Eat, Read, (M)Other

There's not a lot to report from this Adelaide trip.  I had to use my beautiful Ba Muoi bicycle for transport and didn't even get to Mercato.  It is perfectly possible to cycle or even walk with the wheelchair to Mercato from Mum's, we've done it before, but the weather became very hot and neither Mum nor I were up for it.

We did walk with Daphne to the golf clubhouse over the Boxing Day holiday break.  This is a short, easy walk and we were rewarded with ham and cheese baguettes and glasses of white wine.  Very civilized.

Fleurieu Floosie and I arranged to meet at the Adelaide Railway Station for an adventure.  We had not seen each other for a while so Jill agreed to wear a pink crustacean to facilitate recognition.

It worked, so off we trotted to the Central Market in search of peach juice, for The Floosie has been in a Bellini frame of mind.  Peach juice was not to be had for love nor money (well, not our love or money) so I suggested we lunch at the Kings Head to boost our flagging spirits.  This is a favourite haunt of The Easterers because its menu comes from SA produce only,  Did come...  As we cried out in anguish at the burgers, etc, the bartender explained about new owners, new menu, blah blah blah.  We suggested he make us a Bellini each to sob into, and he did.

The Floosie rejoiced in memories of Venice, and I thought it made an adequate breakfast.  Of course, really it was a ploy to get two bottles of peach juice.  Mission accomplished.  Getting lunch did not prove so easy. I am not the expert on Adelaide eateries that the Floosie had assumed.  I wracked my brains and, after a sobering dash through the lane ways where historical Adelaide lurks, we had a wrap at a food court near David Jones.  But it was a very nice wrap and we were well satisfied though the Floosie was gasping for a nice cup of tea.  It was approaching Seniorella Time when all old ladies and other layabouts must be on the bus / train, so we hot-footed it back to the railway station because there's always a caf there.  Well, my dears, a young person ensured we met the covid reqs and ushered us into the most fabulous restaurant, The Guardsman.  We were speechless at the beautifully restored / renovated station restaurant.  Just the place for the former Ms and Mrs History.  We ordered a teapot of French Earl Grey for two and realised this was the restaurant we'd been searching for:  26 SA beers, 26 SA gins and lots of SA produce on the menu.  We vowed to return the following week.

The Floosie graces a banquette at The Guardsman

More food adventures were in store for me.  Tamasin and Nima took me to an Afghani restaurant in Blair Athol.

I ordered what turned out to be a succulently roasted leg of lamb (much more than a shank) on a mountain of delicately flavoured rice.  Delicious!  I tried the drink which Nima assured me only Afghanis, Iranians, etc liked.  I could drink it (my kefir days probably helped me prepare for it) but I doubt that I'll order it again unless I'm in Isfahan.

I'd like to say we pigged out but it's not really appropriate

The Pearl and I decided to meet up for a Seniorella treat and I, very naughtily, suggested we  eat at The Guardsman.  Unlike the coded Floosie, Pearl was anti covided in a mask and, with her new do, I didn't recognise her!  She removed her mask so we could have a good nosh up at The Guardsman, she having S&P squid while I had Port Lincoln sardines - first time I've ever had fresh sardines despite all that ogling of Italian and Spanish recipe books.    For dessert I had the Fruchoc, a curiosity probably known only to South Australians.  This was particularly curious, being a small and dainty morsel with a removable chocolate dome covering it like an igloo. Good food, wine, service and ambiance.  We lunched for 3 hours and I totally forgot to take any photos.

Greedily I could hardly wait for the following Monday when the Floosie and I were to meet for our promised lunch.  There is something about meeting in a central railway station, a sense of adventure, other times, other places.  I confessed to the Floosie that I had lunched at The Guardsman with Pearl.  After some hissing, stamping of feet and slitted eyes, the Floosie quietened and we proceeded to the restaurant where all looked very quiet.  We enquired at the cafe and were told that The Guardsman doesn't open on Mondays. !!!!!!!  !!!!!!!  Two sets of hissing, stamping and slitted eyes.  We had a pot of tea to calm us down.  Composure regained, we asked the foody-looking Young Things at the cafe to make a list of eateries in the league of The Guardsman: SA food and drink, classily refurbished heritage and not too far away because it was 37 degrees outside. They done good.

The Floosie and I did a short river exploration as planned, despite the searing heat, then headed for The Strathmore.  We had been told to go to the upstairs restaurant if we wanted heritage but it was still Monday... and the restaurant wasn't open.  More old lady histrionics, then we decided to eat at the downstairs cafe as  long as I didn't have to watch the cricket.  We found a cool and comfy table, and relaxed into our fruity and refreshing cocktails.  I had a very good steak and the Floosie had salmon - both very happy.  And then

the Eaton Mess.  Absolutely delicious though curiously with marshmallow added to the traditional meringue, cream and berries.  No complaints from us.  We returned to the station to have another pot of tea before the Seniorella cut-off.  This time the cafe had closed so FF caught an earlier train and I hailed an earlier 281 bus for a relaxing trip through Walkerville to Klemzig - you take these routes for granted when you have a car.

My final foody adventure was a falooda at another Afghani joint in Blair Athol.

Tamasin introduced me to the delight of falooda, a sort of rose flavoured thickshake with bits of fruit and nuts.  The sort of thing you see when you are overseas but seldom risk trying.  Totally enjoyable but with a tad too much plastic.

When I wasn't hunting and gathering, or tidying up,  I was reading.  Fabulous books fell from the library shelves into my arms.  For some reason they tended to be big books so I had to balance them carefully on my bicycle, particularly if I had shopping as well.  But it was worth it.

This is a beauty, so much so that I went to the Art Gallery and bought a copy.  The weaving is gob- smacking but I also loved her story of growing up along the Murray River.  It made me think of Ian Abdullah's As I Grew Older and it transpires that they knew each other.

The title is cringe-worthy but this is a hugely inspiring book about repurposed buildings in various parts of the USA.  I've made a pledge to choose hotels in repurposed buildings when next I travel.  The Watson, an Art Series Hotel in Walkerville, is a fine example.  Voting with my dollar.

I chose this one because I've always wanted to go to Kyoto - but only when there are no tourists...  I love the traditional Japanese house aesthetic and enjoyed looking at the photos.  The text was in Japanese and English, but the translation did not work well.

I gazed and re-gazed at the photos in this one, mainly to pick out details which may be useful for living small.  Some of the 'lofts' are 3-storey apartments, 'loft' referring to an architectural style rather than attic living.

I thoroughly enjoyed this one.  It was like chatting with a friend.  Linda Woodrow seems to about the same age as me, and wrote the book in the 1990s.  Her ideas on gardening aligned with mine and I would love to know if her approach is still working 20+ years on.

And here's what the trip was all about - My Mum.

The decorations at this house at the end of Mum's street get more extravagant everyChristmas.

Here's an amazing house being built on Fourth Avenue - definitely bucks the trend of all other new housing in the area.  Good on them, though it would look better on a bigger block.

The day I went to the Art Gallery SA to buy the Riverland book, I took a jaunt through the Arts and Crafts room.  This is my home-making credo.

beautiful Louis Comfort Tiffany panels

Not sure about the utility or beauty of a pig on the air-conditioner, but interesting.  I wanted to buy it some wings.

Some of you know of my relentless grieving for my Cruella D'Eville jacket, somehow lost.  I similarly mysteriously lost my boho crocheted cardigan which, even more mysteriously, I found a couple of visits later rolled  up in a carpet at Mum's.  I took this little fella as a sign that I will one day find that jacket.  I could make myself one if I could find 100 more like him.

The former Mrs History and I were most impressed when we spotted this sheeting covering the building works on the Adelaide Railway Station.  I love that it acknowledges the space and grandeur of the building - though we don't know what they are doing to it underneath...  I can think of so many uses for such wrapping.

And that's the Adelaide trip - no Mercato, no beach, no Encounter Bay - but still a good time. 

Now is the time to say goodbye

 Off to the airport in a little while but thought I should share some Christmas with you.

note spekky pruning gloves from Rosa Norte

There's nothing a Bunna Babe enjoys more than a bit of wood chipping at Christmas.

Steve contemplates Christmas Dinner.

It's been an unusual year.

Apres chipping, a girl's gotta eat.

Now the sad bit.  Jill PD's favourite car in all the world left in the Council carpark because Mel doesn't work there anymore.  And nor do I.  Opened the Gatehouse for the final time this morning.

Even the garden looks a bit wistful to me - doubtless in the eye of the beholder.  It's between seasons.

I can't wait to get back and see what happens next.

I'm also starting to think of Adelaide delights...

More adventures

The lead up to Christmas has been wonderful for me.  Lots of little 'end of year celebrations'.  Last Saturday was the Summer Solstice Swim at Raspins Beach with all funds going to the Spring Bay Suicide Prevention Network.

Dot and I emerging triumphant from our swim

this way please for the Covid compliance

working up the courage

bolder and bolder

very brave

judging the fancy dress

What a sterling bunch.  Talking of which we raised $416.35 and had a great time.  I'm even thinking of joining the 9am Sunday Swim group next year.  The afternoon was devoted to sushi at Little Swanport.  Then I hit the wall and was catatonic until Monday, even missing the last Village Market of the year, though I did manage the Van Diemen's Band Christmas Carols at the Mill on Sunday afternoon.

Monday was the last day of my goody commitments.  I had to drive to Swansea to bank the money the School Association raised with its Christmas Raffle.  So I made the most of it with a peruse of the shops and a meal at Salt Shaker.  I was hoping to go to Tellers, a former bank and now a restaurant but, of course, it was closed on Mondays.  I've eaten at the Salt Shaker before on a road trip with Their Majesties and Mrs O Henry.  It was good then and it was good on Monday.  It's easy to get quality fish and chips on the East Coast but fish cooked any other way is elusive.  Above is salt & pepper squid with a salad of blueberries, broccoli and unidentified delicious stuff.  Also a glass of Kelvedon sauv blanc which was excellent.  I passed the Kelvedon vines on the way home.  That's the sort of thing I love about living here.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to deck Swansea for Christmas.  This one amused me, not knowing whether or not the allusion to a snowman was intentional.  In addition to the usual painted cut out decorations, there was a lot of yarn bombing.  I must say Swansea radiated far more Christmas spirit than Triabunna, where I can't think of any public Christmas displays.  Sadly our Council has fallen into disarray.

I dropped into Salt Works on the way home just because it is always so calm and beautiful.  I took lots of photos of landing pelicans and congregations of shorebirds but they (the photos) were really not up to scratch.

Monday evening it was off to the church grounds to collect Wallaby Grass seed  for the Pulchella Community Nursery LandCare Group.

Could anything be more idyllic?

Advent(ures)

My friend, Rob, told me about a beautiful patch of grassland behind the Anglican Church.  It is the best stand of kangaroo grass (may be wallaby grass) that we know of and it is dotted with many native wildflowers and orchids.  The Friends of Triabunna Reserves took a stroll there last Wednesday evening.

Rob found this beautiful nest on the ground.  It is like a fairy bower.

Some of the grass and tiny wildflowers

Today I went to the church for its advertised Story of Christmas and carol singing.  It was beautifully decked out and we waited anxiously for the parishioners to amble in.  The church only holds services periodically so the fear was that the flock had forgotten.  Naturally it brought The Vicar of Dibley to mind, particularly because the preacher is a woman.  In fact the whole show was run by women, and it was the first time I've been to a Christmas service where the running around, present hunting, shopping, cooking and preparation for Christmas was mentioned.

Last Thursday, His Majesty took Her Majesty, Mrs O Henry and I for a roadtrip to Oatlands via a circuitous route which had us driving around Lake Dulverton.  This proved very beautiful and I especially liked this paddling cow, very reminiscent of buffalo cooling down after a hard day's work in Vietnam.

the cow in situ

I am struggling to complete all the library books I put holds on.  The Song of the Crocodile took me right back to Wentworth and the lives of some of the Aboriginal women I worked with.  A different world.

This one is a bold attempt to tell Australian history from a different perspective.

And this is where I may go when my Gatehouse Officer job finishes on Boxing Day.  Though first I will fly to Adelaide for a cuppla weeks with Mum.

a lull with 15 minutes of fame

Monday before last took me on a short trip up the road to Pontypool with Her Majesty and Mrs O Henry.  Our destination was the newest cafe on the block.  Justine was a long serving Teacher's Aide at Triabunna School.  She retired recently and has set up shop with her daughter.  It is very nicely done but oh how I would love a change from coffee and cake or fish and chips.

Something like this.  Prawn Thai salad.  Delicious, full of prawns and only $17 at the fish punt in Bellerive.  We have moved on now to last Thursday.  I can't remember much of the intervening days apart from a meeting at Spring Bay Mill, 2 school lunch preps, and the wake for the lovely Kath, aged 93 and former tai chi participant with us.  She was one of the most perfect people I have ever met.

I was in Bellerive for a 7pm celebration of Bellerive Historical Society's 30 years.

Note The Floosie's former abode, Glenfield, on the top of the rise.

Rachel and Fred provided great fun music with a few historical barbs

Covid restrictions meant that supper was meagre.  The bar was open but I was too scared to have a drink because I was there to launch a book, Magical Memories, by the Society's Patron and prolific book producer.  That is his bike propped against the stage - a relic from his days as Bellerive's Telegram Boy.

As it turned out, I was also there to receive an award, timber on sandstone which I thought was a nice touch.  Above you can see more of the night's stash: a packet of tiny scotch finger biscuits from supper, and a huge jar of ginger from a recently opened tiny Indian / Sri Lankan supermarket in Bellerive.  It was a long drive home in the dark, crawling along to avoid any animals.  Fortunately the only wildlife I saw was a rabbit hurtling across the road ahead of me, with plenty of time to spare.