It's ten days since
I arrived in Yamba, at my Winter Palace, for the season. A long, lazy, relaxing
season, just writing, eating, drinking, pottering and eating lotuses … as
elderly, retired gentleman do.
Well, it’s been
rather more dramatic, so far, than that! Mostly on account of a termagant by
the name of Debbie…
For yes, this time
Wendy was travelling with me, for a week’s holiday and a glimpse at the Winter
Palace, and her birthday. Sister-in-law, Rose, made up our little team, and the
girls were to be installed in my new acquisition, a two-bedroom flat of
charming proportions, overlooking Yamba’s main beach. Right across the
courtyard from me.
‘Nephew’ Harry picked us up at Coolangatta airport and transported us to Yamba in steaming, muggy heat (30degrees, 96% humidity).
Michael and
Angela, the new managers, had left the keys and carried my two roller boxes of
personal possessions up to the Palace …the next days were spent finding all my
bits and pieces and remembering how things worked .. in between dips in the
pool, the sea, strolls up and down the hill to the High Street for this and
that and especially a reunion brunch at the wonderful Beachwood Café.
Tuesday we had a
grand, sunny boat trip to Iluka, with Rod and Veronica, ate the best fish n
chips I know beside the Clarence River, tossed down a pint of Toohey’s Old …
and the heat and the humidity didn’t waver, although there were nasty stories
of a cyclone further north.
Wednesday was
Wendy’s birthday, and we celebrated with a splendid massage apiece, chez my
favourite masseuse, Amanda, and dinner at my favourite restaurant, Fusion on
the Hill …
And Thursday,
Cyclone Debbie decided she was bored with Queensland and decided to attack New
South Wales. In 24 hours, Yamba had nearly 400mls of driving rain. Then the
winds struck. Actually, sitting dry inside, it was quite spectacular, but there
was one big worry. The storms had closed the roads. Everyone’s plans were
disrupted. How would the girls get back to the airport!
Well, to cut a
long story of ‘on again, off again’ short, the gallant Greyhound Bus made it
through the flood waters by the skin of its tyres, and Wendy and Rose duly flew
off (pursued by Debbie, who now wants to play tourism in New Zealand) to
Christchurch, as Yamba move back to more sort-of-temperate weather.
And then (for Robert has a car) to Cole’s supermarket: 32 bottles of sparkling water, 32 bottles of Le Petit Rosé and, lastly, the final thing needed to get the Palace all set up and homely, 32 pansy plants for my little garden.
Considering the
burning summer they’ve had here, the garden has survived quite well. Last
year’s flowers, of course, are gone, but some of my herbs are still going and
growing, and amazingly, the avocado stones which sprouted into 15cm treelets
are re-sprouting … did I eat THAT many avocados … Cousin Natalie came by and
prised the pansies from their plastic holders (my useless hand can’t do things
like that) and, in between tropical showers, this morning, I planted them.
Soon, there will be colour!
Last evening, rather
than restauranting, the Winter Palace hosted it’s first dinner party. Ben
(chef) and Robert (sous chef) descended from next door with a load of
Yambirical delicacies and invaded my almost virgin kitchen. The results were
breath-taking. I felt as if I were in an episode of Masterchef.
We brought the
table indoors (Debbie was still wagging her tail) and sat down to dine on the
most delicious prawn-tomato dish
Followed by
oysters. Followed by fillet
steak from Sean the Yamba butcher, undercooked to perfection, accompanied by a
superb mash
All washed by
a little chilled rosé….
So the Palace has
had it’s inaugural feast … and, hurrah! The first birds, the little mynahs and
the honeyeaters, are back …
Let the season
begin! Pass me a lotus, someone …
.
.
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