Quarterly Journal Autumn 1996 – Page 27-28
by
Hazel Magann
In late January, five invited members of the Society met at the Richmond Road entrance to the dairy property Clydesdale at Marsden Park, on what was expected to be a stormy, overcast day. To the delight of the explorers, the morning was dry and pleasant – perfect for a brief photographic safari and inspection.
Upon entering the property. the drive to the house was found to be under water in places, testimony to the previous evenings ferocious storm. Long and deep muddy puddles left the cars looking like they had been on an off-road trek. The first glimpse of the house was quite wonderful, and, with the air so fresh. there was a peaceful and serene atmosphere over all.
From that tranquil setting our little groups adventures began. While walking to the main entrance of the house we had to be careful of huge spider webs strung overhead between the trees. while being watchful of where we trod because of the rain puddles at our feet. While our budding photographers snapped some photos, the others discussed the various changes that time had wrought on the verandahs and general exterior of the homestead by comparing notes and pictures from the book ‘Clydesdale’, written by our President in 1988, to what was before our eyes at that moment.
As we walked towards the house, one of the property workers came to greet us. and escorted us to the main entrance. He informed us that the rooms had been individually unlocked for our viewing – this included the door to the upper verandah, a bonus that enabled us to take photos from a good vantage point and enjoy the bucolic bliss that is Clydesdale.
Upon entering the house, some of us proceeded to remove our shoes lest we sully the interior. Our helper advised us to be careful. as a black snake had recently been seen inside, causing an immediate reaction from one member who wasted no time in putting her shoes back on! One of the upstairs rooms, we were told. had a large red stain on the carpet, which at various times had been known to vanish, prompting rumors among the property’s workers of a ghost in the homestead. The ghost was thought to be that of a woman searching for her dead child. Some of the workers thought her name may have been Mary, but our helper put this down to the noise of the cows in the paddocks. Be that as it may, some workers apparently refused to enter the building alone, day or night. On inspecting the red stain. we all agreed that it was most likely caused by a roof leak, stained water then dripping from the ceiling.
The party then searched every nook and cranny admiring pressed ceilings, doorway paneling and the colored glass sidelights and fanlight of the ground floor entrance. The view from the first-floor verandah was breathtaking and we all agreed that it would make a perfect place to relax. We retraced our steps downstairs. and on entering the pantry I was amused to see our lady president on hands and knees with her head down a trapdoor, looking at the wooden beams that supported the floor.
From here we started our trek to the property’s small cemetery. I had been instructed to look for “the blue fences” and promptly set out, to the horror of some (all?!) members. as the said fences formed cattle enclosures. We had to trudge through slush and droppings. ankle deep places, but this did not deter us in our quest. One of us temporarily lost his thongs, although later a creek was found were thongs. feet and legs could be washed. We at last reached the cemetery, and photos and discussion of headstones ensued. The adventurous climbed the fence surrounding the graves for a close look, others content to view from a drier. grassy distance. Alas! We had to return to the cars via those blue fences.
Our morning at Clydesdale came to an end, and on our walk back to our transport we were in agreement that what had promised to be a dismal day had instead turned out to be pleasant and rewarding.
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