Peppercorn, hops and a foodie tour

Scientific field research has proven that it is difficult to write a blog post when a two week old baby is using you as her bed. Peppercorn is of the firm opinion that a nanna nap means that she naps ON Nanna.

Peppercorn is proving to be the perfect baby, sleeping her days away. Unzipping her “wombie” or sheep’s wool sleep swaddle, is like switching her to on. Instantly she awakens, wiggles and will give her consent to a feed. Then it is poo time, or rather poo time with Daddy as he always seems to get that end of the process, and she resettles into sleep. We all have fingers crossed that the Christmas gremlins don’t steal her to replace with evil baby girl.

Grandma and Grandpa have managed a few outings when not needed to be an improvised crib.

Saturday was to the Feral Brewing for lunch and a tasting tray of very feral beer. I am not a beer drinking so my choice was the lightest beer, feral white – number 1, and Mr FD had his pick of the others. We didn’t buy any to take home and glasses four and five were largely untouched.

feral 1

feral 2

 

We did enjoy the cheese platter and the lamb on flat bread with pomegranate salad.

feral 3

feral 4

Afterwards we did the tourist drive and visited The Honey Shop, The Cheese Barrel and stopped off at Yahava Koffeworks where Mr FD asked if they stocked the coffee beans rescued from monkey poo. He was politely told that we could not afford to buy it and they could not afford to stock it. Consider yourself put in your place! He never asked to buy it; well, not in my hearing anyway!

Feral 5

Mr FD somehow made time for his version of the Victorian Tourism “Run Rabbit Run” ad in the vineyard. He blamed his ungainly gait on his knee replacement. I made no comment but my brain was pinging with plenty of replies. Sometimes the inside words need to be just that…inside.

feral 6

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4 thoughts on “Peppercorn, hops and a foodie tour

  1. The coffee beans Mr. FD was asking about actually are picked out of the poop from civet cats in Indonesia, and yes, they (the coffee beans, not the civet cats) are fearfully expensive. A while back I read a tasting review of the poop coffee by some expert coffee buyer in London, and he pronounced it good but hardly worth the expense or the cruelty in which it is harvested. (Don’t ask, this subject is already ridiculously awful.) Does Mr. FD always embarrass himself so in public?

    Peppercorn sounds like a perfect baby. I hope you enjoy lots of time with her as she grows up.

    Like

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