Pit stop in Glenrowan to extend a few vertebrates (old mosh pit injury) and to eat some average tucker. Got our photo taken with Ned Kelly, outlaw who only stole from the banks. Where are our heros now, dare I say? 
Our digs.
We slept on that.
We balconied and bbq'ed on that thing there.
Vicky, the masseuse at Bright Massage, applied her elbows firmly into my gluts and drew us a map to a swimming hole far off the beaten track that was every bit the idyllic picture of youthful innocence that is the final scene of Bergman’s Wild Strawberries. Thanks to Vicky I can get out of a chair now with considerable more ease.
Blissed out set-menu at Boynton’s. Champers to begin. 
This mustard pickle butter number was fricking tops.
I had ocean trout with their sav blanc and it bleeping ruled. 
De campers went for the pork belly and apparently regretted it a little afterwards. “No you don't,” I said. “YES, I do,” she answered.
Duck salad and the merlot for moi.
De Campi took to the whole snapper like a frenzied sea devil. 
Cannanes will play here and it will be awesome we decided (Wandi Pub, Wandilogong)
2 comments:
You two sure lead the good life. I'm glad that your vertebrates and gluts have healed.
y god why would you move to NY to write a book bro? always appreciate a decampo shot chowing down!
best wishes to you both, my god but you do seem to live the good-life.
stephen
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