There was something magical about the ropeway. A continuous stream of buckets gliding across the landscape, sliding against imperial towers, over rugged hills, and deep gullies, above sheep grazing in paddocks or a plough turning the soil.
Our rotunda might seem solitary and neglected, yet it is, to me at least, romantic and uplifting. I would suggest also that it has more to say about Kandos history, and even our state history, than any other building in Kandos.
Buildings have their history and also their mystery. The name alone, Cockroach Castle, is intriguing. When did the reputation of this building sink so low as to acquire that pejorative?
Architect William Kemp introduced a new style of bush school, the Beehive. It avoided the Gothic, had an enclosed verandah, semi-circular galvanised iron roof and was built with local materials (in the case of Pyangle, timber and stone).
Education was pretty raw a hundred and fifty years ago. Imagine a dozen or more kids squashed on a couple of long benches, scraping their feet on the dirt floor of a slab and bark shack, reciting letters of the alphabet, while the untrained teacher pointed with his cane.
W B Murphy jumped out of on-line newspapers so many times I finally said, 'OK! I'll do your story.' But how to begin?
So what does an English Baron have to do with Kandos? It seems the cement company was hanging on Leverhulme's coat-tails to promote its own workplace philosophy
The internet rules our lives today, but just a century ago the latest technology was the telephone.
I don't think anyone's arrival here in Kandos could have been gloomier and more shocking than his. And yet it was the pinnacle of his priestly career.
We learn of a woman who discovered that being a wife, mother (two school-age sons Terry and Lance) and home-maker, wasn't going to give her the fulfilment she wanted.
Kandosians might find it hard to accept that three New Zealanders contributed more to the foundation of Kandos than three Australians.