Author Archives: sheg4184

“The Wide Brown Land for Me.”

‘I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains,Of ragged mountain ranges, of droughts and flooding rains.’ ~Dorothy McKellar, 1908 The Australian landscape may not change quickly but change it does. Growing up in South Australia, I had assumed … Continue reading →

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Poemat means ‘poem’ in Polish

My mother has often said there is nothing more decadent than having someone else cook a meal in your own kitchen. We tried it out last weekend and found her theory thoroughly validated. Judyta Slupnicki is a woman who loves … Continue reading →

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Roaming in the Riverland

It is dawn. The sun sits like a navel orange on the horizon, reflected in the dimpled river. The air is crisply cold, but that doesn’t seem to bother the pelicans swooping low and dipping for breakfast. Two wrens dash … Continue reading →

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A Tale of Thai Dining

“Be consistent—people will come back because they like your food, they don’t want it to change. Don’t compromise on quality either. Today’s customers are knowledgeable about food. They’ve travelled and know what to expect. If you cut corners and buy … Continue reading →

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A Picnic with Shakespeare

Apologies dear readers, I meant to post this piece weeks ago, but mislaid the draft. At least it is an almost current event when compared to many of my recent mediaeval travel stories! Last night (early March!) we lugged an … Continue reading →

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Rocket Fuel with a Twist

‘Becherovka is a genuine symbol of national identity in the Czech Republic, where its reputation is based on its completely traditional process and authentic roots.’ ~ Frederic Legrand Many years ago, when the children were small, we lived in the … Continue reading →

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Time Travel

It’s 1991. We have taken an overnight train to Rome from Genoa. The train is absolutely packed and there are no seats left. We are perched in the aisle on our rucksacks. Sandy-eyed, grubby and aching, we stagger into the … Continue reading →

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Sea, Saki & Sashimi

It’s a modest block of flats, almost drowned out by the ostentatious and more glamorous towers that cluster along the beachfront. But from the balcony, the view over a long stretch of white sand that sinks beneath the roiling, boiling … Continue reading →

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A Pebble in My Pocket

PART THREE: NORTH YORK MOORS NATIONAL PARK Day nine is twenty-three miles of dodging rain clouds across North Yorkshire. The footpath travels from Richmond to Ingleby Cross and the Bluebell Hotel via lush farmland that Wainwright deplores and upon which … Continue reading →

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A Pebble in My Pocket

PART TWO: THE YORKSHIRE DALES NATIONAL PARK It is the fifth day. We leave Shap behind, crossing a footbridge over the motorway, passing the quarry and the steel factory spewing forth clouds of smoke. Three hours of mole-hills, moorland and … Continue reading →

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