Stories from the West 1 - Perth

Bloody hell. I flew to Perth for a spring awakening and found myself in a virtual snow storm. Unseasonally cold is the phrase I've heard more than any other since arriving. Thank god cousins Vince and Rita who live close by each other in the Darling Ranges east of Perth gave us a warm welcome. Otherwise we might have turned around and flown straight back to the east where we know that Spring is not to be messed with.
     In an effort to beat the approaching cold front we rushed into Prrth central to experience Kings Park. Wow! What a treat. Wildflowers from every corner of the state, views over Sydney Harbour - no wait a minute, that's the Swan River. Beats our beautiful brown Brisbane River hands down. Whip it. Whip it good! And then back to Kalamunda and the mountains as the freeze rolled in. Thanks cousin Rita and husband Josef

     Saturday. Miserable. Let's go for a drive, says cousin Vince. Or sit at home and feel sorry for a wasted day. The Swan Valley -vineyards, villages, rolling hills. It was a nice way to watch a day wash by. Thanks cousin Vince (10 years my senior - and now the senior teller of family tales)
     Fremantle in the wind and rain is not the Fremantle of folk tales. The story of the Dutch ship the Batavia is great but better read than experienced in a museum - just my preference. The fiabled fish and chips was a bit like trying to get a meal on the doomed Batavia expedition. Too many people and too few ships, er sorry chips. The Fremantle Arts Centre in a disused convent was a revelation, however. Convents make great galleries - we found another one in Bunbury (even better than Fremantle). Perhaps the Catholics would have been less troubled if they had concentrated on modern art rather than church hierarchy.
     And to finish the weekend pizzas with Lachlan and Caroline and the hyperactive Izzy - who makes her father look like a zen master.
     But when does the holiday start?