...when folk don't care about the beautiful. Some of my happiest memories include times when the kids were young and we went to the hill resort of Fraser's Hill. The first time I was there was in fact before the kids were born: 1969. The only buildings then were ones which dated back to colonial times, for this was the place where the Brits came to get away from the heat and humidity, to play a round of golf and sit around a fire at night and play bridge or backgammon or whatever.
To get to Fraser's in those days you had to go up and down a one-way road (and in fact nowadays too, because the horrendously expensive and ugly new road remains closed).
Odd hours up, even hours down. And as it was hard to judge just when you'd arrive at the bottom of the one-way road, there was a resthouse there for your comfort. You could stay there - in fact we did, often - and it became a focal point of birders from all around the world. It was called The Gap Resthouse. It ranked up there with places like Martin's Place in Sri Lanka, or the cafe in Cley in Norfolk.
I loved the place. You could get scones and strawberry jam and tea, or fried mee while you were waiting for the gate to open. You could have a dinner of lamb chops, but you had to get to bed early because they turned of the generator...
The lessor kept the place spotlessly clean - even polishing the brass handles of windows and doors until they shone gold. The brass is all stolen now. Vandals are having a field day, ripping out the fittings and drawing graffiti. Even the cement mixer brought in for the renovations lies abandoned.
Alas, these pictures are The Gap today.
But never mind, with the money they don't have for the upkeep, or the renovations, they built a hanging bridge to nowhere, which crosses nothing. (The resthouse is on the left of the photo.)
The signs tell it all. When the renovations were due to be completed was 2009, but the actual date has been scrubbed out.