While Not Working

Rain fell, with cameo appearances by thunder, lightning, and hail. The river Torrens, acting like a real river for once, overran all the little weirs along its length and managed a robust flow out to sea.  Every creek and gully in the Adelaide Hills became a waterfall tumbling in a hurry in homage to gravity. Hordes of Adelaideans put on their puffer jackets, grabbed their umbrellas, and headed out to look at waterfalls.  We were no exception, and decided to follow the crowds to First Waterfall at Morialta Conservation Park, where we stood a good chance of spotting a bonus koala or two. I left early and rode my bike along the Torrens, through the city, and up to Thorndene Reserve where Roger met me and off we went to Morialta for a picnic and a spot of waterfall viewing. Torrens doing grown-up river things. Existential angst on the Torrens Linear Path. Picnickers swarmed all over the Morialta Conservation Park picnic area. Mobs of little children found all the muddiest spots and clambe

 Roger, on an impulse, bought a bike. He walked past Cash Converters and it called to him from the rabble of unwanted road bikes that usually cluster out the front of Cash Converters. He went to look and the bike became more interesting the more he looked: internal hub; belt drive; nifty built-in LED lights; and a single left-side fork (is it still a fork if it only has one side?) He came home and thought about it. Then he went back to Cash Converters and came home with the Cannondale Bad Boy for a bargain price of about $2000 less than what it was worth. Of course having a new bike was no good if he didn't ride it so in no time at all we were off for a ride on the Parklands Trail around the city.  Did you know someone stole half your forks?   And off he went like a rabbit, on a mission to see how fast he could go. We zoomed along the the pathways through Victoria Park, or one of us zoomed and the other one plugged along taking photos and procrastinating and generally not even try

The City of Charles Stuart, in its wisdom, organised the Coastal Sounds event for the King's Birthday public holiday on Monday. Assorted local musicians and choirs were billed to perform at spots along the coastline between Henley Beach and Semaphore.  This seemed like a high-risk activity, given that the June weather in Adelaide was not always conducive to enjoying outdoor entertainment, but the City of Charles Stuart was up for the risk and it paid off.  We headed down to the beach in sunny weather, albeit with a stiff cold breeze. Beautiful weather for coastal sounds. The Adelaide Ukelele Appreciation Society was our first entertainment of choice.  The AUAS made up in enthusiasm what they may have lacked in other areas pertaining to musical abilities.  Walkers, cyclists, very wet dogs, and joggers did not distract them: they strummed and sang with great gusto, each one taking a turn at the microphone in an egalitarian display of their full spectrum of talent.  The AUAS in full s

The cat does not like me at the moment. He sat in the middle of the kitchen and I, walking backwards, stood on his tail. I leaped, he leaped higher, yowled, and ran away. I apologised and offered make-up brushing which he accepted without offering forgiveness. I fed him an extra apology portion and the next morning I jumped straight out of bed when he asked to be let out at 6am. Now I always turn around and go forwards in the kitchen, which is closing a barn door after the horse has left, because the cat has more sense than to come into the kitchen while me and my big clod-hoppering tail-squashing feet are in there. What a cat looks like when it's not being used as a kitchen mat.   The cat came to sit on my lap this afternoon which I took as a tentative offering of peace and rebuilt trust. Then again, it could just have been because I had the cat mat on my lap and Roger, who is the preferred cat roost, was not around. It troubles me deeply to be given the cold shoulder by a cat. I

Mount Barker provided us with sufficient sunlight to do our laundry and than attempted a fair, if short, impression of a Queensland storm complete with thunder, lightning, hail, and fat raindrops that hammered on the roof of our cosy cabin. A credible flow of water rushed down the creek and the last autumn leaves clung grimly to the trees before finally succumbing to a stiff breeze. Roger grieved last week's warm Roma weather and reluctantly dug out his puffer jacket. Our cabin backed on to the creek.  We did not have water views.   The Mount Barker Caravan Park had the best swapping library I had ever seen, which caused me grief as I already had a book to read and didn't need another one. The creek was lined with wattle just coming into bloom. We worked, did family catch-up stuff, and on Friday we drove in to Adelaide to pick up the keys for our next house sit, going down to Henley Beach for a quick walk while we were there. We house-sat here a year ago so we already knew the

I'm very glad to report that nobody fell through the bathroom floor during our stay in the daggy donga, and we stayed warm and dry despite the rain clattering on the roof all night long. I went to bed with grand plans to wake up early and take photos of the sunrise from the nearby hill. Alas, sunrise did not comply.  I stayed in bed, wandering up later to take rain photos instead.   The town of Broken Hill owes its existence to the silver, lead, and zinc mine that dominates the town skyline and causes the inhabitants of Broken Hill to take for granted the behaviours required to prevent lead poisoning. This minor risk didn't stop Broken Hill from building a cafe and lookout on top of the massive old slag heap in the centre of town and encouraging all and sundry to wander up to take a look, lead dust be damned. The rain having laid any dust to rest for a day or two, we had no qualms about making our own expedition to the top of the slag heap. Up to the lookout we went, keeping