Carrick Hill to Clare

Such a long time since I last wrote. Only 2 months to go, this time in 2 months I will be packing up, trying to decide exactly how many of my warm clothes I dare send on a slow 3 month trip round the world so I can satisfy Air Malaysia’s ridiculous weight limit on hold luggage which is less than the Qantas limit for hand-bags. Trying to work out what I can safely leave in the house for the Landlady to use without it looking like I’ve left all my rubbish. Not much then. But I’m sure she needs a new frying pan.

Actually, going home is so close that I’m in two minds whether I want to just be back home Right Now, or not bother going home at all. I’m should be up in the Barossa at a thirtieth b’day party today, but I don’t think anyone really wants this cold. But more of that later. Back to that weekend....

I managed to get to the Central Market on Saturday, and finished my shopping at the Farmer’s Market on Sunday. Needed to get some more rabbit – that last lot was wonderful. Really sweet and tender. Not fluffy at all. Sadly the goat’s cheese Camembert lady wasn’t there. Oh well. Saturday evening we went to the pictures again, this time to see The Painted Veil. The film was good, with stunning scenery – actually filmed in China. But I’d like to read the book.

The weather was changeable (in the way that Ireland in September is). Warm sunshine and not a cloud in the sky to black clouds and hail in 5 minutes). So when I went for a walk in the afternoon, I fully expected to get wet. This time went up Brownhill to overlook the creek where we walked on Friday. The early Adelaideans obviously spent a long time deciding what to call the hills. Black Hill, Brown Hill...I wonder where Greenhill road goes. Answers on the back of a map of Adelaide to...
I parked at Carrick Hill, walked up Brown Hill which is much more open grassland than most of the hills, then down the side to McElligott’s Quarry which is only a small park but has a little bit of geology going on. The side of the quarry has uncovered ripples made by the sea several dozen million years ago – and they run vertically up the cliff face. The back of the quarry is a very small, narrow gully – and probably where you go to find crystal meth, I imagine.




Carrick Hill itself is a house built by some of the Adelaide Set in the 30s using some of the interior of a Tudor manor that was being demolished in Shropshire. The grounds are a slight disappointment (apart from the corrugated elephants), as many council owned places are. When the grand plans for renovation are complete, they may be worthwhile but the attractions are currently slightly overplayed. However, the house is interesting. It is full of painting by artists like John Dowie (a local sculptor who did the big fountain in Victoria Sq and died recently), Nora Heysen (a local, the wife of Hans Heysen who painted South Australia and the long distance path is named after), Augustus John, Walter Sickert and Stanley Spencer. Even I’d heard of them. Plus several French impressionist pictures. (Worth Googling “Carrick Hill” for the catalogue).

What was very bizarre was that the grounds were being used for a wedding, but we could all walk around while the ceremony was going. And when it rained, the family came inside for photos on the stairs, trapping quite a few of us upstairs.

It was getting cold outside when I left. The sun was still out, but nearly set and it was definitely time for a cup of tea.

The next week involved two evening shifts in a row, both with on-calls as well. The rota is getting harder as more and more people leave – for good, or on sabbatical – or go to conferences. And as I’m one of the few people with a full time clinical commitment, the burden is falling on just a few of us. For the first time I had a phone call on Thurs night / Fri morning. The moral of the story is to sleep with the toxicology book by the bed.

So a weekend away was welcome. Friday was an office day, and after sitting staring at the computer for a few hours wishing I’d had some sleep, I went home. I managed an hour of sleep (or so) before driving up to Clare. Of course, that meant we ended up leaving right in the middle of Friday rush hour, but apart from a minor shunt on Main North Road which held us up for a few minutes, there was no traffic. Particularly as we left the Sturt Highway to go to Clare. Nothing on the roads.

I’d had trouble finding somewhere to stay. There are lots of websites in Aus all with accommodation of all types. However, it turned out that there was a gourmet food and wine festival on in Clare so pretty much everywhere was booked on Saturday night. One of my colleagues has a cottage in Auburn, but as he was away having a baby, I didn’t get to talk to him and it too was booked up. After much trawling I found a place, which given the name was “Granma’s” and it was a B&B, didn’t sound too hopeful.

But “B&B” doesn’t really describe it. We should have been in the attic rooms of an elderly couple with an avocado bathroom suite and doors that were locked at 10pm. Instead, the owners live in Adelaide, it was the back part of a cottage (which can be opened up to accommodate 6 people) with two rooms with Queen beds, a lounge, kitchen diner, cereal and ground coffee and a decanter of port. Well worth the hunt.

However, we arrived at about 8 (which, to be fair was when I said we would). Except that the local pub (which was very local), stopped serving food at 8 and couldn’t even find a cheese sandwich. So back to the cottage (the stars were amazing, such a clear - and cold - night), back in the car and up to Clare to get a takeaway. From a place that sold bottles of wine but not as a carry out. So up into Clare itself to find an offy.

Eventually we got back to the cottage, ate and I managed to actually get some sleep.