The Holiday House

The Holiday House

I got to thinking of our house as the holiday house last year.  It was in Winter when all of the tasty hearty food magazines came out with stews and puddings and cosy ideas.  It made me realise that our house, though being obviously country, has never really had a theme to me.

Our other houses previously have all had a central idea that we have either adopted from the house or brought with us, but this house has never had anything except wildlife to give it a theme.  That Winter I realised that our house is pure weekend winter country house. In summer its no good except for sunsets and insect enthusiasts, but in winter, with the wood fire and country kitchen beautiful blue sky days and straw coloured winter grass, its the kind of place people would pay to go away to as their holiday house.

It makes it easier this way, on weekends after working a 60 hr week and virtually seeing nothing of home (especially in the day light), to wake up on Saturday mornings and to have 2 days at 'the holiday house' it makes me feel like we have a little part of paradise that is so hard to capture.

If we want we can stay at home the whole weekend and not go out at all, with the whole silent place to ourselves, or we can go on a 4WD on our own part of the property and not have to use any public roads. We like to cook up hearty winter country foods on these days like cassoulet or just pork belly with roasted winter vegetables like parsnips and brussel sprouts. In the afternoons we indulge in cheese and pate and our new favourite baguette from Woolworths (there are no good bakeries around us - I am not committing treason).

This is what makes things bearable, what makes it all worthwhile.  This house comes with this job.  This job is demanding, but we have the best deal out of all the staff houses.  And can enjoy a total winter escape package for no more than our weekly rent (clever huh). Guests are welcome in our holiday home and take great pleasure in gathering firewood. They like to relax on the verandah and take in QLD's winter. The sky is never so blue.

At night the fire is lit and the red wine opened. You can cosy up into bed and sleep in in the morning.  A holiday home without the petrol bill or chilly receptionists.  What an indulgence.

An adventure

This Queens Birthday long weekend was spent jamming as much in as possible.  My sister, Kate and her boyfriend  Huges were visiting for the first time and spent Saturday doing the structured activities at the hotel while I got called into work. Luckily the rain held off and they got to try archery, clay targets and horse riding. Satuday evening we had a fabulous free meal at work (my reward for coming into work on my day off). I had wood smoked duck cooked in moroccan spices, served on a piece of  real fire wood, which had the most amazing aroma. Huges tried a Grade 6 Wagyu and Kate had the scallops. It washed down well with a Paringa Estate Pinot from Mornington.

Sunday we woke up to misty rain so headed to Toowoomba for the day to do some shopping and have lunch. We tried to find a good Thai restaurant open on a Sunday for lunch and not surprisingly ended up at our usual favourite (not Thai)  - Cafe Villeta for a good hearty winter lunch of vegetarian pizza, salmon and lamb shanks. The afternoon was finished with a dose of saduko in front of the fire and a pork roast for dinner (with apple pie - to finish the country cliche). I'm sure Kate and Huges thought that we had bunged on the country experience just for them, especially when my boss called and arranged a morning of 4WD-ing for today.

We woke bright and early to bake morning tea of triple choc muffins before we left. We met the boss and his lovely family at the local servo at 8:00am before heading to the back gate of the property.

Morning Tea break

The key hung in a secret location at the back gate, the air in the tyres was let down slightly (but precisely). We entered the property not sure where we'd end up. All we knew is that the morning tea spot had been plotted on the GPS by Cieran yesterday in an initial sortie into the property.

Kate and Huges at morning tea

Amazing early morning fog

The stunning views of the drive.  Higher than the surrounding mountains, our property certainly has some hidden vistas. We drove for only 15 mins into the property before we stopped for morning tea.

 We round a bend after 2km of driving and lo' - there is our house - dazzling in the distance.  The slightly lighter grass area on the left of the view is the airstrip, which is still visable even though it is overgrown and has not been in use for at least 5 years.  Our dam looks large and regular.  The house is just beyond, with the hanger to the right.

 Cieran led us through Brown Springs property, but it wasn't until we hit the gate that joins Brown Springs and the hotel property that I knew where we were. I decided that the short cut to the gorge on the track would be a good adventure, but had never driven along it, only heard about it last time I was in that area. Cieran, Carolyn and Michael had never seen the gorge and were keen to try.

 However the innocent little shortcut I had recommended turned out to be a slippery steep slope, and half way up Cieran's car (who was in front of us) slipped off the track to the right, towards the drop. Stopping suddenly,l Carolyn and the kids jumped out and hiked to the top.  We in Michael's car, who had been watching, were horrified, and jumped out and hiked up to Cieran's  car. Unbelieveably it was apparently better to finish going up the slope than try to reverse back down.

 Cieran made it to the top and then pursuaded Michael that he could make it. With the snatch strap he helped Michael to the top.

Kate and I made a quick reccie of the track ahead and found scarier slopes were yet to come.  Too late we warned the others and we were then faced with the decision - whether to try and gp back down the slippery slope with the long drop or bash down the fence ( a big county no no) and go cross paddock (safer).

The amazing view into Malgowie at the morning tea place

 We all held our breaths as they went down the slippery slope, Michael losing the back end only slightly. Orientating ourselves again, we back tracked, determined to find the gorge - the long way around. On the way, we got bogged.  It had to happen, Cieran would have been disappointed if it hadnt happened at least once on our adventure.

 Carolyn and Cieran put on the gum boots and attached the snatch strap as we waited in the car, surrounded by knee deep mud. Carolyn stood off to one side as we were yanked unbelievably fast out of the bog, the snatch strap only just missing her as it pulled us out.

 By chance, the track Cieran though would lead to the gorge started to look more familiar and Michael and I realised it was the back of our home block. We felt safe again as we made our way down along the familar track, spying the cliffs of the gorge in the distance -which actually turned out to be at the head of our valley (which I had always had a sneaking suspicion would be the case).

Now we now the way and the not-way, we will head out again soon for a BBQ on the plow disc BBQ plate (how country is that?)

Some big and small events

Michael and I at mum's

 Last weekend we went home to mum and dad's for Sam's birthday party.  After some very crazy weeks at work culminating in the biggest wedding ever, we felt that we deserved some relax time, some non stress time, some good food and wine and friends. We went to Tatlers for tapas where I had to drink a whole bottle of Semillon frizzante alone because everyone else was driving. Alysia and Sam sneaked off to mystery appointments near the end of lunch, saying that they were getting 'shots' for their trip to Bali.

Sunrise at mums

The first day at mum's we woke up to this amazing sunrise, which I had to capture on the new camera. But also because my stupid body clock had me awake at 5:00am, and that was after a sleep in. That day everyone spent some time preparing for Sam's 30th birthday (Sam is boyfriend to my sister Alysia). I spent time sleeping and catching up on relaxing and not doing anything much (I hate structure at the moment, structure can go and jump in the river, for all the thanks I get from structure, it deserves to be ignored).

Kate, Alysia, Me

This is Alysia, Kate and I moments after Alysia's 'surprise' engagement at Sam's birthday. I cant believe I am the oldest of all of us, but the shortest.  Although they say that as you get old you shrink, maybe its started already. For the record, everyone cried, then they drank and the next day there were lots of sore heads and discussions about the wedding.

Alysia telling friends about her engagement

Exploring the other side of the fence

 Today I went for an explore on the other side of our fence.  Though there is not much there but some giant rocks, it really shows a different perspective of our property.  From above I can visualise the flood zones and see clearly how the water fell that day.  The dam is still overflowing and now has reed and weed life all through the overflow, which was just paddock before.  The river stones have been exposed and the dam is as full as ever. The cows constant trampling through has made the ground re-solidify into horrible shapes to walk upon and its a real ankle twister alert.

Front gate on a stormy day

A typical view on a stormy day. Looking east, it is almost impossible to avoid taking a photo of a power line. Somehow the shimmer of the power towers fits in with the broody sky.

It has become quite cold here, with nights down to 3 degrees.  Its scarf weather and fires and air conditioning.  Sadly we are out of firewood and yesterday I was forced to go and pick up the drift wood that floated into our paddocks on the floods. Much of it was too large to pick up or even drag. Some of it was muddy and one was a home for a giant spider who is now homeless at this cold time.  I remember in Marysville that the week after Easter it always snowed. Well its definately snowing somewhere now and if we werent in QLD I would be expecting snow everyday.

Bonfire Night

Last night marked the end of our very big weekend. With a wedding large enough to rival Will and Kate's, months of planning, thousands of dollars of hires, staff in the dozens and souvenir tea towels, it would be polite to say that it was a very big weekend.

The weekend started with the rehearsal dinner, with 16 bunches of flowers on each table as a centrepiece. We started setting up for the main event on Thursday, with hires from 5 different companies.  The main event was Saturday with a late afternoon ceremony, followed by an hour of canapes, then a 2 hour degustation menu of more elaborate canape style options. With 32 waitstaff on the floor, the event ran like clockwork.  I worked from 8:00am till 1:30am the following day, then was back up at 6:00am for a 7:00am start, for the next part of the event...the Christening.

Sometime betweenn 1:30 - 4:00am Cieran decided to rip up the outdoor dancefloor to save the grass.

In the cool of the morning we were hyped up from the night before, even though a random guest had set fire to a wedding program in the toilets (sometime between vomiting all ofver the floor) and almost burnt down the historical homestead. We set up 13 tables in the turning circle with nice white brollies, before the guests turned up 45 mins early to lunch. But by then nothing could dampen the mood.

A long afternoon of washing glasses, moving chairs, unpacking tents, and arranging dinner for the third night of revellries.

By Monday afternoon, when all the guests had left, we were a little more rested and relaxed, just in time for bonfire night. Some time ago most of the fence at the top paddock was replaced and the old fence railings were stacked up for a bonfire.  With no better excuse than the wedding of the century, we planned the big night.

Cieran spent the day making the pyre larger and more impressive looking, sticking in a pole with a flag, just for good measure. By mid afternoon we gathered, in time to watch the sunset, while Cieran made the final touches.  A jerry can of petrol, a pole dance for good luck, then came the Robin Hood moment. 

In a moment of inspiration, Cieran decided to light the fire with spectacular means, with a burning arrow.  Followed up by a gunshot (in something more resembling a Mythbusters episode).  The first try of the aroow fell short and just ignited the grass.  The gunshot also made no impact.  The burning arrow was retrieved and re-shot.  When no amazing fireball ensure, a beer bottle was filled with petrol and thrown in. Finally the pile caught alight, after some manoeuvering.

Hoorah! And then the night got silly.  All afternoon I'd had visions of running around the fire like an indian and yahoo-ing. So we did.  Until I fell in a hole and we lost some of our followers to bed time and curfews and D & M's, as inevitably happen at a staff event when everyone is emotionally and physically drained. It was a spectacular night.

By the way, all of these shots were taken with my new Nikon D5000, which I am still mastering.

Chris, Robbie & Michael

Cieran, the fire bug

Michael & I

The Chefs and Cieran

The Bonfire, with flag

Cieran providing the final touches

Just a little bit of petrol

And a pole dance for good luck

The Robin Hood moment, with the gun for good measure

A second shot after the arrow fell short

Lets throw a beer bottle full of petrol at it

At last - ignition

Just getting underway

Our beautiful bonfire

Brett, original bank guy turned country bloke

Ash & I, just as the night started to get silly

Dead photos and some Easter ramblings

I recently got an I Phone, which Michael thought I would never get much use out of. You can buy and download books onto it, recently at dinner we hated the music in the restaurant so we downloaded songs and played them on it, you can also download funky camera programs which allow you to alter your pics with all sorts of 'filters'. Here are a couple of shots that were my favourites after applying the filters.

Some of them are a bit eerie, but it was the effect I was intending, its mesmerising how scary some of them are. Sorry of these offend anyone.  I was joking to Michael after I'd taken them, that if I'd died in the night, someone would pick up my phone to look at the last things I'd taken photos of,  and think that some sicko has taken photos of a dead body. Luckily I'm not dead, so rest assured.

I have been looking at SLR cameras lately, as I feel I am starting to outgrow my little compact. I've started to experiment with all the settings and have actually improved my compositions by reading a few good magazines and taking on good advice.  Last week I left the house an hour before I started work, just to take photos of the light at this time of year that hits the dew (its heavy now, soon it wil be outright frost). There are amazing fog banks that start to settle in our valley around 6:30am and the light that shines through the fog is mesmerising.  Last year I always promised myself that I would stop and take photos but I never did.

I'll put up my shots in the next blog, but I'm hoping to head out on Good Friday to get some more (they have to be Good shots).

A weird thing today, we got paper wrapped books delivered in plastic freezer bags in the mail box from the Adventis people.  Michael usually has the Morman or Jehovahs Witness person come 'round once a month or so to drop off the Watchtower magazines.  He is too polite to tell her that he's Catholic. She even came out during the flood aftermath in our quagmire of a driveway, but I haven't personally seen her since the day I answered the door in my dressing gown at 10am (we live in the middle of nowhere, we never get people just dropping by). She knew Michael by name and was shocked to see me (I think she thought that I was the bit on the side- his downfalling).

 I offered a book to each of the cats but they declined. It seems that the books didn't smell right to cats. Not surprising though, I was just astounded that they delivered two books.  As if Michael and I would go into solitary reading separately over easter while he is pumping out 150 + meals a day and I am entertaining like there's no tomorrow.

They will join my book shelf of Hare Krishna cookbooks, the bible, the "Survivor' book (I think its by the Mormons as well) and the other religious stuff we have somehow accumulated.  I am however an avid fan of hot cross buns, but you you dont get many of them shoved in your letter box. Pity, it would make a better impression on the cats.

A Day on the Green

Rosewood Bowls Club at sober o'clock



If you live or know of Australia you'd be picturing some kind of music festival with a title like this. If you live where we do, there's no other kind of green, especially on a staff outing.  Tearing ourselves away from work recently on a Monday we startled the older folk of the local bowling club by booking them out for a bowls afternoon. 

The invites stipulated 'best bowls gear'.  For some that meant all whites, grey hair spray, hats and the whole caboodle. The first boy that walked into the bar with his hat on was told off by the barman for wearing a hat in the clubhouse (ladies can wear hats, so I did).

We were given our scorecards to fill out, told the rules, provided with bowls and shored up with drinks, then taken outside to actually play.  In 35 degree heat, it was last thing we expected - to actually bowl. The karaoke machine we'd hired beckoned, the cheap vodka mixer drinks, the dip and crackers, the wheel of cheese and above all, the conversation. The ladies room is what impressed me the most, tucked away in the back corner of the club, just before entering the ladies bathroom, is the ladies room, with 4 pink armchairs, pink walls, surely a refuge away from the men on play days.



The white wonders

All afternoon long, one of the two older (is it polite to say elderly?) men who were waiting on us, started to prepare our dinner (all inclusive bowls and dinner package for $15, bargain - we blew our budget at Christmas). He lovingly peeled every potato, carrot, chopped finely all the other things for our dinner.  We all felty guilty but joyous at the surely wonderful roast dinner to come.

County folk dont wear white, just hats

 Out on the green we were all a little bit crap.  My sister was there, 'the bowls nazi' as known by some by the end of the afternoon.  She kept everyone in check,  Which was good because for an hour we didn;t realise that we were all playing with  mixed sets of bowls and scoring may have been a tensy bit biased (no pun intended). By the time all of our party were there, it was well on 3 drinks o'clock, and in the hot sun, it meant that someone in every round kept 'accidently' bowling the wrong bowl, which really pissed Alysia off.

I made a very fluky good bowl, which was noted within the club house by a lady bowler at the bar (the same lady later did a head spin on the dance floor, followed by the splits - no kidding, she was one of the original white hairs who we had orginally felt precious about). All in all, it was a hysterical afternoon.  However, all was not yet done.


Some folk think its the other kind of bowls

 The roast dinner which had lovingly been prepared over 4 hours was delicious, with potatoes only like Nana can make, with a fantastic crunch (oh so naughty). Jelly with custard and fruit followed. Then...karaoke.

It started innocently enough, but after 'Vanilla Ice' performed, we had the drag show, followed soon by the head spinning senior citizen. Flanked by backing dancers in all white, every performer brought something new to the floor until the giggles meant everyone was thirsty again.

By ten o'clock (approx 12 drinks o'clock in the old time), the fridge of vodka mixers was down to the flavours that no body liked. Then the maxi taxi turned up.

All tucked into bed by 10:30pm.  The lady 'nazi' bowler had to leave early the next day for home.  However we had the sweet sense of satisfaction that Pop would have been proud, but not of the singing....

Its a beautiful day

The morning sun over our paddock

This morning was my first day off after bit of a stint.  I've been working live a slave (self-imposed rather than having a whip-cracking boss over me, though we do have whip cracking on the property on a daily basis - but more for guests).  In the last week I think I've not so much saluted the sun as asked it to meet me later for coffee.

We had the wedding expo in Brisbane this weekend and for the first time ever, a bridal expo left me cold.  It wasn't so much the same old people exhibiting or the thousands of people all looking for the same thing, or even the 14 year old child-bride models.  It wasn't the fact that we had to wear oh so sexy fluro yellow vests to set up and pack down, or even the disastrous day we had on Friday in getting there (it poured- open trailer - two haybales...). Nor was it even that we spent the whole weekend across from a diamond stand and I saw nothing I liked. But its all over now, like a bad dream.

Today was a blissful day, full of purpose.  Last week I got cranky because I have nothing especial to look forward to, and on a random errand in Toowoomba, we stopped in at the travel agency and started to seriously consider our next holiday.

Today, armed with all of our propaganda, full of astericks for the places we really liked, we brought a couple of lonely planet guides and set off for lunch.  We studied our guides and wrote our lists, and then fortified, went back to the travel agent to get quotes.

I felt like the biggest snob.  The agent immediately started to work out the cheapest deal, the family friendly 4 star resort full of crowds of people and pools and water sports that active people like to enjoy. He suggested a 5 day all inclusive tour, on a bus. He recommended that we cut out the most interesting city of the three that we wanted to visit beacuse it is expensive to get there.

I found myself asking the agent to look for hotels that were less child friendly, insisting on the fancy beach hotel on stilts over water because it looked nice in the picture (even though it is probably far above our price range).  I also had to explain that we weren't looking for a trekking holiday and when he suggested a train, all I was concerned about was whether it was rickerty and Michael asked whether its the kind of train that people sit on the roof.  We put our foots down - no bus tours (at least the kind that are more than half a day loing). We have become so old before our years, we should be embracing hostels and backpacks and mud and the best deal possible, but all we could think of was comfort and doing as little as possible.  Is this so wrong?

As it turns out, the places we are looking to go have a pretty good exchange rate at the moment, and the fancy hotel on stilts is cheaper than where we work now because they are in the middle of their soft opening (which means that you are guinea pigs). We are pretty excited about the prospect of the trip and I have already started thinking of titles for my travel book (Michael finally bought me Microsoft Word so that I can start writing my award winning novel that will fund this overseas adventure).