Semaphore

We booked a unit beside the sea at Semaphore. It was an upstairs unit with a view over the ball drop tower and out to the jetty and the cargo ships lined up to enter the outer harbour. As an added bonus it was directly above the Copenhagen ice creamery, setting us up for temptation every time we went anywhere.

Semaphore jetty,  the sky awash with contrails.

Cloud iridescence over the Semaphore surf lifesaving tower.

The ball drop tower was directly opposite our unit, the drawback being that the floodlights stayed on all night long.

 

My sister came to visit, bringing summer with her for a week and even going swimming in the waters of Semaphore (although she very sensibly allowed other swimmers to go further out than her, an effective shark net as it were).

Dabbling her toes in South Australian waters.  "It's not that bad!" she declared, and went home to put on her togs.

She's made of tougher stuff than me.

Watch out for sharks.

 

We explored Port Adelaide,  admiring the beautiful old buildings and looking fruitlessly for ice cream.

A spot to sit in the grounds of one of Port Adelaide's old churches.

In the absence of a dedicated ice cream shop we had to make do with icecream served with a side helping of pancakes.  It was tough but we're versatile like that: always making the best of adversity.

We visited an art exhibition (courtesy of the Fringe Festival) at the old Harts Mill complex.  It was a very industrial type of exhibition, requiring some commitment to understanding on our part.  This commitment was, at times, lacking in us as observers.

Silhouette on old walls.

He makes a good tour guide.

Hart's Mill had an esteemed history in the world of Australian roller-flour.

Back at the unit we watched cars, motorbikes, and bicycles crack laps around Semaphore, and wandered down to the jetty for both the rise and set of the sun.  

Semaphore sunset.

At night the Semaphore clock tower and angel were illuminated.

We drank litres of tea and played card games until we had to pack up and move to our next house sit. This was trickier than it sounded, because our car was full and an extra bag and person just wouldn't fit so I waved Roger off in the car and the Sister act caught the train instead.  We did a quick tour of Adelaide and searched unsuccessfully for ice cream in Rundle Mall.

Coffee and cake in lieu of ice cream; the Mall's Balls; the trippy foyer of the Adelaide Convention Centre.

Up on the hill the Belair cat greeted us happily but was peremptorily banished from the spare bedroom due to an eruption of sisterly sneezing. The magpies arrived on the verandah and demanded food.  Roger expressed weariness, malaise, and fatigue and took himself off to bed.  We settled in for a quiet night as I planned an itinerary designed to display the highlights of South Australia in the most efficient way possible over the next six days.

Bird of the day: swan and cygnets, including one hitching a ride on its parent's back.