Easter 2016 Part 1

The portents were good.  Steve drove me to the airport along the river and under a full moon.  The check-in lady appeared not to see me but gave me a magnificent window seat towards the front of the plane.  As dawn broke I could see the east coast, Maria Island, then the top of Tasmania. I had a clear view of Williamstown, St Kilda and the city.  Lady Jayne and I rendezvoused at Terminal 4 which sounded vaguely ominous but resulted in nothing worse than us losing the parking station ticket.  Then, after a couple of false starts, we were on the road to Adelaide.  The joy of the open road.  The joy of driving a European car again where you use the windscreen wipers as indicators and vice versa.  We saw the Big Koala and the big something else somewhere.  We saw the turnoff to Warracknabeal but resisted.  We arrived at our overnight accommodation in West Beach where Heths fixed us the first of many memorable salads and we started to demolish her wine collection.
Next morning saw us leaving all the bedlinen and towels for Heths to wash upon her return.  We motored to Port Elliot via what has become my favourite route, hugging the beaches then on to the South Road at Willunga, towards Sellick Hill, past the giant Buddha, finally to Hindmarsh Tiers Road, Victor Harbor and our cottage at Port Elliot.

Imagine my joy at its situation next to the railway line.

Another of my life ambitions achieved.

The road signs do not lie, and on Good Friday the Cockle Train came thundering through our conservatory living area

or so it seemed.  Easter has become the time for sales so we spent Good Friday resisting buying things and walking our favourite haunts.

The days were fine and mild.  You could hear the roar of the sea at the cottage.
Saturday we took the Cockle Train to Victor Harbor which was jumping with families and markets.  There seemed to be a treasure hunt for children each of whom was festooned with a large Eastery looking paper bag.  Our next stop was Middleton where we'd intended to lunch at a mill restaurant The Beagle had led us to some Easters ago.  We were to be disappointed

but in the nicest possible way.  It is reassuring when a winery restaurant closes to go and pick the grapes.  We decided to try for lunch at Goolwa (after consoling ourselves at the Middleton Bakery).  But yet another dilemma.

Which side of the track to catch the train?  The Middleton Station is not very forthcoming.

After circumnavigating Goolwa a few times and visiting old haunts in a seafood odyssey, we graced this restaurant on the waterfront.  The food was good but the Maitre d and Madam d were graceless.
Then it was home again

to replenish ourselves in preparation for another day of pleasure.