According to the Bendigo museum the Chinese dug round shafts because they thought demons live in corners. At Henty Bay they weren't demons just my dirty socks.
So, it was good-bye to our luxury three-bedroom, sea-side cabin. It was the first time we'd had a wine-cellar slash wardrobe before. Bet you don't have one of those at home, eh?!
From now on ever k was one k closer to home.
I had naturally chosen a not-quite-direct scenic route which took us by the Grampians and into Ararat for morning tea. There was an ornamental lake pleasingly stocked with black swans, teal, coot, marsh hen and even a pelican. It wasn't the first time I cursed that I hadn't bought my twelve gauge.
The orchid house in the Ararat gardens.
We drove through Maryborough and had lunch at a nice spot called Campbells Creek.
The pretty purple is the horrible weed Patersons Curse. I foolishly didn't take a photo of the vivid yellow of the flowering canola crops as the perfect photographic juxtaposition to this purple.
Then we got into the tiny, dusty village of Heathcote and the door fell off.
Caroline maintains I subjected it to a fit of rage brought on by drunken-ness. But I SHOWED HER!!!?!
Don't go to Heathcote on a weekday. Almost all the wineries are small jobbies only open on weekends. We only had enough time to visit three tastings, but the first was a jackpot. Huntleigh Wines is one dude who is selling up his stock and retiring. He has two wines: a 2005 Traminer which is ok, and a 1999 Cab sauv, Cab Franc, Merlot (ie a Bordeaux) which is one of the nicest wines I've ever had.
The other two tastings were in town and were crap. 'Heathcote cellar' was shite. The restaurant two doors down offered a limited tasting but I struck gold there with a nectarine wine.
I would very much like to go back on a weekend and do it properly.
The caravan park was pretty crap, but beggars can't be choosers especially when it's the only one in town.
Caroline was ironically trying to talk it up.
"I mean, for sixty bucks..." she waved her hands at various parts of the cramped cabin, "...you get to sleep in the kitchen HAHAha! On your pink chenille bedspread!"
My aunt had thoughtfully taken it off her bed so I wouldn't stick to the vinyl of the sofa.
And now: Adventurerering with Grammar.
Caroline with the chops...
Punching Harry in the chops...
...and punching Harry by the chops.
But these chops did perish from this earth and were eaten with an orange and garlic marinade.