Whenever we return to my home town in the sub-tropics, I am reminded of the lyrics of the 1980’s pop band the Go-Betweens
round and round, up and down,
through the streets of your town
Every day I make my way
through the streets of your town

As a child I walked these streets for sixteen years, literally zig-zagging my way up the hilly, heated asphalt in the humidity and the obligatory summer rains.

The street where I lived… It really was!
We often return to visit my mother, who, in her eighties, still lives in the old Post War cottage. Our little home was one of the newer residences in the street. The area of Red Hill was established in the 1860’s where some of the first streets, Confederate and Federal, no doubt paid homage to that Civil War raging on the other side of the world.

I was always fascinated by the architecture of the region. The grand one hundred year old Queenslander with its sprawling verandas and high gable is still a much sought after residence.

Today, the little homes are delightful in their aspects. Their facades immaculately maintained and their modest porticos framed by verdant fronds.

I am by no means an expert in architecture, however, these homes are lovingly maintained and understated. There are always exceptions to the rule…

but no less captivating.

Others have been enclosed by white steel, cooling lattice or tropical shutters….

Even though I now live in another State, whenever I walk these streets I am filled with memories of family and the people who once lived in these homes, a life time ago. Just like some of these houses it was a simple time, lovingly spent in the sun and winding roads of life. Or was it a mirage? Do you ever go back to your home town?