As you know, Albany was our destination of choice this summer. Our plan to avoid the extremes of Perth's heat here on the south coast has been an unqualified success. For many weeks the weather gods have been frowning down on Albany from cool and cloudy skies, often leaking irritating 'mizzle' (miserable drizzle....a word we learnt at Lake Tinaroo last year) to complete the discomfort.
But, as if there has been some natural imperative to embrace the 'joie de vivre' of the festive season, the sun has finally broken through on more than one day in ten and the weather has finally actually met our expectations.
And Xmas was drawing nigh. "Lizzie, where did I store those Xmas decorations from last year...they are not where I thought I had left them?" Fancy expecting help from the Xmas decorations Grinch! But I persevered and, after turning out some very dark places in little used cupboards, I had everything ready.
Our modest travelling tree was be-baubled (that gave the spell-check a jolt),
our equally modest 'hall' was decked with a holly substitute of tinsel and a garland, the Xmas table cloth and mats made their annual appearance from the depths of the linen cupboard,
cards were hung inside
and the festive lights were strung without.
Now all that remained was to ensure that Max did not feel left out. Oddly enough being a 'Tinsel Cat' was not high on his agenda. He survived just long enough to be part of our annual Xmas 'selfie' where, as his face shows, he posed with a disappointing lack of enthusiasm
before his sense of pride and independence took over and he was off to the rear annex door
where he made a furtive but unsuccessful bid for freedom. At this point we took pity on our mightily miffed moggie and rendered him 'tinsel-less' but I have to say we were not forgiven the indignity for some time. I think 'haughty' covers it. "Get over it, Max.....there are times you just have to be a team player."
As in the past, this Xmas presented us with our annual unresolved menu dilemma....Liz cannot abide turkey. Now I know that revelation will have most of you reeling with shock, but there it is...just something I have to live with, or not!
For me the concept of watching the unfolding battle which is the Boxing Day Test Match sans a cold turkey drumstick and a cold roast spud is unthinkable. The solution is simple....we have two Xmas meals, one traditional and the other which caters for Her Oddness, a succulent seafood celebration.
Liz was the subject of some unkind hospital rostering over the festive season, including day shift on Xmas Day and again on Boxing Day. Our evening Xmas Day meal was obviously going to have to be a quite subdued affair, so we made up for this by having an opening bash on December 21st, using our wedding anniversary as the excuse. Liz was off on the 22nd, so this would be the night on which to let our hair down.
To my great relief, I had managed to source a very small turkey, so it was off to the galley for Chef Pierre where the sacrificial fowl was stuffed and trussed
and consigned to the oven. "Of course I know what temperature to use, Liz. I've cooked turkey before". The real fact of the matter was that, with this van oven the setting on the temperature gauge and the resultant heat in the oven itself can be two different things completely. We have, by now, learnt to compensate, but my expressions of self-confidence at this point in proceedings were a little feigned.
I had no need to worry. A few hours later our table centrepiece emerged a succulent golden brown. The roasted veggies were a complete success,
and I made a triumphant progress to the festive table where the laden platter took pride of place.
With Liz using BBQ chicken as a turkey substitute, we popped the cork on a fine bottle of local bubbles saved for just such an occasion, and settled into a delightful evening. The champers was followed by an equally good local sav blanc (and I have to report honestly that some of the whites of the Denmark area do rate seriously well), and, just to top off the night in style, we sipped nightcaps of Tennessee Honey from my recently acquired 'cut crystal' (still glass) liqueur glasses. All in all, a very fine evening indeed.
Our Xmas night meal was, by comparison, a modest affair as far as our fluid consumption went, but I did make an effort 'at table'. To my surprise and delight I had managed to find a local seafood outlet which offered not only wonderful local scallops, but fresh South Australian crayfish. And of a good size, too. One kilogramme crustaceans graced the display cases. After having to settle last year for the 600 gramme midgets which are the largest western lobsters commercially available (unless you live in Singapore or Shanghai where the serious specimens end up), I was over the moon. Large and fresh...just the way a good cray should be.
I do have to admit that it was a little strange driving Liz to work first thing on Xmas morning. In complete contrast to Perth last year, the day had dawned cool, overcast and breezy, climatic conditions which I found rather matched my mood at that point as I drove back to a sleeping caravan park. I love Xmas Day, always have, and this was the first in my memory on which I had found myself alone for the better part of it. It was an odd sensation.
But there was work to be done. The crays were cleaned and the banana prawns shelled and prepared. The pea and potato salad was cooked and mixed, the scallops and prawns were crumbed and the green salad filled a bowl. The seafood sauce was mixed and tasted. Our self imposed limit of one bottle of champagne was on ice.
The table was moved and reset. And the weather lifted.....we were set.
Liz was more than ready for an early start to proceedings. I plated the crays and set to over our outside stove.
In no time flat a plate of golden crumbed seafood morsels was also gracing the festive board.
It was time to relax and tuck in. The Matron took no persuading. Nor did I......
.....Merry Xmas everyone!
We did enjoy another fine evening of restrained celebration, all under the watchful supervision of the ship's cat, who decided that he would keep an eye on things from the 'big chair'. After all, a cat's entitled to a treat on a night like this and I can assure you when we are in the annex there is definitely 'no show without punch!'
The reality of Liz's current working life returned on the morrow when the alarm sounded at 0530 hours. Hi, ho, hi, ho, it's off to work she goes! But it's Boxing Day....the Test Match of the year, the start of the Sydney-Hobart, cold cray and turkey on which to graze.....and, for the first time for many years, I was rejoicing in a clear head. I dropped Liz off at work, went for an early (conscience) swim and settled back with the TV and assorted snacks.
And then it started. The first arrivals of what became a week and a half of utter park madness. We had been warned but we were not prepared!
At least 100 new arrivals jammed onto every available site over Boxing Day and December 27. With myriads of excited kids, every one of whom owned a bike or a scooter with which they treated the park roads like a race track, and most of their equally excited parents letting their holiday hair down with understandable verve, the erstwhile peace of The Rose Gardens was shattered.
Our row transformed from this
to this (taken from the opposite end) overnight.
The previous vacant spaces of the front sites
became a veritable bedouins' camp in a day.
And so it was throughout the park. Crowds, noise, constant traffic, both on foot and in vehicles, up and down past our patch.....we knew it was coming, but the degree to which our privacy, space and general peace and quite was overturned was a little beyond what we had anticipated, notwithstanding our considerable park experience.
Ah, well, nothing to do but grin and bear it. Hopefully things will settle down early in the new year. Hopefully......???
New Year's Eve came and went with a pleasantly surprising lack of mayhem. This was most welcomed in the Marshie camp. Again, thanks to the insensitive and highly biased management of her ward, Liz worked until 2130 hours on that evening and was back on again at 0700 hours New Year's Day. We both remain very grateful that whilst youngsters can be particularly noisy during the day, they do crash early. A blissful calm descended on our camp well before midnight.
And my prayers were answered on 3 January. A good 70-80 % of the young families packed up their bikes, boards, scooters, canoes, pole tennis and the mass of other holiday accoutrements with which their sites had been littered, and left. Others soon took their places, but these were predominately older couples with no raucous progeny in tow. Elbow room and sanity had returned to The Rose Gardens. And with Liz only having nine more shifts to work (they offered her more but, oddly enough, she knocked them back) and the weather steadily warming, I was really now looking forward to the remainder of our stay in Albany. [signed...'Grumpy Old Man'!]
Let me end this Xmas-New Year special with an announcement of some import in relation to this time of the year.
THE MOBILE MARSHIES ARE COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 2015. With Liz's Mum not getting any younger, and me rather badly missing the traditional company of my sons on Xmas Day, we decided that we would make our way home for the festive season this coming year. We have yet to finalise the dates or the length of our stay. We are hopeful to be able to grace the Adelaide Oval for the Test cricket, but have yet to see the match schedule for next season.
In any event, we really look forward to catching up with all those wonderful people who are our Adelaide family and friends and shall certainly be allowing more than enough time to do just that.
And Xmas was drawing nigh. "Lizzie, where did I store those Xmas decorations from last year...they are not where I thought I had left them?" Fancy expecting help from the Xmas decorations Grinch! But I persevered and, after turning out some very dark places in little used cupboards, I had everything ready.
Our modest travelling tree was be-baubled (that gave the spell-check a jolt),
our equally modest 'hall' was decked with a holly substitute of tinsel and a garland, the Xmas table cloth and mats made their annual appearance from the depths of the linen cupboard,
cards were hung inside
and the festive lights were strung without.
Now all that remained was to ensure that Max did not feel left out. Oddly enough being a 'Tinsel Cat' was not high on his agenda. He survived just long enough to be part of our annual Xmas 'selfie' where, as his face shows, he posed with a disappointing lack of enthusiasm
before his sense of pride and independence took over and he was off to the rear annex door
where he made a furtive but unsuccessful bid for freedom. At this point we took pity on our mightily miffed moggie and rendered him 'tinsel-less' but I have to say we were not forgiven the indignity for some time. I think 'haughty' covers it. "Get over it, Max.....there are times you just have to be a team player."
As in the past, this Xmas presented us with our annual unresolved menu dilemma....Liz cannot abide turkey. Now I know that revelation will have most of you reeling with shock, but there it is...just something I have to live with, or not!
For me the concept of watching the unfolding battle which is the Boxing Day Test Match sans a cold turkey drumstick and a cold roast spud is unthinkable. The solution is simple....we have two Xmas meals, one traditional and the other which caters for Her Oddness, a succulent seafood celebration.
Liz was the subject of some unkind hospital rostering over the festive season, including day shift on Xmas Day and again on Boxing Day. Our evening Xmas Day meal was obviously going to have to be a quite subdued affair, so we made up for this by having an opening bash on December 21st, using our wedding anniversary as the excuse. Liz was off on the 22nd, so this would be the night on which to let our hair down.
To my great relief, I had managed to source a very small turkey, so it was off to the galley for Chef Pierre where the sacrificial fowl was stuffed and trussed
and consigned to the oven. "Of course I know what temperature to use, Liz. I've cooked turkey before". The real fact of the matter was that, with this van oven the setting on the temperature gauge and the resultant heat in the oven itself can be two different things completely. We have, by now, learnt to compensate, but my expressions of self-confidence at this point in proceedings were a little feigned.
I had no need to worry. A few hours later our table centrepiece emerged a succulent golden brown. The roasted veggies were a complete success,
and I made a triumphant progress to the festive table where the laden platter took pride of place.
With Liz using BBQ chicken as a turkey substitute, we popped the cork on a fine bottle of local bubbles saved for just such an occasion, and settled into a delightful evening. The champers was followed by an equally good local sav blanc (and I have to report honestly that some of the whites of the Denmark area do rate seriously well), and, just to top off the night in style, we sipped nightcaps of Tennessee Honey from my recently acquired 'cut crystal' (still glass) liqueur glasses. All in all, a very fine evening indeed.
Our Xmas night meal was, by comparison, a modest affair as far as our fluid consumption went, but I did make an effort 'at table'. To my surprise and delight I had managed to find a local seafood outlet which offered not only wonderful local scallops, but fresh South Australian crayfish. And of a good size, too. One kilogramme crustaceans graced the display cases. After having to settle last year for the 600 gramme midgets which are the largest western lobsters commercially available (unless you live in Singapore or Shanghai where the serious specimens end up), I was over the moon. Large and fresh...just the way a good cray should be.
I do have to admit that it was a little strange driving Liz to work first thing on Xmas morning. In complete contrast to Perth last year, the day had dawned cool, overcast and breezy, climatic conditions which I found rather matched my mood at that point as I drove back to a sleeping caravan park. I love Xmas Day, always have, and this was the first in my memory on which I had found myself alone for the better part of it. It was an odd sensation.
But there was work to be done. The crays were cleaned and the banana prawns shelled and prepared. The pea and potato salad was cooked and mixed, the scallops and prawns were crumbed and the green salad filled a bowl. The seafood sauce was mixed and tasted. Our self imposed limit of one bottle of champagne was on ice.
The table was moved and reset. And the weather lifted.....we were set.
Liz was more than ready for an early start to proceedings. I plated the crays and set to over our outside stove.
In no time flat a plate of golden crumbed seafood morsels was also gracing the festive board.
It was time to relax and tuck in. The Matron took no persuading. Nor did I......
.....Merry Xmas everyone!
We did enjoy another fine evening of restrained celebration, all under the watchful supervision of the ship's cat, who decided that he would keep an eye on things from the 'big chair'. After all, a cat's entitled to a treat on a night like this and I can assure you when we are in the annex there is definitely 'no show without punch!'
The reality of Liz's current working life returned on the morrow when the alarm sounded at 0530 hours. Hi, ho, hi, ho, it's off to work she goes! But it's Boxing Day....the Test Match of the year, the start of the Sydney-Hobart, cold cray and turkey on which to graze.....and, for the first time for many years, I was rejoicing in a clear head. I dropped Liz off at work, went for an early (conscience) swim and settled back with the TV and assorted snacks.
And then it started. The first arrivals of what became a week and a half of utter park madness. We had been warned but we were not prepared!
At least 100 new arrivals jammed onto every available site over Boxing Day and December 27. With myriads of excited kids, every one of whom owned a bike or a scooter with which they treated the park roads like a race track, and most of their equally excited parents letting their holiday hair down with understandable verve, the erstwhile peace of The Rose Gardens was shattered.
Our row transformed from this
to this (taken from the opposite end) overnight.
The previous vacant spaces of the front sites
became a veritable bedouins' camp in a day.
And so it was throughout the park. Crowds, noise, constant traffic, both on foot and in vehicles, up and down past our patch.....we knew it was coming, but the degree to which our privacy, space and general peace and quite was overturned was a little beyond what we had anticipated, notwithstanding our considerable park experience.
Ah, well, nothing to do but grin and bear it. Hopefully things will settle down early in the new year. Hopefully......???
New Year's Eve came and went with a pleasantly surprising lack of mayhem. This was most welcomed in the Marshie camp. Again, thanks to the insensitive and highly biased management of her ward, Liz worked until 2130 hours on that evening and was back on again at 0700 hours New Year's Day. We both remain very grateful that whilst youngsters can be particularly noisy during the day, they do crash early. A blissful calm descended on our camp well before midnight.
And my prayers were answered on 3 January. A good 70-80 % of the young families packed up their bikes, boards, scooters, canoes, pole tennis and the mass of other holiday accoutrements with which their sites had been littered, and left. Others soon took their places, but these were predominately older couples with no raucous progeny in tow. Elbow room and sanity had returned to The Rose Gardens. And with Liz only having nine more shifts to work (they offered her more but, oddly enough, she knocked them back) and the weather steadily warming, I was really now looking forward to the remainder of our stay in Albany. [signed...'Grumpy Old Man'!]
Let me end this Xmas-New Year special with an announcement of some import in relation to this time of the year.
THE MOBILE MARSHIES ARE COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 2015. With Liz's Mum not getting any younger, and me rather badly missing the traditional company of my sons on Xmas Day, we decided that we would make our way home for the festive season this coming year. We have yet to finalise the dates or the length of our stay. We are hopeful to be able to grace the Adelaide Oval for the Test cricket, but have yet to see the match schedule for next season.
In any event, we really look forward to catching up with all those wonderful people who are our Adelaide family and friends and shall certainly be allowing more than enough time to do just that.
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