From then to now

Slightly behind – that’s what happens when you go away. These next few will abbreviations of my holiday diary (you really don’t want the ramblings). So where was I? Oh yes, the Pharmacists Farewell (thanks to Jo for the photos).

Next day I wasn’t in until 4pm – just as well really. Saturday I spent booking train tickets, which made the trip away finally seem real. Then in the evening, given I was working late the next day, there wasn’t much point in going to be until after the rugby. Happily I got to see the game again the next morning too! Just in case any Poms missed the result the first time round. Surprisingly the commentary wasn’t that biased as I think the England team earned the respect of the commentators. (Not like the other game – you wouldn’t believe that France were actually on the pitch). I think the Aussie media response to the loss was quite muted. At work Sunday night there strangely wasn’t much mention of the game. At least from the Aussies there wasn’t. New Zealand, however, collectively imploded.


I was up at a decent time on Monday, but still too lazy to get away and do the walk I had planned. So I cut a couple of miles off and dumped the car on a roadside verge somewhere up Mt Lofty. I probably cut off the best part of the walk, as it turns out. The plan was to follow the Heysen trail down to Bridgewater Mill, which is the best way I can think of to go wine tasting on my own.

Considering the Heysen trail was opened, celebrated, commemorated at the scout camp (home to two New Guinean totem poles) the trail has been diverted to run along the perimeter road with forbidding signs warning of prosecution if you put a step wrong. Then of course the golfers had diverted the oath onto the roads too. Eventually I got to Mt George, which is a tranquil walk – the birds the hush of the wind in the leaves, the rumble and drone of the Southern Expressway. The path then dives away through an underpass under the road (see graffiti piccie) to Cox Creek which runs through Arbury (nothing like the Arbury where I nearly bought a house – you’d want to live here). There are turtles the size of dinner plates – well NHS plates, really (ie not large enough to hold a proper portion), and Kookaburras, which are big mean birds that’s have your burger out of your hand as soon as look at you (I spoke to the witnesses) and have the most unearthly call.


A pleasant 15 minutes at Bridgewater Mill (Unwin's sell the wine, apparently) and time to return. The warm all's-right-with-the-world (lunchtime drinking!) carried me back to the top of Mt George, but I really wouldn’t recommend the rest of the walk.

I was working the rest of the week, did a not entirely successful teaching session (it had worked really well in the UK – guess it was just a little bit too different here), and had a Friday that was one of those days that creeps up like a storm, then leaves you afterwards wondering what the hell just hit you. At least the time goes quickly.


Actually I had a really blonde day – it wasn’t until I got halfway across the parklands that I realised that I had forgotten to put on my cycle helmet. It doesn’t matter in England if you do that. So I ended up leaving the bike at work and walking home Friday night. It’s just under an hour. And I had to walk into town Saturday to pick the bike up. Irritatingly my iPod speaker has blown a fuse – for the sake of a ha’penny fuse I’m going to have to junk a £100 set of speakers. I know because I spent an hour trailing round town looking for a power supply.