Good old convict stock

Saturday in the mountains seems to be Open House Day. Everywhere, in almost every street, little signs advertise the fact that you can park up and come inside. In fact, Mirinda said, there’s an app for diarizing the houses you want to visit depending on a variety of filters. A day dedicated to going from open house to open house seems like a visit to an outer circle of hell to me.

Though, on the flip side, there was an open house at Dural today which attracted 15 groups which, apparently, is very good. Obviously, it’s very good for Mirinda and Fi. Actually, a couple turned up yesterday and wandered around the property. One of them said she had her heart set on the place to the gardener. It only went on the market on Wednesday.

Of course, being Open House Saturday meant driving around to a couple of places this morning. Begging off because of the still gaping wound on my foot, I sat in the car and read while Mirinda and Fi were disappointed by faint smells of mould and a lack of soul. Of course, I know full well how Mirinda feels about the latter.

This is opposed to how she feels when viewing vast swathes of Australian mountains from the lookouts around Katoomba.

The photo above is at Hilda’s Lookout. I think it’s named after a nearby church that is dedicated to St Hilda rather than Mirinda and Fi’s grandmother. But, of course, you never know with people descended from good old convict stock.

Speaking of which, we had come from a lovely lunch at Leura Garage with Sue, Grae, Shelly, Christine and John. We think that Christine is the daughter of Barb who was Hilda’s flower girl at her wedding and, possibly, niece.

For clarity, John is Christine’s husband.

Given our regular patronage, we were greeted at the door of Leura Garage like old friends. The fact that we had to add two more guests was no problem, and a table was added to our already sizeable group.

Fi had dropped Mirinda and me off at the Garage while she parked the car. She was then waylaid in Leura Mall by Sue, Grae and Shelly who were slowly wandering up to the restaurant. I’d already had half a dozen beers by the time they deigned to join us.

Eventually, though, we were all gathered together to enjoy delicious meals, crisp beer and wonderful company. Actually, I was the only one drinking beer.

Rather than a repeat of the wheel of sausage, I opted for the barramundi, which was superb. Also, superb were Sharon’s scones which were devoured by Mirinda and Fi tonight while I enjoyed some luxurious nougat smothered in rose petals.