The Enchanted April

My Folio edition of The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim is one of my favourite books and one that I read every year.  À la Vera, I have friends who are aghast at this choice.  It is not the world's finest literature but, as Vera is committed to truth, von Arnim was committed to happiness, finding it and reveling in it.   

The story takes place in a small rented medieval castle on the shores of the Mediterranean in Italy in April, where four women become unlikely friends under the influence of sunshine, exuberant gardens and freedom.  Yes, and good food cooked by servants.

And, because my tenants were moving out in April and I could move in, I anticipated an enchanted April of my own.  And so far it's proving to be.

Strange sights from my front garden - cement being poured into a lavish renovation on Wentworth Street.

huge park run every Saturday (but not for me)

As I was walking back from the shop the other day, a chap wearing a life jacket jogged past...  Obviously not a climate change denier, and I hope he votes wisely this Saturday.

more strange behaviour

Last Saturday I finally found the market - not on the boardwalk but on the walking track around Kangaroo Bay.

It was early morning and too early for food but I shall return another Saturday more prepared.  The fresh vegies looked wonderful but it's tricky when you only want small quantities and they're pre-bundled.

I walked back to the boardwalk to see if Hooked, the floating cafe, was open.  It was, but it was still too early to eat.  I'm keen to try their calamari souvlaki but the place is never open when I'm hungry.  Above you can see the rather smart vertical wall at the back of the Waterfront Hotel, formerly the Clarence Hotel.

Next to Hooked is the ferry terminal

which seems well patronised on a Saturday.  I have caught it on a week day - when it only runs commuter times - and it was well used then, 

and a little more glamorous than in the 1980s.

I can catch a bus to be in Hobart in less than 30 minutes.  I have subscribed to 5 Van Diemen's Band Tuesday Lunchtime Concerts.

Last week's was received by thunderous applause in line with Stefan Cassomenos' playing.  Perhaps the repertoire demanded it but he was a bit thumpy for me.  I also don't understand why somebody would wear a suit and then stop playing to wipe off sweat.

Today's offering suited me perfectly.  I was a little wary because the quartet call themselves Croissants and Whiskey which seems to me designed to say 'aren't we cool for a baroque ensemble'. 

Turns out that's exactly what they are:  intricate, soothing new music played on  baroque instruments.  That instrument on the far right looking like a wooden giraffe, is a recorder.

Back in Bellerive we are brimming with bandicoots, cyclists, dogs and dog walkers and learner drivers, and I am in heaven with my local Salamanca Fresh supermarket.  It sells Welsh Lady products from Pwllheli, and I've never seen these before:

They also sell more humble foods.

Perhaps an enchanting servant could bring me a glass of wine?

Thank you.

...truth beauty

Last night was the last episode of the last season of Vera.  I felt quite bereft afterwards.

For years the Easterers (Bronwyn in Canberra, Heather in South Australia and I in Tasmania) rendezvoused and watched Vera together on a Saturday night. In 2025 it has just been Heather and me, though even Steve (who watches only news and sport) started watching with me and has recently reported that Jill PD also curls up on the couch with him when Vera's on.

One of the reasons I love the show is Vera's mode of dress.  It reminds me of Corinne (Easterer Four) who always wore a hat and covered up because she felt the cold and feared sun cancer. Her skills and personality couldn't differ more from Vera's.  Corinne loved language and I have always felt smug knowing 'vera' is Latin for true, and truth is what Vera seeks.  Corinne would have known this too.

Another reason is that I love the landscape.  I watch Father Brown and used to watch Midsomer Murders - to the incredulity of some of my murder-noire friends - for the same reason.  Perhaps you have to be been born in England.  I feel at home when I watch.  It comforts me.  In our txt banter last night, Fleurieu Floosie, not a Vera fan, replied 'Thank Goodness' when I told her the end was nigh. 'How can you bear to miss all that lovely scenery?' I asked.  'Hmmm. I think I prefer the Eyre Peninsula*', replied the WA born Flooze.

And this brought to the fore something deep and meaningful that I have been pondering for quite a while.  I recognise the beauty of the various Australian landscapes and I have spent years in support of protecting them.  I have lived surrounded by their beauty. But I never get the same sense of calm, of belonging, that I get when I see the English countryside or when I arrive in Wales.  Belonging to country is true.

Tonight I will watch the special.  Or maybe I'll wait a day or two.

*Catch her recent travels here.

Odious comparisons

It's been a  long time between Odious Comparisons.  I think the last one was Geraldine Chaplin:me in our Cossack hats.  But today's Desire to Inspire  

brought to mind my own house currently.

In my case, this is a temporary landscape consisting of prunings as I try to get more light into my place and also get the Alexandra Houses' hedge under control.

postscript 

http://tirralirradancebytheriver.blogspot.com/2011/10/odious-comparisons-2.html 

http://tirralirradancebytheriver.blogspot.com/2011/09/odious-comparisons.html

Can you tell it's raining here and I am indulging myself...

slow but sure

 I am gradually moving my treasures into Bellerive.

It is a fairly spartan interior.  I'm waiting for the Triabunna house to sell before I bring in any heavy furniture.

To date I have seen no welcoming blackbirds but a magpie did grace my wall as I sorted through photos today, and it later walked right up to the window to watch me eat.

I spent last night at Georgia's where we discovered some truly historic photos, eg the above:  Mrs History, Georgia, baby Oscar (dressed for the occasion) and I preparing to go carol singing with the Cottage School children in the mid 1990s.  Emma looks on hoping to accompany us.  And there is also an arm...

Now I am a almost a City Girl, I have subscribed to five Van Diemen's Band (VDB) Tuesday lunch time concerts.  The first was last week and it was a revelation with members of Ensemble Offspring playing traditional instruments with digital inputs.  I've never seen a laptop on stage before nor seen a musician wearing a ring which can be waved around to distort sound waves.

Claire Edwards is a percussion legend - so professional, so entertaining, so alive!

All this fitted in very nicely with the book I'm reading.  I'm on a Donna Leon bender at the moment.

resuming transmission

 

pellucid Bellerive Beach, Sunday morning

My beachy travels have taken me from West Beach to Encounter Bay, SA and finally to Bellerive, Tas, where I will stay.  No more Triabunna.  Bellerive toute seule, after many years of stevietude.  I may need to change the name of this blog, but no hurry.  I'm just gently settling in and enjoying.

Yesterday I walked along the beach to my local supermarket and enjoyed this sign.  When my fridge stops freezing everything, I shall buy my milk this way.

On my bike

 

Off to Adelaide tomorrow for a spot of cat-sitting at Encounter Bay😼

And then there is Adelaide

Back in West Beach it was time to think about New Years Eve.  After very little thought I decided this was the year of the Salty Dog so set off to Mum's old house in Klemzig to get some grapefruits.

My Adorable Niece lives there now

and as it happened was looking after her sister's greyhound, the Adorable Daphne.  This augured well.

Finding a bottle of vodka was more problematic.  I returned to the city and, with my favourite bahn mi shop at the railway station closed, remembered another good one in a Rundle Street food court.

To my delight there are small tables from which you can spy on the activity below.

I was particularly charmed by the attention these dogs attracted.  So many people stopped to chat and pat.

Having paid an exorbitant amount for a bottle of vodka (who knew?) I raced back chez Pearl to wash the city away.

Pearl's neighbour came around with this book to tell us a funny story.  Her son had been nonchalantly fishing in the Top End when he landed a barramundi with a $1000 prize attached to it.  Of course news got around and another relative saw this book by another Alan Carter in a newsagency - topic and name matched so she bought it for Alan Carter's chuffed Mum who thought she may read it one day.  I volunteered to read it immediately.  It's set in Tasmania and about the scourge of fish farms.  Right up my alley.  And a gripping read too.

Then came the day for Helly, Tamasin and my ritual catch up at the Adelaide Central Market.

Despite the economic woes we hear of, there seems to be a lot of construction going on.

Just looking up at this metal stair case makes me faint.

I bought more of my favourite things,

sadly not including these lovely flowers,

and took them home for tea.

Helly gave me a lovely book about Paris eats for Christmas and these chocolate umbrellas.  We used to have these on the Christmas tree in England.  You soon learn not to do that in Australia.

Pearl was very cagey about us going into town for something special.  We were to meet her Sister3 in Rundle Mall.  My mind raced to geocache because these siblings are nuts about it.  Now I don't mind an occasional geocache but I'm not yet hooked.  We caught the tram in and, having plenty of time to spare before the rendezvous, decided to stay on to the end of the line which happened to be the Festival Theatre.

The place was buzzing with young girls and mothers / grandparents.  There was sparkle, coronets, tulle and pretty dresses everywhere.

It was soon clear why.  Oh it was lovely to see the excitement of these little girls.  Admittedly the 'merch' was also doing well.  But imagine the joy of being young and going to the ballet.  What a splendid idea.  We mingled for a while just to absorb that youthful vitality.

We wound our way through corridors and passages and finally emerged at the railway station - to my surprise.  This is one of the things I love about cities, the whole maze of interconnection that you need to be a local to know.

We met Sisters3&4 and were coyly led to the building on the corner of King William Street and North Terrace.  This is where my Mum used to go to the unfortunately named optometrists Fieldhouse and Roden, which naturally became Fieldmouse and Rodent in our household.  Through a secret door, wood paneling, a lift, change to another lift and emerge on the top floor to the very hip 2KWBar . Ooh la la we were in paradise.  A rooftop restaurant, and you know I have a thing for rooftops.  The staff were young and cool as were we, saved from the heat by sporadic wafting water clouds.  The music was recognisable and the menu exciting.  We had a verdant balcony booth.  And yet I took no  photos

beguiled as I was by the views of my favourite parts of Adelaide.

King William Street as I'd never seen it before.

Soon it was time for the flight home and fond farewells.

But I was cheered by this amenity at the airport.  I'd never before given any thought to the heroic efforts of companion dogs.