It may look like a sad little veggie patch, but it is in fact a new bed, full of the promise of salads to come. Freshly weeded and dug over, it is now home to a flock of baby lettuce beginning their journey into the big wide world, shepherded by the oregano and
I did a wine course earlier this year. There were a lot of wines to taste and an enormous amount of information to learn about wine all over the world. The good news is I passed! I now have my little green badge and certificate from the Wine and Spirit Education Trust in
It’s quite the view from the top of Sovereign Hill, with the Poppet Head standing proudly over the Ballarat skyline. I’m looking forward to seeing this view more often as a costumed volunteer (in my pink, ruffled skirt).
If you look for them, there are good lines everywhere. In the skyline, on walls, in shadows, on the ground. Sometimes they jump out in the right light, showing off their contours in high definition.
Yum! Meredith Goat Cheese and fig ice cream on a beautiful, sunny day in Melbourne’s CBD. I love the way the old buildings of Wesley Place are tucked in underneath the modern giants.
I have no idea what the architect intended, but to my eye this is a piano building. I like to imagine there’s a piano on every floor and a giant multi-piano work is performed every afternoon. Or maybe a resident pianist in the lift playing up and down all day.
I highly recommend a mid-afternoon pain au chocolat and coffee while watching the pastry chefs work their magic. Relaxing, intriguing and delicious all rolled into one.
The perfect handle for the door of a restaurant whose menu includes, ‘Bread, Sexy Butter’.
I like to imagine the Ballarat Coffee Palace in it’s heyday. The first stop for weary travellers stepping off the train from Melbourne. Ladies in their ruffles and bustles, gentleman in their tophats and finery. All sipping daintily on a cup of strong, dark coffee, before braving the streets of this new city.
The rest of the country spent the afternoon watching a bunch of blokes kick a football around a field this afternoon. The only. balls I was watching were the ones on the ends of my bass strings. I’m learning to bow and those big, fat bass frequencies are the audiological equivalent of sticky
