the fortnight past

A fortnight with all the usual pleasures and a few extras thrown in.  It was also a time of some sad news:  the passing of two stalwarts of the Bellerive Historical Society Betty and Jean.  Both of them with Mrs History and me from the start of the Society.  Bellerive treasures.
Curiously both Mrs History and I had historical interludes - see Fleurieu Magic blog.  Neither of us have been much involved in things historical recently, becoming The Floosie and The Babe in our new environs.  (My) Steve has been working with a Woodsdale chap on the 2019 Sheds Calendar.  Next year the calendar will include a blurb about each shed.

Steve and Keith at the Woodsdale History Room.

Steve's 2019 shed paintings are on display.

Steve has family links to Woodsdale.  His Aunty Flo lived there after her war time RAAF service.

The only picture I've ever seen of Florence (and this one grainy and too far up the wall)

The next excitement was Whale Census Day last Sunday.

We nobly chose to stake out the view from Old Saltworks (don't get excited by the mysterious re-appearance of those blobs).

Sadly no whales came to see us.

Last night was The Big One - the opening of the Festival of Voices at the Bushland Gardens just south of Buckland.  Frank Sultana (??????) and Mental As Anything (!!!!!!!!) were the acts

but unfortunately their flight was held up by fog in Brisbane so Ange Boxall undertook, at very short notice, to entertain us.  She was great and I will always admire her for singing on and on as we got the news that the Mentals' plane has just touched down, they were picking up their luggage, they're on their way, etc.

Frank Sultana went on first as the Mentals' archetypal roadie checked things out.  Mr Sultana writes his own songs.  They are darkly amusing and revolve around crimes of passion.  He gets a great sound from his Parlour Guitar.

And then, the big event.  Mrs Omniscient Henry and I managed to sit down for the first 3 numbers

this is not Mrs O Henry

but the moon and the fires and the music got too much for us and we danced the night away.

Home just before midnight to have pizza with Steve, who had wisely started eating before I got there.  Mrs O had to wake up Henry to make sure he knew all about it.  Fabulous night.

Breakfast at TDS

I have been quietly fearful of today because it was my first stint at the Breakfast Program at Triabunna District School and I wasn't sure what to expect.  Like most times, there was nothing to fear.  I was rostered on with the School Nurse so thought I'd be in safe hands.  She failed to show but the lovely Cath from Zumba and the Walking Group turned up instead and I knew I was in good hands.  Cath is one of those capable, unflappable people who just gets on with what needs to be done, and she's done Brekky Club many times before.
Schools have been very much on my mind recently.  Having read Vivienne Westwood's book and just finished this book on Margaret Preston, I've realised how important art teachers are.  I'd quite like to be one and am so pleased and proud that this is what Georgia does.  And I know she does it very well.

'Art' was never an option for us 'bright' kids at school.  Now I think it is integral to producing thinking and aware citizens, and has the advantage of appealing to children and adolescents under the guidance of informed and passionate teachers.

Rain on Tuesday

I have finished reading The Old Ways which I thoroughly enjoyed, though I had hoped for less Scotland and at least some Wales.  George Borrow's walk from Cambridge to St Davids was mentioned in pilgrim passing.  Like the Floosie I was most entranced with the path across the sea when the tide is out, having risked similar (but far shorter) forays with the ever present dread that the tide will suddenly turn and the sea come rushing in.  I should have greater faith in the moon.  And not think of tsunamis.  I had never really thought before about the situation in Palestine where you can't safely wander, always being under suspicion from the Palestinians and the Israelis.  What an awful way to live.

I have now also finished reading Vivienne Westwood's Diaries.  I've never been a fan of her clothing designs but I understand much better now what she is trying to achieve.  She is a fascinating woman and her Diaries are easy to read, huge fun and thought provoking.
Today is the day the librarian forecast for Saturday - grey and raining.  I have taken advantage of it to read Agatha Christie's Ordeal By Innocence.  Something about it didn't ring true when I watched it on television a cuppla weeks ago, so I had to get the book.  Well!  Totally different murderer!  Definitely requires further investigation.

A propos of nothing, saw this little cutey in the garden the other day.

big days out

Steve, Jill and I actually went out together today.  We went to Stapleton Beach,

some more hurriedly than others.

Jill PD is not a swimmer and has only recently taken to getting wet to fetch the stick,

sometimes more confidently

than others.

It never hurts to ask nicely for more throws.

But finally the time comes when the sea claims the stick and it's time to go home.

Our Stapleton Beach day was Thursday.  Friday I had another big day:  yoga, then Tai Chi, then School Association, then a soiree at Anne's groovy shed.  I love that I can walk to just about all the things I want to do.  I wore my new boots and felt slightly Demelza-ish striding along with my red longish dress.  Sometime ago Whispering Pearl gave me a pair of green ankle socks with a brown fur trim.  They amused me because they melted into my winter pelted legs but this was not a look I wanted to share too widely so I've been waiting for the right time.  Mel has given me some green tights in exchange for some cat and chook care so now I can pair tights, socks and boots - the fur trim stands atop the boots making them look fur-lined.  Possibly I looked more Maid Marion-ish then Demelza.  There are, of course, other possiblities...

Today the weather is glorious despite yesterday's predicition from the librarian that it would be cold and wet and perfect for reading.  I have planted radish and cornflower seeds and daffodil bulbs.

catching my breath

We may not have a lot of big events in Bunna but we have plenty of small delights.  Weekend before last I did the clifftop walk again with Her Majesty and Mrs Omniscient Henry.  Walking towards us was a woman we had met at the meditation sessions whose name is Cheryl.  We all got so excited I forgot to ask what her dog's name is.  We learned that Cheryl is one of the hardy souls who swims each day at Spring Beach.  She can walk from her house at East Shelly, along the cliff path to Spring Beach.  Rather idyllic, though a long way to the shops.  Cheryl had been keen for the meditation sessions to continue after the 4 week course, and Mrs OH has been wanting to do Tai Chi so they decided 'to look into it'.  Next thing we know, Tai Chi is on at the Community Health Centre on Fridays at 10.30am which means we can stroll leisurely from yoga.  Like Zumba, we don't 'have a live one' but follow a DVD, fortunately an easy to follow one.
On the Sunday I went 'Wedgie Watching' with Ingrid and Graeme.  This may sound like the sort of thing you do hanging out of a car window cruising a small town but is in fact a Citizen Science project looking out for Wedge Tail Eagles and other birds of prey.  We didn't see any Wedgies but watched an engaging encounter of two Sea Eagles.
On Tuesday I checked my phone to discover His and Her Majesty had invited Mrs OH and me to lunch at the Coal River Farm after zumba.  I had a delicious slow-cooked beef and gnocchi dish with a lovely Coal River Cabernet Sauvignon.

Her Majesty, who is also our local Judi Dench, gave the place high commendation even without sampling the wine.  As you can see, the building is sleek and minimalist and not at all what I was expecting as a 'farmhouse'.

In other foodie news:

the pub on the highway has extended its bakery items.

Steve and I are very partial to their ciabatta, shown here with the teapot trivet I indulged in from The Rusty Devil because it reminded me of the face Sarah etched in the new honey some time ago.
Apart from the usual gym, zumba, yoga and now Tai Chi, and at least an hour in the garden each day, I'm reading.

Here's The Floosie's review of this book:

Hi

I thought you might like to read the review I wrote about Robert MacFarlane's book. I read it a year or so ago but I noticed in your blog that he was involved in the book The Lost Words.

That too sounded utterly captivating.  Here's to more books like these!!!!    FF

'The Old Ways' by Robert Macfarlane was a poetic exploration of the diverse walking paths in the British Isles with forays into Spain and the Himalayas. With lyrical and at times heartbreakingly beautiful prose, the reader follows Macfarlane as he walks ancient neolithic ways, Roman paths, coffin trails, ley lines, pilgrim paths, and many others, some on his own and others accompanied by old and new friends. As an urban Australian it was difficult for me to imagine the depth of history embedded in these walking tracks that spiderweb their way across the English landscape ( although Macfarlane does mention the Australian Aborigines and their songlines that connect features of the landscape). I especially enjoyed the path known as the 'deadliest' in Britain: It's on the Essex coastline and there are few markers. It heads straight out into the sea before veering back to the shore, to be walked only at certain times when the tide is out. It was an eerie landscape made immediate by Macfarlane's writing. The author also pops in bits of linguistic history dealing with the meaning of words associated with walking, and acknowledges the feats of other famous walkers. An engrossing book that conveys a powerful sense of ancient landscapes, and makes you want to put on your walking boots.

I bought these boots over a month ago to wear while gardening but they look so beautiful
I keep them as a sculpture.