Ann from Oz (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} xaelle) wrote,@ 2005-10-19 10:38:00 |
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We spent the weekend at Buninyong, a place I would have described as a small township outside of Ballarat but which L informs me is a suburb of Ballarat so I stand corrected, (yet again), with friends on their 17 acres of farmlet.
I took the camera along planning to bounce, or maybe crawl depending on the amount of Merlot consumed with dinner, out of bed and go a-wandering to take happy snaps of an area that is green and fertile and therefore of interest to me, surrounded as I am by spiniflex, succulents and scrubby bush.
Alas when we rose the Lady of the house was ill with what she was hoping was indigestion rather than something less curable. Now while I felt fine when horizontal, admiring the view through the bedroom window
after 10 minutes of vertical perambulation I was joining her in the aches and pains department. Now that's what you call a killer curry, a violent vindaloot indeed, and typically neither of the menfolk were bothered by it.
Their property is not bush, and populated by horses,
assorted dogs and cats,
and donkeys, lying down in the lower paddock.
I did manage a sad llittle wander around the house garden by the time they were standing up.
Our friends have recently returned from participating in the annual HOG riders run to Uluru and as we've never travelled to Australia's heartland we were very much interested in their pics. It looked fantastic, all that red dirt, all that nothing as far as the eye can see and the camera can record, those incredible skies. The colours defy description. And Coober Pedy with the hotel hacked out of the rock? Fascinating.
Gotta say though, you wouldn't get me to go all that way on a bike, I don't care how good the bike and how padded the seat. (heh!)
We came home avoiding the Western Freeway by looping around through the tiny towns of Elaine and Meredith, places that make Bacchus Marsh look positively cosmopolitan by comparison.
Spent the rest of Sunday groaning and recovering - yes it was the curry, no it wasn't a hangover, dammit I do know the difference - and thus lost Monday to all those things I was supposed to do on Sunday arvo. Such is life.
Currently reading: Death masks by Jim Butcher
I took the camera along planning to bounce, or maybe crawl depending on the amount of Merlot consumed with dinner, out of bed and go a-wandering to take happy snaps of an area that is green and fertile and therefore of interest to me, surrounded as I am by spiniflex, succulents and scrubby bush.
Alas when we rose the Lady of the house was ill with what she was hoping was indigestion rather than something less curable. Now while I felt fine when horizontal, admiring the view through the bedroom window
after 10 minutes of vertical perambulation I was joining her in the aches and pains department. Now that's what you call a killer curry, a violent vindaloot indeed, and typically neither of the menfolk were bothered by it.
Their property is not bush, and populated by horses,
assorted dogs and cats,
and donkeys, lying down in the lower paddock.
I did manage a sad llittle wander around the house garden by the time they were standing up.
Our friends have recently returned from participating in the annual HOG riders run to Uluru and as we've never travelled to Australia's heartland we were very much interested in their pics. It looked fantastic, all that red dirt, all that nothing as far as the eye can see and the camera can record, those incredible skies. The colours defy description. And Coober Pedy with the hotel hacked out of the rock? Fascinating.
Gotta say though, you wouldn't get me to go all that way on a bike, I don't care how good the bike and how padded the seat. (heh!)
We came home avoiding the Western Freeway by looping around through the tiny towns of Elaine and Meredith, places that make Bacchus Marsh look positively cosmopolitan by comparison.
Spent the rest of Sunday groaning and recovering - yes it was the curry, no it wasn't a hangover, dammit I do know the difference - and thus lost Monday to all those things I was supposed to do on Sunday arvo. Such is life.
Currently reading: Death masks by Jim Butcher
