Yesterday morning we were up bright and early to meet our friendly booking agent at Kalamunda’s Flight Centre, to find she was off sick. Instead we were served by an equally affable young woman and came away with tickets and car hire all sorted.
Although
the day was set aside for organising this rather spontaneous trip to the United
Kingdom, just as the day before had been, there was time to kill and there
would be enough waiting for Chris en route without kicking about here bored all
day. So we decided to check out the Art Gallery and Heritage Village in
Kalamunda.
The
gallery was in the process of an exhibition change; surprise, surprise, the
story of our lives. But we did come away with invitations to attend the
opening of the next exhibition in early June. It might be rather nice to attend
a formal opening with nibbles and drinkies thrown in.
Although
the Heritage Centre is normally open at 10 am on a Monday morning, it was not
yesterday. Perhaps it was open only to the bus load of little children dressed
in period costume whom we saw arriving as we headed for the travel agent? They
did look rather cute and I had thought they would add to our enjoyment of the
museum. Alas, it was not to be.
After
lunch we set out for a walk, ostensibly to find the local convenience store so
that I could include it into my daily routine and exercise plan during Chris’
absence. We walked for a full hour and during that time, did come across a
small shopping centre in High Wycombe. We also walked through a number of
streets lined with inorganic waste awaiting collection: worn leather sofas,
portable cots, obsolete computer hardware, woody garden prunings, you know the
kind of stuff. The concept is a good one in that it encourages people to
legally rid themselves of their junk, but in practice, it creates an eyesore.
We decided too that Perth folk must drive to their local store for the last
minute bottle of milk or the daily newspaper.
It had
rained heavily through the previous night but the rain stayed away all day, a
relief for me as I readied myself for the airport run. This in fact turned out
to be a complete non-event as far as the mechanics of the operation were
concerned, but of course a wrench to send my best friend away, even for a week.
It is the first time we have been apart since we retired nearly three years
ago, and since then, travelling as we are and constantly under one another’s
feet, it is rather a shock to the system. However people deal with this every
day of their lives, and I, unlike those who lose their partners for ever, have
only lost mine for a week.
This
morning I caught the bus into Perth, a trip of just over three quarters of an
hour from here. It was interesting to note that had Chris and I chosen to take
other streets yesterday, we would have come to the real High Wycombe village
with a comprehensive shopping centre, and not so very far from camp after all.
I look forward to checking that out.
It
should also be noted that it is a silly idea to stay on the bus until the terminus
here in Perth unless you intend to connect with another bus. This is like a
little island, not really pedestrian linked at all. However it does have a very
nice man in the office from whom I purchased one of those snappy little SmartRider
cards of the kind we had in Brisbane. The problem with these is that you
inevitably end up leaving a city with an unused balance still on the card and
probably will never use it again.
We had
been alerted to the free buses that travel loops around the central part of
the city, three separate route in all, a welcome alternative to the commercial
tours, and I hopped on and off a couple of these during the course of the day
as well as wandering through the pedestrian malls and listening to buskers. Perth
is just lovely and I look forward to exploring it further, now I have a rough understanding
of the layout. Chris had made the comment yesterday about Perth being a lovely
city, however I did remind him at that stage we had seen but a tiny corner of
it. I am sure when he sees what I saw today, he will be amazed that it has
changed so much in the intervening forty years, but will be as equally impressed
as I was.
Tomorrow
morning I will check my Facebook messages and hopefully learn that my husband
has reached his sister’s place safely. From Perth, the actual air travel is only
about twenty one hours, a lot shorter than from Auckland. Now that’s a positive
thought.
Outside
the cockatoos, kookaburras, crows and magpies are making sure there is no
absolute peace here. But then I expect little else here in Australia and would
think it strange if there were not that ruckus, sometimes more so in the
cities and towns than the country.
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