Hatchers Manor

 This place has certainly had its glory days.  There's a book in the restaurant showcasing weddings held here in days gone by: the bride delivered to the church in a carriage drawn by two snow-white horses, the wedding party posing on the verandah of the main house and the guests wind-blown but happy.

There would have been a big staff then, needed to look after the extensive grounds and the buildings, and the animals.  There would have been a full staff in the kitchen, from the renowned chef to the kitchen maids and the wine cellar would have featured the best of cool climate wines from this part of the world.

Those days, sadly, have gone.  There are no flocks of sheep nor herds of cattle, and the orchard is overgrown.  The main sign at the entrance contains the cryptic message, 'Tasmanian Apricot Interpretation Centre' but there's no sign around the house that apricots flourish here.

It seems that the family now depends on infrequent guests to keep the place ticking over.  When Covid started to bite, the chef left so Jeanette, the owner has had to take on the cooking duties as well as the other myriad demands of running an accommodation business.

We have a dog-friendly room.  The resident three dogs have been to visit to make sure we are OK, and we certainly are.  The bed is huge as is the bathroom.  Archie is sharing with us and he seems quite content.  We had dinner at the restaurant last night and it was fine.  Jeanette, who cooked the meal, sat with us and chatted while we ate.  She says she and her husband have been here 40 years but she is tired now.  She looks to be about our age so I'm not surprised.

Sunday, September 19th

 While we were sitting outside the shopping centre last week, Archie was clearly struggling with the cold Hobart wind which whistled around our knees. As a Mexican dog, he isn’t bred for cooler climates and shivers at the first hint of a change in the weather.  Marilyn borrowed a shawl from our accommodation and wrapped him up but passers-by gave us some odd looks at this dog being treated like a human infant.   

We’re going back to Hobart this week and, no doubt, will experience the same problem: déjà vu all over again.  There must be solution.  Nera, the world champion shopper, turned to Facebook Marketplace and discovered this marvellous object.  What could be better!  I can even imagine hanging it over my shoulder, telling Archie to pull his head in and we can wander through the shops without alerting security. 

Are we mad, or just dealing with isolation the best way we can?