I’m currently following the blog of friends who are travelling around Europe. After reading about their impressions of the Eiffel Tower, Pompeii, the Parthenon and such, it’s a bit hard to make Pittsworth etc sound exciting. But here goes:
Goodbye Boondall. You can see I’m struggling for excitement. Pat has been entrusted with keeping the San Francisco-inspired flowers alive.
Past the emu farm at Marburg.
Shop at Maa Maa Creek, in the Lockyer Valley. In the January floods, the flood water came halfway up the front steps.
There were chooks in the back yard of the shop at Maa Maa Creek. I feel they had every right to be nervous.
Morning tea was on the Heifer Creek Road between Gatton and Clifton. This road crosses Heifer Creek six times.
At this rest area we met a grey nomad called Sozz, who was also a Flickr member. He and his wife had been on the road for five months, but were now heading back to Melbourne for their son’s 40th.
Speckled duck at Heifer Creek.
I was able to photograph 11 pubs on this leg of the journey. This one, O’Shanley’s Irish Bar and Restaurant at Clifton, took the prize for having the most unusual interior. Well, all right, it’s the only one we actually went into, but I’m sure no other pub in the area would have been quite like this one.
The owners of this pub must have been avid collectors. As well as the standard collections of tankards and jugs, which you might reasonably expect to find in a pub, there was also a collection of vintage electric jugs.
This room of the pub was decorated in ye olde slab hut style, with a collection of ye olde tools on the wall.
Beside the rather lovely staircase was displayed a collection of Irish dancing costumes.
Flowering tree outside the pub. It’s spring, remember.
Pittsworth had some beautiful old houses.
An even older house in Pittsworth.
This rose, in a garden in Pittsworth, looked and smelt like Double Delight, which we once grew in Bracken Ridge.
Pittsworth pansy.
Tattersall’s Club Hotel, Pittsworth.
Some of these small towns have some very large pubs.
The rather spectacular black-and-white Victoria Hotel in Goondiwindi took up half a block.
As we drove out of Goondiwindi, we crossed unceremoniously over the Macintyre River into New South Wales – foreign territory!
A few kilometres down the road is the deliciously-named hamlet of Boggabilla, which features the equally deliciously named Wobbly Boot Hotel.
Doug said the last time he was here, the Wobbly Boot had bars at its windows, and the town appeared to be severely vandalised and generally unloved. However, as we drove in, we noticed a government (can’t remember if it was federal or state) travelling office “supporting rural communities”. They seemed to have been doing a good job in Boggabilla – the town looked generally spruced up, all the grass was mown, the Wobbly Boot was sporting a new coat of paint, and there were no bars over the windows.
Goodbye Boondall. You can see I’m struggling for excitement. Pat has been entrusted with keeping the San Francisco-inspired flowers alive.
Past the emu farm at Marburg.
Shop at Maa Maa Creek, in the Lockyer Valley. In the January floods, the flood water came halfway up the front steps.
There were chooks in the back yard of the shop at Maa Maa Creek. I feel they had every right to be nervous.
Morning tea was on the Heifer Creek Road between Gatton and Clifton. This road crosses Heifer Creek six times.
At this rest area we met a grey nomad called Sozz, who was also a Flickr member. He and his wife had been on the road for five months, but were now heading back to Melbourne for their son’s 40th.
Speckled duck at Heifer Creek.
I was able to photograph 11 pubs on this leg of the journey. This one, O’Shanley’s Irish Bar and Restaurant at Clifton, took the prize for having the most unusual interior. Well, all right, it’s the only one we actually went into, but I’m sure no other pub in the area would have been quite like this one.
The owners of this pub must have been avid collectors. As well as the standard collections of tankards and jugs, which you might reasonably expect to find in a pub, there was also a collection of vintage electric jugs.
This room of the pub was decorated in ye olde slab hut style, with a collection of ye olde tools on the wall.
Beside the rather lovely staircase was displayed a collection of Irish dancing costumes.
Flowering tree outside the pub. It’s spring, remember.
Pittsworth had some beautiful old houses.
An even older house in Pittsworth.
This rose, in a garden in Pittsworth, looked and smelt like Double Delight, which we once grew in Bracken Ridge.
Pittsworth pansy.
Tattersall’s Club Hotel, Pittsworth.
Some of these small towns have some very large pubs.
The rather spectacular black-and-white Victoria Hotel in Goondiwindi took up half a block.
As we drove out of Goondiwindi, we crossed unceremoniously over the Macintyre River into New South Wales – foreign territory!
A few kilometres down the road is the deliciously-named hamlet of Boggabilla, which features the equally deliciously named Wobbly Boot Hotel.
Doug said the last time he was here, the Wobbly Boot had bars at its windows, and the town appeared to be severely vandalised and generally unloved. However, as we drove in, we noticed a government (can’t remember if it was federal or state) travelling office “supporting rural communities”. They seemed to have been doing a good job in Boggabilla – the town looked generally spruced up, all the grass was mown, the Wobbly Boot was sporting a new coat of paint, and there were no bars over the windows.
Splendid pub in Goondiwindi, Jan. (And pretty exciting, just different...)
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