Sunday, April 27, 2008

To Sale once again

April 6th

Ok, so I admit I might have woke up with a little headache, but I imagine I’m not the first person to wake up with a little head throb after a wedding at the Melbourne Club drinking some of the old vino de Latreille. Even then, I did wake up at a respectable 7:30 am to check email and do some blogging. Jonno’s wife, Suse, felt great. I like the fact that she is a morning person; it gives me hope that I’m not the only one. Jonno admitted that he was struggling and went through his usual routine of saying he was running late while still moving around in a most unhurried fashion. I have never met a person so relaxed while in a hurry. I’m sure the hangover helped.

At ten a.m., I made my way to the Southern Cross station with a hodgepodge of camping gear from my bike bags and Jonno’s closet. I was heading back to the Family Stone in Sale and eventualy to Wilson’s Promontory with Jonno’s sister, Amelia, the next day. I grabbed a large cuppa coffee and settled in for the two hour train ride wishing I had grabbed a copy of the Sunday Morning Herald, but settled for catching up in my journal. Amelia picked me up from the station in Taralgon (I never dreamed in my life that I would spend so much time in Taralgon), and we shopped for our camp food. On my last trip to the Promontory, my pack was raided by a wombat that left me half a block of cheese and half a jar of peanut butter as my sole sustenance for the next 24 hours. I now have a rather irrational hatred of these mostly benign, stumpy pig-dog creatures. An hour later, I sat once again in the sublimely relaxing atmosphere of the Stone's kitchen. There is something about their ready hospitality and kindness that makes me think of home.

That night Prue made roast of lamb, a meat we both share a great affinity for. Frank whipped up a chili relish with fresh veggies from the garden. This mixed in completely different, yet complementary, ways with both the lamb and the pumpkin (what Aussies call butternut squash). The lamb fell easily off the bone and tasted of salty rosemary. In the not so distant field outside their house, cows rustled and mooed. Dessert was pineapple and watermelon diced and topped with ice cream. I was out before my head hit the pillow in the Harry Potter bed beneath the stairs. I dreamt, but nothing important, and my slumber remained unperturbed.

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