The last time I saw this church it was in a slightly run-down state and was no longer a church but some sort of arts and crafts centre. At least it wasn’t a Bingo hall! It was built in 1871-2 and intended for use by several denominations in what was then a very remote place. But the Catholics (being almost as élite as the Elusive Brethren) declined to use it. Seeing St. Patrick’s again in autumn 2010 was a pleasant surprise; it’s become loved again and looks very spruce for such an old lady.
I was travelling with an old friend from Sydney who was brought up over 80 years ago on a local sheep station. Our real mission was to visit the nearby cemetery where some of his ancestors are buried. The cemetery is a bit ramshackle but we found some stones, two of which were poignant to say the least: one recorded the death of an uncle in an avalanche while he was trying to find Merino flocks in a snow storm; the other was a grandfather gored to death by a prize bull.
Rural life was a game of disaster or survival in the 18th century. I shivered at the thought of such horrible ends and felt lucky to be alive.
©DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz
.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment