XMas in July /Country Pub weekend

   It is a great weekend when two old favorites can be combined in such grand fashion.  Driving around in the country, seeing the sights and staying at old country pubs is always fun. Add the traditional Christmas in July celebrations with Kev's social group and it is truly a memorable two and half days.  Join us on this picture perfect weekend.

 Plan on making stops. Whether its a national park like Yalgorup for a walk & wave to kangaroos or meandering the path through a rare mangrove swamp or stopping in at the local farmers market or getting windswept while watching dark clouds roll over the Indian Ocean- it's all good. We're always on watch for those brown tourist site signs. Some are flops (boring pit, zzzzzzzz) and some are  real finds.

    Quindanning Hotel. A country pub with a pedigree. This is in the middle of nowhere.  A true destination in of itself and heavy promoter of X-Mas in July weekends. Alas, our group is not staying here. Not because of the cold (guest rooms don't have fireplaces or space heaters) but communal bathrooms are not preferred. Pity. This place is a beauty. Jarrah wood panelled walls, roaring fireplace in every 

common room, nearby river and  history to spare.  The staff is not particularly customer service oriented or welcoming but great warmth can be found in the locals and their kids  (local = within 25 miles) hanging out for a decent feed and a cheap beer at the very Irish-oriented bar. Even had an Irish gal, Fiona, working the bar and her magic on the guys who pop in for a pint.

   

A little more diversion, shall we?  Red Cross thrift stores and CWA meeting houses in the smallest of towns. Roadside stands selling produce. Almost passed the mandarin "stand". It was a refrigerator lying on its back. The bags of fruit were in the refrigerator section  and your money gets put through the slot in the locked freezer section. A little cold, hard cash for a farmer's extra produce. Oh, can't forget old, little churches with their water tanks & spooky outhouses and the occasional winery or two. Or three. It's all good. But the party is about to start.  Let's go to Bunbury  and ...

 

The Rose Hotel. A country pub in the city (Bunbury is no longer as way out there as it used to be) with all the expected embellishments: similar shape, balcony with wrought iron rails, affable dog, aging furniture, lacking heat, communal bathrooms and charm to spare. This hotel actually has custom carpeting with its initials woven in it and an old-fashioned telephone exchange at the lobby desk (now just decorative). The lobby begs to be used in an Agatha Christie movie, although how they would explain the suit of armor in the corner by the door I'm not sure.

 

The Rose does not market itself well. It's known for its steak and fish, but this place is empty on a prime weekend--of both staff and visitors. A bit more business savvy and this place could do much better.  We are not in the main building but in the motel section out back. We have space heaters and a short walk across the parking lot to the main building.
After a pre-supper get together we head over for the big meal.

  Christmas crackers with the paper party hats and lively conversation.  The hors 'oeuvres was a spectacular snapper with prawn cream.   The turkey and ham main entree was purely institutional, cut right from the roll. Sigh.  But we are in good company.  I like going to the events sponsored by the social club at Kev's work.  I like the people.  I like these weekends in the country.
   And because I like my mother , I am putting one last photo on this entry.  Mom complains that she never sees me in the blog (hey, I'm the camera guy as well as the writer)  and I have many excuses why I don't want to be....  but here you are, Mom:

Kev & Hilary at the Rose Hotel,  July 2010