Pokolbin is impossible to find on our map of New South Wales. The map that the tourist information people sent us isn't much help either. We eventually locate Woolshed Hill Estate, our stay for the next three nights, but we have no idea where to find the nearest shop/dentist/hospital, because the owner hasn't left us one of those nice folders with essential information; they've just left lots of notes about not forgetting to close the fridge door, not plugging the heater in and warning us that breaking so much as a wine glass will cost us $5 a throw.
The property is beautiful, we have the downstairs of the farmstead, set at the foothills of the Brokenback Mountain range. Think iron bedsteads, cosy lamps and a decanter of sherry on arrival. We are the Hinge and Bracket of the Hunter Valley.
"It's a lovely place" I commented to Darren.
"Too nice for us, in the circumstances", he replies.
We spent the next three days watching Ella like a hawk, a task made even more difficult by the fact I'd packed the "art and craft" activities rather than nice, clean bricks, dollies and teasets.
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