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 paddocks where fat round hay bales clustered with mobs of sheep.


At the Alfred Motel a group of pretty girls in high heels and cowboy hats headed out on the town.  The Alfred sported lace doilies on the couch, with lace trimmed cushions and, on the little table, a blue checked tablecloth with a fringe on the edges and a doily over it. It even had a vase with fake flowers.

Motel style.

I opened the cupboard and was in heaven. Kettle, toaster, tea and coffee were all present and correct but what really made my day was the two little plastic packets with one motel biscuit apiece.  I've been in my fair share of hotels and motels in Europe, Japan, and South Korea this year, and in all that traipsing no motel once offered me a motel biscuit and I didn't realise what I was missing until I found it again.

Now if you'll excuse me I've got important things to do, like settle down with a book, a cup of tea, and my precious (if slightly stale) motel biscuit.

Home for the night: Alfred Motel Ballarat, with biscuits.



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