It's been a big week for The Pharaoh Dog and Entourage. The Gatehouse is to be one of the featured architect designed buildings in the Australian Pavilion at the 2018 Venice Biennale. The filming schedule has been brutal but a breeze for the consummate professional.
Most of the photography took place from a tripod placed round about here to capture the comings and goings, including the peerless opening and closing of the buildings each day.
Here are some stills (doubtless to be snapped up for promotional purposes and souvenirs for the culture-starved Venetians).
Pretending to be anxious in the gale force winds.
Contemplating what could be next in the Year of the Dog.
Corinne's birthday today (it's 15 Feb in Australia).
We've had about 50 Ducatis ride through town in her honour. Monet et Goyen, Peugeot or Papillon would have been more appropriate but c'est la vie. To compensate, I cooked delicious seafood in a buttery garlic sauce for lunch and not my usual spaghetti marinara. Also had a crisp white, though not from New Zealand.
There hasn't been anything momentous to blog, although we have had rain and I had my second Hepatitis shot which knocked me around for a cuppla days. So here's a bit of a round up for the week.
I realised that the garden and table cloth have begun to merge.
The new seafood and wine bar where we went for coffee after Zumba.
Beautiful location but still hasn't worked itself out menu-wise.
I'm going to bore you silly with photos of this sculpture, formerly part of a bold exhibition at the Spring Bay Mill (see here and here ), but relocated to the RSL grounds opposite the Gatehouse and looking comparatively meek.
These are for the benefit of Sandrine who saw it in its original position and is contemplating painting it.
It was interesting to see the rickety rackety troll bridge from this angle.
And the Lone Pine from Gallipoli.
and the not so lone pine cones.
Gratuitous photos of Gatehouse gardens which are coming along nicely and have been a big inspiration for my future garden plans...
Then over to the school to see what is happening in their gardens.
If you look carefully you can see the broad beans coming through.
Sue, who is married to Henry the Omniscient, was very excited at gym on Wednesday because her cactus was in flower. After gym, Her Majesty The Queen of Hearts and I trotted around to Sue's to witness the phenomenon.
It was an overcast day so the flowers weren't open to their fullest but absolutely gorgeous nevertheless. I haven't seen a cactus in flower since early Wentworth days. The unsung string of pearls was pretty awesome too.
I headed home via the mulberry tree, stopping off for a bit of a graze. As I approached the narrow start to the walkway home I noticed the tethered goat blocking the entrance. I say 'the goat' because I think Triabunna only has one goat and he / she seems to be loaned around the town to keep grasses and blackberries under control. I wasn't overly worried because it always seems placid and was wagging its tail. It was, however, in a playful mood and would not let me pass. After dancing for a while and stroking its nose, I grabbed the horns and tried to lever it out of my way. The goat fought back and impaled my jumper on the barbed wire fence. Its hard to disentangle yourself from a fence when a goat is butting you. And then I remembered that Sue had given me some plums. Gently one by one I fed it plums as I eased myself free and manoeuvred to where I wanted to be and proceeded home. I was a little worried about the plum stones but figure goats eat worse than that.
I watched the Big Blue Blood Moon rise as I walked back from closing the Gatehouse (I don't know why sky shots bring out those strange shapes on my camera). Fortunately 300 Years of French & Saunders was on tv to help me make it to eclipse time. We watched the eclipse to a fine silver sliver and then a cloudbank came over and I retired to bed. Steve woke me a little later to see the moon now a beautiful apricot with a pink blush.
And if you want to see where my soul hovers, go here.
I took a wander around the garden to see if the hot day had wreaked any damage. I noticed things in the garden that had been important to Sarah in 2015 but she appeared not to attach any significance to in 2017. And I remembered that, while Georgia was on an exchange year to Norway as a teenager, we had the opportunity to buy a huge and fabulous house in Sandy Bay that I had lived in briefly. We would have to sell our Bellerive house and my unit but knew it would be a good investment and a lovely place to live. We agonised but decided it wasn't fair - Georgia loved 01 Queen Street, the Bellerive house. When she returned and we confided to her our traitorous thoughts, she exclaimed that she would love to live in Sandy Bay.
the plant Sarah chose at Salamanca Market 2015
the heart she made to adorn the gate to the veggie garden 2015
The garden appears unscathed but, overcome with memories, I went inside and made myself a stiff Cointreau and lemon with plenty of ice.
The fruit glut is over so I had to cook rhubarb to have with my yoghurt this morning.
During the week Steve, Pharaoh Dog and I went for a drive so Steve could show me the beautiful road from Buckland to Campania - a circuitous way to get to Sorell. We investigated an apricot and cherry farm. I had a cherry icecream which was a bit watery but Steve pronounced his apricot icecream the best icecream he'd ever eaten.
On the way home we tracked down a house that Steve had spotted distantly from the highway and wanted to photograph to paint later.
Shades of the Arbiters of Taste days. I sat primly in the car, not having been given the license, granted to Steve, to roam around and take photos. But you get the idea. It's in the Orielton area and I wonder if it was connected to Edward Lord - for those of you aware of the chap.
Meanwhile in my unwatered garden the hollyhocks are mutating and appear to be bonsai'd but the seaholly is going great guns.
I keep meaning to share with you this lovely image I came across in The Anthologist book I was reading:
When the War is over and the sword at last we sheathe,
I'm going to keep a jelly-fish and listen to it breathe.
It's from an AA Milne poem, 'From a Full Heart'. I've finished the book by Nicholson Baker. I wouldn't rush out to buy it but I am keeping it to re-read because it is thought provoking. I'm currently re-reading the Sue Grafton alphabet series. Two friends and I decided we were going to read them in order from 'A is for Alibi' through to 'Z is for Zero' but sadly Sue Grafton died recently and Z may never be published. I've just finished 'F is for Fugitive' but have to hunt down G and H before I can continue this noble quest.
Yesterday at PUBS I told my companion-in-book-sales that I'd made a clafoutis last night. 'Is that like a faux pas?' she replied. Which made me laugh. 'Clafoutis' has always seemed such a clumsy word to me. It conjures up clubfeet and cleft palates. When the Tour Down Under is on I think of the Tour de France and naturally that makes me think of clafoutis. When plummy Poms are banished to France to live, travel and write cookery books, there's always a recipe for clafoutis. I'm sure it's a provincial dish and not Parisienne. Being a provincial sometimes Pom with a surplus of cherries I thought I'd have a go.
Not the prettiest thing I've ever made. Looks a bit gravel rashy. Perhaps it needs to be cooked in an oven blackened skillet. It always looks so winsome in the accompanying little line drawings.
This little cutey is about to be returned to the PUBS for re-sale. I couldn't resist a book written by Lady Fortescue and recommended by Kirkus. It was written in 1935, in the days when it wasn't obligatory to include recipes. It's the same old lark of living graciously while surrounded by funny little foreigners but Lady Fortescue does seem to be quite a Girl and there's a frisson cos we know that there's a war coming. Lady F doesn't know and this book ends in 1937. She has quite a following and now has her own website http://www.perfumefromprovence.com/ thanks to adoring fans.
I haven't investigated Kirkus yet. I did find this http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/europe/learn-to-make-perfume-in-provence-an-idea-not-to-be-sniffed-at-552899.html . Perhaps one Easter for lovers of Chanel 5.