27-28/08/21 Down Memory Lane: Warwick.

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Crossing the border to South Australia entails listing everywhere we've been in the previous 14 days. As a result we've slowed down to reduce our list and hopefully increase our chances of approval, which means another two days in Warwick before we finish off our appointments in Toowoomba and start heading west. Because of all our changes in plan we're due to attend Roger's final farewell (yes, he left the office in Roma 6 weeks ago and we are still attending farewells) in Toowoomba on Tuesday and all our decent going-out clothes are hanging in our wardrobe in Roma. Not wanting to attend said farewell in our (now) everyday attire of hiking sandals and t-shirt/pants of dubious cleanliness, we spent a couple of hours in Warwick's op shops to find some new duds of suitable quality. We both feel we were successful: I just hope that our fashion sense has not been too skewed by prolonged exposure to woollen socks and thermal underwear.

After a day spent shopping and completing our SA border registration (and the obligatory 6 cups of tea) it was time to get out on a bicycle again. I rode out to meet Roger, who was reminiscing over his first construction project at Wheatvale.

It's a pretty rural ride out to Wheatvale, through green irrigated paddocks populated with fat cattle.

Along the way I went past the Sandy Creek Pub, which has kind of set opening hours and...

...is the home of thoroughbred pig racing. On finding out that we were from Roma, the proprietor proudly informed us that he took the pig racing to the Roma Show this year. I detected a certain disillusionment that we hadn't noticed him there.

Sandy Creek was full of water, with attendant ducks cockatoos, and corellas.

Once we had duly reminisced over the 33-year-old bitumen at Wheatvale we continued the trip down memory lane by visiting Leslie Dam, which also had more water in it than I'd seen in many years.

Not full, but looking good.


Roger's old workplace was next, which prompted recall of the infamous running-out-of-fuel incident, and other mishaps associated with being a young green engineer.

We completed the lap of town with a visit to our first meeting place (unrecognisable now as a yoga shop), and our annual coffee at Zarraffas with the best man from our wedding, where he and Roger commiserated on their parallel trajectories from hirsute slim hotties to bald fat middle aged men.

And with that I think it's high time to move on from memory lane tomorrow.


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