a Byaduk Second-Hand Store: 2nd-hand dealer 

From what I can glean the word ‘byaduk’ is not Scottish, despite many tartan settlers in the area, but indigenous. It means either stone axe or running water. With plenty of bluestone chips in the volcanic soil and a permanent stream in Scott’s Creek, it’s hard to choose.

Whatever the origins of the place name, for no particular reason, I have started to collect ducks. Or, if you prefer, I like to buy a duck. And they are flocking in.

My favourites are the vintage wooden decoy ducks, sometimes in cork and often with hand-painted heads and plumage. More often than not there are a few pellet wounds as well.

It is staggering what a range of ducks have been produced in wood, china, plastic and in such a variety of styles. Why are these feathery creatures so popular? Even Leunig features them in his cartoons. The short answer is that there is something very reassuring about a duck.

That may explain why there are quite a few duck fanciers out there. Every time my flock develops, someone comes along to convince me that they need them more than I do. Who can argue? When you are in duck H.Q. (Byaduk) there are always new birds arriving or, if needs be, you can always  ’sell a chook and buy-a-duck’!

Two couples arrived together Saturday morning with their fluffy little terrier. One couple, who had become regular customers, seemed to ignore the fact that their dog was cocking his leg at various items of furniture. Everybody has different standards for their pets (not to mention children), so I took it as my duty to warn this little boy off the floral couch and the taupe rug.

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The Red Jensen Interceptor with its distinctive glass bubble hatch gunned to a halt at the shop doorway.

Any interruption to the deep calm of Byaduk cannot be ignored but this was exceptional.

Next, an equally red Porsche glided in, followed by a classic two-door Mercedes.

What started as a single throaty appearance had developed into a cavalcade of classic, luxury sports cars.

Drivers and passengers sprang from the vehicles, laughing, shaking hands, firing off jokes and quickly spotting bargains in the far reaches of the building.

After a hearty breakfast at the Blue Room Cafe in Macarthur, these South West sports cars were on the highway in high spirits.

Following a flurry of purchases and in a gust of good humour they were gone again.