Friday, 1 November 2013
Well, to quote an old favourite Neil Young song, it wasn't supposed to go down that way. I could blame it all on a number of factors, some of which were my doing, but let's just ascribe it to the cards falling the way they will, regardless of the best laid plans of mice and men.
The original game plan started with a walk to buy breakfast, after which we'd head off to The Queens Domain for a walk through the Botanical Gardens. For lunch, we'd pencilled in at Remi de Provence, followed by an excursion to the Cascade Brewery, where the surrounds rather than the contents were to be the focus.
From there we'd head across the Tasman Bridge to the night's accommodation at Orana House, have dinner at the local pub and crash for the night, prior to packing and rearranging the goods and chattels the next morning for a lunchtime flight to Brisbane.
That was the plan, anyway, and predictably it didn't take long to come unstuck.
The first little snag came whenMadam announced she was just stepping out for around ten minutes to take some photos. I was busily tapping out Travelogue at the time and didn't take a great deal of notice of minor details like the time of departure.
She seemed to have been gone a fair bit more that ten minutes when I finished the bit I was involved with, and since I wasn't inclined to shower just yet, I filled in a bit of time rearranging the contents of The Black Monster while I awaited the wanderer's return.