While Not Working

In 1970 the then SA government, buoyed by overoptimistic predictions of population growth and hankering after federal 'New Cities' programme funds, acquired 16 000 hectares at Monarto south of Adelaide. Grand plans were made, getting grander by the minute, and then in 1975 it all ground to a halt as population growth slowed and federal funds dried up.  No-one was happy , particularly the farmers of the previously-thriving Monarto community, and no one knew quite what to do with 16 000 hectares of scrub at Monarto, so nothing was done. Roll on 1983 and the Adelaide Zoo, located as it was inside the park lands and bounded by river and city, was running out of space and that unused 16 000 hectares suddenly looked quite capable of accommodating a rhinoceros or two.  Monarto Zoo was established as a closed-to-the-public facility where big animals could stretch their legs and breeding programs for endangered species could proceed in private.  By 1993 Monarto had morphed into a safar

Monarto Zoo lay just down the hill from Mt Barker, so when we decided to go to the zoo it made perfect sense (of course!) for me to ride my bicycle to the zoo. In order to arrive by zoo-opening hours I left just before sunrise, thus missing out on watching the highlights of the last stage of the men's Tour de France. Such are the sacrifices one must make for one's minor obsessions. I cheated a little bit and got a lift to Nairne, skipping the first busy and boring 5km. It will be daylight soon.   I avoided the Old Princes Highway, sticking instead to minor gravel roads that wound through paddocks painted in bright green from winter rains. Big old eucalypts stood sentinel over grazing sheep and morning sunlight teased the tops of the hills. I obeyed all speed limits. Sunlight was in short supply down in the valley.  The wind was cold. Because I like big old eucalypts. The coffee at Kanmantoo Genera Store was meh, but it was warm and that was what counted. Down the valley I went,

We caught the steam.train from Mount Barker to Strathalbyn and back again, just because we could. In a perfect world we would have caught the steam train all the way to Victor Harbour and back again but that wasn't possible because the bridges between Strathalbyn and Goolwa couldn't be trusted with trains, so to Strath and back it was.  We took the afternoon train, one of us being very hopeful that the BoM was telling the truth when they promised that the previous two days' wild weather would go away and leave sunshine for our train ride Sunshine?  Not quite.  That is a diesel engine at the front, the steam engine at the back.  The steam engine provides the puff and pomp, the diesel provides the power.  Everybody ignores the diesel engine and pretends that they're on a steam train ride.   The train was late returning from its morning trip to Strath, and blame was placed squarely on the miserable weather which had scattered branches across the track and necessitated re

We went to Milang and did shed stuff: putting things in and taking things out of our storage shed.  The sun shone in Milang, but the wind was cold and fat little clouds lurked out beyond Lake Alexandrina. "There's a loud on the horizon over there, it's going to rain!"  We drove along the lake to Wellington and caught the little vehicle ferry over the river.  The ferries were all free, provided by the State government as a sop for there being less bridges than would be convenient should you live in this part of the world and not have ferries. Wellington Pub had a sunny deck on which we could have lunched overlooking the river. Following our long tradition of always choosing the worst picnic spot possible, we carried on to Tailem Bend for a sad, dehydrated pie from the the about-to-close and out-of-stock Tailem Bend bakery, and then off we went for a visit to Old Tailem Town. Let me tell you about Old Tailem Town. Once upon a time Mr  Peter Squires inherited the proper