One of my writing buddies, Mark Welker, made the above video and I’ll let him describe it:
Untold numbers of manuscripts are started, finished, and abandoned at the antique desks of Varuna House. There is always a cup of tea on the boil, a well stocked jar of chocolate biscuits, and enough creative space to stretch your authorly ego.
In the mornings frost gathers at the windows to witness the writer’s spooning themselves from their warm beds. The daffodils stand to attention as the day broadens with sun. When it is quiet, and it is often this way, you can hear the scratching of pens and the light footfalls of fingers on keys. Each writer finds their pace as the day thins out, slipping by like a unwinding spool of cotton.
Quote from here.
I vividly remember the train journey from Sydney out through the western suburbs and up into the mountains back when I was at university. I miss it. On the other side I would get off at Lithgow and round off the trip with a bus over to Bathurst. It’s an ambition of mine to go Varuna House one day to write, but in the meantime I can enjoy this time and again. As can you.
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A very nice video, and a good view from the window too. If that is my room I will have a very good mood on writing.
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I could write in the darkest of night,
I could write til blue pen turned to white.
I could write til my eyes closed the doors,
I could write til I could write no mores.
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Yes lovely train ride. These days the passenger train goes through. You should learn to fly at Bathurst, I did.