Monday, October 27, 2003
Jazz in the vines, Hunter Valley
Just spent a great weekend in the Hunter valley at the 'Jazz in the vines' festival. My first Oz road trip was with Liz, Sarah and John. John got a present of a pale blue 1979 toyota corona with a working sterio and a couple of fold out chairs in the boot. The machine chugged it's way to the Hunter valley on Friday evening blaring out the choonz from a mixed tape found in the glove box. The hunter valley wine region is very beautiful with acres and acres of roling padocks of neat little rows of vines and plenty of 'flying doctor' style houses (now a recognised era in Australian architecture I believe). We stayed as close to the vineyards as we could afford and our posh little pad at the hunter valley accomodation center even had a pool and free tea and coffee in the rooms. We took it easy on the cocksucking cowboys (thats a drink) in Potters brewery on Friday night in preparation for Saturdays big day out.
Jazz in the vines is an all day affair at tyrells vinyard, it all starts out very civilised with crowds of people sitting on their picnic blankets, basking in the sunshine, munching on some cheese and crackers, listening to jazz and sipping on wine made from the grapes they can see growing in the next paddock. The day went on like that blissfully, the jazz was great, the wine was quaffing and the sunshine was heaven sent. Towards the evening the sky clouded over and small drops of rain started to fall on our sunkissed drunken faces, it wasn't long before the thunder and lightening came and there was a full on down pour. Far from dampening the spirit of the day, the rains seemed to add a new element of madness to the occasion. A rugby ball landed at our feet followed by about 15 mud soaked ozzies, a huge game ensued involving a couple of thousand jazz fans and one rugby ball, a real summer festival feeling. As everyone was packing up their soaked belongings the rain cleared and the sun poked through to a chorus of "Here comes the sun" led by Sarah as we danced our way to the shelter of the nearest pub. The night didn't end there it went on well into the early hours of the morning and judging from all the unexplained drunken injuries it must have been good.
We made our way back along the coast on sunday shaking our heads to David gray and smiling at what a great weekend it was. We arrived just on time to see the end of the Irish match against Argentina, a win that sees us through to the quarter finals of the world cup. I managed to catch up with Claire and Maura to celebrate the win.
Just spent a great weekend in the Hunter valley at the 'Jazz in the vines' festival. My first Oz road trip was with Liz, Sarah and John. John got a present of a pale blue 1979 toyota corona with a working sterio and a couple of fold out chairs in the boot. The machine chugged it's way to the Hunter valley on Friday evening blaring out the choonz from a mixed tape found in the glove box. The hunter valley wine region is very beautiful with acres and acres of roling padocks of neat little rows of vines and plenty of 'flying doctor' style houses (now a recognised era in Australian architecture I believe). We stayed as close to the vineyards as we could afford and our posh little pad at the hunter valley accomodation center even had a pool and free tea and coffee in the rooms. We took it easy on the cocksucking cowboys (thats a drink) in Potters brewery on Friday night in preparation for Saturdays big day out.
Jazz in the vines is an all day affair at tyrells vinyard, it all starts out very civilised with crowds of people sitting on their picnic blankets, basking in the sunshine, munching on some cheese and crackers, listening to jazz and sipping on wine made from the grapes they can see growing in the next paddock. The day went on like that blissfully, the jazz was great, the wine was quaffing and the sunshine was heaven sent. Towards the evening the sky clouded over and small drops of rain started to fall on our sunkissed drunken faces, it wasn't long before the thunder and lightening came and there was a full on down pour. Far from dampening the spirit of the day, the rains seemed to add a new element of madness to the occasion. A rugby ball landed at our feet followed by about 15 mud soaked ozzies, a huge game ensued involving a couple of thousand jazz fans and one rugby ball, a real summer festival feeling. As everyone was packing up their soaked belongings the rain cleared and the sun poked through to a chorus of "Here comes the sun" led by Sarah as we danced our way to the shelter of the nearest pub. The night didn't end there it went on well into the early hours of the morning and judging from all the unexplained drunken injuries it must have been good.
We made our way back along the coast on sunday shaking our heads to David gray and smiling at what a great weekend it was. We arrived just on time to see the end of the Irish match against Argentina, a win that sees us through to the quarter finals of the world cup. I managed to catch up with Claire and Maura to celebrate the win.
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