The winter woolies come out

 Saturday 10 April

We checked out of our wonderful Loft and went into Bungandore so Flashy could get two things he needed, a sausage roll and a haircut. Check to both and a brief look at the Anglican church farmers market where for the first time in all our travels, Lady P was glared at as she handled more than one of the limes and returned them to the basket. We fuelled up and headed on the road towards Mudgee, but with an overnight stop in Taralga. This is only a 2 hr trip, so we planned a snack stop around Crookwell but when we got there it felt a bit commercial. Not really quaint enough for a beer and a sanger. We did however, stop at Flashy’s maternal family’s namesake and purchase a hand made marino wool beanie and a pair of purple sox, as the thermometer was plunging into the single figures. A sign said ‘Langgan Pub – Famous 1.3kms.’ So of course we went there. Now, unbeknown to us, it was ‘Potato Festival’ time and the pub was both full (no covid distancing) and ‘a rockin’, so we went across the road to the Langgan Brewery. What a find that was. An old shearing shed converted to a seven variety, lager to stout, boutique brewery. Delicious beers and a cider too. We had a smoked trout platter and a couple of beers, sitting around the open fire before heading into the village of Taralga. By now it was 6C with a ‘feels like’ 1C and a cold wind from the SSE. We dragged out the winter woollies, scarfs and gloves and walked the village taking in the history from the 1820’s. Our pub for the night is a typical Aussie bush pub. Public bar, ladies lounge, dining room and bearded, toothless locals. Our room is clean(ish) with a bathroom down the corridor. We’re happy. We walk up to the top pub – there’s always a top pub and this is the flash place with ladies from Goulburn who lunch, a degustation menu and expensive wines. We enter and have a couple of Clonakilla Shiraz, carefully manoeuvring a couple away from our fire place position, then walk back to our bottom pub for a counter meal of predictable but good chicken schnitty and bangers and mash. An early night in our creaky bed with the electric blanket on 3.






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