maggieasingleton's Blog

Owen drove us back to Freo today. Byebye Sunkist Villa. We are joined by some ducks this morning outside on the grass. We have everything packed up really swiftly and are away by 9.30.
An hour or so later, back in Freo, we meet the very accommodating owner of Cobbkers Cottage. Helmi Holzheuer is here with Mr H tending the garden and we are able to unload early. Beautiful cottage. 1888. Lovingly restored and every little need catered for. Wow. We will be good here till we come home.
We wander to the world (yes World) renowned Little Creatures Bar Cafe on the harbour for late lunch/ early supper. Very cool. Quite the happening place (I’m told). Then to The Monk for another beer and back via a fantastic Italian food shop near the house. We are only 15 mins from the city centre here. So pleased to be able to give the kids a lovely base for our last phase.

Well. What a day. Three winery visits – or was it four? First to House of Cards. Oh the red. Tis not even 11am. I buy a beautiful Cab Sav after (pointlessly) trying the Merlot and the Shiraz.  Alice tries pretty much everything. This is a boutique single vineyard winery which doesn’t blend with other grapes. Lovely golden retrievers by the door. There is Chocolate factory adjacent to the Winery called Gabriels! Very apt. We taste and purchase. And have a hot cocolate (me) a coffee (Al) and a juice (Skipper Owen who has a cookie as a reward for driving!) on the terrace. On to Killerby Cellar Door. A bigger affair where the wines are blended. Again – oh will I never learn – I work my way down the reds finally reaching the Cab Sav which I purchase! Oh my. Alice tries everything again. Skipper Owen watches in awe! I declare that lunch is next. We try the recommended venue but it is closed for a refurb, so on to Woody Nook. My sort of bonkers place. Winery plus lunch in the woods. Delicious lunch followed by more Cab Sav. We feel guilty not buying any but the weight allowance is looking stretched. There is a rainbow over the vineyard as we leave. I know, I know. Off to Margaret River to explore a bit. There is a fudge shop which we all enjoy, a hippy shop (crystals and ear bars) which Owen enjoys less and a bra emporium which drives him to buy chicken and coke and pace up and down rather. He’s so patient! Bless. We make purchases – Al & Mother that is! Finally (really) we stop at a fabulous ceramic shop called (I forget – will insert when I find the map) where my jug fetish is satisfied and where amongst the outdoor display of wonderful ceramics we are entertained by laughing frogs. No,  really. I have a video! Oh yes and then we stop at our final winery (did I say final before?) Swings and Roundabouts. It is also a brewery and cidery. I sample the Cab Sav. Shocking. And the Merlot then the Cab Sav again. Alice tries everything pretty much. Again. But she purchases some wine to bring back. Lovely. Then somewhat squiffily home via Coles and supper cooked by Alice who appears to be less squiffy than me.
We crack open a bottle of the red from Swings and Roundabouts. I have a small chunk of Camenbert with mine. Perfecto! This evening’s highlight is a new Australian competition programme called Bachelor. Owen is so excited. I’m off to watch it with them!!!

We take the scenic road today south through the winery region and a beautiful stretch of National Park to Augusta. The long sweep of the West Coast ends here where the Indian and Southern Oceans meet at Australia’s most South West point.

A lot of Kanga spotting goes on along the way. Not by me I hasten to add. I see only a dead one at the roadside. Alice spots loads. I see deer, sheep, cows, a horse or two, even an alpacca but no Kangas!

Augusta is a small town, low level as they all are, disguising the size of the place by not revealing the boundaries of the settlement. But there are cafes and banks and a supermarket and a tourist office. Closed for lunch. Once we are all lunched tickets for the whale spotting trip are negotiated in the tourist office. Alice warns that it will be very rough. Owen and I look out at the calm serene waters of the river. It’s quite calm we say.

It’ll be very rough says Alice. Her experience in Sydney was of calm harbour waters and 3m swell which made her fellow spotters quite unwell and those that were not seasick nauseous at the result!

We ignore her. I take an anti dizzy pill just incase. The tourist officer is an Australian version of …… in the … ladies detective agency. Hair scraped back. Effecient but not quite pulling it off. Things crashing around her. Computer not playing ball.

Alice decides she will explore instead but when we get to the harbour she changes her mind and decides to come. We chat to the guys running the boat. An Aussie (bare brown feet – no shoes throughout) and a Kiwi ( who is fond of shouting “there she blows” when she isn’t).

It is alarmingly bumpy. One can’t quite do ‘a titanic’ since even holding on with one hand isn’t an option. We have glimpses of dolphins and hump back whales but they are not up for long. After 2 hours we are chilly and glad to get back to dry land.  A quick visit to Augusta lighthouse is frustrating as they have closed earlier than advertised and we can’t get in.

A long and tiring day but a couple of bucket list items ticked off! Hurrah for Owen for driving and to Al for keeping us on track. Love them so!

A day of laughter and a small crisis in the kitchen

Well rested and breakfasted we set off for Dunsborough. An upmarket coastal town – Alice says it’s perfect like a Simms town. As we are driving along one upmarket shoppy boulevard Owen stops at a Pelican Crossing to let a Gull cross. Yes its that sort of place.

The beach is neat like the town. We explore, find coffee and elevensies (Owen found a bacon roll but couldn’t quite get to grips with ordering Alice’s Vegemite Scroll) then drive out to Cape Naturaliste where there is a lighthouse. The possibility of whale watching is presented but the sea is very very rough so we decide to wait till Augusta in a day or so.

We have a long walk around the rocky scrubby headland of the cape. Wild and beautiful. We can now see the west coast proper. Rocky outcrops and thundering surf. During the morning we see the Blue Wren – briefly and not on camera. The spring flowers are coming out – tiny narcissus, lovely white canna lillies, a yellow flowered shrub rather like a potentilla. All so delicate and pretty.

Along the roadsides we are bordered everywhere by peppermint trees.

We seperated – Alice and I chosing a path that took us almost to the shore and Owen a path that took him higher round the lighthouse. Did you see the whales he asks as we meet up. No….. did you? Just saw them blow from the cliff top he declares. Just like that! Grrr.

Another viewpoint at Sugarloaf rock gives a stunning vista along the coast. I can’t describe the sight and sound of it.

We thought we would find a winery with a cafe for lunch but on Monday most places are closed. So we lunch at the Goose in Bussleton alongside the record breaking 1.8 km jetty – alleged to be the longest in the Southern hemisphere. Alice says that a NSW jetty – aptly named Long Jetty – claims a similar record.

Food is scrummy and we get the giggles rather badly – or rather I do. There is an Interpretive Centre at the head of the Jetty. What’s an Interpretive Centre says Alice. Whatever you want it to be says Owen. Haha. I look for the cloakroom. Cloakroom says Alice. Why? For a loo says I. Cloakroom? Never heard it called that before. More laughter. She’s been here too long.

We decide not to walk the Jetty but wander to the little town centre, finishing with a big shop in Woolworths.

We are cooking tonight! I have decided to make a veggie curry. Owen needs meat so he is accommodated too. A BWS provides wine (a Maclaren Vale Cab Sav. Yes I know we are in the prime wine region of WA but needs must)

Home in time for running and resting and beachcombing before dinner. I love to cook. I take enourmous care over the veg. And the rice and Alice makes perfect popadums. But somewhere I lose the plot. I completely utterly lose the plot. I spoon 14 servings worth of curry paste over my beautiful veggies. The whole jar. What was I thinking. It needed 2/3 spoonfulls and lots of water. I serve. Wow says Owen. This is intense. He immediately breaks out in a sweat. Alice has a go. Very strong mum. Can’t taste anything else. Did you put too much paste in? OMG you used the whole jar.

So with the assistance of loads of perfect rice, yogurt, popadums, water and good humour the terrible mistake is overcome and we live to tell the tale. Oh dear Maggie. Oh dear. The children end the evening watching Australian Masterchef!!

Saturday

Up early after not much sleep in the very noisy and quite intimidating hostel. I have tried to be brave but this is not a family hostel or one for an older woman on her own. I have stayed in family hostels and YHA hostels with the kids and they are never like this. Not a backpack in sight.  The other inmates are young mainly workers who are there for the winter – v cheap rent. They all drink it seems to excess and the shouting swearing raucous laughter into the night, the banging up and down the corridor, the loud talking ( and worse) outside my room and the beyond reason drunken behaviour that provokes them to mistake my room for theirs has really now got the better of me. The earplugs are not up to the job. This was my fourth night and I’m exhausted.  Once Owen and Alice arrive we will discuss our trip to the South West which will give us a break of a couple of nights.

So – bus into Perth and another to the airport. I am a little early but on time they float down the escalator in arrivals. God it’s good to get my arms around my baby girl. I manage not to cry. Just.

The lady at the Thrifty Car Hire desk is lovely and we are soon sorted. Owen can after all be on the contract for no additional money. I didn’t need my international driving permit. STA got that wrong.

So with Owen at the wheel we set about navigating our way across Perth to Cottesloe in our shiney red automatic Toyota. No problem! When we got to the hostel the stormy wind had increased and it was raining hard.

The kids were impressed enough with the room and we set off out to Cottesloe Central for lunch. The library cafe at Peppermint Grove was sadly closed but we found a nice cafe. At last. We three. All sat down together.

Owen has no coat. No warm hoody. It’s really chilly and raining hard. Katmandu has a sale. We have a waterproof, a hoody and a couple of other purchases, some food from jolly Woolworths and off we go to Freeo. They love Freemantle. Slightly alternative easy place. Coffee, market, Sophie & Rob’s wedding present, running shoes for Owen (and shorts) – so many sales. A look around the old harbour area. Back to the Hostel. Alice needs a nap. After weeks of early shifts on her very demanding nursing placement and weekends working with very challenging autistic youngsters she is beyond exhaustion and was today up at 4am for the flight. We are 2 hours earlier here in WA. Owen settles on a run and I join him to walk the same route along the coast path. The wind is still blowing its hardest WNW but the sky is clearer and the sun is sinking in the West. Lovely. We catch each other up and head back to get ready for dinner at 8 at the local restaurant.

The hostel is bedlam. The inmates are all getting ready for a night at the Casino. The noise levels are high. Owen feels very uncomfortable about the whole place. Not friendly and not what he has ever experienced during his many travels.

Over dinner both he and Alice express horror that I have had to put up with this, reassure me that it is not usual and both agree that we should leave on Monday for our trip to the Margaret River and not return to the hostel. We should get a refund on most of the unused nights. We have booked an apartment near Dunsbrough and Bussleton as a base for our exploration of the South West. We will have to sort out accommodation for the last part of the holiday but I am so relieved we have only a couple of nights left in the Ocean Beach Backpackers hostel. Watch out STA – you have a refund to resolve. It was their wholeheated recommendation that took me there.

Back at the ranch after a lovely dinner my lovely pair wonder anew at the racket made by the remaining (non Casino bound) inmates. We settle down to try to sleep. I draft a stunning email to STA. The noise increases. I can’t sleep. I lie there awake in anticipation of the return of the revellers.

Sunday

Between 3 & 4 am they return. Drunk. Loud. Raucous. One chap bangs on our door. We all jump out of our skins. Alice leaps up to open the door. Al, leave it! You got the wrong room mate, she shouts her best Aussie, now f**k off. And he did. How we laughed. Slightly hysterically! The racket continued. We got no further sleep. As the sun rises Alice goes for a run. There is a rainbow, sun, wind, rain. She arrives back wet but exhilerated. Owen and I had packed and been down to reception. I think the chap on duty is as intimidated as we were. He agrees with everything Owen says. I tell him I will be emailing STA and would cc the hostel in. He agrees we shouln’t have to pay for the unused nights.

We don’t really care!

Car packed, Alice dry(ish) and we drive away south.

A stop along the coast near Pelican Island (or google island as it became known) provides a coffee stop. There is what appears to be a dog club gathering on the verandah. Owners and their indistinguishable pooches having brekkie out of the rain.  The trips out to Puffin Island are suspended due to the weather and in any event they are breeding (the Puffins not the boats) so we would only have sailed round not onto the Island.

Suitably fortified we again head south.

We don’t yet have a bed for tonight so a number of google inspired guest houses are sought. We can’t find any of them. But we do find a lovely National Park lagoon where we walk and take a break.
We stop in Bunbury for picnic lunch from Woolworths and sit by the estuary to eat. Owen befriends a gull who is seeing off the opposition and protecting his foodsource. It is very quiet but I imagine it would be very busy in the summer.

I call the apartment owner at Siesta Park and secure an extra night for $90 – bargain – since we haven’t found anywhere to stay. We are there within the hour. The only people staying in this little holiday park.

We have a brick chalet right by the beach. I can see the Indian Ocean as I type! Tucked in a Peppermint Grove amongst the trees and birds and possums. Bliss. The chalet has two double bedrooms – Owen bagged the double bed and kindly gave Al & I the twin. Turns out he has an electric blanket!

The heater is on and we soon have it snug. Kitchen within a huge lounge and a verandah outside. Lovely shower room and a utility with a washing machine. I wash the smell of the hostel out of my clothes and hang them outside on the line. Owen sleeps. Al and I walk along the beach till it’s almost dark.

We have enough picnic food for supper and watch a bit of telly ( a luxury for Alice who doesn’t have one). Owen emerges briefly but we all go to bed early. Lots of sleep to catch up on. Al & I sleep 10 hours!

So a potential disaster avoided. Happy to be here in the Peppermint Grove with my brood.

Or Freeo as it affectionately called. I have walked 24578 steps today.18.58 km. That’s quite a way right?

I set off along the beach this morning with the sun on my back and the gulls wheeling. The tide is high and the sea churned up as if it has spotted a storm coming.

And I simply walk on. Along the beach and up on the coastal path. Amongst the joggers and walkers and runners, some alone, some pushing babies in prams and pushchairs and some walking dogs. Thoughts of catching the train float away. I can see Fremantle harbour in the distance, cranes and silos and chimneys. I know that the city is on the far bank of the Swan river and that I have to find a bridge, but for now I am enjoying the walk. As the tide recedes, a little more firm sand is exposed and I walk some stretches of beach. There are low craggy sandstone cliffs here, in danger of falling according to signwriters. A group of shags bask and stretch their wings out to dry. They can’t read.

The organised, blue lined, ‘stick to your side of the path’ track winds on ahead, pulling away from the road and railway that have been company for miles. Eventually a sign takes traffic and pedestrians left towards Fremantle and I hope a bridge.

After a long stretch through the stacks of containers I meet the Stirling freeway and the path runs out and I find myself wandering in wealthy suburb land. My sense of direction didn’t abandon me completely and suddenly I am on the banks of the Swan River again. And here is a path. And ahead is a bridge – but how to get onto it. I consult the map. A local chap, well retired and out for his daily walk, stops to offer assistance. I’m better at it than him but once we have established where we are on the map he walks with me to find a way onto the bridge – not the first bridge we’ve seen but the second – Fremantle Bridge. He consults briefly with a real estate agent whose office we pass. The newly built flats – my rescuer lives in a penthouse apartment overlooking the river further along – are selling for lower prices than originally asked. He is not happy about this. But is torn between wanting the development complete and occupied and watching appartments similar to his own sell for less than he paid.

He has already told me how sorry he is about London. Why? All the foreigners. He says this with no guile. He thinks there are too many immigrants everywhere! London was properly English when he did his post grad 52 years ago. Thankfully our paths diverge before we can further this discussion.

Eventually I reach Fremantle city centre. More of an alternative feel to it than Perth. I find a coffee and the Market. A huge sprawling indoor area with everything you could think of. Similar to the market at Covent Garden but with a massive fresh food area added on. I find the ingredients for my herbal tea, some fresh ginger and turmeric roots and some local fruit.

The tourist office was excellent. Two older ladies, one with the funkiest specs I have ever seen. They argue over the best vegetarian cafe. I opt for the Juicy Beetroot! Wonderful lentil dhal and rice and freshly made juice. A very bhuddist centre place. Helen would approve. Staff very cheery and everyone smiling.

The free wifi zone throughout the centre of the city provides enough signal to check emails. Now that’s a good idea.

Walking back seemed a bad idea since it is by now raining and the wind is getting up. I head for the station. An extremely unhelpful customer services operative responds to my request for a change machine (no ticket office. All tickets from machines. Max $10 notes accepted). He points vaguely. I fail to spot it. Huge sigh. What are you blind or something? Partially sighted I reply sweetly. Perhaps you need to retire or retrain in customer care.

The trains are lovely. Modern and clean and frequent. I disembark at Cottesloe and after another wander round the centre I walk a now familiar route over the hill and down the long road to the beach.

What greets me is a surprise. Huge waves. Fierce wind. Birds grounded. Surfers out. I walk on the path to avoid sand blasting on the beach.  It’s dramatic and wild. I love it.

Last day of solitude. My lovelies arrive tomorrow. Can’t wait…..

The sky is clear and blue as I wait in the sunshine for the Perth bus. It’s late or I’m early. Not sure which. The bus driver is chatty. He’s called Damian. He travels. A lot. It seems that Perth bus drivers have great working conditions which enable them to convert overtime into leave and take very long holidays.

The bus route skirts the widest part of the Swan river which divides Perth into two. No swans to be seen. A cormerant or two is all. On the edge of the city the bus enters a free zone. No bus fares at all in the city centre. Just jump on and off. It is intended to ease congestion. It hasn’t quite worked.

I leave the bus at Wellington Street. The city appears smaller and more manageable in daylight. It follows the pattern of Sydney in that the CBD (Central Business District) is clustered between the older part of the city – the shopping focussed part – and the river. I say older. Nothing is very old, not in comparison to the medieval surroundings of my beloved Suffolk.

There are hundreds of shops and the main shopping areas are linked by a network of arcades housing smaller shops.

I don’t linger. Following the helpful information kiosk maps that are scatterd about the street corners, I make my way to Barrack Square. It is by the river. Massive building development is underway to bring the waterfront closer to the city. There will be a marina – Elizabeth Quay – and doubtless more retail and food outlets.

I have a coffee by the river.

A wander back through the park brings me to the Anglican Cathedral where there is an art exhibition. Works, mainly painting but some mixed media, by local students.  I am greeted by several people including the Bishop, as though they had been expecting me. One of the group – he may have been a priest – taught for a year in St Joseph’s college in Ipswich! A young curate starts me on my way round the exhibition. There is an organ recital. Only a couple of other people are looking at the art work. Some is a bit left field for me, and some very dark. But others are brilliant. I am invited by the Bishop to vote in the ‘People’s choice’, even though strictly speaking I’m not ‘people’. So I vote! The cathedral itself is unremarkable. It is brick built by convict labour. They went on strike mid build and the stoppage line is clearly visible in the brickwork.

When I emerge the sun has temporarily gone behind thin cloud and it’s chilly enough for me to need a cardi! Everyone else is wearing fur collared coats and Ugg boots. This is as chilly as it gets so I guess they don’t get much chance to wear winter clothes.

I make my way to the ‘Cultural Centre’ in Northbridge. The nod to culture comes from the location of the State Art Gallery, Museum, Theatre and Library. Since wifi in the library is free I plan to have lunch in the library cafe and upload yesterday’s blog, catch up on my emails and chill. Huh!

No wifi. Too many users. I can’t connect. I steel a free 20 minutes on the library pc to find that my hotmail account had been blocked again. Unblocking requires a code to be sent to my alternative email address which I then have to send to microsoft for them to restore my hotmail. Except it doesn’t. Restore it. I fret all afternoon but sort it very quickly once I get back to the hostel.

Anyway, I don’t get lunch at the library but find a little cafe in London Court – one of the arcades. Prices are eyewatering but I’m trying to be sensible!

The Bishop had recommended a small museum at the Kings Theatre. The tourist office is nearby so I drop in to get some ideas on how to entertain the young ones when they are here next week. The helpful tourist officer suggests loads, and also directs me to a free exhibition of Marilyn Munroe photos that are being exhibited in a neighbouring corporate office block. There must be more that 100 photographs of her – all apparently for sale. I spot prices of $3500. They are of course good reproductions of originals but even so….! She was very beautiful. She would have been 88 this year.

The theatre museum is closed. Another day perhaps.

On the bus back to Cottesloe I’m able to see where I am (no rain and bright sunshine). The sun is setting but the lure of sorting my emails is too strong. And now I hear rain on the roof.

I may catch a train to Freemantle tomorrow. It’s market day. I do love a market!

Cottesloe ( affectionately shortened to Cott) is after all a beach resort. I explored a bit today. Walked nearly 14 k along the beach and the coastal path and rather haphazardly into Cottesloe Central. It has a cluster of shops and what turned out to be a very good library.

I was allowed an hour free internet on their computer (should have paid but nice chap at desk let me off) and 3 hours wifi connection on my phone.

The library is in Peppermint Grove. The Mayfair of Perth. Shops however include Woolworth which was handy for a bit of shopping and some earplugs for the night to come.

I had lunch at the library and a coffee. I commented on the quality of the coffee shop and wondered if all libraries delivered such quality. Gales of laughter from the couple serving – no my dear, this is Peppermint Grove.

I had earlier purchased my first decaff soy cap from a little general store near the beach. Lovely. A great range of pastries and other things ( which I resisted).They also sold me a sim card. It had to be registered (by phoning or going on line) and then topped up by phone. I bought $20 of credit. Hence the trip to the library. It took 50 mins of my free hour to register the sim card and get the credit loaded. Pages of information required. Finally mastered it and texted Alice in Sydney who called me back. So odd to speak to her on the same turf but still two time zones away.

I returned to the beach and walked. You know you’re in Australia because of the smell. The vegetation has a distinctive aroma – maybe the eucalyptus. The lemon trees are loaded with fruit just now. Ironic since I bought some. You know you’re in Australia because of the birdsong. The squarking of the gull sized white cockatoos and rainbow loraqueets, the melodic song of the Australian magpies and the ever present minerbirds.

You know you’re in Australia because of the joggers. There were a few fellow travellers merely walking but dozens of people running, jogging or power walking, clutching water bottles, earphones delivering music (Staying Alive has a brilliant rythem for fast walking), faces serious and breathing hard.

I strolled until sunset, composing a poem as I went. Peace.

From blinking white light brilliance,

Slowly, evenly, slipping through the azure sky, the Sun is gone.

Falling as though never to return

Weaving precious gold and silver threads around the clouds

Brushing them with roses each in turn.

The sky melting from azure blue to silver through to speckled indigo

The horizon yet still retains the memory of the day

Until at last sea and sky are one and only ships and stars and phosphorescent moon divide the two

And with the footprint of the Sun pressed on our eyes

Not disappearing with the tide washed sand but held,

We laugh and dance and share the company of darkness,

Perchance to sleep,

and wake to find that She has returned, to light the sky,

To widen the world

To seperate the horizon yet again and give us light to guide us through another day.

There is a baby on the other side of the gangway. She’s about a year. She’s grizzly. Bored, tired, trapped, grizzly.

There is an overweight man in the seat next to me. He has fat feet. He is overflowing into my space. He is snoring. Very loud long snores.

He ate his ‘brunch’ in less than 3 minutes. All of it. Even the disgusting dried fishes with peanuts.

I need to sleep. I have dozed. Not slept. It is 5.15 am UK time. Very bright and mid morning sunny. I need water. No sign of anyone since the seatbelt signs are on and it’s very bumpy.

I watch an episode of The Mentallist. The baby cries. I doze. He snores – and sways.

Finally I must have slept but briefly – we will shortly be making our descent into Perth. So get ready. Trip to unspeakable loo. Pack bag. Descend. The baby cries.

Landed. The baby cries. We are stuck on the slip road to the parking bays. An Emirates plane is in our space. Just like Wherstead Road! We wait. Captain is very sorry. We wait. He’s very very sorry.

A row erupts between our nearest steward (who is strapped in opposite me with the leg room) and a passenger who needs the loo. Those near us are locked. The seatbelt signs are on for passengers and crew. Our steward stands (or rather sits) firm. Passengers are to remain seated and buckled. The loos are out of use.(If my theory about them being discharged into the sky is true, this must be right since we are on the ground. Bit like not using the loo on the train in the station. Mum wouldn’t use the loo on the train if the train was moving because of an irrational fear of being sucked through a black hole on to the track!)

Anyway – another steward had allowed access to the loo in another part of the plane. Anarchy. Blame. Poor steward. He gave up. There will be a heated “team meeting” later.

At last we taxied into our parking space. 45 minutes late. Everyone leapt up the second we stopped. No no.  Remain in your seats. Quarantine officers are on board. Someone is feeling unwell. The implications of this are explained by my chubby neighbour. If the unwell passenger has anything contageous (Australia has its own very strict rules about what one is allowed to import and that includes germs) then we may all be Quarentined for days. Really? The three yellow jacketed officers are satisfied that Australia is safe and leave. We are free to go.

The baby stops crying.

I have completed my little immigration card with frank honesty. I have T bags (herbal of course) and medication (eyes) and vitamins. The customs officer seems disappointed. No sandwiches from the plane? No apples? You must be kidding. I’d kill for an apple. I’m free to go. I lied. I have Danno’s herbal tincture concealed in a shampoo bottle.

I’m in Perth. I need to get to Cottesloe which is my beach resort. Perth is a big city and I have a journey of maybe 20 miles. Bus I decide. Taxis are for wealthy wimps. Incidentally it’s raining really hard! The signposting is unhelpful. A lovely man in a canary yellow suit (I imagine he is a volunteer “friend of the airport” like a volunteer hospital guide) offers assistance. Are you allright? He’s English. Lives in Perth. Just returned from a Canal holiday in Shropshire. I reassure him I am ok but need bus advice which he dispenses. It involves 3 busses and a choice of numbers which I make him write down for me. I board the free shuttle to Perth Domestic. Then find the 37 for the city. Reassured that the driver will instruct me when to get off I settle in for the ride. The bus has steamed up in the rain so not much to see. I am discharged 40 minutes later in the CBD and told to ‘cut through there’ to the bus station for my next bus. Signposts? Nah! Lifts – Nah. Bear in mind I am dragging the larger portion of Owen & my joint luggage allowance of 26kg. I can’t do escalators and stairs are a slow challenge. Takes me half an hour to navigate to my next bus. 102 to Cottesloe. A further 40 minures pass. The bus is late. But it comes and I am aboard with renewed reassurances that I will be told where to disembark. By now it is dark and still raining. It takes nearly an hour.

I find the hostel. Book in. Free internet for an hour. Single room till Saturday. 7 beds in it. Two double decker beds with double beds on lower deck and a further single on its own. Cold & damp. There is a heater.  I’d forgotten about the noise levels in a hostel. Haha. It’s basic but it’ll do. O & A will love it. So I master the IT to send the odd email, unpack the essentials and sleep. Blessed sleep. 9 till 6. Can’t wait to explore in the daylight.