Hambledon Cottage

U can’t touch this! der ner-​ner ner-​né naaaah, naaaaah!
U can’t touch this! der ner-​ner ner-​né naaaah, naaaaah!
Break it down! Oh oh oh oh oh… OK.
MC Hammer may strike you as a tad anachronistic. Quite right. You aren’t likely to hear MC Hammer piped through to the Drawing Room of this historical home. You’ll find soft piano music true to the colonial era. But the sentiment behind Hammer’s lyrics is what’s important here.
U can’t touch this stuff.
Not like you can at the kid-​friendly Elizabeth Farm ’round the corner where the museum is «without barriers» because everything you see is replica. At Hambledon Cottage, it’s all the real deal, sourced from the period (1820s-​1850s); the serving dishes, — U can’t touch this — the Broadwood square piano dating back to the 1830s, — U can’t touch this — the Victorian mahogany sofa, the needlework table, the hairbrush in the bedroom, — U can’t touch this — the hulking, carved four-​poster cedar bed, the Bible… that’s Word. U can’t touch this. And the guides make a point of telling you that the second you cross the threshold lest you molest an antique on your way in (Well, at least our guide did anyway). That put me a little on edge as I was there with the 75-​year-​old pater who is affectionately known as «Ecker the bloody Wrecker» and has a penchant for pressing buttons, pulling chains and dislodging things willy-​nilly. True to form, as we had to wait around 15 minutes before our guided tour, this was how he amused himself while I ran around the garden imploring him with stifled shrieks, «Don’t touch anything!!!»
As the former abode of Penelope Lucas, the Macarthur children’s governess, Hambledon Cottage does, in fact, sit on what was once the entire Macarthur estate, within walking distance of Elizabeth Farm house and garden. Many visitors do, therefore, go from roaming freely around ol’ Lizzie Farm to Hambledon all in the one day, so you can understand the nervous, Hammer-​style exclamations you might encounter from the volunteer guides who — by the way — are incredibly informative. I learnt lots from our guide in the space of about 40 minutes; the cottage is rendered sandstock brick and the joinery is Australian red cedar, no surprises there. The shutters on the Drawing Room and Dining Room windows were impeccably intricate and ingeniously designed whilst the diamond pattern of the sandstone on the verandah was — we all fervently agreed — most elegant. The little oddity in this particular place was the evidence of the Georgian obsession with symmetry. Have a wall with a door on the right? Put one on the left to even it up. What? But it doesn’t lead anywhere? Why ever should that be of concern? It’s aesthetically pleasing!
To our guide’s credit, even though she was utterly freaked out initially that we would be like bulls in a china shop, she eventually warmed to us over the course of the tour and even let the pater touch her Bible. As for me, I decided it was probably safer to refrain from any touchy-​feelyness and restricted myself to moving only my eyeballs as I toured the rooms. It occurs to me I probably resembled an Irish dancer; feet and eyes a-​movin’ and precious little else. ‘Twas like our guide had invoked the spirit of the old Governess «Miss Lucas» herself and had cultivated within me — in a matter of seconds — an historically accurate fear of her. And, to be frank, I don’t think I would have wanted things any other way.
* No historical artefacts were harmed in the making of this review.
* Review originally written and posted 15 November 2013.

Wending my way around the Harris Park Heritage Walk, I stumbled up to Hambledon Cottage to be met with an only open Thursday to Sunday sign. Cue self-​induced thwack to the head. It was Wednesday. Online info had not mentioned this. Sigh.
Wandered through the exterior of this historical landmark, gathering what info I could from the signs and from the appearance of the house itself. Built as a second residence by the Macarthurs on the Elizabeth Farm Estate in 1824, it is a low, verandah clad building surrounded by trees. ‘Significant Trees’ assert the signs. Love a significant tree. There’s some beauties too — an crinkly, gnarled actual cork oak and a huge camphor laurel planted in 1820. Quite a few seats to sit under the Significance and ponder your inability to remember what day of the week it is.
I was surprised to learn that this was the residence of Penelope Lucas, the Macarthur’s governess, shattering my stereotypical expectations of governesses’ quarters. No consumption-​ridden swamp here. I shall further report on the interior when I can get myself damn well organised.