We woke to the alarm and pouring rain. We drove to Cadbury, in the rain. After the tour where we were force fed chocolate every 10 metres I managed to pour a large coffee over myself so we had to head back to the motel to breakout the emergency jeans. And it rained.
We drove to Richmond (first time I’ve ever used that word without a link!) in the rain. We searched for a cafe in the rain and finally found one, where ate and watched the rain. It was here we also saw another stunning example of the Tassie mo. We looked at the oldest bridge in Australia, from the car, in the rain.
Driving back through the city allowed us to see more of the rain and as we drove up Mt Wellington we passed through the low lying clouds. And rain. At times the cloud was so think on the winding road to the summit we could only see 10 metres of rain in front of us.
At the top of the mountain the rain had stopped. Because it was snowing. Lots and lots of snow. Phee had her first snowball thrown at her so of course she stood there and cried. Maybe she was missing the rain. Of course it didn’t stop Rae from lobbing another at the shrieking child before a quick frolic in the wonderful white stuff.
Back down the rainy mountain we went and decided this rain would make the drive to Huonville for a Devonshire tea all the more challenging. We found a great tea at Doran’s Jam Factory where we sat and listened to the rain on the roof, debating the merits of Strawberry vs Raspberry jam and the merits of holidays with or without whining children. (The winners were Strawberry and no kids). We then headed back to Hobart in the, sorry pun alert, driving rain.
Listening to the radio we heard that the Canberra Mint was in town, selling special Tasmanian Bicentenary $5 coins (pdf pamphlet) so we headed off in the rain to find the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. The bonus of getting them from the museum this weekend was you had the opportunity to make the mintmark, a tiny H, on your own coin. Two coins later we headed outside.
And that’s when it really began to rain.
Undaunted we braved the torrents to head down to Salamanca Place. We dove through the first restauranty looking door we saw and drip dried while we ate Vietnamese and watched other idiots run by the window.
Now we’re back at the motel, listening to gale outside, about to be lulled to sleep by our day’s companion.
Here’s to Hobart rain.