From crossing store to card room
Three years of scraping paint, one very patient builder, and a stubborn idea: a town this size deserves somewhere to eat and play that is not a machine room.
What turned up under the lining
Behind the plasterboard were cypress studs, a pressed tin ceiling and the gauge post with the wet seasons cut into it. All three stayed.
The storeroom became the card room because it has no street windows, and the front room became the grill because it has the verandah.
Everything else we bought second hand at clearing sales between here and the gorge road. Nothing in the building matches, which suits us.

Five staff
Two on the grill, three on the floor, most of them locals.
Eighty seats
Front room and verandah together, and not one more.
Six tables
The old storeroom, running to its own clock.
Three promises we keep
- A game stays a game. Nothing is staked, nothing is won and nobody leaves owing anybody.
- The board follows the river and the garden. If the fish did not come in, the fish comes off.
- Nobody drives home half-cut without being offered a lift first, and we do not take no for an answer twice.