Last Saturday we went to a dinner celebrating the release of a facsimile edition of Edward Abbott's cookery book, the first published in Australia around the 1860s. The menu was taken from the book and it was a marvelous night - although oats featured a bit too much for my comfort. The MC was (allegedly) a French man who refused to leave when the search party for La Perouse's boats arrived in Tassie. He was enjoying the Hobart life too much... It was a fine conceit, and the actor was excellent.
Sadly Sis couldn't dine with us and had to stay to guard my Tuesday to Thursday home.
There was snow on Mt Wellington, viewed with difficulty from an upstairs window
but easily from the carport area.
Sunday we revived old traditions and shared sausage rolls with Sis, who is keen to continue the tradition. We breakfasted under the Tasman Bridge after taking the obligatory snap of Mt Wellington from Kangaroo Bay for Georgia.
Dad looks like an Italian Gangster in that first photo, all dressed up with his leather gloves. The unit looks nice with the fire, and I was going to say it looks a little devoid of art, but then realised that was probably deliberate! Thank you for my mountain shot.
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