Off to Wonga Park this morning to speak with Ivan — no, not Ivan the terrible — Ivan the chef. Final discussions on what we’ll feed the horde in ’s time. He was quick to put us at our ease, and offered all kinds of helpful suggestions and hints, our preliminary choices only needed a little refining for everyone to be happy, then it was off to wander around the gardens to get a rough idea of where everything would be — and to look at the colours of the autumn vines.
Later this afternoon I did battle with the internal combustion engine. After much grunting and muttering and endless cranking and cranking, the bike finally burst — or limped — into life. Immense clouds of black smoke billowed from the exhaust, as five months worth of seeping oil burnt out of the cylinders, then I headed off for a quick run up the freeway and back to charge the completely flat battery. I think that money will need to be spent this winter to revitalise a rather unwell engine, but at least it’s now in a state where I can get to and from the course for next week…
