Friday, November 30, 2007

Europe according to Spike Milligan's Dad via '1066 and All That'.

by Sir Hairy Simspon KA
Wandering Chair of Armchair Travelling, Oxon.


Some say that Britain is the middle of Europe. This is correct from a moral and honour point of view, but geographically Britain is a bit to one side.
If God were to ask Europe how it dressed, it would say "A little to the left".
Ergo the balls of Europe are the British Isles; and long may they be emerald green.

Some say that anyone east of Dover is a wog. This is true, but not navigationally helpful.



A History of Europe is hereby called for at this point. etc.
Caesar (q.v.) said France was divided into threee parts. They are called A, B and C.
A and B stayed under Roman occupation and, later, under German occupation. During both these times nobody visited Part C. When they did they wrote a history of the region entitled "Long Time Ago, no C".


With the Spanish Armada (Sorta 1588 or somesuch) it was discovered that people living south of Dover were Dagos. And those who weren't Dagos were Spicks. These are not to be confused with Diegos, who are a totally different kettle of fish all together whilst not ACTUALLY being a kettle or more than one percent fish.


But, getting back to France: it is easy to see that Paris is in Part B. France is recognisable by garlic, cheese, frogs, berets and a dessert or rice dish made of sparrows called Edith Pilaf.
When heading to Russia from England you will see Italy on your right. This is very important to remember. Turning left will result in (a) Belgium, and (b) Scandinavia. Neither is harmful unless you yourself are Russian, in which case certain parts of Scandinavia are fatal.


When Marco Polo travelled to Italy and discovered pasta he made detailed a map. Using this map the famous detective Columbo discovered America. It was a very good map.
I have, instead, made a map based on the work of two cartographers: Goscinny and Uderzo.



Alexander the Great conquered mostly in the right-hand direction. France was not included, but since everyone else managed to conquer France it does prompt one to ask just how great he actually was.

Alexander died of wine. I don't think there is a lesson here. You will have to experience this yourself to learn anything from his example.

Inspired by the French revolutionary Egalitarian Fervour (a type of cold) the US was made in 1775. In recognition the French gave the US the Statue of Liberty. To celebrate this event the US promptly declared war on itself.
The French then gave 18 inches of cold steel to the Prussians, Austrians, Belgians, Russians, Dutch, Spanish etc etc.
After several years the Europeans combined and gave it back twice as hard.



It is said that this was a triumph of Britain's Public Schools. An interesting notion from a nation that obsesses over keeping their privates out of public view and treating their army privates like scum.
The Duke of Wellington himself was fond of saying "melons", but that was because he spent too much time in Belgium inspecting troops from the teeth down, and ladies from the navel up.
Don't go to Belgium.


Switzerland does not actually exist, as this map clearly illustrates.


In 1938 Lake Guernica was bombed by Fascist aircraft and destroyed. It is still undecided as to whether this was a good thing or not.


Germany.
There is only one thing you have to remember about Germany and this is cuckoo clocks.
And bears, of course.
Some of Germany goes up, and other parts go down.
During the One Hundred Years War over half the German population was killed. This is true and not funny at all, until you release that this angers Germans.
Germans DO have a sense of humour, it's just very small and kept in an ornately carved wooden box.
During fifteen hundred and something the Lex Lutheran priest called Martin (Tex) Lex Luther tried to stamp out corruption in the church by nailing "these" to the cathedral door. He probably would have been better nailing corrupt monks to the doors, but what the hey. To combat Lex Lutherans the Germans invented Supermen called Ubermenchen who disguised themselves with glasses and toothbrush moustaches.
Several times Germany tried to expand its borders with a combination of balloons, very long elastic bands and string. This didn't work for long both times, so they stopped.
It is interesting to note that after the Germans failed to extent their living rooms that the Russians installed three air corridors.

Hey, this doesn't have anything to do with Europe, but three days ago I was lying in bed and I thought of a cool name for a Space captain/ Private Investigator: Captain Justin Autoshave. I think it's cool.


Germany has strudels. A great many strudels. In fact it could be said that they have oodles of strudels. China has oodles of noodles, and we can only hope that the New World Order of Germany and China never eventuates lest we all be flooded by oodles of noodles and strudels.
Too many so called 'empty' carbs.
In order to demonstrate this problem here is a doodle of oodles of noodles and strudels.


As the comedian Charlie Pickering has pointed out, the only thing that rhymes with Nazi is yahtzee.
Nazis are not funny, no matter how many ornately carved wooden boxes you put them in.

Thank you.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Know thyself



I Harry, I nice too.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Melbourne Cup Runneth Over

It's run, it's done, it's dusted.

There was a sweep at the gay bar.
I paid $5 to the man and the bit of paper he gave had "Donkey Boy" and his phone number on it.

There was no 'Donkey Boy" in the race.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Day 15 Cowra to Home. Collect $200*. Pay $1360 credit card bill.

What a beautiful way to come back into Sydney.
Unfortunately I was all out of travel cliches apart from the ones about returning home.

The trip was a great success. Our philosophies for the trip, holidaying in general and humour made large changes of plan a breeze. I didn't crash her car which I think was a great help. Best of all we saw a great many things essentially randomly. We ate well, drank well and I only set the smoke detector off on two occasions.
The first of these was after the long drive from Echuca to Torquay and I was more tired than I thought, hence I was a bit petulant. The fish was smoking away briskly when my frayed consciousness was assailed by 'that most useless noise', to quote the Duke of Wellington. I instantly flashed to anger and cursed the little bastard as I twisted its head off and ripped its brain out. Childish, yes, but such a satisfyingly primordial way of fixing a problem. After laughing at my display Caroline pointed out how useful it was that I was tall enough to do that. The next morning she set fire to the toast and had to do the traditional tea towel fanning to stop the shrilling. I was jogging along the beach at the time, so I was no help to anyone apart from any excitable young women watching.
From then on, whenever I cooked inside I always disabled the smoke detector.

In Portland I asked the aunt what we would do for the afternoon.
She replied "We can go home. You can take the battery out of the smoke alarm. And I'll turn the toaster up to full!"

We learned never ever ever to go to, nor to recommend anyone else go to, Tilba Tilba. Tilba Tilba is on the NSW south coast - inland a bit. It is very near Mt Dromedary. It received this wonderful write up by a travel writer in the SMH who was simply delighted with the whole place. It is a embarrassment. Caroline ripped up the article when we got back to the car and muttered darkly.

Probably the most important lesson we learned was not to take dining advice from a boat captain who serves packet soup to his patrons. Although, maybe that is what they meant when they talked of Packet Steamers arriving off Eden.

I'll just finish this off quickly like 'Mansfield Park', because even I am sick of writing about how wonderful everything turned out.

The important thing was at the end of it I got my nice wine and a two week growth.

* Actually collect $280 from Lord MattressHammer's final rent payment. Previously he supplied it in an envelope marked "Rent". This one was marked "Whores and Booze".
I called the girls and had each to myself for a couple of hours, and then both together at the end of the night. This is literally true. They know who they are.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Day 14 Henty to Cowra

.

From: harryka@gmail.com
To: admin@tahbilkwinery.com

Dear tasty girls,

Here follows the review of the Doodle Cooma Arms Hotel in Henty as requested.

You will possibly recall that I chose to stay at this pub based solely on it's name.
My faith was perfectly justified.
It's a really nice place.
The new owners have had it for one and a half months and have spent that entire time cleaning it, they tell me.
It is a very attractive building with very high ceilings and a proper Aussie country pub feel to it. The rooms are large and though most of them don't have ensuites there are three or four large shower and toilet rooms, so no probs there.

The meals are enormous and very very nice indeed. I had scotch fillet with mushroom sauce and it was as big as a child's thigh (which I also eat with mushroom sauce).
I can't remember what my delightful Aunt had since i don't really care for her at all and the entire two week trip was shammed affection on my part.

The staff were attentive and pleasant. The rooms and meals were well priced.

On another topic, I thought your winery to be the nicest one we visited on our trip. If I were to use former schoolmates of mine I would say your winery was Rachel Tegue. She was the prettiest girl in school and a delight to be around, and even though I wasn't able to view her cellars, as I was at your winery, I still have many pleasant memories.

regards,
Sir Hairy Simspon KA

[Addendum: For 'tasty' read 'tasting'. This will be fixed in the new edition. Ed.]
...........................................................
I have received no reply.



Yes. That is a bistro style still-life painted on a saw hanging above the restaurant doorway. Yes. Yes, I know. Yes.


We drove through The Rock, Wagga Wagga, Junee, Cootamundra and Young to get to Cowra. It was like a high-speed Henry Lawson poem.


Sakura Matsuri is the Cowra Cherry Blossom festival of October that we missed by a week. The Japanese gardens here are possibly the most, um, diplomatic of gardens. They are in Cowra because of the WW2 prisoner of war camp. The thing is, under the Bushido code and general whackiness of Imperial Japan, Japanese soldiers who didn't die were subject to profound shame, but since the Australians treated them so well even after the well publicised Japanese atrocities AND the break-out at Cowra, a subsequent Japanese government felt a garden would be a good thing that would acknowledge certain things, but not the ones that can't be.
The gardens are very nice indeed. They are a surprising harmony between Australain natives and Japanese ornamentals: which was the 'healing' guiding philosophy of the project. The designer was the number one Japanese garden designer.
The hill behind looks like this.


The garden looks like this.






There are a couple of Japanese style buildings, a bonsai area, a koi pond and an art gallery for museum pieces, artwork gifts from Japanese people and an area for local artists.
I instantly recognised the lungfish from my 'Wildlife of Gondwana' paleontology book. I think that's pretty impressive for someone making it out of bits of plough.


We retired to a coffee house with the newspaper and inquired after dinner. I had been pressing Caroline fof a number of traditional country Australian experiences, and one of those was Country Town Chinese.
I knew it was going to be bad and it didn't disappoint at all! It was horrible. You must go.
At least it was vaguely edible unlike a similar experiment in Maitland with the Slobro where, through tears of laughter, my sweet and sour pork (we were going hardcore) was consigned to the bin. At first he didn't believe me that it was inedible. And at least it was better than "Taste if Eden" which was, in all honesty, absolutely embarrassingly bad. If the aliens landed and ate at 'Taste of Eden' they would have given up and nuked us from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

I went to find the lavatories.
The toilets are a scream.
No, really: I saw them and I screamed.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Day 13 Heathcote to Henty

[Written while drinking their 2001 oaked chardonnay for just less than $4 a bottle.]

First stop Tahbilk Winery.
I know Tahbilk from a few years ago when I was on a usual 'Haven't seen that before; I'll buy it' wine shopping in Newtown. I came up with a Tahbilk 2005 Marsanne, and subsequently based a dinner party around four bottles of it.
Awesome. I did a bit of research and found out that France lost it's Marsanne to Phytophthora and replanted from Tahbilk material.
So when I saw that Tahbilk was on our route of advance the Bells of Destiny rang. (They go "Booooooooong", if you want to know, which is a bit racially insensitive, and also a bit ironic when you consider destiny and history etc.)

Tahbilk was set up in 1860 as a proper stand-alone chateau, such that they have the original blacksmith and stables etc buildings.
We were greeted by the cat - which is always a plus in my book.


Their tasting barn has a museum to the left with a trove of material and awards. To the right is the tasting bar. Underneath is the cellar into which you are welcome to wander. The tasting ladies were pleasantly chatty.
It is all set up for that soft-sell experiential style.
Their target market is, well, me.
It is perfect.


And what is even better is they have a bona fide billabong on the way in with - get this - a resident cormorant! Your jolly swagman couldn't choose a better looking nor situated billabong to jump into.

We drove into New South Wales and had lunch on the opposite shore of Lake Mulwala to which what we had whom been on when before a week before this which what.
They do good skies here.



We take our first proper dead-straight country dirt road on our way to Henty.
What's at Henty? you ask.
The mid-point between Heathcote and Cowra; and a pub that I booked solely on its name.

Wheat field in eucalypts.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Day 12 Henty Bay to Heathcote

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.