Jazz in the Vines

For the last couple of days we have at last been joined in Stanley by Francine’s sister-in-law, Sandrine, who has hitherto been otherwise occupied in Sydney. We’ve had a hoot re-educating her to drink wine instead of fermented tea which is:

  1. as disgusting as it sounds (I tasted it), and
  2. allegedly good for your gut (friendly bacteria, and all that).

Today we were off to continue the vinous education by poisoning a few more friendly bacteria. Between Stanley and the Hume Freeway lies Indigo Vineyard, the owners of which are in the habit of staging lunchtime Jazz in the Vines events. As the title implies there is, of course, music. Food is also available but centre-stage is wine with water provided for the unfortunate drivers.

As the title also implies, these events are usually held amongst the vines of the vineyard. On this occasion, regrettably, there are storms floating around in the forecast so a wary organizer had relocated the event closer to the facilities buildings where a selection of gazebos covering  an array of tables had been erected, just to be on the safe side.

_17C7700We coughed up our A$15 each entrance fee, grabbed a table under a gazebo and sat with our new Australian friends, a couple that have a place at Marseillan in France, who had also pitched up to enjoy the four piece set of musicians entertaining us as we drowned bacteria in alcohol and nibbled. As the sky darkened to several particularly threatening shades of slate grey, we revisited our gazebo decision and grabbed most of another table further under cover in a more substantial building beside the stage.

We were just in time. The wind announcing the storm front blew through. Several other bacteria drowning attendees hung on to their respective gazebos lest they got relocated back to the vines again. The wind was soon accompanied by lashing rain. Good decision, Mr. Organizer.

The music was good, the wine was good and the company was good. What more could one want? Well, some more typical Australian weather and less of a British squall, perhaps. We are 12,000 miles away, after all.

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Posted in 2017 Australia, 2017 The Antipodes

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