I am the hunter and gatherer!

I wrestled my wriggly fish out of the sea, hurled it across the jetty to the shouts of encouragement from 6 Muslim ladies and pranced about as it jumped about until a fellow fisherman, with a bristly chin, marched down and took my fish in hand, eased out the hook, dispatched it with ease then watched me stand victorious for my photo finish. It was just so exciting. It was a King George Whiting, which is apparently very good, and they retail in the shops for $60 a kilo…so that is quite impressive. I took my slippery catch home and duly gutted and cooked it and John and I gobbled it up for dinner. (We both wished I’d caught 2!)

So now I am ‘blooded’ I am all set to go again…but alas the wintry storms are upon us and the seas are too rough. Indeed further around the state trees are falling on busses and cars and roofs are flying off houses. It is not the time to be luring fish on to the jetty. I shall have to bide my time.

We went to Port Adelaide at the weekend…it is the 2^nd biggest port in Australia for handling mineral exports and it has a huge Sunday market as its second claim to fame. There was all the usual flea market stuff, and we had to keep remembering we are only here for a short time, and cannot go buying Georgian furniture, or other delectable antiques. Instead we went to a factory outlet place where I got a new pair of trainers for a ridiculously low price…the only snag is that John expects me to go running with him on a Saturday morning. Hmmmm. Wonder what my chances are of a Norfolk pine falling on me? Although I go to yoga and walk for an hour every day, I still stand on the scales and sigh deeply…it is what goes into you that counts…no amount of running will help if you still enjoy a little Turkish Delight with your afternoon tea.

Talking of delights, I came across a delicious Vietnamese recipe, and cooked it up yesterday. It is street food par excellence. It is called Bun Cha patties with rice noodles and leaves. I remember eating it with Emilda on the streets of Hanoi, and the barbecuing smell of the meat was just too good to describe.  We ate at a table covered with some flowery plastic cloth, and sat on tiny blue plastic chairs.  I remember it being near the railway station. Having heard of some horrors it’s usually best to ignore all the offers of extreme eating, whether it’s barbecue stinkbugs on a stick, crispy scorpions or still-beating snake hearts and just concentrate on the less showy and more conventionally delicious dishes instead. During my year working in Tien Yen I lost so much weight, and yet I was always full…it must have been the Dukan diet…all protein and vegetables. This bun cha dish last night was pork rissoles, served with squiggly rice noodles all wrapped in lettuce. Now if I had that every day I would be as thin as a stick insect…not forgetting the run along the beach in new trendy trainers. (I don’t even run for a bus)

As the weather is so stormy I have used my time to get back to the ‘Highland Rocks’, and  for a few hours each day I am transported to the West Coast of Scotland where poor Dolly is about to leave us for that great shiny place in the sky. I have been writing from memory, and then I suddenly look on Facebook and see the ex Inn Keeper in Glenelg has posted the most beautiful pictures.

Seeing the familiar hills and sea from a similar view point that I used to look out on, makes the years just tumble away. Communication is a wonderful thing.