Magical Mystery Tour

Originally we were going camping. Somewhere nice and out bush. Like Marysville. Or Kinglake. Until I rang a couple of places and they laughed down the phone at me, "It's bloody freeeeeeeeezing up here! You're jooooooking!" Oooh-kay. Nothing like a bit of a nip in the air to freeze your eyelashes to your face, thought I, but nevertheless, we heeded their advice. I was crushed.

Then Husband said, "Let me take you somewhere secret!" Ah-hah, thought I, a collage of lascivious images parading through my mind, before he clarified, "...like...a weekend getaway." I was crushed.

We drove 2 hours due east on Saturday morning, with me clucking, "Sydney? Are we going to Sydney?" "Not Sydney? Bairnsdale?" "Ummmmm, are we going to Wilson's Prom???" We ended up in Walhalla. Where the flibbety gibbet is Walhalla I hear you ask? It's a beautiful little mining/heritage town tucked in the foothills of Mt Baw Baw, north of Moe. About 15 people live there.

We stayed at Windsor House (shameless, but well-deserving plug), run by a gorgeous young couple with an obscene interest in good wine. Originally they weren't going to open as it had been so quiet (everyone out camping I suppose) but Husband made a late booking on Friday so it was just us. And a massive house.

We had the run of the place... took naps, had a delicious dinner, played scrabble and drank port in front of the open fire in the sitting room, and woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon and the sight of a countryside layered in snowy frost. I even got serenaded by Husband...

That's it. Fucking good actually. Glad we didn't go camping. It was shit freezing cold.