway station park.








Perchance all this creative juice had its genesis over a glass or two at one of the two 'locals' we spotted....and what contrasting pubs they are. This is the workhorse....The Brookton Club Hotel, fully operational as we strolled past (no, the Treasurer's will prevailed.....no pint for Pete), a genuine old country pub catering to the needs of the thirsty and peckish. 

The Bedford Arms, on the other hand, a hostelry of far more outward distinction, was shut, as it is each Monday and Tuesday. From what George, our local fount of all Brookton knowledge had told us, this is a pub at which highly questionable management has been steadily eroding both public and staff confidence and the provision of service. I have decided against the publication of a couple of George's tales on the basis of the 'legal precautionary principle', but if indeed they are true, the future of the Bedford Arms would seem particularly parlous.

What a shame this is.  Every town benefits from the competition between at least two well managed pubs. If I were a local, the concept that this very well found establishment (from our purely external observations) was falling by the wayside would be most annoying.





Brookton, from all we could gather, is a thriving town, but we did spot this relic of its past as we wandered about, one which so clearly told of a different era and economy.

What a contrast to this rather grand residence, one we suspect is of about the same vintage. I would loved to have been able to trace the histories of both and of those who lived in them, but time did not allow.










The road ahead of us was there for the taking...an early departure for Perth was the strategy. 

Every so often in this life on the road a short stay 'on spec' provides a very pleasant and interesting experience. So it was with Brookton where we were again reminded of that rather trite old adage, "You never ever know, if you never ever go!"





Let us depart for the big smoke with one last example of some Brookton humour, the sign on the rear of the van belonging to one of the park permanents. Simon's recent life summed up in three words....we hoped he was now happy again!