Once again my dog Fergus has escaped from the backyard. Our friendly neighbour Lyn reminded me tonight that it had been 5 TIMES NOW. I don’t know why she’s complaining – she ended up with a bottle of 1999 Coonawarra Cab Sav out of it, so that should have settled things. Whilst in class at Epping, I got a call from Kim that I later described as “a domestic emergency” before leaving class and ran for the train. $45 at Bunnings later, I emerged with 5 tightly coiled metres of some KICK-ASS RABBIT MESH that would stop a horse if applied in enough layers. 90 minutes of hammering in the warm night air (6 degrees above normal for June today) and I’d developed a bad back, and probably the ire of half Scotia St. Good luck tomorrow Fergus.
To all you get rich quick types who are whacking in grape vines and planting olive groves – I THANK YOU. Because you greedy lot are all going hell for leather trying to make a buck and ease the transition into retirement, it means that the glut has reasonable wine going for 4 bucks a bottle. We polished off 3 bottles in the last 4 nights and slept like babies. Having said that I haven’t seen Kalamata olives being sold from caravans on the side of the Calder recently, but that time will come – and I will be ready, antipasto platter in hand.