Day 21 - To Upside the Down

This should really be called The Last Post because that's what it is but on our travels we met Michel and Narija and she came up with the expression to describe their odyssey Down Under and I couldn't leave my blog of this wonderful trip without including it somewhere. 

Our last morning in Flinders starts  with a run along the beach and breakfast. Then, because the weather forecast is not great for today, we pack our bags and hit the road. Melbourne takes about an hour and a quarter and once we're in the city, the difficulty of finding a parking space - even on a Sunday - is all too apparent. For starters, it's Chinese New Year and the streets are thronging. Anyway our plan is to go to the Immigration Museum which is an eye-opener in terms of the huge numbers of people and races absorbed into the Australian nation over just a few generations. No wonder everyone we meet here wants to tell us where they originated from! 

Melbourne is hot and sticky with the promise of rain in the air and after lunch we decide that the air-conditioned airport is a better option than walking the humid streets being jostled by the crowds. So as I write we are sitting in the airport lounge with an hour or so to wait for our flight to Doha. 

This has been an extraordinary trip. Truly a holiday of a lifetime, brilliantly planned by my very special better half. We have visited friends in Sydney, tasted amazing food and wine in Adelaide and the Barossa Valley, watched superlative tennis at the best tennis venue in the world in Melbourne, run with kangaroos in the Grampian Highlands, driven the Great Ocean Road, done a treetop walk in the Otway National Park, watched the Parade of the Little Penguins on Phillip Island and relaxed on the beach in Flinders. We've flown thousands of miles, driven hundreds and even done a few by boat. We've seen kangaroos, koalas, bandicoots, wombats, wallabies, seals, kookaburras, cockatoos, parakeets, penguins and had the car well and truly poo-ed on by a pelican. We've tasted at some wonderful wineries and, in my case, a little knowledge may well turn out to be a dangerous thing! I'm sniffing and tasting like Jilly Goolden! We've eaten superb food and discovered that in Australia the quality of fresh ingredients is exceptional. We've stayed in the best hotel in Melbourne (the Langham is absolutely top) and in b&bs without television, let alone wifi. And every day has been an adventure. One day we'll be back! 

Day 20 - A Birthday and a Half!

So we're the other side of the world and eleven hours ahead of Blighty so my birthday starts earlier than usual. I've been longing to run for the last few days (getting weirder by the minute, obviously) but the gigantic mozzie bites on my feet swell up if I even show them my trainers! But today they are better and whilst Big Foot lies in bed, I am off pounding my way (well, jogging and gasping for breath in the heat) round the road that circles the golf links and runs between the hackers and whackers and the sea. Spectacular views.

Then breakfast and card opening (thank you, children with forethought) and then we head to Red Hill Market which is a huge charity market over about 15 acres full of crafts and foodie stuff. The perfect place to buy today's gourmet picnic. Then off to Shoreham beach which we had scoped out a couple of days ago. Definitely our best beach yet and although it is a sunny Saturday there's plenty of room for everyone. Swimming and walking along the beach looking for shells and watching for dolphins - not making an appearance again! The absolute perfect way to spend my midwinter birthday.

By the time we get back and are changed ready for dinner, Yorkshire is waking up and lots of nice messages are winging my way - thank you! And a phone call from Mike and Rosie who are still on their way to Perth in their van. Brave folks, I'm too much of a comfort-lover to be up for that. Dinner was at Cook and Norman again and it was delicious and for once we are not holding back and have all three courses. Back to the Flinders Hotel for our last night. Flying home tomorrow.

Day 19 - Picnic on the Beach in February?

it's a perfect morning. The weather here is mid-twenties, maybe a bit more, there's a constant breeze and this is the playground for Melbourne's well-off and well-heeled, though we're not at the top end of Mornington Peninsula where the big Aussie dollars play at Sorrento and Portsea.

After another eggy breakfast of the highest standard (diets for us both when we get back) we set off to explore the area via the General Store to stock up on delicious treats for lunch on the beach later. Then off on our voyage of exploration - it's amazing! after nearly three weeks it still gives me a tremendous buzz to drive off we don't know where! The where turns out to be Ten Minutes by Tractor, a winery whose name has charmed Big Foot (actually much better and rather smaller foot now, thank goodness!) for months ever since we started planning this trip. He says we needn't stop, but I urge him to, knowing that in the fullness of time, when we have returned he will mention that we passed it but didn't stop  - or worse, that I wouldn't let him stop!

The operation is very slick and we are charged for a tasting, not much but enough. The best tasting we did apart from the VIP one at Penfolds was at Tscharke and that was totally free. The lady running the tasting is American and had been the sommelier at Heston's in Melbourne. She is very knowledgable but they are better known for their Chardonnay and it's not my bag so not sure she is impressed when I don't want to try it.

Anyway back on the road and we head to Somers beach where allegedly you can swim with dolphins. We have a lovely afternoon on the beach with our gourmet picnic and lots of swims in the sea but the dolphins weren't playing so as the heat of the sun starts to wane we make our way back to Flinders in time for a busy Friday night Aussie dinner in the pub. Children everywhere, lots of young folks drinking jugs of ale and delicious mussels for me. Then a stagger home to bed. My last day as a sixty year old - not bad!

Day 18 - Last Port of Call

Waking up after an itchy night with some of the worst mozzie bites ever, Madeline of Glen Isla instructs me to rub banana skin on the bites before we dive into the pharmacy for deet-laden remedies. Pills, spray, ointment - I take everything. Madeline has kindly delivered us into town ready for the ferry across to Stoney Point where the pelican-pooed car is parked. 

On the ferry, the sea is a perfect blue with scudding clouds and a strong breeze. No sign of dolphins yet...

Rather than driving straight to Flinders we call into Merrick General Store which is a foodie paradise. We're going to have a picnic on the beach and this place kicks Weetons totally into touch. We choose crispy fresh baguette, with local cheese and pate, two sorts of cake - because we can't agree - and delicious, utterly delicious freeze-dried strawberries dipped in chocolate. Then we taste a couple of rose varieties before choosing the local one and of course, they find us glasses and cutlery to go. 

The beach at Merrick is narrow and windy with rather too many weeds for swimming but lovely to sit in the sand and savour our fab picnic with only the occasional walker passing by. This is the ultimate Thursday-in-February lunch! Then back to Flinders via a beach or two. Everywhere is very quiet. The season, as such, finished on Sunday and the beaches are deserted and a lot of the cafes and shops are shut. But the weather is the best we've had on this trip. Mid-twenties with a breeze. We check in at Flinders Hotel - nice room with a patio (we have been upgraded apparently) and sort out our stuff which has been crammed into various suitcases and there's a little washing to do to get us through to the end of the trip. 

After a walk to the cliff where we see an amazing array of very confident birds including cockatoos and parakeets, we walk up the hill, past the closed shops and cafes to Cook and Norman Trattoria. We have a main course each and share a pudding and the food is sublime. We wash it down with Shiraz and Pinot and ...oh dear...grappa. But it's a softer one than normal and quite lemony. Nice. No hangover. 

Day 17 - P...p...p.. Pick up a Penguin!

The one possible advantage to being at Oakdene was that in the morning we wake up still cross and waste no time in getting ready to leave. There's no one here so we leave the building unlocked as instructed and set out a good half an hour ahead of schedule to the ferry at Queenscliffe. As luck would have it, we arrive five minutes before the 8.00am car ferry leaves for Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula and despite being booked on the 9.00am, they are only too happy for us to drive on and be on our way. This is advantageous as we want to drop our big bags off at Flinders before we head to Stoney Point for the passenger ferry to Phillip Island.

It's a relief not to be travelling by car and as we wait for the ferry to Phillip Island we spot enormous pelicans perched high above us on the telegraph poles. They left a present for us on the bonnet of the car which we found when we returned the next day - a big present!

The ferry takes us across clear, blue waters via French Island to Phillip Island where everywhere seems to have borrowed its name from the Isle of Wight. Today's or rather tonight's big highlight is the parade of the little penguins at Summerland beach so we carb up in a local pizza/pasta joint before checking in at our b&b, Glen Isle at Cowes. This came highly recommended by Susan and Degsy and as well as being a polished operation, Ian and Madeline were delightful and friendly hosts. Madeline immediately offered to drive us to the penguin event and thoughtfully left us a plate of cheese and biscuits in case we were p...p...p...peckish on our return.

Before we start the main event there's a lovely beach to walk on with a large and sleepy seal to chat to. Surprisingly canine features up close - reminds me of Milton. Unbeknownst to me though, I am being made a meal of by mozzies and come back with about eight absolute belters which itch like mad. Trip to the pharmacy in the morning then.

If we thought we had left the Asian population behind on the Great Ocean Road, we were wrong and I am now confident that the streets of Beijing are completely empty because they are all here. Big Foot has booked the VIP tour which is worthwhile and full of information as well as getting the best vantage point. Also I might have caused a diplomatic incident if we were packed in tight with folks who despite the wardens' requests, persist in using their cameras with flash which confuses the little penguins.

As the light fades, thousands of little penguins, or fairy penguins as they are sometimes known, throw themselves on to the beach amongst the rocks and breaking surf, right themselves and waddle in small or large groups (but never alone) for a few paces, before stopping and regrouping and setting off again. They are making for their burrow holes in the dirt of the dunes where their chicks will be waiting for them to regurgitate whatever they have consumed during the day whilst in the sea. Sometimes they walk - well, waddle really - in a quite upright way but at other times, they get their heads down and barge their way through like front row forwards! The parade of penguins is a unique and amazing sight and Australia's second most popular natural attraction after Uluru or Ayres Rock.

Day 16 - Locked Out!

Well, there was bound to be drama at some point, apart from Bertie's Big Foot, and this is the day. Actually it was enough drama for me so fingers crossed, that's it!  But first, the good stuff...

We wake up to a stunning view across the fields and cliffs to the sea at our b&b at the Twelve Apostles and after the breakfast of champions, we hug Robyn goodbye and drive straight (or as straight as the windy road allows) to Otway National Park and The Fly. Named the Fly after the zip wiring which we are not doing (tempted but thought I might do a David Brayshaw) but also famous for the Treetop Walk. We get there impressively early and we have the whole forest to ourselves. I had read about this in the Daily Telegraph - thank you, John O'K - and it certainly lives up to its billing. First we walk through the thick vegetation and beneath 100 metre high Mountain Ash along a path until we reach the steel walkway which takes you on a gradual incline over half a mile or so until you are at the bottom of a steep tower but at least 50 metres off the ground. All we can hear is birdsong as we climb the steep steps to the top. This is genuinely a bird's eye view of the forest and still the Mountain Ash tower another 10 metres above us. It will remain one of my high spots (no pun intended) of this extraordinary trip. I'm definitely going to try my hand at growing a tree fern or two in my garden.

Back down to earth and back on the road but we're skipping a bit of the tourist trail to call in at Hopetoun Falls and then take the Binns Road through the forest for 20k of dirt track and quiet, passing nothing more than the occasional wallaby and spotting rosellas in the trees. Eventually the track leads us back to the Great Ocean Road and the hoards of tourists. Apollo Bay is, as billed, not worth the stop and we press on but now the Ocean Road is as we had imagined it - not high cliffs and sheer drops but beaches and white-tipped waves for as far as the eye can see. Quick sandwich on the beach at Lorne with a dip for my feet in the sea. The weather is up in the twenties after the miserable day yesterday and we get back on the road for what turns out to be a long haul.

When we eventually arrive Bowan Head I'm borderline grumpy but Oakdene where we pull in for our night's stay looks fab. It's a winery with a cellar door, cafe, highly rated restaurant and three eclectic bedrooms. After a bit of a search we find someone who is prepared to let us into our room and she's another Robyn. The room is stunning and full of Marilyn Monroe-themed ephemera. Robyn says we can get a cuppa in the tea rooms and that there is no password for the wifi. She tells us (alarm bells starting to ring at this point) that the restaurant is closed on a Tuesday and we will have eat out, and breakfast is not available until 9.30 so even though we've paid for it, it will be too late for our early ferry. Also nobody will be on the premises but our two keys open the front door and our Marilyn Monroe room. Ok. A little weird but ok. Straight down to the tea room where, despite saying we have been on the road since 8.00 am and it's now 3.05, we are told they closed at 3.00 and shut the door in our faces. Back to the room to make tea where there's a selection of every tea known to man - except English Breakfast. Nooooooo! Back downstairs to the chef who's doing prep in the kitchen and who is the only person I can find and I explain the problem. She's really nice and promises us English tea in the garden and cake because we have been not as warmly welcomed as we should have been. Big Foot asks if I've been stroppy but I have not - just icy calm and therefore at my most dangerous! Also the Robyn said there was no wifi code and the so lovely chef lady got that for us too and tea with spectacular cakes arrive. Happy me! Also happy Big Foot because he does a quick wine tasting at the cellar door and comes back with a couple of nice bottles.

A couple of hours later and our tums require attention (wisely didn't eat all the cake!) so showered and changed and with a nice beachfront restaurant recommended we go downstairs from Marilyn. Our front door key won't work so we go and find a young chap who checks with the aforementioned Robyn who says the front door will be left unlocked for us. OK.

Dinner is delicious with a view across the bay but we're tired with an early start ahead of us so we get back to the winery/b&b just after 8.00pm. The door is locked. The key won't work either in the front door or any of the other doors. Big Foot phones hotel.com and I go searching. Surely someone else lives on this huge estate? Apparently not after a 20 minute search of all the outbuildings, cafe, winery and offices and hotels.com don't have an out of hours/emergency number. And it's getting dark.

Whilst Big Foot hangs on the phone (the hotel/winery number just goes to answerphone) I suggest we try one of the two properties opposite, both of which are down very long drives. The first one has no occupants except a large number of horses and dogs so,we try next door. Down another long drive and I ring the doorbell. There are lights on but nobody is answering. Meanwhile hotels.com suggest booking in somewhere else but all our luggage is in Oakdene and the ferry goes at 9.00am. No good. Then I notice the lights on in the flat above the garage at the house and I bang on the door to be met by an Ian Barker-sized lad in his underpants. Whilst he swiftly puts his shorts on, (relief, because not attractive even to middle aged ladies) I explain the problem and he takes me (and Big Foot) who has given up on the phone into auntie and uncle's kitchen. Luckily Jacky knows someone who knows someone who works at Oakdene and after a tense 45 minutes, Marty of Oakdene agrees to meet us at the stubborn front door with a master key. And finally we are in, with thanks to Jacky and family and scant apology from Marty. Hell on TripAdvisor to follow! Night all...

Day 15 - A Road More or Less Travelled

Bertie thinks I should call this 'the Asian invasion' - you'll see why!

I wake up to the sound of rain - not good and definitely not in the plan. By the time I've made a cuppa and checked that Federer did indeed win (I didn't quite make it to the end), the rain has just about stopped and I can go for a run. I set off along the harbour's edge where the fishing boats are making their way back in with lobster pots, and over to Griffith Island where the lighthouse stands. Once the home to Aborigines, it is now a nature reserve with plenty of bird life and apparently wallabies but I didn't spot any.

Back at The Merijig we have a delicious cooked breakfast and Bertie sends a message to Mike and Rosie, who are due here later in the week, to recommend The Merijig - and they're already here though in a different b&b down the road! So after we've packed up we join them for a quick chat before they set off for Adelaide and we for the Twelve Apostles. See you in Yorkshire! Our paths won't cross again.

We pass through a number of one-horse-towns but before we've gone far the weather has turned properly wet and we decide to stop for lunch at Port Campbell (two-horse perhaps) because there seems to be little point in continuing to try to enjoy the beautiful views along the Great Ocean Road in a sea fret - particularly when you're running the gauntlet of trying to see the view ahead of dozens of Asians with their backs to it!

Even the menu in Forage, which turns out to be a nice organic restaurant, is written in English and Chinese and we are almost the only folk in there, apart from the staff, of non-Asian persuasion. Indeed as we are to discover all day, virtually all the tourists down here are Chinese or Korean.

The road is busy - but perhaps not as busy as it would have been on a sunny day - and we decide to carry on past the Twelve Apostles which has a massive and very full car park - to the Otway National Park. I've read about this place and as well as zip-wiring which I'm not prepared to do and has to be booked in advance, it has a tree top walk which I really fancy. By the time we get from the car park to the visitor centre we are soaked and because I am wearing flip flops (thongs out here - ha ha!) the back of my trousers are pebble-dashed! We buy ponchos! Like carrier bags but bigger!

Anyway, the tree top walk for tomorrow is definitely on - the forest looks stunning with amazing tree ferns that reach 10 feet or so. On our way back to the Great Ocean Road we do a bit of a detour. Following signs that say Moonlight Head, we head off down a little road, that becomes a track (makes our drive at home look good) that becomes increasingly more perilous till 15 minutes later we get to a car park which is almost deserted and, oh joy, it has stopped raining for the first time in about 8 hours! The view is breath-taking and we are alone - result!

Back on the Great Ocean Road, it's six pm and sunny but we were hoping that the Twelve Apostles might be quieter, thinking our fellow tourists might have gone off for chow mein or whatever. No, the place was heaving with 'look at me in front of the Twelve Apostles' Asians cluttering up every
viewing point.  But it is indeed stunning and quite rightly a must-see.

Then it's time to make our way to our hostess for the night, Robyn, whose b&b is just a few kilometres from the Twelve Apostles and is called The Secret Place. It's quirky and Robyn herself is absolutely charming. She and Bertie could have chatted all evening but we need to eat and she wants us to see Loch Ard Gorge and Mutton Bird Island. She's right, of course, because half an hour before sunset the cliffs are lit up with light and the waves crash against the rocks. This is called The Wrecking Coast because so many ships were lost here and the story of the Loch Ard is a poignant  one. In June 1878, the clipper, the Loch Ard from England was approaching her destination of Melbourne with 54 souls on board including Dr Carmichael and his family. Celebrating nearing the end of their long voyage, the crew failed to notice the rocks and the ship went down with only 15 year old Tom Pearce, the cabin boy who swam ashore and 17 year old Eva Carmichael who clung to the wreckage until Tom swam out to rescue her, surviving. There is a cemetery above the Gorge where the bodies washed up from the wreck were buried and we visit their graves.

Then a quick supper in Port Campbell before bed. Fingers crossed that the rain has gone now and tomorrow will be sunny.

Day 14 - B&B Heaven

Up early with the intention of doing a nice long swim in the infinity pool because although the 'run with roos' was amazing, it was hot, lots of flies and lots of tiny burrs which it has taken me ages to remove for my socks and trainers. Walking the few yards to the hotel proper, I discover there are no signs of life and the pool cover is still on. Go back to the room and wait until 8.00am when there are signs of life and the pool cover is off. The infinity pool is beautiful and after a respectable number of lengths I can eat a cooked breakfast with a clear conscience.

Before we leave the beautiful Grampian Highlands we take a few tourist detours to MacKenzie Falls and The Balconies. Stunning views but ...rant coming here...as we are increasingly to discover, the better the vista or attraction, the more Asians are standing with their backs to it in the optimum viewing position and taking pictures of themselves.

Our road to Port Fairy is relatively easy through fields of fat beef and dairy cows and we find ourselves in the Victoria equivalent of Salcombe. Painted houses, bistros and nice shops lining the high street, boats - leisure and fishing - on the estuary and a stunning beach which runs for miles and is sparsely populated. We have made a rookie error...we have no beach towels so we buy one rather than two (because they're not cheap) and I agree to share. Mine during the day, his at night. Seems fair to me. Then we head to the beach because it's too early to check in at the b&b, The Merijig Inn, as recommended by Mrs and Mrs O'Polo. The sea is the perfect temperature for a swim or two and we've never seen so many cockle shells. Lying on the beach, we make a plan to stay here till midday tomorrow before setting off to the Twelve Apostles.

As the wind starts to cool, it's time to check in to our quirky b&b, complete with casual, but fun and tasty, restaurant, beer garden and a bar in a shed. There's a well-stocked kitchen garden and our starters and mains are garnished with herbs and vegetables straight out of the ground and so deliciously fresh. Our room is a suite with bedroom, sitting room and bathroom - and a television so we can watch Nadal and Federer in the Final - perfect. Everything not actually moving is decorated with knitting, crocheting or hand sewing. It's definitely a bit alternative but the welcome is warm and genuine. Good find.

Day 13 - Running with Roos

One of the things I have especially enjoyed on this trip is my morning run. I've loved the experience of running on unfamiliar streets, never knowing what lies around the corner. My runs have thus far been city-based but this morning I lace up my trainers and set off across the uneven scrub of the bush. Almost as soon as I leave the immediate environs of the hotel, I come nose to nose (well, about 8 metres) from a large kangaroo. He looks at me - and we're at eye level - and I look at him. Will he run/hop? No, he just ignores me as I set off across the scrub. In my fifteen minute run (too hot and too many flies to stay out any longer) I encounter about 40 kangaroos and some turn and flee as they see me approach and others merely look at me and carry on grazing. Surreal. 

We decide that after all our travelling we need a quiet day by the infinity pool and it's hot and blissful and a perfect day for reading, swimming and ...doing nothing. One other couple stay at the hotel too whilst the others set off walking and hiking in the Grampian Highlands. Stunning scenery but everyone runs out of gas sometimes. As we get near to lunchtime, someone is waiting for the bar to open and I am looking forward to a salad or a sandwich. But the hotel remains resolutely empty and there's no sign of any staff - neither Paul, the proprietor, nor any of the other family members who work there. By about two pm, we are starting to get irritated by the lack of either food or drink and the neurologist husband and wife from Switzerland with whom we have been chatting are equally irritated. The nearest town is some thirty miles away so not a hop round the corner to your local Spar. Time to consult the internet where we discover on TripAdvisor that they don't do lunch. Surely they could have told us that at check-in? And the bar isn't open so between the four of us we amass two bottles of red wine and some peanuts and that has to keep us going till dinner. Luckily our Swiss friends are great company and despite rumbling tums we survive. 

Dinner together is fun and we exchange email addresses and perhaps we will meet them again on the Great Ocean Road. This is such a truly beautiful place but I shall be ready to leave tomorrow. 

Day 12 - Heading to the Grampians

I am contemplating putting up some serious resistance to leaving Melbourne and the Langham, in particular. A really fabulous hotel where the staff can't do enough for you. But Bertie points out that the room rates multiplied several times over for this weekend and it's time to move on. And he's definitely looking forward to the big drive. So we pick up the hire car and head out of the city.

Our route combines motorways with some 'roads less traveled' and you quickly get a sense of how sparsely populated some areas are. We are still touristy enough to laugh and point out signs that remind you to beware kangaroos and koalas although I imagine that the koalas only need 'bewaring' at night as they are sleepy during the day (and most of the night as it turns out...)

We are on our way to the Grampian Highlands to Meringa Springs at the suggestion of Susan and Degsy and the two hour drive from Melbourne turns out to be more like four hours with only a stop for a kitkat and petrol. The last ten miles along eucalyptus-lined roads we hardly see a car and finally we turn in at the sign that says Meringa Springs. There are a few cottages, a helipad and a terracotta-painted house with no sign on the door. I push it open and an elderly chap is standing in reception. Imagine Jurgen running a hotel and you have Paul who introduces himself, confirms it is indeed Meringa Springs and welcomes us. He is Swiss and retired when he was 65 and built this tiny hotel in, well, the middle of nowhere.

Our room is a cottage a short walk from the main hotel with large sitting room, huge bedroom, bathroom and dressing room. The view from our balcony where we can sit - less of a balcony, more of a fenced patio - is across the bush to the mountains and it reminds me of Kenya. As evening draws in, with the most spectacular sunset, the wildlife makes its way nearer to the hotel though the squawking of the white cockatoos is almost constant.

But first we swim in the infinity pool which we have all to ourselves and bask in almost the first proper sun we've had on this trip before dinner in the tiny dining room. There are six other guests, all very friendly and it feels like a house party rather than a hotel. Dinner, Shiraz, bed.

Day 11 - Now I know why they call him GOAT*

Happy Australia Day! Except that it's a bit overcast and spitting with rain. So much for not needing a cardigan on this trip! Anyway, superb early morning run past the many boat houses on the Yarra (rowing is clearly a very big deal here) and over the bridge and back past Melbourne Park, pausing to say hi to Terry.

Back at the Langham - definitely one of the best hotels I've ever stayed in - Bertie's foot does not look good and he's in pain so we opt for some water-based sightseeing, heading off down the Yarra on a 1924 river cruiser. We were hoping that Melbourne from the water would be as stunning as Chicago but that proves not to be the case though it's entertaining watching the Aussies setting up their Australia Day picnics on the side of the river. We think we do picnics - well, we are amateurs compared to this lot and the parks are equipped with electric bbqs so you can just rock up and cook your food. Clearly the early birds get the best spots.

On our return we are met by Mike and Rosie all the way from North Rigton who are also in Australia to do a grand tour. They are driving from Melbourne to Perth, making our drive down the Great Ocean Road look very modest by comparison. Their's is over 2000 miles! Lunch is deemed to be a five hour event and The Deck, which Mike booked from the UK proves an excellent choice though I am steady on the wine because I do not want to fall asleep during Roger and Stan. We finally pack up just before six o'clock and wearing my AO t-shirt we head to Melbourne Park. We need plenty of time because Bertie's foot is massively swollen and the twenty minute walk is not feasible. We get the water taxi and zip zap, we're there in ten minutes.

We actually get to the Rod Laver arena so early that we see Rod himself being awarded an Australia Day honour. And then it's the big match. The roar from the crowd when Roger Federer walks on court is huge and actually Stan Wawrinka gets a similar sized roar but once play begins there's no prizes for guessing whom the crowd are supporting. The match is incredibly tight and though both players take medical times out (Roger later quipping that he only took one because Stan had!) no one would bet against this being a five setter. The tennis is sublime and it's a truly stunning match including a hot dog from Federer (he didn't win the point but it was very entertaining) and a total racquet smashing from Stan. (His mother needs to have a word with him about that).

After the post-match interview from Jim Courier, 75% of the audience leave but thinking that there would be no chance of any public transport not being rammed, we stay for part of the Legends Doubles with the McEnroe brothers and Pat Cash and Goran Ivanesovic. Then we set off home by which time it was nearly midnight. There were no water taxis or trishaws to be had and, surprisingly considering it was Australia Day, the bars and restaurants were closing up so we walked/hobbled back to the hotel. What a great day! I love Melbourne!





*greatest of all time

Day 10 - Why they call it the Happy Slam...

Two things happened before 8.00 this morning. One very good and one less so. So the bad news first... "Ouch!" Bertie's foot has swollen up like it did a couple of months ago and he is in pain. His walking at the start of the day was ok. But by mid-afternoon he was in a lot of pain. But that's getting ahead of ourselves.

The other thing was that I went for an early morning run which mysteriously took me to Melbourne Park where the tennis is. It's so near the city centre (as is the MCG) that we can see the Rod Laver Arena from our bedroom window. I stopped at the entry to Melbourne Park and spoke to Terry (my new best friend by the way) who was one of the volunteers. I explained that we had come from the UK hoping to see Murray in the Men's Semi Finals but as that was not to be, we wanted to see the last remaining Brit, Jo Konta, play Serena. We only had ground passes for today so could not get on to the show courts which are, of course, ticket only. No problem, he says, just go to the ticket office and change them. So an hour later, with ground passes and Bertie's credit card, I returned to Melbourne Park. Again, no problem, ground passes refunded against tickets in Rod Laver for the day session which is not only Konta Williams, but also Dimitrov Goffin. Seriously, can you imagine that at Wimbledon?!? Apparently the only session that was sold out was the Men's Final.

So after breakfast I returned to Melbourne Park for the third time that day, gave Terry a cheery hello and we headed into the Aussie Open proper. Could any tennis event be less like Wimbledon? Plenty of room to move around, no massive crowds, no queues at food stands, deckchairs in front of big screens and everything is very chilled. Our first port of call after a long cold one is a girls match where a plucky Brit loses to someone ranked lower than her (ah, normal service is resumed...) and then into Rod Laver where Serena is warming up against Jo Konta. I would have expected the crowd to be pulling for Jo as she was born in Sydney but Serena clearly has a global fanbase even if I'm not a member. She did all the usual stuff, making her opponent wait after changing ends, faffing about on her service. Anyway she won though it was closer than the score suggests. No more plucky Brits in the draw. Then after a brief pause for a cold one, it's Dimitrov and Goffin. Dimitrov is not nicknamed Baby Fed for nothing - his backhand is a thing of beauty and I am now officially a fan. Can he beat Nadal on Friday - well, doubtful, the way Nadal is playing but it will certainly be worth watching.

By the time we leave the tennis, Bertie is seriously hobbling and his foot is massively swollen. I think it's gout which he strenuously denies (I've googled it now and it looks like it to me) so we look for a water taxi to take us back to the hotel. It's a twenty minute walk but less than 10 minutes by boat. But the water taxi isn't there but there is a trishaw. A sturdy fellow offers to take us back to the Langham for twenty dollars and despite in imbalance in the back we're off. Well, hats off to this guy,  he has to give it his all in a very low gear to get us up the hills but on the flat and downhill we absolutely fly along with some theatrical weaving about for comedy value. Home safe and supper comprises a few snacks in the club lounge before retiring to bed to watch Rafai make fairly short work of Raonic. With the resurgence of Rafa and Roger, I feel I am in a pre-Novak Andy time warp. Bit weird really but I will be surprised if these two don't match up in the final.

Day 9 - The Pull of the Yellow, Fluffy Ball

Our last morning in Adelaide and we're up and off early to the airport. Despite a serious amount of luggage re-jigging, I am still the lightweight traveller and my fellow traveller is still over the limit so we swap a few items into my luggage - why are we travelling round the world with a roll of sellotape? Anyway all is sorted and we are in plenty of time for our 10 o'clock flight.

Landing in Melbourne we are met by our limo driver who, it transpires, comes from Turkey. Happy chat until we get on to the subject of Greece at which point, our driver lists all the ways that Greeks are inferior to Turks - right down to making baklava. Ridiculous!

We are staying at the Langham and it is VERY nice. We are ushered into the Club Lounge as our room isn't quite ready where we meet Ben, the managing director of the hotel. He is best mates with Jeremy who we met in Sydney and he kindly made us very welcome indeed. We had missed the Murray family and entourage by 24 hours. Not many players stay at the Langham but Murray likes it here and he was described as 'gracious' by our host. Nice.

Once we're settled in, we hit the streets and after a walk round Collins and Flinders and we take a look at the street art on Hosier Street - artist paint new graffiti every day and the tribute to the Bourke Street killings is especially poignant. Then we go back across the river to the Hockney Exhibition. This is an exhibition of his recent work, much of which has been done on iPhone and iPad so you can see the pictures develop before your eyes. Another Yorkie conquering the world.

Dinner is in Meat and Drink, just along the Yarra riverfront from the hotel. Now that I am an official wine buff, I'm tasting and sniffing and sipping various different Shiraz which go perfectly with a big steak. And, tomorrow is the start of the big tennis adventure and I am so excited!

Big day tomorrow. Night all!

Day 8 - "Little ole wine drinker me"

Monday is the designated wine tasting day - yes, another one! - and without even pausing for brekkie we are on the road to the Barossa Valley and wine heaven. As soon as we reach an area where vines grow on both sides of the road for as far as the eye can see, one of us becomes very excitable!

First it's time to stop for brunch or 'carb-up' big style. The little town of Lyndoch lies near Humbug Scrub Hill (seriously contemplating renaming our home and environs with so many great names here)  and boasts a sweet coffee shop which does an excellent French toast and fruit and a lot of cooked breakfast options to fill even the largest tums. While we are parking the car, I notice a lot of knitting...?! On telegraph poles, bins, road signs...woolly mice, spiders, striped scarves and even SpongeBob SquarePants! Once we'd ordered, I had to ask the waitress what it was all about. Yarnbombing, apparently in honour of the Tour Down Under. Remember all those yellow jerseys folks knitted in Yorkshire - well, similar but more random. Yarn bombing - I like the idea! Make a change from the Scarecrow Festival...

Then it's back on the road to find the first of the wineries recommended by the waitress in the tapas bar. Miles and miles of vines, interspersed with the occasional small town and signs identifying which winery we are passing. Finally we luck on Tscharke which was the most highly recommended and spend an hour tasting at this organic winery in the company of Skye whose tattoos and piercings might suggest to you that she wasn't a wine expert. Appearances can be deceptive - she was very knowledgable indeed and there is a danger that I am turning into Gilly Goolden - 'I'm tasting red fruit, burnt sugar, toffee, Turkish delight' - yes, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Meanwhile, the proper wine buff in the partnership is asking all the intelligent questions about irrigation and composting! Skye looks at our list and sends us on to Sieber Wines which is beautiful and our host there very welcoming though not as knowledgable as Skye.

Even the boss agrees that two wineries is enough and we head back to Adelaide using the 'path less travelled'! Now, this seriously drives Mavis, the sat-nav round the bend - literally! We've been on dirt tracks, single track roads and the sides of gorges. At one point, looking for a town called Cudlee Creek we are sent down a No Through Road where the gate at the end had been spray painted with the word Fools! Clearly this is a regular sat-nav meltdown spot!

Back at the hotel we discover that in Adelaide, not a lot is open on a Monday night and every restaurant we check out on the internet isn't open. Then we find Hide 'N Seek, a Thai restaurant not far away where the decor is basic but the food sublime. Crying Tiger (probably Weeping Tiger back home) is superb. More ice cream on the way home? Well, I don't mind if I do - this is, after all, the ice cream capital of Australia.

Tomorrow we move on the Melbourne and even without Murray, I am properly excited!

Day 6 or is it day 7 - I come from Yorkshire...

This morning's run is a hot one. Overnight the temperature has soared by 10 degrees and even at 8.30 am it's a scorcher. The city is buzzing because today is the Tour Down Under - the Aussie equivalent of the Tour de France and it finishes here in Adelaide. My run takes me down to the start/finish and food stalls are set up in the park with plenty of stuff for the kids.

Once I'm back and showered we head out for breakfast at the Adelaide Gallery where we can sit outside in the shade and read the papers whilst enjoying a modest breakfast. Then it's off to the Press Photography Exhibition at the State Museum. The photographs are inspirational - from sport to war, refugee crises to medical triumphs - definitely worth a look. Meanwhile, outside, the temperature is climbing into the mid-thirties.

Heading through the crowds in the park for the cycling, we cross the river to the Adelaide Oval. Five minutes on foot from the city centre - now that's the place to put a stadium. It's a really magnificent stadium and we decide - well, I do - that we'd like the tour. But because of the cycle race, a rather serious (grumpy) young man in charge says that there will be no more tours today. Now, you will know that I don't take No very kindly so whilst the man with the camera went for a wee, I headed into the other office - this one offers roof top tours. Now I don't want to put on a climbing suit and boots but I do want to go up top and take a photograph so here's how it goes...

"Hi, can you help me? I've come all the way from Yorkshire - home of cricket, home of Joe Root and Tim Bresnan. My son loves cricket and we just want to go up high enough in the stands to take a photograph. Can you take us? Please? Are you crumbling yet?" He crumbled. He took us up to the top of the stands to take some great pics. It was pointed out to me by my travelling companion that I had completely embarrassed myself but at least I didn't get as far as Geoffrey Boycott.

By the time we get outside it is properly roasting. We walk back up through the packed streets and decide that rather than boil in the heat to watch the cyclists go past in a nano-second, we would pack our bags and drive up the coast. The city sprawls unattractively for miles along the coast and whereas the centre of the city and the residential areas are charming, the miles and miles of discount stores, casinos, fancy dress shops (yes, really!) and tyre warehouses are depressing, but eventually we arrive at Wilunga - a lovely family beach of almost Portuguese proportions where we toast in the sun before joining the flocks of Adelaide weekenders eating at the Star of Greece. Delicious salt and pepper squid with chips and salad in the sun. Perfect.

Then we wibble our way back along the coast road, rather than the main road, to the city. Too full and too tired to eat out we find the hotel guest laundry and do the necessary but we do make a short outing to Scrolls, just behind the hotel. Scrolls is a Vietnamese ice cream parlour where you choose the flavour of your ice cream and they make it before your very eyes on the frozen equivalent of a griddle, pouring cream onto the frozen surface which immediately freezes (video available!).  Then it gets wrapped into scrolls, hence the name, and put into a pot. Delicious!

Night all!

Day 5 - Charming Adelaide

Driving into the city, the contrast between the bustling, busy roads of Sydney and the leafy avenues of Adelaide is stark. It's Friday teatime and it feels like a Sunday afternoon stroll. We've gone in a short flight from high rise to a city where few buildings top the height of the trees that line the streets and adorn the acres of parkland. The city is built on a grid making map-reading a bit of a breeze.

The Majestic Roof Garden Hotel on Frome was recommended by Mr and Mrs O'Polo and it's a good choice being centrally located though the actual roof garden proves to be a bit of a let down. Having had a somewhat sedentary afternoon, I needed to run so deciding to pass on the Park Run in the morning, I head out on to the streets to do the Park Run route (plus a bit) in the relative cool of the evening whilst the boss does a big conference call with base camp in Stamford. There is something magic about running on unfamiliar streets, especially when it's flat (hurray!) and the city has a grid system - count across, count down and you won't get lost. 

Through the Park and down to the Adelaide Oval over bridges and along water-lined paths, this is a charming city and for once, I feel like I can run and run - good times! By the time I get back, the conference call is still dribbling on but by the time I'm ready to go out, we're all good to go. Having been unable to remember where we had booked but knowing it was around the corner from the hotel, we've now booked into Andre's Cucina where we have the tasting menu. Wow! This town is rightly called a gourmet paradise if this place is anything to go by. Would I ever order swordfish carpaccio in the Uk? Probably not, but that and the lamb shank with gnocchi was a taste sensation.

The next morning, somebody is very excited... The Penfolds Winery VIP tour is booked and the one who is always late gets us there 45 minutes early! There are six of us on the tour led by Joe who grew up in London. His tour is detailed and fascinating from the wines' early beginnings where their use was prescribed as medicinal to producing half of the wine of Australia. Then we have the tasting and, surprise, surprise, my favourite is a 2012 Shiraz that retails at over £70 a bottle - always knew I was a woman of taste!

Having properly indulged the wine buff, we can then go to Cleland Wildlife Conservation Park to cuddle a koala and feed a kangaroo. Cleland lets you walk amongst the animals, pet koalas, have bandicoots and wallabies run around your feet and hand feed kangaroos at close quarters rather than through a fence.

Hahndorf is our next port of call - it's a largely German town with beerkellars (including waiters in lederhosen and waitresses in Sound of Music costumes - weird) and it might have been quaint but actually was quite chavvy. Then the short drive back to Adelaide for a tapas supper where the waitress was super helpful about which vineyards were worth visiting. Seems everyone here is a wine buff...

We've packed a lot into today... Time for bed. 

Day 4 Closer each day... Home and Away

Waking up on Thursday morning and it's not sunny! That's not in the plan. But it's warm with a light on-off drizzle. Jane and I head out early for a swim at the beach just below their home. I'm a habitually early riser so actually staying with folks for whom a 6.00 or 6.30 start is the norm is perfect for me. The big beaches, Bondi or Manly, are very busy by 7.00am and there are a few swimmers, walkers and yoga fans already on this little beach. We had swum here yesterday and the temperature of the water can be described best as 'Oooh... Now that's ok'. Once you're in, it's pleasant.

The homes built around the beaches are stunning and each bay, beach, inlet and harbour has its own eclectic selection of houses with stunning views across the water. Whilst we are swimming Jane tells me that Ken Done lives here on this beach. When we came here 30 years ago, we loved his paintings and bought a poster which hung on our bathroom wall for many years. Coincidence!

Once back and breakfasted, we drive out of the city to Palm Beach, one of the northern beaches and known to the residents of our home in Yorkshire as Summer Bay in Home and Away. Indeed the surf club and shop are logo'd up accordingly, ready for filming. Above the beach is the lighthouse and we make the steep climb to the top of the hill to take in the great view. Then it's an even steeper climb down by the shorter but more perilous route for a well-earned steak sandwich. On our way back we call into other bays where wealthy Sydney weekenders make the most of the sun and surf.

This is a fit, outdoor life and Nick, having only cycled to pick up the car from the ferry this morning wants to swim lengths in one of the pools adjacent to the various beaches so I plunge in too and swim further than I've swum in a long time. It eases my conscience for the dinner ahead.

Tonight's dinner is at the Bathers Pavilion and it's more fabulously fresh fish - huge mussels for me and barunda for the others and it's so lovely to have Tinks, the youngest of the children, with us. She's hoping to come to the UK in the spring so fingers crossed, we'll see her then.

Our final morning starts with a drive to Manly to see Ben do the Big Swim - a sort of aquatic version of the Park Run. But there are 'bluebottle' signs on the beach - not insect bluebottles but small, very stingy blue jellyfish - so Ben gives it a thumbs down and we head out for breakfast after a bracing walk along the beach. The beach is buzzing with activity - runners, walkers, volleyball, yoga - and it's still only 7.00am. I could get used to this!

After a relaxed morning with a little light shopping it's time to head out to the airport for our flight to Adelaide. The traffic in the city is heavy and we make it with little time to spare and too much luggage. The ground hostess lets us off the hook for being overweight but there will be purge of some of the crap that the man who does not travel light will have to jettison before we fly to Melbourne in a few days' time.

Massive thanks to Nick and Jane, Ben and Tinks for being top hosts and tour guides. Good times with old friends! Visit us in the UK sometime soon!

Day 3 - Hello Sydney!

There's an automated passport check at Sydney airport. Insert your passport, collect the ticket and then move on to the next station where you stand on the footprints and have your picture taken. Normally I am the one who is stopped and frisked in airports, but today I zip zap through and head to baggage collection, pausing only momentarily to read the poster about the symptoms of the zika virus. Included amongst the symptoms are sweaty fever and bloodshot eyes. Meanwhile, my beloved has not appeared but due to checking in to Party Central on the plane he has the appearance of several of the symptoms of the zika virus.

Eventually he arrives - apparently the automated passport check just can't cope with sweaty chubsters in specs! Out in the arrivals area we have a moment's panic when there is no sign of our friends, Nick and Jane. A quick ring to the only mobiles I have for them (their England ones obviously) and no, I don't have their address - and then they appear, all hugs and smiles and we're on our way to their lovely flat in Mosman.

Even though we've only just had breakfast on the plane, it's actually supper time in Sydney and the challenge is to go to bed at an appropriate time so that the body clock rights itself. My solution? Stay up till 1.00 am and take a sleeping pill. Luckily I have lots of gossip to catch up on and tennis on the telly so it's no hardship. Meanwhile, the one who had partied all night on the plane is out for the count!

Our first proper day in Sydney is a scorcher. We head down for an early coffee with son Ben whose bedroom we have appropriated, then it's off on the ferry from Manly to Watsons Bay. Nice walk up to some of the amazing viewing points of the ocean and then a drink and some fabulous fish at the legendary Doyle's. Last time we were here was some 30 years ago and it hasn't changed. It's great to sit on the pavement outside and eat fantastically fresh fish in the sunshine listening to the waves lapping on the sand. There were a series of letters in the Telegraph a while ago about finding an appropriate onomatopoeic word for the sound the sea makes as it sucks the sand back into the ocean - can't remember what those folks who write to the Telegraph came up with but it's a truly great backing track to life on the shores of Sydney harbour.

Wednesday night saw us taking the ferry into the centre of Sydney - the best way to see the city is undoubtedly from the water - and going for a drink at the Opera Bar. Young and buzzing, it's almost under the eves of the Opera House and looking across to Harbour Bridge. You have to pinch yourself - we are really here!

Life here starts early (when it's cool enough to do stuff in the summer) and for fellow middle-agers like us it finishes early too. So quick pasta/pizza and it's back to Mosman with just time to check on British progress in Melbourne before bed. Think my body is on Aussie time now.

Zzzzzzzzz....

Day 2 - Turning Left

Sitting at Heathrow watching my beloved quaff his first and second glasses of fizz at 6.00am I had a major moment of the stretching of the umbilical cord. Usually it's me at home and my chicks heading off into the wild blue yonder and today it's us instead. Yes they all got messages reminding them to drive safely, in fact, stay safe generally, and that I love them more than life itself. Bit teary...

Now here's a whole new experience for me (or, it's so long since it happened that I can't remember) getting on a plane and 'turning left'. Our first flight is to Doha with Qatar and it's the shorter one of the two legs. My beloved is directly in front of me in business class enjoying in-flight internet access and I'm right behind enjoying two movies (not easy to find ones I haven't seen and still want to see) but the new Jack Reacher is a winner. Yes, I know that Lee Child readers are aware that Jack Reacher is supposed to be built like a brick sh*****se and have a buzz cut but Tom Cruse has bought the rights to all Jack Reacher novels as films because he loves the character and he makes a jolly good fist of it. Then it was Mrs Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children which is a Tim Burton film and therefore jam-packed with weirdness. Good, if you like that sort of thing.

As we flew in over Doha you can see gas and oil refineries and sand, and not a great deal else but the airport is very swish with more watch and handbag shops than you can shake a fist at. Surprisingly few ladies in full burkha and like most airports you could have been in any country in the world. Either the pound is shot, or this is a very expensive place to shop so we browsed as a way of getting some exercise and my beloved briefly contemplated the purchase of a drone!

As we trundle down to our gate, we are encouraged to take a different gate entrance from the hoi polloi (oh, this is the life) with no queue and once through the bag check our tickets are taken away and new ones issued with no explanation. "We're in row 18" says the one who booked everything but the tickets say row 2 and we have mysteriously been upgraded to First! Now this really is the life!

One of us ate his second dinner at a beautifully laid table in front of him and drank copious amounts of fizz and red wine and then promptly fell asleep upright with his film still running (The Light Between Oceans - probably my favourite film of the year) whilst my bed was made for me and I snuggled up in my Moschino pyjamas.

So as I write, I have no idea what time it is in Sydney but in my world it's 8.00am. I'm washed and dressed in a bathroom only slightly smaller than the one at home and getting very excited. In case you're wondering, he is still in the same position as in the paragraph above, snoring quietly!

Happy landings!

Postscript: My beloved has just woken up. During the night he did a small trip to the bar and fell amongst thieves. He is still under the influence and the kindly air hostess is trying to sober him up! He claims he flew the plane during the night... Oh dear!

Day 1 - or rather, Day minus 1!

When I'm editing travel blogs for Spear Travels, the format is always the same: 'day 1 and we boarded the whatever plane from whichever airport etc.' So my plan is to do a daily blog on this fabulous, much-anticipated, once-in-a-lifetime trip, but... I may need you to cut me some slack here because I might not manage every day...

So day -1 and we have a lovely pre-adventure family dinner planned at home cooked by JS and number 2, and number 4. And this is preceded by a self-indulgent trip to the Curzon to see La La Land with number 4. Regular readers will know I go to the cinema a lot - as in, sometimes more than once a week. So the question is: was La La Land worthy of all the hype? Well, kinda yes, kinda no. It is the perfect antidote to the many car chase, explosion-packed blockbuster films. It was a hark-back to the fifties and the golden age of cinema musicals - which was quite probably before that - and it was lovely. The best film of the year - no, probably not but it was a lovely way to spend the afternoon which had already begun remarkably well with the surprise return of number 3, alias the boy twin. He had been expected home overnight on Wednesday and stood me up at the last minute but presented himself as the surprise package on Saturday lunchtime dressed attractively in pjs having driven down from university in them. So lovely to have them all rattling around my kitchen, getting in each others' way and cooking up a storm - which proved to be the undoing of any pre-holiday slimming programme and with apparently twice as much garlic as the recipe intended!


So, today, which is officially day 1, began with a church service for me at which I seemed to have so many roles that my bum scarcely hit the pew. Handing out the service sheets, counting the communicants, reading the lesson (Old Testament with very, very long sentences - remember to breathe...) and taking the collection. My beloved thinks it is hilarious that I seem to have signed up an increasing number church-related jobs. Trust me, it stops here!

Meanwhile, back at Packing City, my beloved has lost the folder with all the tickets in it. Never fear, it turned up in the end and order was restored. Then with number 4 in the car we drove to Harrogate where number 2 had agreed to drive us to the airport. Except that we were early (well, the first time in 33 years of marriage is bound to shock our kids) and number 2, JS and Milton were out for walkies so a little wait was required.

I make it a rule never to rant in my blogs but I'll make an exception for the Ladies lavatories at Leeds Bradford Airport. On busy days in the height of summer it's not acceptable for the loos to be messy and dirty but it's sort of understandable. On a day like today when the airport is really quiet, there are still bits of loo roll on the floor and I reject the first two cubicles on the grounds of cleanliness. Hmm...

So as I write we are at the Hilton at Heathrow Terminal 4 (room ok, gym very scruffy) about to have something to eat before an early night for our early flight tomorrow. This is the most exciting holiday of my life.

Stay safe, children. Number 1: don't get hurt playing rugby, numbers 2 and 3: drive 5 mph slower than normal and imagine I'm in the passenger seat, and number 4: you'll be brilliant tomorrow - I absolutely know it!

Bon voyage!