The Silo Trail

After a bracing walk around Warracknabeal, taking in the lovely houses and gardens including Sandrine's Community Garden, we breakfasted at The Nurses' Residence and set off on The Silo Trail.  There had been wide consultation at the party the night before, including with people wearing white sheets over their heads for fear of recognition, about the best way to get to Sheep Hills.  We finally found the turnoff and crossed kilometres of wheat fields to arrive at Sheep Hills where the Firies were doing a big clean-up.  I tried to capture their dedicated activity in the photo above but really only captured why I couldn't live there.

The silos, however, are amazing and a big tourist attraction with campervan after campervan turning up to take photos.  Next on to Rupanyup where I didn't like the silos so didn't take a photo though they were beautifully painted.  They looked too much like school sports' captains to me. We were rather taken with this mosaicked former shop.

There is also a beguiling homewares type shop on the lawned median strip running through town where you can  have coffee.  It is a quirky little town.

From there we drove the long way round to Horsham to buy a cooked chook for lunch the next day.  En route we stopped at a great cafe in Natimuk

which also attracts a quirky crowd and nutters who climb Mount Arapiles.  Believe it or not I've only just realised the mosaic connection between Natimuk and Rupanyup.  And trust Sandrine Shiffer to get in the photo too.

All aboard The Overland

After a few more days with Mum, it was up before the crack of dawn to catch the Overlander.  I had booked myself  into Premium because, for not very much extra, breakfast and lunch was included.  The Premium carriage was spaciously fitted out and not very peopled.  What the other carriages were like I could not say.  After taking this photo of their disappearing forms

I had nothing more to with the plebs in other carriages.  A bonza sheila  in an akubra hat, shirt and jeans jollily took our breakfast orders in a methodical manner.  The delivery of the breakfasts seemed to take until almost lunchtime and was totally random.  My feta and spinach omelette, however was very good as was the coffee when it finally arrived.  It was lovely 'steaming' out of Adelaide in the early morning, holding up workbound traffic at the crossings, with not a care in the world.  Although there was a family who behaved curiously:  the father seemed unable to sit for longer than 10 seconds and disappeared constantly presumably to explore the train.  He kept his teenage children informed of his discoveries via txt and phone calls.  There is something very exciting about train travel.  It always bring to mind for me previous train journeys so there were flashbacks to France and Wales as the Adelaide Hills unfolded in their autumn glory.

I took this photo of the station at Murray Bridge because it was so unprepossessing - but I hadn't seen Horsham Station at that point.

I like Murray Bridge, not just because giant octopuses try to drag the train into the river,

but because it is the Murray River, and I once lived on its junction with the Darling,

and crossing it by car or train is always exciting after the wheat towns of Victoria.

This time, however, we were travelling into the wheat belt of Victoria and I took no more photos, especially not of Horsham Station.
The absolute best thing about Horsham Station was Sandrine waiting for me and driving me, Claudia Schiffer style, in her VW to Warracknabeal.

That night we went to a party to support and farewell a woman who was sacked when she handed in her resignation.  I took no photos 1) because I was non compos mentis by then after such an early (for me) start and 2) because other staff had been told not to attend any event held for her and were a little wary of cameras... (unlike Claudia Shiffer)

A short Dissertation on the University of Adelaide

I pondered the Uni as I waited for Tamasin at lunch time. It is so genteel and park-like these days.  Individuals walk around apparently talking to no-one.  Nobody smiles.  My memory of Adelaide Uni is of a bustling place, the lawns festooned with people and litter exhorting us to take a stand on some thing.  Memorably, once a guy stood outside the then new extension of the Barr-Smith Library handing out leaflets telling females how they should look and dress in order to be emancipated.
Over the road a church has this message

and I like it.

a small lie

Yankalilla wasn't quite our last stop.  We called in to see Corinne's daughters and their families.  Heths and I attempted to thrash Hugo at Uno while Lady Jayne tried to sweet talk Leo into letting her play trains.

This was our fourth Easter spent without CK.  We always feel at some stage that she is with us and there are always times when we know she would be giggling uncontrollably with us,

Charlie's Easter Angels

Tuesday evening, after some airport car hire shenanigans, Heths, Lady Jayne and I rendezvoused chez Pearl (which is code name for Heths').  Over dinner and bubbly we planned Our Day in Adelaide.  We had decided previously that, perfect as it is to go away for Easter, it would be nice to spend a day together in Adelaide when the town is open.
So Wednesday started with us catching the tram from Glenelg into town.  And not just town but the Adelaide Entertainment Centre, it being a long held dream of mine to take the tram to the end of the line. Invigorated and pacing down North  Terrace three abreast, we were stopped in our tracks by a youngish chap who called out to us 'Look for the cameras.  They're doing a remake of Charlie's Angels'.  We were a little chuffed and chose to believe it was due to our classy and bold demeanour and not a caustic comment on the era of our attire.  If our clothes are a little of the 70s (1970s) it is because we wear them ironically.
We feasted on oysters at the market but sadly couldn't have an auld lang syne drink at the Botanic because it didn't open until 5pm.  This is the disadvantage of being a Seniorella: you must catch your transport by 3pm or turn into a Fare Evader who, judging from the warnings on the buses, look like the Ugly Sisters, ie gross and unemployed.
Thursday we returned to our home away from home, Redruth in Port Elliot.

It was as perfect as our memories and photos from last year had led us to believe.  The Cockle Train hurtled against our hedge scaring the bejesus out of us at very regular times.  We journeyed on it and looked to lunch at The Mill in Middleton

but it was even more closed than last year.  We amused ourselves by keeping a banana under glass.

We tried to work out how to use the camera automagically

and eventually worked it out.

We went to Hindmarsh Falls

and climbed The Bluff at Encounter Bay. Of course we also ate well.  We liked the new Water Melon cafe in Port Elliot and Pippis in Middleton.  We discovered Second Valley cheese.  We sank gratefully into our barstools at The Strand and ate oysters and a platter of seafood with bubbly. And Cornish Pasties from the Middleton Bakery were perfect for staying up till after midnight for

the Poldark Extravaganza.  When we'd run out of Poldark DVDs we left Redruth the next morning and travelled back via Waitpinga

where there were plenty of men on the beach

and a sea and sky to get lost in.

Our last stop was Yankalilla which is a contender for our Easter jaunt next year.   For these few wonderful days it is always worth planning early - though they seem to unfold themselves in magical ways.

Pre Maundy Thursday

I flew to Adelaide on the Sunday.  I hadn't hired a car this time so waited for the bus at the airport.  To my delight I travelled free because Seniors travel free at the weekend.
The reason for my arrival in Adelaide in plenty of time for Easter was that my Mum had been unwell, including two short stints in hospital.  Helly had been caring for her and I took over for a couple of days.  Mum was a bit glum but perked up on Tuesday when Lady Jayne arrived.  This is a traditional response of the poorly to visits by ladyships.
I have been searching high and low for the photos of our lovely day out getting lost in the mountainous Glen Osmond terrain, visiting the gardens of the National Trust office and lunching at the sushi bar conveniently situated over the road from Mercato where we had coffee and cake for dessert.
Last night I realised there are no photos because my camera expired just as I was photographing Mum and the loggia at the National Trust place.

Honeys, I'm home

Got home late yesterday afternoon to a wild Triabunna winter's day and a rainbow.  Today is more autumnal and the garden looks good with its mowed lawns and golden leaves.  I can see lots of little jobs to do which fits well with my plan to spend an hour in the garden each day through winter.
I had a lovely holiday and will start blogging it soon.  Unfortunately I bought PJ O'Rourke's How The Hell Did This Happen? to read on the plane and am thoroughly enjoying it, so I'm a little distracted...