So nearly 50,000 km of train track and six months of travelling later, and I have arrived at Bexhill, New South Wales. Almost as far away from Bexhill, East Sussex as it is possible to get and yet not as foreign as the distance may dictate.

A small rural community, about forty minutes from the coast of Byron Bay. Sitting on the rail line from Lismore to Byron, the service is long since abandoned (although with some recent glimmer of hope that it may be resurrected as a cycle way and walking track). The train tracks still exist for the most part, although the station at Bexhill has been pulled down. I have spent time meeting with Tom, now living in what was the station masters house, and himself having worked on the railways for 44 years. Growing up his father was ‘in bridges and buildings’ on the railways, so it was only natural for him to continue to spend more time on the tracks as a child, drawn to the fixing and construction of the tracks themselves. Growing up himself, the ‘wrong side of the tracks’ he hails from Lismore, the dodgy side of town he laughs.

Tom, Bexhill NSW (Louise Kenward, 2014)

I have been welcomed by many in Bexhill, each person with their own story and connection to the village. Stumbling from one kindly soul to the next, across nugget of information and gem of discovery to another. I have visited the general store and it’s custodian and holder of all knowledge, George, who has directed me beautifully and kept me fed with tasty samosas. The ubiquitous Mrs G whose family dates back to original settlers from the UK. I have met Tom and walked the rail lines. I visited the brickworks, escorted by it’s foreman’s son, Col, another well of information and who’s family again have been generous of time and information discovering old maps and intrigue. I’ve met Bob with his wife and heard of their plans to visit Bexhill in the UK, enjoying lovely banana muffin and a nice cup of tea. Living on the Beck’s Hill itself, I had a 4WD ride to the top and marvelled at it’s views. And after many months of planning and several e-mails later, I have met Grant, synonymous with the village, his family having long established roots. Founder of the open air cathedral at Inspiration Point, among many other things Bexhill based, he also showed me around the church and told me stories of how entwined his family has been with Bexhill over the years.

One of the most exciting people to meet, however, was the author of the centenary celebrations of Bexhill. The book from which I have trailed from State library to State library from South Australia, Victoria and New South Wales, ordering and studying. No longer actually living in Bexhill, Ian does still attend pizza nights and presented me my very own signed edition of his work (if a bit baffled by my enthusiasm).

Ian and his book, pizza night, Bexhill NSW (Louise Kenward, 2014)

A place brings people to it for many different reasons. For some it seemed a nice place to move to in retirement, for others their family is so enmeshed in the place it is without question the locality in which they will forever stay. For others it is simply a place where there is a house.