Last Saturday was one of those days. On the go. And not necessarily because of Christmas, that didn’t help with the parking or shopping we had to do of course, but it was a beautiful day so you couldn’t help but feel happy. A real summer’s day (pity it didn’t last and it has rained half of this week).
We have passed but not stopped at the Shot Tower several times since being back in the state so this was our first stop of the day. At 48m (not 480m) it is high enough to get the nerves going but I seem to have gotten over this particular height, and has a fascinating history. You can check that out here. And more pictures here.
Sunny and warm maybe, but at the top it was windy enough to need to hold your hats. Or my dress as the case may be. The man decided he would snavel my camera and get a few pictures of me. I’d really like some more shots, boots and all. One day.
Looking NE with Hobart around the corner to the left.
Once back home and after several wardrobe changes it was back to ‘the pub’ for a surprise-that-was-no-longer-a-surprise dinner. In and around the conversation I got pictures, drank bubbly, more pictures, food, bubbly… you get it.
I was asked if I was going to blog about it, “well, duh. I don’t do names, or faces, you are simply ‘my friends who need no excuse to get together and have a good time’ unless you want your faces shown…?”
Oh no. They’re not really that shy. You can hear us down the street when we really get going.
As usual a great time was had by all, and I’m sure there will be more to come in the new year.
From the moment the alarm went off at quarter to six this morning until I locked the hall door at 4.30 this afternoon, I was on the go, constantly.
So what better way to end the day than with (a nice lie down) shorts and uggies (for my feet), a plate of nibblies and a glass or two of something to soothe the soul. Don’t let the colour fool you, there is plenty of alcohol in there.
It’s a beautiful sunny day, 20+C, no wind, few clouds and I’m laying on the trampoline. Chilling. Minding my own business. When a bee comes buzzing round my head. I swipe at it, as one does. Several times. Before it hones in and a split second before I can connect and knock it out, it lands it’s arse right on the side of my neck. Leaving it there. Sticking out like a tiny little spear.
Dodging all the stuff that suddenly appeared in my way, I managed to get inside without further injury, while the dog looks on perplexed, choice words being all I can manage.
A quick check in the mirror to see the bite location, grabbing a tissue and then carefully extracting the bee’s bum from my neck.
The relief was almost instant. A dab of cream and I’m all good. The little bugger died. I tried to warn it. But it was determined to get me.
Well, I was all good until mr 15 says ‘what bee sting?’ and pokes right on it this evening. Not impressed at all. That hurt.
the little bugger who decided I was the mortal enemy.
The nice surprise?
One of my neighbours had some protea for sale at the end of the road. Several times I drove past today, and thought how pretty they looked, I’d buy a couple later. I never got the chance. On phoning home this evening while out on an errand, I was informed there were two bunches of flowers left in our mailbox (it’s quite large so they weren’t squashed).
If/when I find out who it was I will definitely find a way to pay them. They are simply beautiful and it was a lovely surprise at the end of the day.
Gorgeous flowers. Now placed front and centre in my entry hall
My eldest son is loving his bike so much he asked for a photo shoot this afternoon, even on the proviso I could publish him.
Clicking on the picture will take you to my photo blog to see more of the biking fun.
As I get back into lugging the camera around, and sorting my travel pictures, that will be where you will find the majority of them.
You will find them across the globe, bringing people together for good family fun. Complete with overpriced everything. Rides, show bags full of plastic rubbish and the best part of all. Greasy food and bad coffee.
The sights, sounds and smells all make the show what it is. Where else can you get an abundance of fluro and flashing lights, the smell of cow poo and food altogether, kids screaming and the strange people all in one place.
And as one friend mentioned – the toothless carnies trying to rip you off in side show alley.
The country show is the place to be for sure.
Yesterday was the Huonville Show, three weeks after The Royal Hobart Show (a bigger, but not always better version) and with two boys in tow we took the trip over the hill to visit.
All the usual attractions were in place but one. If only for photography purposes, I wanted a ferris wheel. I’m not a fan of heights, and the experience really gets to me (I’m not going on this for fun) but I will grin and bear it if I can get good pictures.
I was sorely disappointed, no ferris wheel in sight. So I compensated by getting pictures of the more rural aspect of this show – horses, vintage engines, alpacas and of course the wood chopping. I spent many summers watching this and love it. Who would have thought watching grown men wield an axe at a lump of wood would be interesting.
What the secret to a Dalek?
The venue – with food and other vendors behind me – looking across to the main attractions
Still early days here
And my favourite – the wood chopping.
Posted in Australia, Personal & Family
Tagged bad food, carnies, Dalek, family fun, Greasy food, Huonville show, rural youth, show rides, showbags, tractors, wood chopping