FRIDAY 7 JANUARY HOBART
As soon as he got up, John phoned his nephew and arranged to meet them at Oatlands, on Sunday.
We should have been leaving here on Sunday, so I booked us in for another two nights – was charged $14 a night.
The tourism man came at about 10.30 and stayed nearly three hours. It was an interesting visit. He seemed to find our views and experiences of use, but was already aware of some of the issues, such as poor quality caravan parks and the cost of bringing caravans on the ferry. He said they find the TT Line difficult to deal with. I don’t know that much will change, but at least we have tried to do our bit to represent our growing segment of the travelling public.
After a late lunch, we drove into the city, to the Service Tasmania Centre, to pick up the sticker for our annual National Park Pass. As always, the place was interesting, and tempting. While John had an internet session there, I browsed and bought maps and bushwalk books – spent $65.
We got back to Glenorchy at 4.45pm, to pick up the mail, and I was able to collect my photos too. John mailed off some tourist information to daughter R.
Back at the van, read the mail. There was a good batch of Xmas cards in it. Was a card from my Darwin friend, A, saying he and wife V will shortly be in Tasmania for ten days. Bit of a contrast for them! I phoned him and we arranged to meet in Hobart on the 18th. It is proving very hard to get away from here!
When I mentioned to John about going out to buy chips, we had a lengthy “discussion”, with John insisting that it was only Thursday and I was ahead of myself! He eventually ceded the point, and then was cross because he had missed out on the pre-dinner beer that he allows himself on Fridays.
While he went to get the chips, I cooked the pike that I’d caught at Nubeena, for him. He said it was very nice. I had a very good Scotch fillet steak.
There are many ducks that hang around the caravan park, and beg food as they can. Between the rough demands of the drakes, and mothering duties, the female ducks have a tough life. One had been bringing around a brood of twelve young. Today, it was distressing to see them being attacked by seagulls. They were about a week old. She could not defend so many, and seemed a pretty dumb duck, to boot. By late in the day, she only had six left. I now hate seagulls.