Can’t ask for more
than thatBy the time I hit Yeoval, I’d been on the
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pretty ordinary pubs. When I was
pulling out I kept wondering, was this a
really good place or was it just better
than the dreck?
But nah! As I bent Super Ten over
through some of the twisties north to
Dubbo, I accepted that this pub had all
the simple things that riders want:
Comfortable accommodation at very
good rates, great staff, very friendly
locals, cheap drinks, decent food. It’s
near other attractions and in the midst
of interesting deserted roads. I don’t
know what more there is to want!
The Royal at Yeoval scored 4
helmets, almost 200 on our value
scale and the portraits on the wall plus
other stuff, make it 5/5 on our unique
character ratings.
This review is an abridged version of an
episode in my upcoming book, The Pub,
the Whole Pub and Nothing but the
Pub, to be published in August. To follow
its progress search ‘Nothing but the
Pub’ on Facebook.$XVWUDOLDLQ WRGRDVWXG\RI*RXJK
Whitlam and felt so at home that he
organised to be naturalised in Gough’s
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A couple of things may’ve contributed
to Drago’s ease at settling in – obviously
being mates with the PM would’ve
helped, but he also didn't mind a pint,
and he sure liked a punt.
He may’ve been a reasonable sculptor,
probably a decent drinker, but as a punter
he was a shocker and soon ended up owing
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bookmaking family, the Waterhouses.
Pretty soon this mob realised they had
zilch chance of recovering any of the debt
so they forced Drago into bankruptcy
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sculpture of Henry Moore.
Alf Cantrell, a businessman in Yeoval
somehow heard about this and had an idea
which he took to Robbie Waterhouse and
over three years they worked out a deal.
See, Alf knew there’s a law somewhere
that if you donate a work of art to a
public institution (like say a council or
community), you receive a tax credit for
the value of the donation.
The Waterhouses found this appealing -
they had a pile of metal they couldn't use
and some taxation liabilities they could do
without so they had the work valued at a
million bucks.
In Feb 2010 they off-loaded Drago’s
work to the town of Yeoval and at the end
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for $1,000.000.00.
Neat eh? Much cleaner than that
nasty Fine Cotton business, and
even more lucrative!
Anyway, Alf Cantrell, the brains behind
this acquisition, is not just still in Yeoval,
he’s the heart, the soul and most of
the energy behind the Banjo Paterson
Museum and he arrives there a couple of
minutes after I turn up. I ask if he’s a few
minutes to give me.
Glinting eyes sparkle over Alf ’s specs,
he smiles and ushers me inside and
out of the drizzle.
Alf introduces me to his wife Sharyn.
They both drive buses to raise the funds to
buy items for the museum, (some can cost
well over 5 grand) and the entry fees cover
the cost of utilities and insurance.
I don't see the weather again for two
hours. I sit inside the museum entertained,
enthralled, amused, informed, and more
than a little educated. Alf knows the
Banjo better than Earl Scruggs and the
place is packed with rare and valuable
documents, photos, books, historic
pieces and manuscripts. Each piece has a
story, and Alf knows every one.
Every story is told with passion and
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out to the bike. This has been a great
stop and if Yeoval, Banjo’s home for the
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else, then it’s been worth the effort.
Then I pull up at the pub.
There’s a throng of folk on the tables
out front and I nod as I head in.
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I’ve still a ways to go so I ask for a lite
and park myself on a stool. The old
bloke at the bar nods and asks where