Against the backdrop of the gathering Northern gloom the Cobham Oval’s scoreboard stoically offered a beacon of hope. “Cricket, Where Anything Can Happen!”

How very true. Sadly today in the Northern District’s capital, Whangarei (Pronounced Fun-Gary, apparently. Hello Mr McCafferty!) this happened…..

Cue a well-worn playlist of rain related songs from the venue’s PA system. At the start of the tenth over, with the New Zealand XI 69-1, play was abandoned for the day. The match has been hastily re-arranged for tomorrow with a further fixture scheduled for Wednesday.

England and their supporters, of which there quite a few here in Whangarei, will hope this isn’t portentous for the rest of their time here.

If you’re clicking into see various shots of the Great Wall or a dramatic Shanghai cityscape night scene, I’m afraid you’re badly out of luck. Instead, there’s a few photos of me auditioning for a place in Great Britain’s Olympic Gurning Team. Plus some nice beaches and other stuff.

One for Grandma really (Hello Grandma!), just so she knows I’m still about. Anyway, thank you to China, the man not the country, for sending me the pictures. The least I could do is let the good readers of DWC have a look at your good work.
Thank you fella, I’ll get you a Caaaaaalllldd One when you’re in Bedfordshire next.

Beach scene between Coogee and Bondi, Sydney.

Outstanding shot of China’s left hand ruined by some beach or other in the background.

Fifty shades of blue? Well, about two really….

The Melbourne Walking Tour, a real low point of the last six weeks. A ‘highlight’ from the tour; more chuffing vandalism. I mean ‘street art’, sorry.

Proper graffiti this. No irksome left wing rubbish connotations, just a nice picture.

Manly Beach, looking as manly as I can. Don’t all rush ladies.
Oh you’re not. Right.

Paroxysms of ironic delight after realising yet again we’ve been ripped off for a walking tour. The Blue Mountains is the soothing backdrop.

One of the world’s most iconic buildings ruined by some dreadful posing. Sorry.

Yeah, you get the idea with this one….

Here we go, the sum total I’m left with after six unforgettable weeks in this great country….

Marvellous, as my hero Richie would say. Can’t wait to come back.

Plane’s on the runway. Auckland-ho!

Have a great weekend all.

A trek alongside the Torrens River yields views of some delightful woodland and with the coots and moorhens doing the rounds on the riverbanks alongside the unwelcome predatory presence of the gulls and swans I’m transported back to dear old Bedford and a springtime walk along the Embankment. I say spring because, since leaving Perth, the weather’s been distinctly un-summery here in Adelaide.

Now I can completely empathise with how you chaps in the UK have had it these last few weeks…..

Stopping at an understatedly beautiful scene, I watch as the River Torrens lurks murkily away from view to behind a curtain of Red Gum Trees, Sheoaks, reeds and bullrushes. I glance across the bridge at what will become the venue for the last Pie Day Friday in Australia; an unremarkable looking kiosk situated at the end of the Par 3 on the North Adelaide Golf Course.
The course is a municipal one, but for location and backdrop alone rates fairly highly on those I’ve seen in Australia. It’s a nice little spot if a little windswept. I contemplate a quick round but being so near to New Zealand and so far from my last Caaaaalld One, I decide against it and the demons of self hate remain inside their despicable little hideout somewhere inside the back of my mind.

A pie sits in cellophane solitude in the golf shop’s pie warmer. The last turkey in the shop, though this will surely be variation on a theme of beef. South Australia must be the only state in which you can’t buy Four N’ Twenty’s or Pie Face goods, so I make do with the local equivalent: Vili’s.

The surface looks like a Day 4 one from up the road at The Oval. There’s so many cracks and marks on this, I’d have good money on Swannie getting a five-for on it. As is now standard I liberally smear the pie top with no frills tomato ketchup, which sticks obediently to the surface. Biting down, the pastry shoots out in magpie friendly flakes. The well-warmed beef is the hottest thing I think I’ve experienced in my time in Adelaide. The meat, minced, is like a Four N’ Twenty version of bovine gloop but with a stronger, more offal-like taste. The ketchup springs into multitask mode, acting as an adhesive to the brittle pastry, a welcome balm-like substance against the heat while also countering the over-strong kidney flavour. No wonder the humble red sauce is so revered in these parts.
The Vili’s pie does a job. Only just.

Going with a local metaphor; of the famous cricketing Chappell brothers who played here with such distinction in the 70s, this pie would definitely be Trevor.
And like Trevor, I can’t imagine this pie going down too well in New Zealand.

(Hello Geoff!)

My last full day in Australia and a tribute, of sorts, to one of my heroes as a kid and my third favourite Australian (behind Richie Benaud and Donk from Crocodile Dundee). Rolf Harris.

The basis behind my excursion to Adelaide was that it was the remaining one from five of the traditional Australian Test Match venues on the list yet to have visited. At MCG, SCG and The Gabba I was fortunate enough to have been present for a match. At the WACA in Perth I got to the museum and after some begging was allowed into the ground. At the Adelaide Oval, I just missed the guided tour, but was allowed to bowl around the arena, taking care not to disrupt any of the renovations going on around me. Which was nice.

I’m doing my best to stay out of pubs and the nearby McLaren Vale Wine Tours. So having seen most of the South Australian state capital and with a few moments to spare before my bus tonight, I thought I’d take a leaf out of Rolf’s sketchbook and have a bit of a dawdle.

Um-chuck-aha-chook-a-um-chuck-aha…..