Christmas Day 2011

We drove for almost 10 hours to go to Spicer's Hiddenvale in Queensland for Christmas Day. It was well worth the long journey. We stopped overnight at Armidale to break the trip. Up at 6:00am so we left very early on the 24th to go to Grandchester. Lunch on the verandah was most welcome after the last 5 hours of driving. To begin my Christmas Day activities I ventured to the pool for a quiet dip before breakfast. Later, sitting at the resort having had a beautiful breakfast I decided that a family photo opportunity had presented. Hence the family happy snap. We had a delicious Christmas lunch in the Board Room. I had been looking forward to this occasion for some time. Merry Christmas everyone. Thank you Santa and Elf, Ashley. Christmas lunch was a delightful experience. Thank you to all the staff who prepared and served everyone Christmas lunch.

St Clements

St Clements; not easy to find. Not in the phone book. Not known by telephone directory personnel either. Quick call to friends. It's where? Its name? We were missing a few important details. Down a dusty, unsealed, road, just on dusk. How far? At best; a guesstimate -- a few kilometres. We searched for a light or signage of some sort. Up on a hill was another clue we'd been given. A confident right turn off the gravel. Could this be it? We wound our way to the top of the drive. Car parking, easy as ... Hope this is it. Tentative entry through the cellar door. Yes, this is St Clements. Luigi greeted and seated us at a table inside the windows. Windows that rose to the full height of the timbered ceiling. A curved ceiling of new timbers. Timbers that shone in the setting sun, stretched overhead. A table set as if we were back in Italy. Blue and white gingham. I was having a memory. Luigi presented menus and the daily specials. Such a fine evening in a relaxed setting. We knew that Anne and Gary had been right in recommending St Clements. Our return dinner was the very next week and this time all four of us were treated to an evening of beautiful food, a pictorial visit to Luigi's home town back in Italy. For the novice, Luigi sings whilst he pours drinks, preps dinner or as he delivers each course. A place to enjoy an evening of good conversation with Luigi as your host and Chef Daniel surprising the palate. I have decided not to mention the grappa. OMG. Whew!!! Alcohol to burn. Metaphorically speaking. My throat still recalls the sensation. The size of the demijohn should have prepared me for the arrival of the grappa from mouth to throat. I am intrigued as to how one would ever consider a second shot of grappa. Perhaps the jug had been in Luigi's family for generations. I would definitely not recommend driving afterwards, Walking was harder than I remembered upon our arrival. Thank you Luigi and Daniel. We will return one night soon

Sydney Sights

The footpath that spanned the water front at Pier 1 featured the hand prints and signatures of famous people. I snapped Rolf Harris'. The reference to his song 'I'm Jake the Peg ...' a novel tribute to its popularity. Tom Keneally, another person of note had his signature immortalised in the concrete too. Sydney Harbour so blue, Pier 1 so relaxing. The historic Rocks area so steeped in history.

Tourist Trekking Sydney Sights

The ferry wharves beckoned. A Manly ferry had just berthed as we bought our tickets. People streamed through the turnstiles and across the ramp ways. Times had changed. From my childhood I remembered the old gangways being hauled by deckhands and tied off with ropes. Today so much was automated. The ferry seemed more spacious and dare I say, even comfortable. Inside, the old hard benches had been replaced with individual upholstered seating spaces. Past the heads the swell was interesting but not a concern. Manly shopping Corso was almost unrecognisable from the days of my childhood yet still it greeted throngs of tourists just like us. Many had journeyed to take a plunge in the waters of the ever so famous, Manly Beach. Waves and sand appealing as they were we pondered a visit to the Opera House. Once back on the ferry I imagined the white, tiled sails of the Opera House shimmering under the glare of the mid day sun. Sails that awaited our return to the southern shores of the harbour. Shade was scant and the colonnade between the speciality shops offered some brief shelter as we walked the walk to the very point of the Opera House's forecourt. Galleries of photographs lined our walk. Umbrella proud cafes and restaurants filled to capacity with hungry diners spilled across the pavements. Aromas of fine cuisine and freshly ground coffee beans finally lead us to take a break from the busy tourist, schedule that we'd set for ourselves. Duck salad for me and soft shelled crab for Stephen. The world walked by and we watched. Some strolled, others hastened and still we watched until we could watch no more. Our table was in high demand. Diners had already been turned away. We made our table available; to allow others to sit and watch too.

35th Wedding Anniversary

3 hours down the freeway to Sydney. Destination, Pier One -- overlooking Sydney Harbour. Hickson's Point, not far from the Old Coat Hanger. Time to unpack later. Downstairs for a refreshing wine before dinner. The lounge area welcomed the afternoon sea breeze as did we. The traffic had added an hour to our journey so respite was sought. The Sydney Theatre Company's restaurant was where we chose to dine for our first night. Service and menu did not disappoint. Having arrived just after first curtain the restaurant was tranquil, with only a few patrons not taking in the show. We were to play the role of tourists for the next 48 hours. Night became morning. Sun shone and the lens captured the sights. In search of breakfast we walked under the bridge to Circular Quay. We passed a tall ship and a cruise liner on our way. Breakfast taken. Next stop, the markets at The Rocks. Too early, many stall holders were still in the throws of setting up their wares.

T'was the month before Christmas

T'was the month before Christmas and all through the house talk was of visitors soon to arrive. Guests from the coast; Woy, Woy, Gosford and Wyong trekked to Maitland. The purpose; to share a preChristmas dinner. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone. Thank you Cater Force.

Happy Pants

What does one do the day before a wedding? Some get a manicure, others a pedicure or haircut and then there are those who buy a sewing machine while shopping for some odds and ends. A recent family wedding was the perfect opportunity for one member of the bridal party to take a much needed break. The usual 13 or 14 hour day work schedule didn't permit such frivolous use of time as browsing for a sewing machine. Over the dinner that night there was great debate over the inklings that prompted the purchase. Remember when ... our youngest used to wear happy pants. He chose to wear happy pants whenever the occasion presented. So where better than to start one's sewing career? Once an essential item in everyone's wardrobe were the loosely fitting happy pants. A draw-string waist and presto, they fitted every form. On hot days they were cool for the fabric hung from the waist strung like washing on a clothesline. Our eldest decided to reward her brother with a memory from his childhood. The nostalgia of the imminent wedding rekindled the notion of family and along with it all of its idiosyncrasies. No pattern. No problem. Never sewn before also not an issue. She hunted, searched and finally unearthed a pair of his jeans under a bundle of dirty washing on his bedroom floor. Good; just perfect for creating a pattern for his happy pants. A day long experience shared by all bystanders. No pins, no paper! Leave an edge for a seam. The jean template smoothed and placed face down over the bright fabric. Snip then trim around the jeans. Easy as. Now sew. Easy too. How wide, how long? Wait until fitted to make such decisions. The end product a credit to the novice seamstress. Congratulations. Pity about the elastic. How long does the tailor's assistant have to accompany the man in the happy pants? Trickiest part was threading the elastic through the waistband. I love the happy pants and I think that so does the recipient. Glad that we resolved the challenge of elastic waistbands. The tailor's assistant was free to take on other chores on the day of the wedding.

An Un-Birthday Celebration!

Birthdays come around every year and some are milestones in our lives. Shared birthdays are the most fun. Shared birthdays allow us to bake cakes and blow out candles. At home last weekend we had an 'unbirthday' dinner for six. Unbirthdays are popular in our circle of friends or so I tell myself. At about 11:00 we were chopping, slicing and dicing in earnest. Drinks due at 6:30 with dinner at seven. First, a pound of strawberries were topped and pureed for mousse. Home made blini with basil creme fraiche canapes, were prepped. Next, rice was boiled for arancini balls. Later, pomegranate, baked pumpkin cubes and hazelnuts were eased over a bed of spinach. Rockmelon wrapped in prosciutto was toothpicked for entrees. Finally, a salad of potato, red kidney beans and chorizo sausage set to cool in the refrigerator. Shots of lemon and mango sorbet were almost forgotten. Fortunately, once remembered taken before dessert. It's never too late for sorbet; unless of course, if you happen to have farewelled guests and then discovered them still chilling in the freezer compartment. I have done that on the odd occasion. Happy unbirthday to you, happy unbirthday to you ... I don't recall singing either. Did we sing when Gary cut his cake?

In my day, pictures from weddings tended to arrive following processing at a local shop or via the official photographer weeks later. Rolls of film had to be sent away for developing. In this digital age one does not need to wait long, for thumb drives, SD cards or the Internet delivers them in nanoseconds. How pleasing it is to log on and find that someone has posted an album to share happy memories. Times change and I celebrate those changes. Thank you everyone who has contributed to the growing collection of happy memories. Garden weddings no longer terrify me. I see the photos of everyone smiling and I feel that it was all worthwhile.

There Is A Wombat In My Garage

When the council rezoned us many, many years ago they said that we were no longer considered a rural postcode. Interesting things have developed since then. Interesting in that the livestock that has taken up residence in 2320 was obviously not cognisant of the rezoning from rural to semi rural. There is a brown snake that resides under the porch beside the front door. Every now and then it slips out to sun itself and occasionally it raises up to strike out at unsuspecting passersby. However, today when I decided to clean up the cubby and the garage I noticed that the big white tub that holds old, dust sheets was pushed to one side. Old earthenware pots were upended and so too the springs from an old car. Someone had been messy. Wrong! Not a someone but a something. A large hairy lump with beady eyes was starring at me. The sudden realisation caused me to stammer and stutter and bolt towards the pool. Stephen was at the pool where he had earlier retrieved a small rabbit who had not been a good swimmer. Stephen presumed from my demeanour that I had seen the snake again since I was in full panic mode. Wrong again. There was a big wombat that should not have been living under the work bench in our garage. Who does one call to return a wombat to the wild? Naturally, I rang the snake lady as she was on my speed dial. Judy didn't pick up. Possibly she was already in the midst of a delicate snake relocation event. Second telephone call to the local council native animal emergency hotline was illuminating. Did I know that it was most unusual for a wombat to be found in my area? Did I know that wombats can run at 40 kilometres an hour? Did I know that I shouldn't approach as it might charge me and in all likelihood sink its teeth in too? Armed with all that information I now had great respect for the startled wombat living in my garage. My guess is that it has been there for some weeks. It explains the unusual holes around the yard and the night time ruckus on the back verandah just last night. Tonight we have been advised to lock out our wombat so that it will have to find new digs. Hope that it understands that we are doing this for its own good. By the way; could resist naming it Walter. Good night Walter. Promise not to wake you again so that you can make your way in the world tonight having had a good sleep.

It's A Wedding!

On Saturday afternoon family and friends gathered at our home thinking that they had been invited to an Engagement Party. Only a few knew that it was indeed an invitation to a share a wedding celebration for Alysia and Sam. Since May, secret preparations were being made for the garden wedding that both Alysia and Sam had desired. Gardens planted, marquees rented, caterers trialled, lounges rented, cushions and lanterns purchased, dresses ordered and a gown chosen for October 29th. We all awoke to brilliant sunshine on the morning of the wedding. Tables were dressed in white linen and sashed with delicate silver bows. The terraces and lawn hosted neat rows of white chairs for the guests. Pink paper lanterns were strung from tree branches and so too tear drop shaped glass crystals ready to sparkle when the sun set. Flowers adorned each coffee and side table; especially purchased for the day. Bright pink and black cushions featured on the white leather lounges. Lounges that had been arranged to create comfortable spaces for conversation. A shiny, black bar was installed in one corner with a tea and coffee station alongside. A guest book table was established for processing pictures of guests who then created collages and wrote comments to mark and record their memories of the day. Tuscan pines potted in black, ceramic, pots dotted both the interior and the exterior of the marquee. The two man band had been secured and an entire corner allocated to their array of instruments and technology. Are brides always late? Not this one. Alysia was ready and the guests assembled. The bridal party were also keen to wait not a single minute longer. Music played and the procession of bridesmaids, father, mother and bride wound our way through the garden to the shade of the peppercorn tree. Vows were read and moments shared. Alysia and Sam were now husband and wife. Then the party began in earnest. Caterers ensured that guests were content and bar staff poured the bubbles, wine and beer. Thank you to all who made the day so special and D.A.M for her patience and flexibility.

Getting Down To Business

Can one purchase privilege? A debate of ethics in the first instance. Recently I discovered the price of buying privilege. Not a new concept says anyone. The extent of the advantages traded for dollars intruded on my concepts of social parity. How naive was I when Business Class tickets were purchased? I had considered the additional cabin space attached to the ticket price and the different onboard cuisine too, to justify the expense. At times the travel on long haul flights can be so uncomfortable that the traveller arrives at their vacation destination feeling like a battery hen. When released from the confinement of the economy class travel space the body requires time to recover. Recent Business Class travel revealed the numerous benefits of paying for concessions. Business Class passengers have additional baggage allowances and they queue in especially designated carpeted lines to check in. Red carpets or blue carpets appear to be the norm. Red for First Class and blue for Business Class ticket holders. Often they can check in earlier than the displayed 'Gate Open' times. In addition, the Business Class guest usually has access to a serviced lounge area where beverages, food, showers, toilets, reading materials, WiFi and television are freely available. A most welcome and thoughtful gratuity for the additional price of the ticket. Express lanes for the Business Class commuters through security and immigration. I was beginning to understand scope of and the leverage of the dollar. In Business Class I was greeted by name and shown to my cubicle by a smiling attendant. There, in the cubicle, I grasped all that my ticket had purchased. Leg room was greatly appreciated and so too the fold down bed. Additional pillows, white linen for each meal, extensive menu options for each dining experience and real cutlery. What more could I want? Bolinger was presented by cabin crew prior to take off and my drink order requested and noted for when we were airborne. Noise cancelling headsets were distributed and upgraded fabric wallets containing socks and eye shades for sleeping. Quality of each slightly different to those made available in Economy Class seating. Don't misunderstand my appreciation for the luxuries that I enjoyed in Business Class. The table space, the reclining sleeping position, the large flat screen, the additional stowage space allocated to my cubicle was highly valued. The five course meals of exceptional standard and delightfully presented were tempting to the palate. I got what I paid for; yes, indeed I did and more. For the flights of just over 7 and 11.5 hours challenge the body when made consecutively and Business Class attempted to accommodate my every need. Whimsical thoughts now. I was feeling more unequal than other travellers. Greedy luxurious travel-spoilt in every way. I'll ponder not my rights nor the cost for I am sitting jet lagged at the computer wondering why I am awake in the middle of the night. Couldn't my dollar purchase a remedy for jet lag? Finally, I felt equal to all those who travel in Economy Class. Jet lag shows no favours for dollars. Thank you, I think. My social conscience is reinstated. Not sure what ticket that I'll buy for my next overseas adventure.

Pan Pacific Hotel

Great internal architecture at the Pan Pacific Hotel. Internal terraces and walkways bring the outside inside. A circular stairwell rises snake-like towards a sun inspired light well. In the bar area muted light filters from rows of arc shaped, steel framed, timber beams. Seated guests become aware of a light show that illuminates the concrete columns stretching overhead. As the patterns of lights and colours move from space to space the eye is distracted and tracks their progress across the room. Conversation is drawn to comment on the geometric light show unfolding.

Touchdown Singapore

Looking relaxed in the 377. Thirty six hours in Singapore. What to do, what to see? Showers and rest on the agenda. Check out the hotel's facilities. Shopping a great possibility since we exchanged the last of our euros for Singapore dollars. Windfall. Yay! Watches, shoes considered. A month on the road and wooly sheep must be shawn. Cloudy skies outside and exceptional humidity. All variables and options considered and then prioritised. Short delay to action plan. Luggage retrieved from the taxi this morning still has not arrived at our room. Twenty-three floors and unable to wait any longer we rang to discover its progress from front door up to the twenty-third level. Plane carousels had delivered luggage in a more timely manner than hotel personnel who had been so eager to assist with its passage from boot to reception. Finally, refreshed from shower and sleep we hit the shopping malls. Citizen watches not in abundance as we'd hoped. Brands of every other watch shown and sold but not the exact Citizen, ECO watch that we sought. Shoes, not requiring cherry pickers or ladders in which to place one's foot without straps or buckles, another item of interest.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Homeward bound. According to some statistic. stated at some time, by someone unknown to me, the most popular destination in the whole world is 'home.' No longer able to sit by the arena in Verona and write in one's journal for we were two stops from home. Two people on a mission. Fruit platters eaten. Castles farewelled, long plane rides and journeys into unknown territory all but at an end. Goodbye to Milan's fashion district and fountains by the score. One last coffee prior to check-in and seeking the comfort of the lounge. Two hours passed and then we were seated in our plane seats. Sipping bubbles, boarding preparations underway; seatbelts buckled and warm, white flannels steaming on travel weary hands and faces; we smiled. The first leg, 11.5 hours away from a landing in Singapore.