Sun 14th, Day 12:
No sign of Caroline this morning. She was charging around the foothills squeezing terrified chickens trying to get the freshest eggs possible.
It did seem we were on a mission to buy things with two gs in them.
'What did you do in Tassie?'
'We bought eggs and grog.'
We went to check out the produce market in Geeveston, but it was little more than a garage sale. The Aunt did buy some eggs though - some of which with shells quite blue. A mystery.
Picked up some wine to say 'thanks' to Allan.
We spent the late morning down in Southport. We marvelled at the blues of the water and white of the sand, and found large mussels on the rocks. Lunch by the sand.
(These photos are on the previous post. shrug.)
And I don't think we did a hell of a lot in the afternoon. Maybe we went to the new vineyard just to the north - St Imre. Set up by a Hungarian couple about five years ago.
H: I have decided that Ellen shall call me 'My Balding Adonis'.
C: Why?
H: Because it's funny.
C: Look, she's clearly not in a good state of mind (ie going out with H) but she'll come crashing back to reality soon.
H: Hey, if you want to prop up your fragile psyche; get your own blog. This is mine!
Mon 15th, Day 13:
Farewell Dover. A long drive today up to Swansea in the east. Stopped off at the bookshop to give the two bottles of nice red to Mary. She insisted it was too much and pressed two enormous frozen salmon steaks on me. These are from escapees from the large amount of salmon farming in the area.
Stopped off in Hobart on the way. I bought some Japanese handbags for Ellen, and Caroline picked up some presents for her relos.
Morning tea/early lunch at the Sorell Berry Farm about 30ks east of Hobart. Picturesque place with an interesting array of pickles and berry products including liqueurs: tayberry (hybrid of raspbarry and blackberry) and jostaberry (gooseberry hybridised with black currant), jams etc etc The food was very nice.
Swansea. We didn't learn our lesson of exploring a town properly and missed the main street again until the next day.
Moved the TV down to the table from the neck-crickingly high kitchen cupboard.
That night watched the muttonbirds coming into their rookery.
Swansea looking across Cole Bay to the Freycinet Peninsular
2 comments:
Heh heh "escaped salmon". Yup, speaking as a local, as it were, it is just astonishing how many salmon 'escape' from those oh-so-fragile enclosures. Usually all at once. At night. After the pubs shut.
Turns out theres a special slamon pub, that only opens after the human one shuts.
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