(no subject)
Richmond was an easy drive through fields, vinyards and the odd radio telescope. The Georgian town is preserved rather like the jams in the Ye Olde lilly shoppe: it's sweet but not very substantial.
Don't get me wrong, it was pleasant to walk by the lake with it's angry asthmatic ducks, to take photos of the 1823 bridge that uncannily resemble the postcards available in all shops, to enact 'Where's Wally?' in the model village of Hobart and, lastly, to run fingers over weathered names in the tumbledown cemetery. The bakery was a scrumptious break from the cheery 'historiana'- give me crusty spinach and fetta parcels over Olden Dayes Photographic Portraits and Lavender bags, any day.
Nevertheless, it was a fine outing and a good way to acclimatize.
The evening was somewhat mixed with a poor film at the local garish boiled lolly if a multiplex- The Boat that Rocked which was only diverting thanks to Bill Nighy twitching expressionlessly in an assortment of Saville Row suits and one stunning patchwork velvet jacket I would die for. (Hearing some snippets of The Seekers was foot tapping too) but basically the film out-stayed it's welcome like a bilious aunt. It was a go-go dance off between groovy printed fabrics and Brill-creamed fascists. The Goodies did pirate radio stations far better.
Then to tummy tempting Anapurna Indian food. Much more apatising fare.
Late night watching bizarre local TV ads, and The Medium. How does she get thar hair brown on the top and so sharply blonde everywhere else? And that pained expression is either her psychic power or a chillie burrito at lunch gone horribly wrong...
Today, Salamanca markets- breakfast, wandering and meetings Quest Atlantis colleague, Angela Cooke. Shopping, more coffee, chai, bookstores, cakes and a movie tonight. Phew!
More later!
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
Don't get me wrong, it was pleasant to walk by the lake with it's angry asthmatic ducks, to take photos of the 1823 bridge that uncannily resemble the postcards available in all shops, to enact 'Where's Wally?' in the model village of Hobart and, lastly, to run fingers over weathered names in the tumbledown cemetery. The bakery was a scrumptious break from the cheery 'historiana'- give me crusty spinach and fetta parcels over Olden Dayes Photographic Portraits and Lavender bags, any day.
Nevertheless, it was a fine outing and a good way to acclimatize.
The evening was somewhat mixed with a poor film at the local garish boiled lolly if a multiplex- The Boat that Rocked which was only diverting thanks to Bill Nighy twitching expressionlessly in an assortment of Saville Row suits and one stunning patchwork velvet jacket I would die for. (Hearing some snippets of The Seekers was foot tapping too) but basically the film out-stayed it's welcome like a bilious aunt. It was a go-go dance off between groovy printed fabrics and Brill-creamed fascists. The Goodies did pirate radio stations far better.
Then to tummy tempting Anapurna Indian food. Much more apatising fare.
Late night watching bizarre local TV ads, and The Medium. How does she get thar hair brown on the top and so sharply blonde everywhere else? And that pained expression is either her psychic power or a chillie burrito at lunch gone horribly wrong...
Today, Salamanca markets- breakfast, wandering and meetings Quest Atlantis colleague, Angela Cooke. Shopping, more coffee, chai, bookstores, cakes and a movie tonight. Phew!
More later!
Posted via LiveJournal.app.