Photos - South Australia

The Archway near Loch Ard


The tragedy of the Kinglake Fire



The Twelve Apostles - Great Ocean Road

Cape Otway Lighthouse

At the foot of the Anglesey Lighthouse

This is what being "Granny and Grandpa" is all about

The early morning session

Joanna Beach Farmhouse - room for everyone to play

Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road

The new generation of Australians

The Great Ocean Road - Australia

I can never decide what is the most addictive thing about the Great Ocean Road that sweeps along the coastline south of Melbourne. Is it the grandiose views of the sea and the cliffs dotted with swooping seabirds and creamy topped waves, or is it the rich heritage of history that is woven into this coastline.


I had been down the Ocean Road before on a wonderful but hectic one day trip with my son. It falls to everyone living in Melbourne who has relatives and friends visiting from overseas, to undertake a trip down the Ocean Road, and consequently, he and his family know every nook and cranny of it, but they never seem to tire of it.

But this was to be no whistle stop drive, and travelling in two cars, we met up at Anglesey to purchase delicious pies and then went and sat at the foot of the old lighthouse in warm sunshine while the grandchildren played "roly poly" on the steep grassy bank. Hamish the dog had come along as well, as my daughter and family were still in New Zealand on the last leg of their trip, and our destination was Joanna Beach Farmhouse where dogs were warmly welcomed.

What a wonderful place to stay if you have a combination of lively children and a dog that has the demeanour of a floppy labrador but the speed of a collie. With a huge garden to chase around, and an indoor heated pool for the children to burn off energy, we had the best of all worlds, plus the additional fun of being able to collect our own eggs and pick whatever vegetables we required from the garden.

Joanna Beach is within easy reach of the Twelve Apostles - the great sandstone stacks that stick out of the sea further along the coast, and although they are just about reduced to Matthew Mark Luke and John, you can clearly see signs of new ones being carved out by the relentless waves that pound the cliffs. It is the combination of these waves, very high winds and dangerous rocks that has been the downfall of many a ship, some of which had managed to sail safely all the way from England, only to founder on the rocks a few hours short of their destination of Melbourne.

The Otway Lighthouse out on the point was in many cases the first sign of landfall that the weary sailors and passengers from the late 1800's would see after leaving the comfort and safety of English shores, and the sad little graveyard at Loch Ard Gorge told the story of when the Loch Ard broke up on the rocks, resulting in the loss of almost everyone on board. The two most famous survivors were a young seaman and an equally young lady passenger whom he rescued from the surf after they had both been swept into the gorge. For a few weeks, Australia held its' collective breath hoping that a grand romance would develop and that the seaman would marry the young girl, but she had clearly had enough of the sea and those who sailed upon it, and at the first possible chance, she returned to her native Ireland to mourn the loss of no less than six of her family members.

We revelled in the history, played on the beach with the dog and the children, ate delicious seafood cooked on the barbeque at the farmhouse, and enjoyed the outstandingly good fish and chips from one of the coastal villages.

When time came to leave, instead of driving straight back to Melbourne, Jean and I headed northwards to Ballarat and approached our destination of Whittlesea north of Melbourne from the countryside. As we drew closer to home, we could see the ravages left by the terrifying fires last February, and I was sickened to see just how close it had come to my daughter's house. She had friends who had lost everything, and the homeless are now housed in a variety of dwelling places. The gifts from the Australian public and government ensure that they have everything they need, but money can never bring back their homes, their belongings, and in so many sad cases, their loved ones. Kinglake which was once a green thick forest threaded with a network of lanes and lovely old cottages, is now a barren burnt stretch of charred stumps and derelict broken down houses, and although people are defiantly rebuilding, the day that hell visited this part of the country will never be forgotten.

We spent a day in Melbourne and having absorbed a lot of interesting facts in the huge Melbourne Museum, we took a trolley ride around the city in company with hundreds of other people who had been lured out by a lovely sunny day. Maybe not the best way to see this vibrant colourful city with its blend of ultra modern and victorian buildings with the Yarra River winding through it like some vast snake, but at least we had a flavour of it.

Our last day was spent in company with two of our grandchildren and we wandered the pathways through the Healsville Animal Sanctuary, spotting the koalas snoozing in the trees, laughing at the emus who strutted about in a self-important fashion, and envying the kangaroos who stayed in their warm dry shed looking at the tourists who stood out in the pouring rain hoping to see some hopping going on. Before we left, we bought the children a small toy each, and from what I gather, Sid the clockwork snake is still going strong and had taken up residence among the underwear in his six year old owners top drawer.

Saying goodbye is never easy and it was good to know that we were returning with hundreds of photos that would remind us of our trip. I know there is Skype and email, phone calls and letters, but nothing in this world can replace a pair of little arms around your neck, and the words "Granny - can I tell you something".

It was wonderful to be able to return to France, to our home and garden and our friends, but how I wish I had gone to the Victoria Market in Melbourne and bought one of those magic carpets!

New Zealand - A Dream Come True

This is what makes a 23 hour flight worthwhile!


South Island between Haast Pass and Wanaka



The best way to see the country

For some strange reason that I have never quite fathomed, since the age of eleven, it has been a dream of mine to see New Zealand, and now in my sixtieth year, the dream finally came true.

Having not see my children or grandchildren for nearly two years, it was high time that I undertook the long journey to the other side of the world once more.

While living in Miami, I had been twice to Australia, flying first to Los Angeles and then spending the best part of sixteen hours crossing the Pacific Ocean to reach Melbourne. I often feel that long haul flying is a bit like childbirth. At the time, you swear that you'll never do it again, but then you find yourself in possession of another airticket, all prepared to squeeze into a seat with no leg room, situated in front of a person with no manners.

But this time I was going "the other way round" from France via London and Hong Kong, and with a temptingly low airfare on offer, I put the pressure on Jean to come with me. The thought of coping with all the various components of the journey on my own seemed a bridge too far, and I was so happy when he agreed to come along as Honorary Grandpa.

Thanks to the loving generosity of my two children, both our camper van in New Zealand, and four days in a beautiful farmhouse near the beach on the Great Ocean Road south of Melbourne were a birthday gift, thus giving us two holidays within our three week stay, and with hand on heart, we can honestly say that it was far and away the best trip we could ever have had.

But back to the realisation of my dream. As we flew in to Christchurch, the air stewardess announced that there were now new chickens at the airport which she hoped we would all enjoy. I was dubious as to why chickens should be such a source of pleasure and why they would be kept in such a public place, and then realised that she was informing us of the new "check-ins". Clearly the New Zealand accent was something we would have to come to grips with, but the New Zealanders that we met were as friendly and delightful as I had always known they would be, even though my previous knowledge of them had been based largely on the All Black Rugby team!

Two camper vans were the chosen method of transport, and my daughter and her family occupied one and Jean and I had the other. What a brilliant way of seeing the country. No packing and unpacking each day; a hot cup of coffee at a moments' notice; the same cosy comfortable bed each night and time to spend gazing in awe at the sheer majesty of the South Island scenery.

I ran out of descriptive words within the first hour of leaving the Canterbury Plain and climbing up towards Arthur's Pass en route for the west coast and Greymouth. Everywhere you look, you can see tourists with their mouths agape as they turn another corner and take in yet another spectacle of snow capped mountains, vast lakes, vistas that go on forever, and in our case, a beautiful blue sky overhead.

Of course it rains in New Zealand and you definitely need to like sheep, but the green pastures and contented flocks are proof that the combination works. It was late September while we were there and although the daffodils were out and the peach blossom created drifts of pink across the landscape, we still managed a dusting of snow on our last night.

We had stopped in the campground near the foot of Mount Cook, in the hopes that the low cloud would lift and we would be rewarded with the sight of the South Island's highest peak, but instead, the grey mist hung in swags around the mountain sides. It was no problem, and we were content lying in bed with a hot mug of coffee watching the snowflakes drift past the window, and on our way back to Melbourne, we flew directly over Mount Cook and literally had a birds eye view of the entire snowcapped range that forms the backbone of the island.

At each stop we would regroup with our fellow travellers and enjoy a picnic lunch and an evening of laughter and good food before each retiring to our respective beds, and while Mum and Dad went off in the rain to explore the Fox Glacier, Granny and Grandpa stayed in the cosy warmth and played games of Uno, Snakes and Ladders and Monopoly. There is nothing more precious to me than time spent with my grandchildren and we cherished every moment.

We parted company with them in the Queenstown region and over the next three days, the children learned to snow ski, ice skate, bungy jump and rock climb and they even raced their Dad down the luge in a low slung go-kart. In the meantime, we headed back to Christchurch, said hello and goodbye to the chickens and flew back to Melbourne for part two of our wonderful holiday.

Getting Back On Track

Vineyards near Asperes



We are embarking on our second autumn and now that the clocks have gone back, Jean does the rounds at 6pm and closes the shutters and draws the curtains. Instead of barbequeing sausages out in the courtyard for supper, we now settle in and drink thick homemade soup and await the arrival of the cold. So far we are still eating lunch outside and putting on the sun cream, so no sign of the cold that gripped us last year - or at least not yet.

It was a huge relief to come back from Australia to find that there had been good rain and the grip of a long hot summer had finally loosened. We could vaguely recall a downpour on the 5th July but that was about all we to show for it with regards to summer rainfall, and the back garden looked more like the Gobi Desert than anything else. It was so good to hunker down last weekend and watch the rain lashing down for the best part of three days, and the almost immediate change in the remaining plants and grass is extraordinary. They were totally disinterested in our sprinkler system and the fact that we lovingly carted water to each of the tubs and hanging baskets and they slouched and sulked throughout the heat, but now we have a masses of bright violas and a swathe of green grass, and all the old stonework has developed a fuzz of moss.

Our three fish have clearly been busy, because now we have seven fish. They are still stupidly shy and hide their heads under a lily pad leaf in the same way that a child will cover its' eyes and think that you can't see it. It never occurs to the fish that two thirds of its body is still sticking out. At least the youngsters seem a bit more friendly and are starting to register that if we are around, there is a fair chance of a bit of fish food appearing as well.

Bertha the dove has vanished and I just hope that she found a new partner during the summer months. I looked around for any sign that the neighbour's cat had pounced on her, but so far so good. The little blue tits are always around pecking at the fat balls but at last the arguing magpies have moved off after devouring six of the eight pears that we were nursing along. If only the constantly barking Doberman two doors along would also move off, life would be a much quieter thing with regards to our animal kingdom. However, I did threaten to report him to the Mairie this morning and he instantly went quiet, even though I made the threats in the privacy of the bathroom! Maybe he has a French/English dictionary and looked up the meaning of "Why don't you damn well shut up dog".

The countryside is ablaze with colour right now, and going anywhere is like driving through an oil painting. Great swathes of vines dress the hillsides and valleys in gold and burnt orange while above, the arc of the sky remains clear and blue. We visited the Sommieres market last weekend and it was sheer delight to wander the stalls without the crush of tourists, and then find all our old pals appearing for a midday pichet of wine and a gossip.

Although we miss our Australian family, it was no hardship to return to France, but I just wish that they could travel in this direction to share some of the beauty with us. I suppose that in time, we will have grandchildren appearing with backpacks and various partners, and come one, come all, they will be so welcome.

Membership of the American Women's Group has proved to be invaluable, and now that the summer recess is over, there is a positive smorgasbord of activities coming up. We are blessed with good friends and even the fun of a borrowed dog from time to time. Plans are being laid for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year parties and the barrage of gunfire on a Sunday morning leads me to believe that a fair number of wild boar and rabbits are finding their way into local fridges.

We have now been in France for fifteen months which means we have witnessed two lots of village bull-running and two grape harvests, and now we look towards the end of the year, happy in the knowledge that at last we are in the right place at the right time.