Torquay Holiday Park, Torquay, Victoria: Wednesday 23 February 2011

So, picture the scene: its late afternoon on a remote, muddy, potholed track. The light’s fading as the 4WD slides off the track and becomes stuck fast.  This is the time that serious 4WD drivers break out their $2,500 worth of electric-powered bull-bar-mounted winch, plug in the hand-held push-button control and winch themselves effortlessly out of the shit.

We lesser folk, having decided that the convenience of a push-button winch we hope we never need to use just ain’t worth two and a half grand, opt instead for a manual winch.  Which is what we picked up on our Melbourne detour: $450 worth of “Magnum” manual winch, steel hawser cable, pulley blocks, winch extension straps, shackles, etc., Hey, I’m over $2k ahead!

Ok, so back to our scenario of bogged 4WD on a bleak, remote track somewhere:

First we haul out all the manual winching gear, weighing about 50kg, then lay out the winch, hawser, shackles, etc.  And, of course, consult the instruction booklet.  “Soon be out of trouble now” we think, opening up the booklet:

“Wire Rope Puling Hoister is operated in accordance with lever principle by the means of pulling the forward handle or the backward handle manually to make it move straight so as to finish such three performances as lifting, pulling and tensioning with less manual force to obtain the load of more tonnage.”

What the…?   Oh, never mind that, let’s skip that stuff and just get to the details:

“With the rope head downward and pressing the hoister, push the relaxed handle.  When hearing the soundclick, pliers mouth has been opened. Then you can teeve the wire rope from the back hole to the hoister. After the rope is out, the rope can be pulled to the length that you need and then push the relaxed hanele back to clamp the rope tightly. When the forward handle or the backward handle pulled , the wire rope will automatically go into or come out of the hoister. Thus the machine is in the normal state and it is teady to be used”

With darkness descending and a suspicion of panic rising, one’s composure is rapidly diverging from its “normal state”.  Still, there’s no option but to read on…

“There is a relaxation-proofing tunnel on the fixed axis…”

It’s quite probable that by now you’ll be praying for some personal relaxation-proofing, probably somewhere in the region of your fundament.

“...When the fixed access is inserted in the hoister case, is must be turned twice to the second tunnel till it is clamped tightly”

Well, it’s pretty obvious what’ll be “clamped tightly” at this point, and I’m not talking teeth (ok, so maybe these as well).   And if this isn’t enough to give you the shits, as darkness finally closes in, soaked by the drizzle that’s now falling, you read on by the feeble glow of a flickering torch running on semi-flat batteries:

“Never pull thehandle violently.  Never use any pulling leve whose length has been changed by any means. If any, the consequence should be answered by yourself.”

These are, of course the consequences of not shelling out the extra $2k and getting the fancy winch gear in the first place, you tight-fisted clot.

Fortunately, the guy who sold us the gear did advise  first reading the “instruction” book and practice using the manual winch before ever needing it in earnest.  So we’ve been able to laugh as we attempt interpretation the “instructions”, written apparently in some form of Chinglish, from which all the extracts above have been precisely transcribed.

So, in the hoped-to-be-avoided scenario that we do need to winch ourselves out of trouble, we’ll simply put into action our well-rehearsed recovery plan, which will, of course be both fully relaxation-proofed and tightly clamped!

Torquay Holiday Park, Torquay, Victoria: Monday 21 February 2011

That night the wind was pretty blustery, giving the camper a fair old shaking.  The morning brought a bit of a lull in then wind but it remained overcast so we wrapped ourselves up and headed off for another walk, this time inland, to hopefully escape from the westerlies.  We’d made about 2km before a squall broke, sweeping in rain and sleet which quickly drenched us.  But we’re nothing if not determined and this is, after all, summer in Victoria. So we promptly abandoned the walk and headed back to the shelter of the camper and a cup of warming hot soup.

We dozed, read, played the keyboard and generally lazed through the afternoon before venturing forth to the beach yet again. We were well wrapped against the wind, including sun-glasses to protect eyes from the blizzard of sand.  I should explain that our interest in these beaches arises principally from the reported presence of the Hooded Plover in these parts.  So we scan the water’s edge for evidence of this rarity but no luck: Sooty Oyster-catcher, Silver Gull, Pacific Gull, Crested Tern, yes. Plover (of any variety), no.  So we return via an inland (and thus wind-sheltered) path for an early dinner and some pre-packing – we’re anxious to get away early tomorrow as we have to navigate our way through Melbourne and out to Torquay.

The night is bloody awful; the wind gusts continuously, shaking the camper and rattling the canvas making sleep practically impossible.  Lack of sleep notwithstanding, we’re relieved once day begins to break and are up and about before 7:00 a.m, breakfasted, packed, hitched up and on the road by 8:45 a.m.

For a few days now we’ve encountered a technical problem with the electric braking mechanism for the camper.  This gadget is designed to apply the camper brakes progressively however, over the past few days it’s decided quite randomly to jam the brakes on full as soon as one touches the brake-pedal.  Driving is a somewhat unnerving exercise and early this  a.m. we are forced to take an emergency detour between two road-signs and over a grassy reservation before finally coming to rest on a side road.  We recover our nerves over double-shot flat whites and proceed on the remainder of this day’s journey with extreme caution.

A stop in Melbourne to collect some 4WD recovery gear I bought on eBay and a bite of lunch. The teenage waiter who brings our coffees – all zits, black jeans, spiked hair and a pork-pie hat, y’know the sort – remarks on my “fantastic” suede desert boots.  Hey, 62 and I can still impress some of today’s youth!

Finally arrive at Torquay, home of the famed Bells Beach Surfing Classic. This place suffered gale-force winds yesterday with some large trees down and some caravans damaged (hmmm, so we got off relatively lightly at Wilsons Promontory last night).  Just where the workmen are clearing away a fallen eucalypt perches an adult Tawny Frogmouth and young, both practically motionless, their normal roost destroyed presumably by the tree-fall.  Great tick, though.

We get fish and chips from a shop just up the road which shows some promising signs. And, wow, they are excellent; light, crisp batter, good fresh fish and crunchy chips. Complimented with a glass or so of Sav Blanc, they round off a good day’s travel.

Tidal River Campsite, Wilsons Promontory NP, Victoria: Sunday 20 February 2011

After selecting a site and setting up the camper we took a stroll along the beach.  The west wind blew strongly enough to make it a coolish walk and the water, whilst ok to paddle in, was too bloody cold for us to swim in. As the dusk slowly morphed into night (ah, how we are loving these long, late evenings) the bats flew squawking and squabbling into the trees around us feeding on… well, we don’t really know.

After breakfast we took a longer walk around the heathland and forest, binoculars in hand.  We’d left it a bit late so initially didn’t spot too much, then came across a couple of good locations where we ticked off a few nice birds.  After lunch and a post-prandial snooze, we broke out another new toy, a gas-heated water shower which we’d ordered with the camper.  And it worked a treat; to enjoy a hot shower adjacent to one’s camper is pretty indulgent but jolly convenient!  And most useful, as this campsite had no showers.  So we travel clean(ish).

In the late p.m. we took another walk along the beach and around a headland containing a midden and other aboriginal relics.  We were hoping to see the ground parrots – no luck there – but it was a much calmer evening than yesterday so the walk was worth it just for the splendid ocean views and the other birds we saw.

Lullabyed to sleep bay another bat cacophony, we woke, breakfasted, packed, hitched up and headed off west to get to Sale, our overnight stop on the way to Wilsons Promontory.

We reached Sale (is everything cheap here, I wonder) early p.m. and park in the town to do some food shopping.  Just parking the Navara, possessed of turning circle only marginally tighter than that of an ocean-going battle cruiser and crappy rear visibility, is something of a challenge.  Add in the camper and the manoeuvre becomes an order of magnitude more difficult.  So we find places where there is plenty of space to get in and get out.  Fortune smiles on us in Sale and we find a suitable parking space quiet easily, conclude our shopping, including a much-needed replenishment of our mobile cellar, and head off to the Sale Show Grounds & Caravan Park – “Maximum Length of Stay 58 days”.

Neither the most salubrious nor interesting of campsites (so why the stay limit…?) this place nevertheless has quite a few takers, mostly caravaners, including one chap who’s set up his mobile “Tony the Barber” shop.   We do a quick set-up, then take a stroll around and check out the Sale Greyhound Racing Club – “Visitors Welcome”.

This is a visit to another culture, indeed, practically another planet.  The siren glitter of the pokies room, already well patronised, sparkles beckoningly behind the bar where we order a couple of beers, partly funded by a $3 token Ros was given when we arrived.  She also got a $3 “Lucky Bet” so we hand this over to the barmaid  who moves to the betting counter, presses a few buttons and hands us a betting slip for the 4:10 dog-race at Bendigo or wherever.  We subject the betting slip to our uncomprehending scrutiny, then return to the ask he barmaid to explain what on earth (or whichever planet we’re on) it all means.  She tells us to watch one of the several TV screens  where, behold, the 4:10 at Bendigo is about to commence.  So the dogs leap off on their circuit and we mutter “C’mon, Towser, c’mon! (or whatever our dog’s name is) but to no avail.   Still, at least we’ve experienced the thrill of the dog-track.  Outside we finish our beers in the company of a ladies-night-out group; pots of beer, fags, tats, and unrestrained, smoke-roughened cackling.

“So,” I comment to Ros, “but for cruel fate, this is what it all could have been for us.”  We shudder in unison, finish our beers and make our escape.

Just as Ros is serving up dinner, I pop out to drop something in the waste bin and acknowledge the passing Tony, he of the mobile barber-shop.  We exchange pleasantries, the follically-challenged Tony asks if he can detect some “Essex” in my accent.  “No”, I reply, “I’m from Surrey.  Weybridge, actually.”  Undeterred, Tony then proceeds to deliver an phenomenally detailed monologue on his life and times in Essex (Southend), his move to Australia (Melbourne, Brisbane, shortly to be Newcastle), likes, dislikes, the state of his mobile barber business, the rock concerts he’s been to, etc, etc. without apparently needing to pause for breath.

As my dinner cools I listen intently for the slightest opportunity to actually respond to my lecturer.  Eventually hunger plus a fear of Ros’ wrath at me allowing my meal to spoil force me to act.  It’s in my mind to say “Tony, old bean, why don’t you just shut the fuck up. I couldn’t give a toss about you, your business or any other of your bollocks.” but choose instead the coward’s escape:  “Sorry, Tony” I interrupt, “but me little lady’s got the dinner ready ‘n’ waiting, so gotta go.”  Free at last.  But we don’t leave the camper again without a furtive scan to check for Tony the Talker’s shiny cranium.  Thank God we moved from Essex!

Up early to pack and shower, then back into Sale for a coffee and a few last-minute items.  Well, that’s the plan.  By noon we’ve bought clothes pegs, more food, moisturising cream, socks, spare batteries, a fly-proof bush hat, a sack of firewood, an axe and a battery-powered piano keyboard. OK, so not exactly your regular shopping-list, but hey, we aren’t just your everyday tourers.  And we stopped for even more items later that day!

We arrive at Tidal River on Wilsons Promontory mid p.m.  This is a big National Park campsite and its also pretty breezy so we pick (what we hope is) a sheltered spot to set up.  That night the wind really gets up, as does the rain, so we hunker down in bed hoping that the morning will bring some relief.  It dawns cool and cloudy, but the wind has dropped so we venture out with a backpack to explore.

First to the beach: long, deep, sandy and rather nice.  Then back north along Norman Beach to the Tidal River inlet where other campers, particularly children, are also exploring.  The clear, tannin-tinged Tidal River, which meanders through sandy banks to the ocean, is a safe place for kids and they gleefully – and noisily – enjoy themselves.

 

We have coffee at the local shop, than head of on a longer walk over the northern headlandto  Squeaky Beach.  From atop the headland with the sky clearing Squeaky Beach looks fabulous – clear turquoise water, another deep, long beach bounded at each end by magnificent rocky headlands.

 

 

Ros and I walk the full length of Squeaky Beach in the breakers sunning ourselves, then return pausing to pick up a jumper Ros had dropped on the way.  We have a snack sitting in the sun on a huge granite outcrop at the south end of the beach, then return via Pillar Point, overlooking both Tidal River (south) and Squeaky Beach (north), to our camper for a well-deserved spot of lunch.

Later in the p.m we head back to Norman Beach to explore southwards.  By this time the wind has got up again and is whipping the beach into a stinging sand-storm.  Walking is ok, but standing still to use binoculars is seriously challenging as the wind behind our backs threatens to blow us over.  But we make it to the southern headland where we turn our faces into the sand-blasting wind and the return walk. Its a relief to finally make it to the shelter of the path leading back to our campsite. Dinner, a shower and bed.  OK, so I did have a bit of a tinkle on the keyboard as well, but then surely you knew that anyway….

 

 

Banksia Bluff Campground, Cape Conran, Victoria: Tuesday 15 February 2011

This a.m. we had to pack up the Ultimate entirely unassisted which, as befits those of us approaching the ‘wrinkly” stage of life, we managed with a reasonably minimal amount of fiddling & farting about.  HItching up the trailer to the vehicle, an exercise that’s usually seriously threatening to even the most robust of relationships, was achieved almost effortlessly without a single hitch (if you’ll pardon that most outrageous pun!)

The drive to Canberra took us pack through Batemans Bay, up the Clyde Mountain road and into Braidwood, a journey we’d done many times when we lived in Canberra.  We looked for the Monkey Duck Cafe, scene of many mid-journey breaks going to or returning from Murramarang or elsewhere on the NSW south coast, but no luck.  We did, however, stop in a great cafe for some excellent coffees and a bite.  The staff told us the the Monkey Duck Cafe used to be part of their place. We were a little unsure, thinking it had been further down Braidwood’s main street, but its about 17 years since we were last in the Monkey Duck, so they were probably right.  No coloured pencils and paper table-coverings to draw on, as Oliver and Tim had done so many times, but we enjoyed those wonderful memories better than the coffee or food (and those were pretty good!)

We had a little GPS-inspired detour around South Canberra before finally making it to Alan & Karen Civil’s home in Cook, only a couple of suburbs away for our old home in Hawker.  Alan and Karen have done (and continue to do) a brilliant renovation job on their home which is set in a perfect location – views of bushland and out to the Brindabella range from the back and over a wide native streetscape to the front.

On Sunday morning we took a walk from Cook across to climb The Pinnacle, which is where we used to walk our dogs, Blixen and Tusker, when we lived in Hawker.  It was very special to stroll there again, particularly as the recent rains have made it (for Canberra) relatively lush.

The Pinnacle, (aka the "Backtrack") 17 years on from our last visit

 

70 Erldunda Circuit, a home of happy memories

 

After lunch Alan and Karen took us for a drive around Hawker where we spotted the old homes of the Weatherheads and the Pigous, our house in Erldunda Circuit (still looking pretty bloody special) and the home we rented in Woolner Circuit.

Both these homes hold some very special memories of our family life together.  Then on the Hawker Primary School and a flood of yet more memories.

 

 

As we left the following morning, we both remarked on a little touch of homesickness for the place.  Canberra city mightn’t amount to much, but its suburbs are rather special and, surprisingly for us, Hawker still extended an unexpectedly powerful call to our hearts.

On Monday morning we farewelled our generous hosts and headed south down the Monaro Highway, yet another blast from the past  as this was the route we took to go to the ski-fields at Guthega – ah, more fond memories.

 

We reached Cooma, where I realised I’d lost my glasses (bugger, but I do  have a couple of spares) and we finally reached a road that we’d never travelled before; this was, we reckoned, the real start of our journey.

We camped that night night in Delegate River at an isolated campsite set in the forest of Victoria.  It was a little unnerving to be entirely on our own, but we lit a fire and started to prepare a Flinders Barbecue.  My fire was, as it turned out, totally inadequate for the purposes of cooking but Ros finished the cooking on the stove and, with a glass or two of red, we enjoyed a fine meal.

The following morning we took a walk about to see the local birdlife – we’d had a exploratory walk the previous evening so knew where we wanted to visit, then back for a quick breakfast followed a slow pack-up as we carefully went through the procedure Ultimate had shown us.  And then a slow drive of about 90km along a serpentine road down from the highlands and to Orbost, on the Snowy River, where we stopped for coffee (so so) and a slice of egg and bacon pie (excellent).  Then the last 20km on to Cape Conran, a wilderness area that extends about 50km to the east, which is where I write this.

 

 

River Breeze Caravan Park, Moruya, NSW: Friday 11 February 2011

Yesterday was The Day to pick up our Ultimate Camper so, after a leisurely breakfast with Peter & Jan on a beautifully clear Bowral morning, we headed off via Kangaroo Valley to the coast at Nowra and then down though Ulladulla (where we stopped for a rather unremarkable lunch) and Bateman’s Bay to Moruya.

We did a quick detour out to re-visit Murramarang, scene of so many fun holidays camping in our Jayco Swan. Oh, how that has changed!  Its now “EcoPoint Murramarang Resort”, populated mainly with cabins – there’s only a small area remaining for regular camping.  It’s smaller than I remember, but time can be a great distorter and we hadn’t been there for at least 17 years.

Still on via Batemans Bay to Moruya and the River Breeze Caravan Park for a night in a cabin before we pick up the Ultimate.  Pretty standard cabin; clean but a little tired but OK for one night.  We decided get fish and chips from the only place we can find, plus a bottle of wine for the local Woolies and dine back at the cabin. Some experiences are never to be repeated, Moruya cuisine being one of them. C’est la vie!

Up in the morning and off to the Ultimate factory for our 9:00am appointment.  We’re greeted like royalty by Brett, our host for the “handover” who indicates to the brand new Ultimate Camper set up in the showroom; “This is your new camper.”  Wow!, we think.

Our new home for the next 4 months

Our Navara is taken off by the auto-electrician to fit the electric braking system and electrics coupling for the camper.  Brett takes us on a detailed tour of our camper no U1024, all its key features, maintenance points, how to set it up, pack it down, electrics, gas, water systems, tips and tricks, etc, etc.  We’re taken on a tour of the Ultimate factory so see how these things are built at the rate of 3 per week (the boss, Brett tells us, would like 5 per week) and then back to the showroom for a platter of sandwiches and some potato wedges.  This is so much better than last night’s fare, or perhaps just that we’re rather enthusiastic about our new mobile home. Who cares!

The Navara is returned and Brett hitches up U1024 and takes it for a test drive to fine-tune the brake settings and explain to me how they should be adjusted. Then a few final decisions (colour and quantity of fitted sheets, some tow-hitch security locks), some parting goodies (bottle of wine and a couple of rather elegant engraved stainless steel mugs) and we’re off on our own and back to River Breeze for our first night in our mobile home.

We get it set up with no effort and have a good look and bit of a play with all its bits and pieces.  Another couple stroll up and introduce themsleves; Helen and Erroll (from Brisbane) who are also here to collect their Ultimate camper tomorrow.  Then yet another couple who are down here to have the canvas on their 11-year-old Ultimate replaced.

Later we stroll along the Moruya River where we enjoy a peculiarly “birding” moment.  As with last night, we watched numerous small Welcome swallows perform their aerobatic feeding on the insect life hovering about.  One particular insect flew lazily less than 2m above us and, as we watched, a swallow streaked across the sky an picked it off just above us – we even heard the click of its bill snapping up this flying morsel of food – before continuing on its ravenous, high-speed way to more dinner.

And then, after a quick evening meal prepared by Ros, we fell exhausted into bed.   Its been a big day and I’m really done for. Then I realise – its a month since my last B12 injection – no wonder I’m tired!

Our first night’s sleep is no disappointment; this is oh-so-very comfortable indeed.

The following day we head into Batemans Bay to buy a few more necessary items from Bunnings, have a coffee, get a B12 preparation from a pharmacy and drop into the local hospital’s Emergency Unit for a nurse to inject it for me.

Back at River Breeze we do a lot more fiddling about, transferring gear from the Navara into the camper and seeing what fits best where.  We see Helen and Erroll  return and set up their new Ultimate and exchange a few more notes, then the other couple setting up with the new canvas.

There’s a pub across the river so we walk over the bridge and take a refreshing couple of evening ales whilst to a background of music videos dating from c. 17th century (or so it seems – trouble is that we actually remember some of them!)

Another good non-Moruya-style meal cooked by Ros and we wrap up for the night ; cool and drizzly outside but warm and dry in. Beaut, eh!

Rogues’ Roost, Bowral, NSW: 8 February 2011

Its a coolish morning here at Peter & Jan Gabler’s home in the NSW Southern Highlands where we arrived last night.

Our drive from Coffs Harbour was uneventful; Ros had a go driving on cruise control but didn’t like it, we listened on the UHF radio to a conversation between two adjectivally-challenged truckies, had a coffee and danish pastry at a McCafe where I scammed us a VIP card (which we’ll obviously use next time we’re passing…). We finally made it safely to the Weatherheads in Merewether, near Newcastle in the late p.m. of a pretty hot day.

They have a beautiful new home overlooking the south of Newcastle and out to the Pacific Ocean. Noni and Andy, now both retired, looked very well and relaxed. After a combination of catching up on years of gossip and showing us around their home, Andy took us for a tour around Newcastle, a city of which they are obviously very proud – and rightly so, for it has recovered well from the closure of the BHP steel plants c. 15 years ago to become a vibrant little city set amongst some wonderful beaches.

Peter W is now married with a young daughter and another on its way. He works for an engineering company south of Newcastle and lives at Batelow Beach (close to the surf).

Chris W, still a bachelor, lives near the Gold Coast and works for the GC City Council.

We enjoyed a great dinner on the veranda overlooking the lights of Newcastle reminiscing about life and friends in Canberra.

The next day dawned with a roasting wind from the west. After a leisurely breakfast and more chat, we packed up and headed for Sydney via the old Pacific Highway route. We stopped at The Entrance for a coffee and wow, was it HOT. Just the walk from the car to a coffee shop was draining; sitting drinking coffee was only marginally better, provided one didn’t make any unnecessary movements. Oh, it was hot with a capital F!

We did, however, enjoy watching a semi-tame pelican waddle up to our coffee shop, stop and the entrance to be greeted by the waitress and then wait for the chef to come out with some fish which he fed to the pelican which enjoyed this free feed immensely. It was obviously a regular visitor, almost part of the entertainment.

Then on for while before stopping in Terrigal for lunch. We ate at the first decent place we could find, walking any distance being impractical in the heat and then went straight back to the air-conditioned comfort of the car.

We reached Patricia and Philip’s place in Turramurra (Sydney) about 4:00pm where we received P&P’s whole-hearted welcome. Philip, 85, has recently had a hip replacement, shortly followed by a stroke! His recovery is pretty good for, although he occasionally struggles for the correct word, he’s the same old playful Phil of old. Pat regaled us with tea and biscuits whilst updating us on the life and happenings in the Harman family.

Patricia has undertaken an enormous amount of research into her family’s ancestry, identifying the nobleman, Richard de Bieston, back in 1207. So we’re not descended from dung-shovellers after all!

And all the while the temperature was stuck at over 40C, comfortable enough whilst the air-conditioner was on but bloody awful when the power failed about 5:00pm and not a hint of breeze to offer relief. We broke out torches and candles and continued chatting in the oppressive heat, but hoping for an early resumption of power – alas no. We stretched out on this hot night in a hot bedroom on a hot bed and hoped for a breeze and/or the power (which finally came back on after midnight) so we could use the small (and rather in-effective) fan.

The following day (Sunday) broke mercifully cool and cloudy with temperatures returning to the realms of liveability at c. 25C. We enjoyed a further exploration of the Beeston family history with Pat, who has conducted practically all her genealogical research without the aid of a computer and principally by hand-written letters. She’s proved conclusively that one really can thrive without Google.

We drove into Sydney and over to Coogee to meet Oliver, Steven and Lucy for a dinner at a local tapas restaurant. Conversation flowed (well, at least it did when the band stopped playing) and it was wonderful to meet Lucy, catch up with Steve and have a quiet talk with Oliver. A rather special evening for Mum and me to share with the family and a potential member thereof. We sure missed Tim, but know that we’ll all get together again sooner or later.

The following day (Monday) we departed for the Bowral home of Peter and Jan Gabler. P&J moved here from Malaney, Qld about a year ago. They have a nice home very close to Bowral railway station and the town itself. Pete had set out a welcoming sign:

“The Southern Highland Boules Championships
The Beests
v
The Gobblers
Qld to be Thrashed – Free Admission”

We were treated to a tour of the town and a visit to the Bradman Oval and a coffee in the pavilion. Ros had a couple of photos taken to send to her fellow cricketing tragics but we decided that, at $18 per person, the Bradman Museum was priced well higher than our interest.

So off to a local rare book shop where we delighted in the amazingly detailed colour plates in a six-volume set on the kingfisher family (and only $6,000 for the set!) We stayed there for a meal for which Peter had thoughtfully brought a bottle of wine for us to share.

Back at the Gabler’s we partook in the advertised Boules Championships and, as predicted, Qld was indeed thrashed (well, 15-12, so it wan’t too disgraceful a beating!) Spectators were a bit thin – non-existent, to be precise – but we did have a good laugh experimenting with assorted boule-launching techniques, some (mostly mine) less successful than others.

It was good to spend time with Jan and Peter; they have been good friends ever since Ros first met Peter in BA in Canberra back in 1986, two BA tragics together!