Wyndham's

On to Wyndham's this morning after a walk in the woods at Woolshed Hill, which, despite looking exactly like a scene from "Skippy" (complete with local larrikin in an Akubra hat, burning stuff in oil drums), failed to turn up any kangaroos.

Wyndham's is set right on the river Hunter, which has been reduced to the width of a brook through poor land and irrigation management. The continuity of water supply is a real problem in Australia; the price of fruit and vegetables set to rise because of difficulites with the Murray-Darling river system. "Sydney cops all the rain" said the estate manager at Wyndham's. "Nothing falls on the catchment areas". Makes you wonder why they call them catchment areas then.

The mild winter of 2006 meant the grapes were ready for harvesting in January. Rows and rows of vines lie seemingly dead and abandoned, waiting for winter. The production machinery is still, the vats empty save for a couple of enormous upturned cockroaches. "That's normal" explained the guide. "Believe me, it's a pretty earthy process harvesting grapes. You get all sorts of organic matter brought in with the vines. The yeasties soon kill them off, it all floats to the top and we slough it away".

I'll remember that next time I'm sipping on a drop of Merlot.

This afternoon we spotted a kookaburra. They are gorgeous, smug-looking birds who fly with their necks at the same angle as a pelican's. Ella whined for four hours despite a visit to the (now dry) playground at Pokolbin and an ice-cream almost as big as her head. She cries for me to play with her, climb to the top of the slide, catch her, but when I do, she protests. It's like playing foot-servant to Quuenie from "Blackadder"; her wants and needs changing on a whim. By 4.30pm we'd poured the first gin and by 6.15pm she was asleep in bed.

We soldier on. Hic.