A melancholy blog post from my Adelaide hotel room at 3.15am.
Jason & I have spent last few days in Adelaide, South Australia on a business trip for his work. Last night we went for Dinner at a place across the road from our hotel. It was called Ambassador’s and is the oldest hotel in the city. Gorgeous inside & out. The food was beautiful, we both had fat duck sausages served with truffle mash & a rich, dark gravy. The service & price was wonderful, our dishes only cost $19 each!
The room we dined in, the marble bar, was grand – chandeliers, chesterfield sofas, old paintings in gold frames. mahogany & jarrah & exotic carvings, antique chairs…I felt really at home. It was like being back in the house I grew up in. Granted, we didn’t have chesterfields or chandeliers but we had the rest, even if some was just a very good replica. Given that when I was very small, my Dad was a travelling sales rep it’s quite likely he was directly influenced by this place when renovating ours…I seem to recall he did go to Adelaide a couple of times.
Anyway, hence the melancholy mood.
It’s now what…seven and a half years since home stopped looking like home & started being done up for sale when my parents split up, about seven since I was last there a month before settlement and about six since I discovered that the horrible excuse for a human being that bought it, (along with all the fittings like mantelpieces & leadlights my parents made) claiming to want to restore it to it’s former beauty, demolished most of it, pulped our gumtree (the largest in the area) and made some god awful extensions that took up most of the 1/5 acre block.
I’d begged Jas to buy it for us. We hadn’t been together long & it was a big ask but god I wish we had. I would’ve made changes, sure, but never would I have knocked it down. It had so much potential.
But these days all anyone seems to care about is how much they can cram onto a block with a postage stamp sized back yard…how is that the great Aussie dream? It’s just greedy.
To say I’m not bitter would be a gross understatement. It still eats at me. I hope I never meet the woman that did it…I hope she’s at least haunted by the 13 or so animals she dug up when building her monstrosity. Grr.
Well that rant took 45mins to write…oh well, back to bed.