Homeward Bound

Just to emphasize my last point about the friendship circle that seems to exist around Susan, we were joined by another one of her group, Rhonda, at breakfast, just to come and say goodbye. There will be similar circumstances in the UK but we are not accustomed to it, certainly not around the south-east, and it has been one of the highlights of the trip to participate in such a warm support group.

Susan was able to join us at the departure gate for a final coffee. Name one major UK airport that nowadays allows non-passengers into the airside environment, even if only domestic? The little English lady terrorist was again singled out at both Melbourne and Sydney for special attention by the security staff, and is now so familiar with the test procedures for explosives residue that she is thinking of applying for a job at Gatwick or Heathrow. She made great friends with the guy at Sydney who explained the whole process very thoroughly. Panic shopping ensued at Sydney, because we had 3 hours to kill and used up 2 ½ of them before we had eventually got rid of all the cash.

It’s now midnight, Australian time, 9 p.m. in Bangkok, and 3 p.m. in England. I expect to be disturbed shortly, to have to consume some of British Airways finest finger sandwiches and lukewarm tea. Publishing this in the Qantas Lounge in Bangkok will have to take second place to the shower facility, and the rate of upload of pictures is very variable, so the final sentence may have to wait to 31 Abbotswood tomorrow. It’s been a great trip and a temptation to repeat it soon – if the big Premium Bond prize is waiting when we get home.

Unfortunately there was no £1 million cheque, only a rather stand-offish cat whose body language (absence of instant purring) conveyed clearly his annoyance at having been left to look after Elinor for all that time. He came round eventually but methinks that trust will have to be re-earned before he brings us mouse remains to share. The weather recognised our need for a gentle let-down and has been sunny and almost warm.

So here endeth the first blog according to Yrret – it’s hard work trying to keep reasonably up to date, especially when uploading isn’t available on a daily basis. I’m not sure how serious diarists do it; assigning a fixed period at a regular time must be the knack…but that assumes a consistent lifestyle and is close to work! Got that out of the system, thank you!

Winding Down

The end of a vacation is always something of an anti-climax, but we were left with no opportunity to wonder how to wile away the last 24 hours. Packing, checking out, panic shopping for the next event, travelling to drop off the rental car at the airport, having dropped the cases at Essendon, and attempted souvenir shopping at the nearby mall (only about the size of Lakeside) left us with barely enough time to attack Susan’s computer again to see if there was a cure for the dreaded incompatibility squabble between W7 and Office 2007. Heidi’s Andrew eventually scored maximum points for finding a suggestion that running the 2 programmes whilst having administrator’s rights assigned might be a cause…and so it was!...But only for Word – Excel still continues to hiccup. There was no re-installing, no downloading an update or a patch, just a buried box that had to be unticked. Software designers, bless their little cotton socks!

And yet again we were whisked off to Jan and Rob’s for the final “roast tea”. I think Jan must be one of the most amazing cooks we have ever come across, because she had turned some of the surplus barbecue steak into a huge, gorgeous pie with beautiful vegetables, followed by an apple sponge of gargantuan proportions. They are truly, homely, hospitable Aussies (fourth generation) with a sizeable local family, all of whom seem to support each other with no effort or question whatsoever. It was a privilege to have met them and been accepted, via Susan, into their circle. A little blogging when we got home to try and catch up so that it finishes near enough the same time as the trip, and then the final night sleeping upside down.

No Picnic at Hanging Rock

Daily chores out of the way we made our way up to Essendon, to meet Susan at her church charity shop, where she was busily tidying up and organising for the summer to winter stock changeover, having already taken Clodagh and Ben to the airport. She was keen that she entertained us to the maximum and had suggested one of two possible excursions, either to Hanging Rock whence came the book name, or to Philip Island, to observe the dusk arrival of penguins. We felt that either would involve lengthy car journeys and probable late returns to Brighton so we were keen to take a more leisurely approach. In the end more dog-walking was chosen and without revealing the objective of her selected destination, to avoid possible disappointment, Susan took us to a park that included a retirement home for aging racehorses. The great treat, however, was that it turned out to be the area where kangaroos came to graze as the afternoon wore on, and we were in luck. Having sighted them in the distance, we marched boldly off the path across the field (fear of snakes put aside) and approached initially quite gently to about 100 yards, and fully expected them to bound off at any instant. Far from it! One or two, once they became aware of our interest, bounded towards us, as if they were looking as though they might try to come to scare us off….until the dogs started barking and then the (insert collective noun for kangaroos) all set off together at the bounce. It was a lovely sight and a mild sensation of being on a safari in the outback, notwithstanding the A380 that had just taken off from the nearby Melbourne airport.

We then met up with Jan and Rob Maltman at Bob MacMillan’s grave, where a little gardening was conducted and the nice touch of placing one of the wedding posies to adorn the headstone. Bob was obviously a much loved husband, father and friend.

On return Susan instantly produced a pasta dish, and we left to do our packing, and to wash trousers bearing evidence of two boisterous Labradors.

Not Late For A Change

If something is worth doing it’s worth doing well, or at least twice. Tradition has it, if not throughout Australia then at least in this small community, that on the day following a wedding the stragglers re-assemble for … a barbecue! Because Clodagh and Ben were not leaving for their honeymoon (in the Maldives) until the Monday they were there too. Having got to bed rather late we struggled out of bed as early as we could manage it, breakfasted and set off to the venue, about 10 minutes further on from where the wedding was, to a house rented for the family and guests for the occasion. The invite said “11 a.m. onwards” and we had to stop to buy a “slab” (case of beer), and being Easter Sunday and near the coast, it seemed as if the whole of Melbourne was out for the day. We were never going to be on time, but our watches said 12.45 when we eventually staggered in making profuse apologies about our tardiness. People were a little surprised at our apology, as we were to find that, far from being the last, several arrived after us. Guess which day daylight saving ends in Australia? Just as well we didn’t know as we could have been a genuine hour and three-quarters late, but it’s the first time I have genuinely not adjusted our timepieces and made a big mistake with an appointment.

Much meat and salad was consumed and a feeble attempt made to walk it off, on yet another nearby archetypal sandy beach, before we meandered our way home followed by Susan to collect the Easter Eggs that had not made their intended journey that morning.

The Great Day

What does one expect of a wedding? Perfect weather, idyllic surroundings, smiling happy people, loads of genuine warmth and affection, a few happy tears, good food and drink, amusing recollections, riotous dancing, and all the other elements that go to make up a lasting memory. Every box was duly ticked. We've got used to mainly church weddings that are formally structured in content and procedure, so that the expectation of a civil procedure is that it is a fairly quick legal formality. Not so here: the celebrant was a long-standing friend who personalised the ceremony; there were some pertinent readings, though not from a religious source, one from each godmother (how did that English accent steal the show!); Very personal public statements. of love and commitment from the happy couple; the only thing missing was congregational singing, though music was provided to cover the signing of the registers by Heidi playing a solo oboe, beautifully, of Robbie Williams song, Angels.

One of the memorable highlights was when Ben and Clodagh led the evening's dancing as is seemingly expected of the bride and groom, but they turned it almost into a "Strictly ..." moment have danced a selection of ballroom steps, suddenly after a frenzy of jacket. removing launched into a hip-hop demonstration, quite brilliantly.

The couple were staying the night at the residence, and so instead of sending them off, we were all eventually turfed out, for a 50-minute drive home, where ... we collapsed into bed.

“I Actually Found It Quite Interesting!”

Good Friday was definitely the day that we wanted to keep out of the way of the wedding preparations, whilst the last minute family arrangements went on. We had little plan of what we wanted to do, other than realising that the city would be mainly “closed” because of Easter. The forecast was OK and whilst we had been in the Tourist Information Centre the previous day I had idly picked up a brochure for Australia’s “primary” Aviation Museum. It was at Moorabbin airport only 10 minutes from where we were staying and with a slight hesitancy I suggested that we could drive past on our way to the coast to see what it looked like, and so the plan was made.

From the outside it looked like a graveyard for airframe hulks, not a good indicator in my experience for what might be concealed. We parked adjacent to the other car in the car park and I said I didn’t think it would be worth the entrance fee. However, insistence was forthcoming that I should investigate, as postcards could be written whilst I indulged. Two middle-aged, gentlemen aviation enthusiasts greeted me, in the reception, and a “concession” rate was quickly allowed, so low that I purchased 2 tickets because of the invite for my wife to use the lounge facilities whilst I perused. An interesting conversation ensued about the model of the DH 88 Comet hanging in the lounge (G-ACSS for the cognoscenti) that had won the 1934 England to Australia air race. It had a tail wheel not a tailskid, which identified it as a model of the replica, not the original, but at least the two guys knew of it as belonging to the Shuttleworth collection – small world.

The museum itself was a delightful example of aviation enthusiasm, but had the one piece that had originally caught my attention, a mostly intact Bristol Beaufighter. There were lots of snippets of Australian aviation history, and full value for money was obtained for both of us. I explained the differences between some of the aero engines on display and pointed out interesting features on a few of the aircraft, expecting a barely stifled yawn, but later the following day, when recounting to the locals what we had done whilst not under supervision, you could have knocked me down with a feather when the words: “I actually found it quite interesting” were uttered. RAF Museum, Science Museum, and Imperial War Museum here we come!

We went on for a beach picnic, came across the national sandcastle sculpture competition, and cruised gently home seeking Friday’s fish and chip shop, which turned out to be a mere 200 yards from the apartment. Everything was freshly cooked as we waited and as usual included chips to feed an army. I may eventually learn to leave food, but only when I grow up! Strangely, we didn’t have to collapse into bed that evening.

If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Join ‘Em

By Thursday we were desperate to see some of the city sights of Melbourne, and so we opted to catch the train into town, firstly to re-visit Victoria Market, to have a longer look at all the wonderful produce and other shopping opportunities, and then to pick up on a little of the riverbank scene. Although we bought wraps at one of the delicatessen stalls we couldn’t resist another Borek, the hot Turkish pastry wraps.

There is a free circular tram route that tours the inner city and gives a commentary of the nearby places of interest as it nears each stop. It is very popular (because it’s free?) and we crammed in for half a circuit until we got back to the railway station where we got out to go on a walk by the river. We were just getting ourselves armed with information in the Tourist Information Centre, and were thinking of letting Susan know what we were up to, when the phone rang and supper was offered, to help with the disposal of the previous evening’s leftovers, and our, as yet, uneaten lunch selection would provide some variety for the menu. Refusal was not an option, but the follow-on invite to join the Maundy service at church would have left us with another very late finish.

Then two close shaves ensued! We hadn’t been long at Susan’s, after the tram ride from the city to the end of her road, just about 6 p.m. when conversation turned to what each had been doing all day. It was the trigger to remind Susan that Heidi’s dress had not been collected from the dry cleaners; and that the following day was Good Friday; and the family were decamping down south to the wedding venue; and the dry cleaners close at 6 p.m. Only the squeal of tyres hid the stream of expletives as she shot off, leaving us to contemplate the switching on of her computer to check for emails. It was fairly dark in the little computer area, and in an effort to make room for me to assist with the initial power up, the little English lady terrorist stepped slightly backwards and to one side…and almost disappeared through a hole in the floor! Susan had removed the cover to the shallow wine cellar and it was very fortunate that more injury did not occur. A triple of bruises to her back, on top of the shock of the bottom dropping out of her world, was the extent but it could have been so much worse. Where are the Health and Safety people when they are most needed? Susan returned soon after, with dress, having, armed only with a $20 note, ambushed the manager of the dry cleaners as he was trying to escape by car and forced him to re-open. Someone was obviously smiling down on us, although prepared to fire warning shots across our bows. Supper over, Susan dropped us at the tram stop outside her church and we made our way home via tram and train, despite the best efforts of the railway management to hide the whereabouts of the required platform by ceasing to provide signs before the platform was in sight. We got home, one of us battered and bruised….and collapsed into bed.