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| Old Italian workers cottage |
We've been doing a lot of thinking about creating some sort of habitable place on our block lately. Our needs are not many and our aspirations are not lofty. The top prerequisites will be that it is a) warm b) dry and c) tiny. Yes, that's right, we want a tiny, tiny, tiny house. After working on the foundations for a huge mud-brick house as WWOOFers in NZ last year we're well aware of the effort (and blisters) involved in executing a Grand Design. We've also recently devoured this fabulous book and other local histories that describe the rough and ready early building techniques in the Gippsland area where bushfire was a very real risk and investing too much in your abode simply didn't make sense if it might just go up in cinders come summertime.
So small, and simple is where we're heading, which does sound weird to many locals who think of their home in terms of square meterage, matching colour schemes and double car garages.
On a recent trip to a farm nearby we were lucky enough to happen a most remarkable building which has further fuelled our imaginations. "Is that your old chook house?" Neil asked Ray, our host as we wandered past the cute little shelter.
"No," said Ray. "That's where the Italian workers used to live when this place grew spuds and peas."
Ray managed to rattle the old door open and give us a look inside. A tiny fireplace was discernable beyond the rabble of Ray's junk stuffed into the little room for storage. Ray pointed out where the bed would have been, and explained that the workers would eat meals up at the "big house" together with the family, and return to the tiny cottage to sleep at night. They certainly didn't hang out in it during the day, because they were too busy outside working, he explained. The cottage is over 100 years old and the tin used to build the roof still has stamps of the Queen's head on it, meaning it was bought out to Australia on "the ships" as Ray called them.
"They had everything you could need in there," Ray continued, somewhat proudly. "A warm fire, somewhere to sleep, a place to share food up the road."
And we couldn't agree more with him.
So small, and simple is where we're heading, which does sound weird to many locals who think of their home in terms of square meterage, matching colour schemes and double car garages.
On a recent trip to a farm nearby we were lucky enough to happen a most remarkable building which has further fuelled our imaginations. "Is that your old chook house?" Neil asked Ray, our host as we wandered past the cute little shelter.
"No," said Ray. "That's where the Italian workers used to live when this place grew spuds and peas."
Ray managed to rattle the old door open and give us a look inside. A tiny fireplace was discernable beyond the rabble of Ray's junk stuffed into the little room for storage. Ray pointed out where the bed would have been, and explained that the workers would eat meals up at the "big house" together with the family, and return to the tiny cottage to sleep at night. They certainly didn't hang out in it during the day, because they were too busy outside working, he explained. The cottage is over 100 years old and the tin used to build the roof still has stamps of the Queen's head on it, meaning it was bought out to Australia on "the ships" as Ray called them.
"They had everything you could need in there," Ray continued, somewhat proudly. "A warm fire, somewhere to sleep, a place to share food up the road."
And we couldn't agree more with him.
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