I returned late yesterday from a weekend with my parents. It was Euroa’s annual Wool Week festival, which used to be a highly relevant celebration of Euroa’s rich and sheep-based history. Now it’s a parade down the main street on Saturday, and the Bush Market on Sunday. A bit of fun, I suppose, but still just a fairly average small-town festival. Sunday was nice... sitting in fold-up chairs by the creek in the shade, with apple cider and sausages in bread... sailing dad’s remote control sailboat on the creek with Taffy (everyone’s family has a friend with an odd name)... listening to the pupils of my childhood singing teacher, who are all just as abysmal as the group in my day... and a tune-challenged C&W singer. So that was how I spent my weekend. I felt very country again, briefly, before being utterly relieved to get back to the city!