In any case, given the location, they'd be hard pressed to find a more convenient place to stop in Hobart since the egress puts you straight into the lane that takes you across the bridge and lands you right in front of the show grounds. The stone buildings and the breakfast were, however, the leading anti-Henry factors in this particular case.
The location factor chipped in when the next couple of guests arrived, though they were competitors rather than people with some semi-official capacity. The two women apparently didn't need to avail themselves of the free parking, and had opted for a slightly more Civilised starting time though there were presumably various issues relating to grooming when you're dealing with sheep dogs that are in the running for Champion Puppy of Show.
We took our time over breakfast, with Madam hoeing into the fruit compote, which isn't exactly my scene, while Hughesy tackled toast, cheese, ham and salami. I was just finished my first cup of coffee when a bloke wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt arrived.
He was, predictably, part of the MONA crowd, arriving comfortably ahead of his girlfriend, who was definitely not a morning person. Not exactly grumpy, just someone who needed time to warm to the prospects of a new day. She was, we learned, an artist. He was an actor who suspected I might have been an opera singer, which goes to show how wrong you can be, doesn't it?
But they were interesting people, and when our hostess entered the conversation the result was a broad ranging discussion that encompassed MONA, Leonard Cohen, Tony Burke, Owsley Stanley, remuneration for members of Actors Equity as opposed to others working in theatrical environments, autistic kids and converted warehouses in Botany.
I would have been inclined to stay and see where else the conversation was destined, possibly extending things to an unheard of third lashing of caffeine, but Madam was keen to head off to Salamanca, so off we headed.
The road to Salamanca was reasonably straightforward since we'd covered most of it the night before, but we didn't quite manage to navigate ourselves into the three level car park our host had pointed us towards. Still, we had no trouble finding a park in aside street and made our way towards the markets through the village centre at Battery Point, noting a couple of dinner options for future reference.
We approached Salamanca Place through Montpelier Retreat, noting another possible eating option en route, and proceeded with a clockwise circuit of the site, pausing frequently for a closer investigation of interesting stalls.