Today we went to see Croyland (sic) Abbey, in the village of Crowland, just up the road from us. We've driven past it many times, but never stopped to explore.

You can just imagine how atmospheric it is at night, when it's all lit up, or on a foggy Fenland day.

Croyland Abbey was originally on an island when it was first established, allegedly in 714. I should point out that any information I give here may be inaccurate, as I accidentally picked up the French language guidebook, and haven't given French a second thought since leaving school.

If my interpretation is correct, then the abbey was founded by King Aethelbald of Mercia and refounded c.950 after Viking destruction. In 1066 it was the only abbey in Lincolnshire and was mentioned in the Domesday Book as owning wide estates. During the Middle Ages it was one of the largest and most important abbeys in Lincolnshire with an immense cathedral-sized church, and housed up to 40 Benedictine Monks.

Part of Croyland Abbey ruins remains open as a Parish Church.

There is a lovely Green Man in the ceiling. Unfortunately the camera I had on me has no zoom facility. It is important as Green Men are seldom, if ever, found in the Sanctuary, but in this case the ceiling was there before the altar.

Trinity Bridge in Crowland is possibly unique, and certainly an amazing curiosity. It is thought to have replaced a wooden bridge referred to in earlier times by the Charter of King Aethelbald (AD716) and by King Edred's Charter (AD943) as "the triangular bridge of Croyland". Built between 1360 and 1390, it has three arches but one over-arching structure, i.e. a three-in-one bridge, hence the Trinity.

Prior to the draining of the Fens, the main streets of Crowland were waterways, and this bridge marks the point that the River Welland divided into two streams.

Paul and Bex (Paul's daughter) gingerly make their way down - the bridge is very steep and cobbled and Bex had high heels on!

Richard Gough, an Antiquarian, is said to have stated that Trinity Bridge was "the greatest curiousity in Britain, if not in Europe".

The charming village of Crowland also has an old pub (recently closed down, alas) called the George & Angel - the only pub in England with that name.

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Obviously, it's not the finest painting in the world, or even of the day, and some might say it's more than slightly crap but, considering I haven't picked up a paintbrush since I was eleven, I'm secretly a tad proud. Yes, I know the mountains owe more than a little to a bar of Toblerone, but hey, there are few hills in Fenland, let alone mountains, and I can't remember the last time I saw a real one, so for a first attempt I don't think it's half bad.

My dad was a professional artist, and I grew up in a house full of art materials, but somehow I never got my hands on anything and on the rare occasions I did he would (with the best intentions) take control and finish it for me. He has been very generous, however, and offered to let me raid his studio and take some stuff to get started, if I so wish.

I am tempted to have another go.

BTW, as my friends will know, I promised a good friend just before he died that I would do at least one thing a year that scared the bejasus out of me. The prospect of picking up a paintbrush and making a complete arse of it did just that. Phew!

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Two camels in a field.

A tree wearing a blue apron.

Three American Diners.

Memo to Asian girl in the Arkwright halls of residence at Bradford Uni: I can see no reason for you to expose both your breasts in the window of your room. They are not exceptional. I understand it is a regular occurrence, and my partner's 18 year old son and his room-mates find it quite amusing. However, if you are seeking attention, perhaps being known as the mad woman who exposes herself to her fellow students is not the best way to go about it.

Enough said.

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Taken from the front of my new home.

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All the way to Baldock on the back of the Buell and home again, and my bum feels like concrete.

I definitely need to buy myself a Harley. Next Spring.

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I'm moving in with The Most Gorgeous Man in the World (no, OldNick, I don't mean you, so you needn't panic), and from 29th August will be starting another new life - this time in darkest Cambridgeshire.

I'm hoping I'll get my money back on the boat, although I've already accepted I'll lose out on the deal in the current financial crisis. Still, what's a few thousand quid compared to true lurrrrrrrve?

I'll be living in a lovely country cottage in a small village, surrounded by fields of wheat.

It's a shame about the boat, but some things are not meant to be.

And some things are.

Hopefully, when I'm settled (no more weekend driving, woo hoo!!!) I'll have a lot more time for blogging*

Can't wait

*Let's face it, there's bugger all else to do around Peterborough

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2. Hinton Blewitt. Just who was Hinton and what was it he blew? I think we should be told. This is a small village in the Mendip Hills, Somerset.

3. Wyre Piddle. Why not? In the Cotswolds I believe.

4. Barrow Gurney. Again in Somerset. I just like saying it. Immortalised in the song "Drink up thy Zider" by the Wurzels.

5. Nempnett Thrubwell. Which got an honourable mention in the song "Up the Tump" by the Wurzels as the place the moon shines bright on (also in Somerset, as I would hope you've worked out for yourselves).

What are your favourites?

Off topic slightly, there is a district of Bristol called Stockwood. It has always been my dream to hold a pop festival there. Think about it.

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When I'd asked Nieke if she wanted anything from England, she said she loved mature Cheddar and Stilton. Never did I think I would ever be taking cheese to Holland.

I was taken apart by Customs at Coventry Airport, and accused of having my makeup in the wrong plastic bag! It was all in bottles of the correct size, in a clear plastic zip bag, but the bag was not apparently of the correct dimensions. How this is supposed to prevent terrorism escapes me.

The plane was empty, so I had a choice of seating, and found a nice window seat on my own.

Arrived an hour late (as usual) due to Amsterdam weather, and was met by Nieke and Uwe at Schipol. From there we went straight to a lovely party held in the garden of one of Nieke's friends, a talented artist. Everyone made me very welcome and included me in the conversation even though they were mostly Dutch and German (two languages I never had much success with - I explained to Uwe that when listening to a conversation in Dutch or German I felt a bit like a dog: "blah blah blah blah biscuit blah blah blah blah bed blah blah walk"etc).

We left the party quite late and then went back to Nieke and Uwe's flat where we stayed up far too long chatting. I really like both of them, and felt I'd known them forever.

This is Nieke in the pub (taken at Steve's wake, which I couldn't attend as I was in India):

I fell in love with Nieke and Uwe's dog, Lutsje, who is the laziest dog in the whole world.

The next morning Nieke and I walked to the pub where I met Steve's "Dam" friends, and saw the table with his memorial plaque. Later in the day Uwe and Lutsje met us and we went for a drive to a lovely pub on a dyke with beautiful views, and had a drink. Unfortunately I was feeling a bit under the weather (too much Bols the night before) so didn't fancy eating, but the food looked delicious.

On the way home we stopped at a houseboat where one of Steve's friends lived, as he was storing a lot of stuff from Steve's flat. I came away with a huge box of photographs and some of Steve's paintings.

It was sad sorting through Steve's stuff. It makes you think when someone's life is reduced to a few cardboard boxes. Sorting through the photo's brought back quite a few memories and there were a few pics Steve had taken on his travels in India of places I visited just after his death where, on a couple of occasions, I thought I had felt his presence with me.

Nieke cooked a superb spag bol which rounded the day off nicely.

Nieke was so kind, helping me set up the laptop and downloading lots of movies for me to watch.

Regrettably, I didn't have sufficient time to visit Steve's grave, although I will return to Amsterdam as soon as I'm settled.

I left on Sunday armed with so much stuff I had to check a bag in. I managed to take three of Steve's smaller paintings, the laptop (with accessories) and ukulele he left me in his Will, and a number of photographs, plus a beautiful dress and skirt that Nieke had given me. I'd got on so well with Nieke it was a wrench to leave.

Got to Schipol just in time to check in, so didn't have much time to kill before the flight having been turned over by Customs again. Apparently the problem was that the metal detector was picking up on a small portable ashtray in my bag. This ashtray came back with me from South Africa but didn't cause me any problems then. However, on boarding I found myself in the worst seat on the plane, right in the tail opposite the toilet door, and slap bang in the middle of a returning stag party.

The young guy sitting next to me was scared of flying, and asked if he could hold my hand. The flight was quite bumpy (always exaggerated when you're sat in the tail) and the plane was lurching about a bit. He insisted on giving me all his leftover Euros, as he said he didn't intend to fly again. When we came to land he was extremely nervous, but I reassured him that there was no need to worry, at least not until the cabin crew started to cry. In fact, I said, my own fear would start only when my sister picked me up to drive me home. "She's bad?" he asked. "Oh yes" I replied.

Eventually I met my sister at the barrier, and as we walked towards her car the guy I was sat next to hurried over. "Is that your sister?" he asked me, and turning towards her he said "She says your a terrible driver and she's really scared of going in the car with you".

Thanks, mate. That's the last time I'm kind to a stranger.

I have a couple more pics still stored in my camera, so will post these later.

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Fab, huh?

Footwear aficionados will note the non-slip suede soles, vital in preventing that 'arse over tit' moment that can so wreck a couple's First Dance, and is guaranteed to end up on "You've Been Framed".

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Thanks to Jude for this.

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A most fantastic day was had by all, and it all went off without a hitch (a few close shaves though, including Jude nearly forgetting to wear her veil). Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab. The Groom and Best Man turned up, which is always a bonus, and Tracey did a great job in keeping her fellow bridesmaids in order (there were seven of us!), although at times she may have felt like she was competing in 'One Man and his Dog'.

The church was stunning. Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

I reckon it was one of the best days in my life, too! Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

Baby Grace made her first public appearance, and her mum looked beautiful.

Jude, with her customary artistic flair and magic, arranged it all perfectly. All the bridesmaids (including me, of course) looked fantastic.

Here's Erica:

The lady vicar was great fun.

The flowers were beautiful, and it was a two hanky job when Jude laid her bouquet on her grandparents' grave.

The hotel where the reception was held was superb. Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

The karaoke was underemployed, but we all enjoyed Jude's performances and her brother Chris's expert renditions of 'I am a cider drinker' and 'Ernie (he drove the fastest milk float in the West)'. Chris sang superbly at the karaoke and also in his performance of 'Fields of Gold' in church. I did 'You don't have to say you love me' which was very well received despite the fact I had forgotten how to sing.

The bride and groom's first dance was to '(I'll be loving you)Always' - one my favourite songs.

The highlight of the day for me, however, was when Jude sang 'That Old Devil Called Love' to Simon, and then called her mum and dad up to the mic and declared that if she and Simon were half as happy in their marriage as they had been she would be more than satisfied. She then asked them to lead the last dance, to the song they danced to at their wedding. Not a dry eye in the house, I assure you!

Unfortunately I had a problem with my camera, which meant that I didn't get to take a lot of pics, but I'm sure the other bridesmaids will be sending some of theirs so I may add some to the album later.

My thanks to the lovely Jane who put me (and a lot of other bridesmaids/guests) up over the weekend. She is very kind and generous person and a natural hostess. Also thanks to Jude's mum and dad, Meg and Bob, for their hard work and generosity in making this the great day to remember that it was. Jude looked beautifu... (Jude, can I stop this now? I think they've got the message!)

We're all looking forward to seeing the video that Chris was kind enough to shoot for us.

I'm sure you will all join me in wishing Jude and Simon all the very best for the future.

They're off to Turkey, lucky bastards.

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On Thursday I travelled to London with friends Jude and Trina, to the MindBodySpirit Festival which is held near Victoria.

I drove up to Jude's in Leicester on Wednesday night but was so excited I didn't get a wink of sleep. Unfortunately we had to get up at 4 a.m., but thankfully Jude offered to drive. We wanted to get into London for about 10.30-ish. We'd planned to use the Park and Ride in Windsor and then get the train into London (via Slough) but due to traffic jams and train delays we arrived at our destination at around noon, just in time for David Wells's workshop on Past Lives.

I was not sure I would like David, who I only know from his appearances on 'Most Haunted', but took to him immediately. He is very warm with a great sense of humour. I was a bit sceptical at first but must say I was pleasantly surprised and, although I won't go into details here, I did actually have a very small past life experience! This was in no way influenced by David, so I cannot rationalise it.

Unfortunately Jude didn't get 100% from the workshop, as she was distracted by noisy schoolchildren in a playground outside.

After David's talk we snatched a quick and tasty - but pricey - lunch in the canteen, speed-smoked a cigarette and then ran up the seemingly endless stairs to Jill Purce's workshop on overtoning/chanting.

I love Jill and have attended her workshops before. I love her eccentricity and posh accent. She pioneered sound healing in the UK and she really knows her stuff. We did some great chanting including some beautiful mantras which were new to me. Overtoning is wonderful and if you ever get the chance then give it a go. I left the workshop buzzing and on a real high. I forked out £11 on Jill's new CD which I can use when I practice overtoning. I feel a bit self-conscious doing it alone and it must freak the neighbours out, so the illusion of being with a group will make me more inclined to do it more regularly.

We then had a good browse round the many and varied stalls, but I was very restrained and only purchased a colourful Ganesh sticker, which is now on the dashboard of my car for protection (two for a quid, so I gave one to my dad). The Festival entrance fee was only £6, with workshops at £8 each, so excellent value for money.

We watched a (free) performance by my hero and vocal guru, Chris James, which is always my main reason for attending the Festival. He has such an amazing voice, and is so charismatic.

Eventually got back to Jude's at around 11 p.m., where I had a swift cup of coffee before the long drive back, arriving home safely and in good time at just after midnight.

A long but very enjoyable and rewarding day, and if you live within spitting distance of London then I would recommend you go along if only to look round the exhibition stands.

PS: Damn, forgot my camera!

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I'll be taking my camera, and boastingblogging about it on my return.

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create your own visited countries map

Got this from la_spice. Thanks hun!

I've only visited 8% of the world - so much to see and so little time!

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I have seen many astonishing things on my travels, especially in India: elephants and camels at traffic lights; a man on a motorbike with another man and two goats riding pillion; an elephant in a truck; a bullock in the back of a truck slipping in its own piss and taking four men down with him; The Hovel Hotel (sic); Panickers Removals; The Lonely Bar in Agra; children snatching scraps of food from dogs in the street. I loved the Banyan, Neem and Ashok trees. In India, everything you eat or drink tastes of India.

I'm sure I will return to India, as in terms of beautiful architecture, mysticism, romance and wonder it is the place that most made me catch my breath. The poverty and opulence are poles apart, yet co-exist side by side. The people I met there were mostly warm and friendly, and always ready to help me with my Hindi. I would love to see more, especially Simla and Varanasi. I would also like to visit Mumbhai where, of course, my grandparents were married, and also Darjeeling.

As a place I would like to settle, Australia wins hands-down. The lifestyle there is fantastic and the weather suits me just fine. I would go tomorrow, without hesitation. However, I have to resign myself to the fact that Australia does not want me, and there are only three remote options: (1) winning the lottery - unlikely, and even more so unless I start buying tickets; (2) marry an Australian - again unlikely; (3) - and this is Gail's suggestion - marry a suitably qualified toyboy! I also loved the land; the Balga trees, the Banksia, and the miles and miles of bush. What I most feared there was spiders, but I only saw two and one of those was dead (at the motel in Dunsborough).

South Africa took a little getting used to, but I would certainly go again, especially as a stopover point on the way to/back from Australia. I was surprised just how reasonable the cost of living was. Cape Town was an intriguing place and some of the scenery was stunning.

I have learned how to travel hopefully, and next time I fly I will be dressed to impress, with laptop, in the hope of getting an upgrade. Steerage is all very well, and the best I could afford on my limited budget, and I must say it wasn't too bad (could've been worse, at least there were no screaming kids to contend with), but a fidgety person like me finds it incredibly difficult to sit still for 11 hours with nowhere to swing my legs (this may be news to certain friends of mine who would imagine that I could spend any amount of time motionless on my ample backside).

Best Airline Award goes to Singapore Airlines, mainly for its fantastic inflight meals. Golden Turkey Award goes to BA/Comair - never again, I'd sooner walk.

So thank you for flying with us, and I hope you enjoyed the journey. Pop in from time to time if you want to see how I'm getting on, and where life takes me.

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It's a sad farewell to Olaf's Guest House in Cape Town, and I'm back in the UK after tedious flight with BA (Bloody Amateurs)- won't be flying with them again if I can help it. In fact, doubt I'll be flying anywhere soon as I now need to get my act together and find a job and somewhere to live. Reality doesn't so much bite as rip my arm off!

Returned to a nice "Welcome Home" card from Gail; she's always so thoughtful!

Ollie at the agency has found me a nice little job to ease me gently back in to the temping scene, but I really need something permanent (and reasonably well-paid) as soon as possible. The sooner I get settled, the sooner I can start planning my next holiday. I've really got a taste for travelling now, and feel absolutely fearless, so who knows where I might end up next time!

In a day or two I hope to give a short review of the wierd and wonderful experiences I have taken from this trip which haven't yet - due to time constraints - been reported.

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On my last excursion of this trip, took a great bus tour down to the Cape of Good Hope. Shared the coach with a really nice Dutch guy and a couple from Chester. Saw some amazing scenery and lots of wildlife, including wild ostriches, eland, some kind of springbok and more penguins than you could shake a chocolate biscuit at.

This trip left me with the urge to see more of Africa, and maybe to visit Kenya one day on safari.

We were told if we were lucky there might be zebra to be seen on this trip, but not a sniff.

We did see a couple of the many Chacma baboons which inhabit the Cape, but no thanks to the guide (a rather sniffy middle-aged woman who seemed to be more impressed by posh houses than wildlife - she should probably be in real estate rather than tourism).

Then on to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, which I have to say is the best example I have seen, with over 5,000 species.

All in all a good day out.

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District Six was an area of Cape Town originally established as a mixed community of freed slaves, merchants, artisans, labourers and immigrants, but in the early twentieth century the removals and marginalisation began. The first to be 'resettled' were black South Africans, forcibly displaced from the District in 1901, and in 1966 a further 60,000 people were forcibly removed and their houses in District Six were flattened by bulldozers.

The full story of District 6 is far too big a subject for me to tackle, but if you are interested take a look at the District 6 Museum's website:

http://www.districtsix.co.za/frames.htm

The museum is very moving, with certain houses recreated and the stories of their occupants written around the walls.

The guide said that many white South Africans are not happy about the museum, and would prefer the whole episode to be forgotten, which I have to say is backed up by my own experience of conversations with white South Africans, in comments such as "It's time these people moved on ...".

Many of the prohibitive signs had originally stated "Europeans Only", but this was changed to "Whites Only" when it dawned on the authorities that Europeans came in many colours!

I have to say I did not see much evidence that attitudes had changed drastically. I can only go by what I saw in the very short time I was in South Africa, but it seems to me that the whites still own the businesses and employ black drivers, maids and nannies. I got the impression that many whites, especially the older ones, regret the changes that have been made. They appear to blame Nelson Mandela for high unemployment in the black (and immigrant) population. Porters at the airport are unpaid, relying only on tips. In all the time I was in Cape Town, I only saw two mixed-race couples, and my bet is that they were tourists.

It's a mad world all right.

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I must admit that my first impressions of Cape Town were not good, as it seemed a bit like Bristol surrounded by (admittedly beautiful) mountains and unattractive, kelp covered beaches.

However, it soon became apparent that there were much more impressive areas just around the corner, and even the city began to grow on me as I explored the waterfront.

I really enjoyed sitting outside Nino's Cafe in the bright sunshine, watching the street performers.

Unfortunately, could not get on a trip to Robben Island, as it was completely booked for the week, so went round the Museum, which was very moving.

I did go up Table Mountain in the cable car - I was absolutely petrified all the way up, and would have bottled out if not for the fact that Steve had challenged me to do one thing, at least once a year, that absolutely terrified me; so I did it in his memory, but never again!

The view from the top was almost worth it:

Also took a trip round the City, including District 6, more of which in my next post...

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Any hopes of remaining sylph-like on this trip have been dashed by the huge portions regarded by Australians as the norm, but which look like they would feed the average family in the shanty towns of Delhi for a week. No kidding, even an entree here is bigger than the main course I would usually have!

The new regime starts here - fresh fruit and yoghurt for breakfast, a miniscule lunch (if anything at all), and a moderate evening meal from now on.

My sarong still goes twice round my waist, but only just. I don't wish to have to buy a new one. After all, two sarongs don't make a right.

Let's just hope and pray that they don't have salt 'n' vinegar Pringles in Cape Town!

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I've been searching for the dolphins in the sea - sometimes I wonder do you ever think of me ...?

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My cunning plan: wait in the sea until a boatload of illegal immigrants comes along ...

I'll be checking in at Perth Airport tomorrow at around 9 am, then flying via Jo'burg to Cape Town, arriving at Cape Town at around 10 pm, so it'll be a long day, especially with the lack of leg room on the plane. I'm now such a seasoned long-hauler that it all seems a bit of a bore - and to think that it wasn't so long ago that I was scared of flying!

I will miss Scruffy, who waited patiently at my bedroom door every morning, eager to play football.

We took him to the dog beach at Hillary's yesterday and he had a great time socialising and scampering along the sands. A bit of a wuss when it comes to water though.

I'll also miss Howard and Betty, who have been superb hosts and made me feel as if I was really at home here. They have fed me so well that it's just as well it's only my bag that will be weighed in at the airport!

I hope to be able to update the blog and add some pictures from Cape Town; hopefully I can blag some computer time at the guest house, but if not I will try to grab a few minutes at an internet cafe.

Can't put the packing off any longer!

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A very good zoo, doing lots of important conservation work, as it should. Well worth the entry fee. My favourite exhibit just has to be the Motorbike Frog (see above), so named because it sounds like a powerful bike revving up. It just happens to look like it might be a middle-aged biker, if it wasn't a frog. Perhaps it dreams of owning a Honda Goldwing.

Tried to get a nice shot of a Sun Bear, but it wasn't playing, so too bad you can't see the lovely golden crescent on its chest. Never work with children or animals!

The Zoo is very well laid out, and easy to get around without missing anything.

A very enjoyable day, but very hot and quite exhausting!

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On Wednesday I visited AQWA (Aquarium of Western Australia) - thoroughly recommended if you find yourself in the Perth area.

It's just off Hillary's Beach, which is handy for a swim.

I was very impressed with the step on/off walkway which takes you into a tunnel inside an aquarium, so you can look above your head and work out the gender of the big fish as they swim over.

There are sharks in turtles in there, along with many smaller varieties of fish (probably lunch).

Prize for favourite wierd thing goes to the Sea Dragon, which I initially thought was a bit of seaweed:

Then on to the touch pool, where I was determined to touch a ray. This has been a lifetime ambition of mine and it felt very different to how I'd expected - kind of rough and scaly.

Next the seals - these were interacting with a party of schoolchildren. I was particularly taken with one who rather nonchanantly floated by on his back every few minutes.

All in all, a good day out and well worth the money.

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This seems to be the only route left to me, bearing in mind that the UK is unlikely to reintroduce deportation to the Colonies.

Although I could be considered rather old for adoption, I do have my advantages. For one thing, I won't grow out of my clothes. From what I've seen, I eat approximately 40% less than most Australian children, and I haven't had a temper tantrum for at least 32 years. Given internet access or a good book, you will hardly notice I'm there. Additionally, I will look after the family pets properly and not just pretend I have fed them.

Please give the matter your full consideration. I look forward to hearing from you. Don't all rush at once.

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We had a lovely day out at Freo, where Cheryl shopped 'til she dropped, and then a fascinating tour round Fremantle Prison. Didn't realise that it was used as recently as 1991, and the conditions even then were pretty squalid.

Our guide, John, was an ex prison guard and a Pom, but nevertheless a good bloke and funny as well as informative.

There is some excellent artwork in the Prison, done by the prisoners, and both of us fell various chills and thrills as we strolled around (Cheryl is very psychic). The gallows room was particularly spooky, and my legs turned to jelly as I entered, imagining how the poor bloke on the end of the rope must have felt.

In the prison's Anglican church it was interesting to note that the Commandments, inscribed behind the altar, had been amended to read "Thou shalt not do murder" rather than the usual "Thou shalt not kill", presumably to reconcile them with the Prison's policy of capital punishment!

Time went by far too quickly and I was sad to wave goodbye to Cheryl, not knowing if or when we might get together again, but I am grateful we have had this opportunity to meet 'face to face', after a four year "cyber-friendship".

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Paradise: parrots, pelicans, palms, pool, beaches, bars, beautiful scenery - it's all here in Kalbarri.

Oh no, I sound like a travel programme; move over, Judith Chalmers, I want your job, and I'm younger and thinner than you too!

Of all the places I have visited in Australia, Kalbarri is the place I would most like to return to (and even settle down in).

This is the view I had from the apartment's balcony:

Just behind the apartment was a lovely outdoor pool with the usual soft drinks machine and free barbies.

Visited Kalbarri National Park where the Warden guide explained how the Aboriginals had taught him how to differentiate between different varieties of kangaroo poo by taste. I called his bluff and found the poo was actually licorice. He said only 3 people had ever taken him up on it: they were all female, and all Poms!

Climbed down to an Aboriginal camp, but the guide said they only used it for one night at a time as apparently they didn't like Kalbarri; something to do with the Dreamtime.

Also visited Rainbow Jungle which is a sanctuary/breeding centre for parrots. One parrot took a fancy to me and put on a great display for me.

On the way back to Geraldton stopped off to see Red Bluff, the Natural Bridge, and Island Rock.

Very sad to leave Kalbarri, but hope to return someday soon.

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