Adelaide in need of aid
I know you will be surprised to know that I, paragon of virtue, and renowned non-drinker and liar, was not feeling his best yesterday morning. Although suspicions amongst my touring party were that I had perhaps in imbibed rather too enthusiastically the night before, I knew the truth; I had eaten something either too spicy or too rich. Anyway, I clearly looked unwell as I was excused further retail distress without having to whimper very much at all, probably on the grounds that I may have been sick on the merchandise.
This morning, before the opening ceremony and welcome reception for the 30 odd teams (now there is a turn of phrase, we shall look very odd in our long white socks and navy shorts for the procession) who have flown from around the world to play cricket in the Golden oldies cricket Festival, John “Chuckle Brothers” Surtees and I have resolved that after an early breakfast, we will walk down to the cricket ground as Australia are playing South Africa in the second Test Match. It seems as if the national cricket team are also being ritually abused by staying at the same hotel for the duration of the game.
In search of some solace in the form of food and drink, we headed up to the rather appropriately named Gouger Street which had been recommended to us by the concierge because of its range of restaurants and bars. I say appropriate because for a reasonable tapas meal and the meanest paella for two I have ever seen, they gouged out of us enough money to buy the restaurant, an eye-watering final insult to round off a most disappointing welcome to Australia. Apart from the unswerving friendliness of the locals and the weather, I have so far found very little of what I found so charming about Adelaide when I last came about 10 years ago. Maybe once the jet lag recedes I shall have a more positive view.
Chris France