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Milang: Intermission.

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We booked a cottage in Milang to while away the 6 day gap between one house sit and the next. Sandilira was just over the road from Lake Alexandrina and had powerful air conditioning which was extra helpful because we arrived in the middle of a heat wave.   Sandilira: home for almost a week. The streets of Milang were deserted: everyone stayed home and tried to stay cool. Mind you, the streets of Milang were usually pretty deserted anyway, but the heat haze shimmering over the bitumen wasn't usual for Milang. I opened the fridge to put away our groceries and oh my goodness me, was I surprised! There was enough food in there to feed a small army for a month: milk, bread, butter, strawberry jam and a punnet of strawberries, a dozen eggs, a large container of mushrooms, and a medium-sized pig's worth of bacon. Not to mention 6 small tubs of yoghurt, one large tub of yoghurt, and all the breakfast cereals in the cupboard. This was not a hardship posting. We settled in for a comfor...
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Watching Bicycles.

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A big white 4wd ute rolled to a stop bede me as I stood on the median strip outside the West Beach Surf Club.  A young man stuck his head out the window. "What's going on? What's everyone waiting for?" "Theres a bike ride going past," said Roger. "In about 15 minutes." "Cool!" The young man smiled as wide as a watermelon, displaying an admirable enthusiasm for something about which he clearly had no clue. "Guess I'll park up and watch, then!"  West Beach I was standing on a median strip on a sunny weekday morning because the Tour Down Under had came to town, and the streets wrre cloggedwith wannabe racers, all wrapped up in branded lycra and propelling their slightly-chubby selves on expensive pedal machines. They flooded the streets in strung-out peletons, shouting cryptic warnings and waving their arms around to point at potholes and other hazards that they couldn't see themselves because they were so close to the ride...
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Don't Ride Bicycles in Heatwaves.

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I didn't ride my bicycle much last year, something to do with being away for at least 5 months and somewhat losing momentum on the whole 200km/month initiative. Well, it's a new year and time to get back on the bike. Because I'm clever, I chose the hottest day of a heatwave for my inaugural 2026 ride, a whopping 12ish km from Unley back to our new house sit at West Hindmarsh. A bare two minutes and I took to the footpath on the understanding that its meagre shade would protect me from the shimmering heat that radiated from the road.  By the time 5 minutes had passed I was standing in a convenient sprinkler, casting dignity to the winds and getting myself thoroughly soaked.   Within 10 more minutes I was on the hunt for another sprinkler and there I was, sprinkler-hopping along the pathway to home, alternating sogginess and dessication with fleeting moments of evaporative cool in the middle. At 10km the Brickworks Shopping Centre popped up and I wobbled thankfully into the...
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Holiday Traffic (And a Little Bit of Bordertown's Back Story)

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Back in 1851 someone discovered gold in Victoria and a great number of South Australia's population promptly up and took themselves off to Victoria to become millionaires. They took their money with them and when (if) they found gold they kept it in their hot little hands and very little of it came back to SA. This was not good for the SA government,  which was soon at risk of bankruptcy. Enter Police Commissioner Alexander Tolmer who set up a police escort to collect the gold from the South Australian miners and bring it back to South Australia to supplement government coffers. I don't think the miners were consulted on this, by the way. Tatiara Creek, where Scott's Woolshed was situated, had permanent water in swamps and sinkholes. A half-way station was established at Scott's Woolshed, where the troopers could rest and change horses on the third night of their journey. Before it got co-opted as a Police Station Scott's Woolshed was a gathering point for the commu...
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Bordertown Doesn't Have Motel Biscuits

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 We took the roads less travelled from Ballarat to Bordertown, winding up and down and all around through countryside bleached by summer.  Combine harvesters chuntered up and down wheat paddocks and fat bales of hay clustered in the corners waiting to be taken to sheds.  We stopped at Elmhurst Recreation Centre for morning coffee with a backing track of cicadas. In Elmhurst I could have had a hot shower for the princely sum of $5, paid into the honesty box bolted to the wall of the community hall.  For $10 I could have camped for the night with the added benefits of electricity and a covered picnic table.  Were I a vegetable thief I could have foraged for tomatoes, zucchini, and pumpkin in the community garden.  I'm not a vegetable thief so I didn't do that and besides, the zucchini and tomatoes were all still green. Elmhurst also had a bell which just asked to be robustly rung, so I complied. That was fun, wasn't it? In Stawell we sat outside the Bakery an...
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Ballarat Has Motel Biscuits

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Melbourne could have been a graveyard as we drove out on Friday morning.  What with New Years Day yesterday and Saturday tomorrow, anyone who could (and probably lots who really couldn't) took the day off and went anywhere else but Melbourne.  I saw not a soul when I walked the dog on a crisp morning that didn't feel like summer. Having walked, the dog quickly realised that something was up and retired to her sad place to sulk as we cleaned and tidied and packed our bags.  She turned her back on me when I tried to say goodbye with a traitorous treat. BD had no such qualms, embracing the chance of one last lunch on Mum and Dad's dime and expressing regret at the fact that we were taking our transportation with us and she would, once again, be reduced to shank's pony to carry her groceries back from Woolworths.  I'm sure she'll miss our company too.  Her cat declined to say goodbye  We drove to Ballarat, escaping the suburban sprawl and driving through paddoc...
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Its Almost Christmas.

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Well, what with having spent 5 months of the year gallivanting the globe, and the past 6 weeks ping-ponging from Perth to Adelaide to Melbourne to Sydney and back to Melbourne with a dash of Bright thrown in, all of a sudden Christmas is tomorrow and my head is still stuck back in September somewhere. It hasn't helped that I'm paying the price for having so much time away from work, and I'm the lucky duck who gets to press her nose against the grindstone right up until 17:30 on Christmas Eve. Lucky for me Roger has been able to run around battling Christmas shopping crowds and ferrying BD hither, thither, and yon. The one thing he can't do is take the dog for a walk. In the dog's world walks only happen with a woman and I am the chosen one.  The streets of Malvern are dressed for Christmas.  No gaudy lights or tinsel here: safely ensconced behind privacy fences with security intercoms, the denizens of Malvern have a coordinated suburban chic of red tulle bows on tre...
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