Graders are working flat out in the new subdivisions, blocks are being sold and houses are going up everywhere but in the past 12 months since this column first brought the old house to notice its condition has further deteriorated.

So what's going to happen to it?

Will it be demolished?

It's probably doomed because it occupies a prime hill spot that overlooks Orange and if that happens it will be a shame.

It should somehow be saved because it's the perfect example of what life was like back in the early 1900s and its future should be decided before it falls down. Or maybe that's what the developers would prefer.

The house could be on part of the original land grant to Orange pioneer Joseph Moulder who had 1200 acres in the south where he built his first house that he called Bloomfield.

The name was later used for the nearby Bloomfield psychiatric hospital, a Bloomfield rail siding that serviced the area, Bloomfield School built in 1899 and the hamlet's Bloomfield Post Office.

So the place is full of history and the old tin house is part of it somewhere.

It shouldn't be left to fall down.

Suspicions this column has been mistakenly bugged by undercover spooks from ICAC have been confirmed.

It seemed odd when a missing mobile phone began doing strange things after it was temporarily misplaced and when found and switched on opened up with nonsensical messages about land deals.

Then there was the bloke inconspicuously wearing a striped butcher's apron and straw hat in TJ's newsagency in Summer Street watching while I got the papers and then scribbling notes in an exercise book

It was a cunning disguise but obviously he was an ICAC spy who'd lost his directions to the Civic Centre or somewhere where his job no doubt was to sneak in to photograph people without their knowledge.

Another disguised chap in a black cloak and top hat who was loitering inside with him asked the newsagent's Nicole whether she knew of a journalist who had talked to Chinese investors about buying Robertson Park and then quietly mumbled something into a red carnation pinned on his lapel.

Both were intruding into personal matters so it would be good to know why this column was under surveillance. But it's certainly a relief to know ICAC operatives working in their clandestine roles are on the ball so we can all sleep soundly under our beds at night.

The Telegraph's rugby league wafflers were put out in a big way when Orange's Jack Wighton won the prestigious Dally M award over their pet favourite Nathan Cleary.

One even lamented voting should be revamped because Cleary 'was the best player in the competition but missed out'.

Boohoo.

Two elderly women are sipping their coffee on the footpath outside a Summer Street cafe when a truck goes past loaded with rolls of lawn.

"I'm going to do that when I win Lotto," one says to her friend.

"Do what?" she asks.

"Send my lawn out to be mowed..."