The Good Life continues,

but blogging is slooooow.

 

from the cliff tops between East Shelly and Spring Beach

a seal basking as Cheryl and I walk from One Tree Point to the East Coaster for lunch

Xyris Quartet at Hobart Town Hall yesterday, courtesy of Van Diemen's Band.

Four saxophones, each from a different era, creating unique sound.

I will get to the Welsh blog - still seems a bit overwhelming at the moment.

Back in Tribes

and after 4 days sleep, am nearly back in business.  The long sleep may be jetlag or Border Trauma, possibly both, and age may have something to do with it.  I thought I was doomed to a life in Sydney Airport when a Border Force Heavy didn't believe that people dressed as Border Force officers had taken the various slips of paper from me that I ultimately needed to reach the outside world.  He eventually gave up, presumably seeing me as a dotty but harmless Miss Marple figure when I suggested we retrace my steps and seek out the imposters. 

In comparison, getting into England was a breeze.  I took the Elizabeth Line from Heathrow to Paddington and had my ticket for the 9.40am train to Haverfordwest in no time.  Staff could not have been more helpful.

The adventure starts at Paddington Station

and the omens were good.

Future adventures will be reported on the official BlogBlodwyn site

a quick last post

healthy afternoon tea at the Bowls Club

Mikeangelo seducing the ladies with sea shanties at The Mill

Mary Marg conducting the support act from the floor

Maria Voices and Van Diemens Band jam after the event

sourdough cooked by Malcolm in our oven

some Tuesday lunch offerings, including pears from our tree

black cockatoo at Malcolm's

my first ever art class - the tutor's work

my rather curious work

the event I couldn't go to because I was sick

I'm nearly back to normal now and hoping to wake at 3am tomorrow to catch the 06:05 to Sydney, then off to Wales via Singapore, and Heathrow of course,

I will arrive in Heathrow on 17 April aka World Haiku Day.  So, in anticipation:

The plane lands where once

my Mum rode her bicycle

through lanes and meadows.

🚲🚲🚲🚲

Plane meets bike.

What does my Mum care,

riding above it all.

17 and 71

71 year olds like to make the short drive to The Thumbs from where you can get a good view of Spring Bay and surrounds.

17 year olds get car sick, can't look out at the view from the car and can't wait to get to The Fish Van for fish and chips.  They're also quite keen on their phones...

However, it was lovely to have Sarah with us for Easter.  It was five years since she last stayed with us, and a lot has changed!  Thanks to Sarah we got Hot Cross Buns and chocolate rabbits.

Georgia and Miya stretch their legs at Bicheno enroute to St Helens

Georgia, Miya and I drove to St Helens to pick Sarah up after she'd had a hard day's work at the IGA.  It's a beautiful drive, mostly along coastline and the time passes quickly.  Maybe not so quickly if you get carsick.  But George and I enjoyed it, especially after we discovered a patisserie in Bicheno with divine pains au chocolat and good coffee.

I generously gave Sarah my bedroom which, from the amount of time she spent in it, seemed most appreciated.  I slept in the studio and

on one of my many visits to the house to use the loo, noticed this beautiful inky sky - vaguely resembling the markings on a thylacine.

Needless to say, being in Triabunna, Sarah was subjected to her first Exhibition Opening, where she particularly enjoyed the catering.  The artist was John Ingleton, a consummate printmaker and creator of the Hunter Island Press homed in Wirksworth, Bellerive.  

Overcome by culture, Sarah needed to travel home to resume school and IGA work the next day.  It was a demanding drive this time because of relentless rain.  The first rain we had had for some time.  The roads were slippery.  Fortunately everyone seemed to drive carefully.  We stopped in Bicheno and had 'bearclaws' this time from the patisserie.  Just what we needed to get a grip on the next stage of the unusually grueling drive.

Driving alone back to Tribes was frenetic.  Twice I had to put the windscreen wipers on that agitating fastest setting.  I can't remember the last time I had to do that.  It was after 3pm so I knew the patisserie would be closed, so thought I'd indulge in some crayfish at The Lobster Shack.  Naturally I was not the only person to think of this on a soggy Easter Holiday Tuesday.  I was lucky to find a space to flop into.  I felt like eating some cold crayfish with salad.  All the cray on the menu was served hot or thermidor with chips and salad and I, stupidly, did not think to ask if they could accommodate my wish.  I ordered chowder with garlic bread. It nearly hit the spot.  I wasn't game to have a glass of red.

taken at a rare quiet moment, so as not to upset anyone

 gazing at the sea to regain my equanimity.

too old, too fat, too slow

for some it would seem...

SO   the   B i r t h d a y   B l o g 🎂🍾🥂🌠

This was not my birthday party.  It is from some years ago...sent to me by the then Mrs History.  I think it was her farewell Jazzercise bash before she left to live in Melbourne.  I'm sure she'll tell me if I have that wrong.  The former Mrs H, now Fleurieu Floosie, sent me a batch of photos for my birthday.  Made my day, and I shall delight you with them soon.  I'm in every one.

What I did on my birthday was:

made pesto with my delicious local olive oil, and basil from Her Majesty who also gave me blackberry jam and rhubarb relish

started a new nutmeg to do something - possibly sprinkle on a banana smoothie

started a new bar of Pears Soap - one of my favourite things

(Note curious reflection in tap, or mixer as I believe they're called these days.)

As if that was not enough excitement, I got books to read:

First to arrive, Thea Astley all the way from Spain, sort of.  I haven't read this yet.  It is to be one of the 3 books I'm taking with me to read on the plane, and I may be able to give it to Spanish Rose at Heathrow upon my return.  Plans are afoot!

I am making dreamy progress through this one from FF.  She has insisted I make, and photograph, at least one recipe.  It is all so delicious, but so far the warmed olives look most likely...  I may amaze you all.

Steve gave me this one and I finished it yesterday.  I really want someone else to read it.  It's a clever take on the writer / translator relationship but I think there's a flaw in it.  Answers on a postcard, please as my Number 1 Man, Ed Le Brocq, says.

Don the Postie delivered this one yesterday.  Another present from my Steve who kindly listens to Radio National so I can listen to ABC Classic.  I am still brooding over Irena Rey's Extinction so am not quite ready for this one yet.

When not brooding or reveling in Sundays and recipes, I am devouring this:

I am choosing to believe the Pisces horoscope, which says exactly what I want to hear.  Long may pleasure rule.

👑👑👑👑

Indulge me

 It's my birthday.

Steve  / Mr Google sent me this photo yesterday.  I don't remember seeing it previously.  It is timely.  And from a long time ago.  Wentworth River Bank days.  The summer of the rampant hollyhocks.  The deck is built and Rosie and I are ascending to our little heaven overlooking the Darling.  I have  my morning coffee and what looks like a book, though it's a strange way to carry one.  No glasses in those days.  I am wearing the sarong made from a piece of material which I'm pretty sure the then Southern Belle sent me for a birthday, despairing she could find nothing else in Portland (I may need correcting here).  It took me a while, and a massive magnification, to identify the wrap: the pashmina Sashi Babe brought me back form Italy.  So many things about the garden that I'd forgotten, though it was a garden in a constant state of flux.

I can't work out how old Rosie is here.  How I love her padding along beside me.  How I will always love her.  Once, walking along the billabong, I thought I saw her on the far bank.  I called out to her, then realised she was at my side - I had seen a fox.  Once I put a tiger-skin patterned scarf around her to transform her into a Tassie Tiger.

I love thylacines too, and carry a huge guilt for their demise and last sad years.  Amazingly Georgia found this birthday card for me.  How I wish.

I had asked George to make me a thylacine sleeping in a hollow, just like in this reconstructed picture I found online after seeing a similar image in a documentary.  It is not at the top of her 'makings list', and perhaps I am more enchanted by the thought of 'some day'.

Big Days

Triabunna is proving a popular motor home destination this year.  The free-parking area at the back of The Springy pub is chockers, as is the one beside the former butcher's and the other pub.  I took this photo as I emerged from the hotel after a Friends of Triabunna Reserves Gathering and braced myself to wend through the campers to the path at the back of the field that leads home.  I do love living somewhere where other people come to holiday.  It feels like being on holiday every day.

At The Gathering we resolved to pick up rubbish on Esplanade East.  I won't bore / scandalise you with photos of what we collected but I thought I'd share this idyllic photo of a chap working on his boat at a private jetty.  I don't often treat you to scenes of 'the other side', mostly confining my stories to the West side.

Talking of which, I arrived a little early for a Tuesday Lunch at The Village to be greeted by this perfectly set table.  Usually we rush around finding placemats, coasters, cutlery, etc at the last minute.  Dorothy, the pottery teacher, had got there early and set up for us.  Definitely a class act.

The food was beautiful, as usual, and it turned out to be Ingrid's birthday so we had 2 bottles of bubbly...

Then there was the day I heard the gate open, glanced up and there was a vision carrying this cake.  I confided to a neighbour once that Steve loves sponge cakes, so sporadically she pops around with one.  Light as a feather and delicious.

Steve himself is growing fine tomatoes.  At the moment, so is just about everyone else and people try desperately to give them away.  How lucky we are.  Plentiful food and no bombs.

Friday night I drove boldly to Swansea for a 7.30pm concert start.  As the Van Diemen's Band blurb says: NikoTeini, a living testament to a shared cultural heritage, features Niko Papageorgiou on the lavta (long-necked fretted lute) and Foteini Kokkala on the kanonaki (qanun, zither). 

As you can see they played in a rather sparse space.  I sat in the front row  and was mesmerised by their fingerwork but I longed to be sitting on a waterfront eating char-grilled octopus and drinking a chilled white.

Other Big Days have included St Davids Day, Lady Jayne's Birthday, my Mum and Dad's Wedding Anniversary and International Women's Day.  I think I have shown you this before (and I should have closed the blinds against the sunlight) but it seemed apt as I tai chi'd at the Community Health Centre.

This was our Triabunna Tivoli film last night.  It went down a treat, with spontaneous applause from the audience at the end of the show.  That felt good!

Others prefer to stay home for their indulgence...