Two thirty

... or as hubby always says "Tooth hurtee. Time to go to the dentist.". This was very much the case with me the other day. I had had a toothache off and on for a while and the time had come to bite the bullet (silly expression in this case since I would probably injure another tooth) and go to the dentist. I just went to the closest one to where we live, and what a stroke of luck that was. It was a true gentleman of Asian descent and his surgery was topnotch. We had to decide on how to deal with this tooth, extraction, inplant, bridge, or a simple root-canal job with a crown. I opted for the last, wanting to hang on to my own stumps as long as possible, and then the fun started. He took some X-rays and showed me the inside of my mouth on a big TV screen - not a pretty sight.  Then he started giving me loads of injections which I love him for.  He also gave me a pair of chic sunglasses to put on (for the bright overhead light) and ear phones (so I wouldn't hear the drilling etc) and put a chick flick on the TV. All we needed was a palm tree and a pool, it was so comfy there in the lounge chair. Sadly, he finished before the end of the movie so now I have to go out and rent it.

Now over to King Valley where we went last week. It is becoming a bit of a tradition that we go away over a long week end once a year with hubby's old bikie friends and their wives. This time it was a seven-hour drive for us but of course less for them coming from Melbourne. The owner of King Valley Estate where we were staying was called Trevor Knaggs. He is a really pleasant and hospitable fellow. If you are a backpacker looking for farm work, give him a call.

Last night's pizza dinner made in Trevor's pizza oven.

Serious winetasting taking place.

When Trevor heard I was Swedish he gave me "the task"
of finding him a Swedish wife.

The time passed very quickly in King Valley with wine tasting and sightseeing. When we returned home we found that our French visitors had adapted very well to Australia. The day after our return we took them up to the Blue Mountains. There we met a lady who overheard us speaking French who was herself from Bordeaux but from Touareg origin.. She let me take her photo. She was dressed in a Touareg outfit since she was visiting Australia for some international project

It's time to say goodbye for now and hope you enjoyed your little read and that you will come back.

Berry beefy men in skirts

The Tartan Warriors discussing strategy, no doubt!

Yesterday we went to the Berry Celtic Festival and it was a real treat.  There was everything you could possibly want. There were different bands marching and playing bagpipes, and Scottish dancing, and stands for the different clans where you could buy clan paraphernalia or get to know fellow clan men.

They frequently have highland games here in New South Wales since many of the original arrivals to this country came from either Scotland or Ireland or other places with Celtic origin. These particular highland games consisted of caber tossing. and lifting and running with big, very heavy rocks, and another variation of throwing a heavy "thingy" backwards over your head, very high, over a bar, like a pole-vault bar. I think it was called "weight for height".

I can now confirm that they do wear underwear under the kilt.

There were several different bands playing and some had dancers as well.

I almost managed to join a band.

The whole family dressed up and ready for the festival.
Mom and Dad didn't want to be in the photo though.

It was also nice to walk around a visit all the different stands. There was also fiddle playing and very mournful singing.

I also enjoyed the weaving and  the one-hundred-year-old knitting machine for socks. My thoughts obviously went to my sister-in-law who loves all that crafty stuff.

Just as we had walked out we could hear over the loud speakers that there were 20 frozen haggis up for grabs. We almost walked in again but stopped ourselves. Both of us remembered when we lived in Scotland and had our first haggis. Certain things are just better enjoyed in the country where people know how to cook them (and even then it is iffy) and in that certain ambiance in which you have it.

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Another example of this is frogs legs. I liked it  when we lived in France but wouldn't go out of my way to cook up frog's legs here in Australia.

Leaving you with some photos from the dinosaur museum in Canberra. I went there last week with our son to renew his passport. No take that back, we went to the embassy for the passport and to the museum for fun photos. The passport formalities were over so quickly that we had time for some sight seeing and wine tasting and lunch in an Irish pub as well.

"A man never knows how to say goodbye; a woman never knows when to say it." -Helen Rowland

I am beginning to think it is true, since this blog entry is becoming very long, sorry about that. Here it is- goodbye!