Yule log

On Christmas Eve last year I drove to Devonport and boarded the ferry for Geelong.  I was in need of adventure, 2022 being a flatish year.  To avoid confusing Father Christmas, many people choose not to travel on Christmas Eve, so Spirit of Tasmania fares were discounted and I treated myself to a cabin with porthole.  Glorious.  I munched gingerbreads, chocolates and rum balls, as the lights of Devonport receded. 

Geelong hoves into view

Christmas Day was hot and I faced the forthcoming drive to Adelaide with some trepidation.  My first test was to find my way out of Geelong, home to the new ferry terminal.  As you know, I'm not very good at that stuff and it took me an hour to find the right road and, even then, I had to compromise by  driving to Ballarat because I couldn't see the turn off to Ararat.

I had promised my travelling companions that we would stop at Dadswell Bridge to  have a drink with Christmas Koala.

Bobbin and Flowers were blown away by the gargantuan beast but thankful for the shade.

Despite its imposing presence, the koala offered no succour.  The cafe was closed.  We stopped somewhere for petrol and iced coffee and drove on wishing for Christmas miracles like air conditioning and a working fuel gauge.

We arrived Chez Pearl in the evening,

hot, tired, disheveled, but thankful there was a bottle of bubbly keeping cool in the sleeping bag in the back of the car.  Pearl was away on an adventure of her own.

Flowers and Bobbin made themselves very much at home and we enjoyed a convivial evening sipping bubbles, eating cornchips with truffled triple cream brie, and opening presents.  Father Christmas had found us after all.

I awoke on Boxing Day to find Pearl's place boxed in by cars and people trudging in 40 degree heat to buy stuff at Harbor Town sales.  My day was dedicated to keeping cool, visiting Mum in the blissfully cool nursing home, and a long bath.