We arrived here in Crystal Brook late Monday night, to find no internet connection yet again. The last two days have been spent on the phone trying to get the problem sorted once again. It's thoroughly infuriating, as no-one wants to actually take responsibility for the whole mess. Mereth was upgraded to be dealt with by a Level 3 Troubleshooter, who amazingly was Australian. He did something, because we are communicating with the wide world again, but who knows how long it will last.

We had to complete the last leg of the journey home by bus, because Mereth's No.2 son needed to borrow the car while his is being repaired. I think my least favourite place on earth is the Adelaide bus station, which is firmly grounded in the last century and refusing to join the rest of us. Plus all the clientele have chest-wracking coughs that make me wish for white gloves and a surgical mask and a pomade on a stick such as the Elizabethans used to hold under their noses to ward off ill humours and vapours.

We sat in the cafe long enough to find out the waitress's first name; the coffee was diabolical, but better than nothing. I noticed two African men come in and order tea; I think they were two of Adelaide's many Somalian refugees. One was very unfamiliar with the whole ceremony, and his companion instructed him on the right way to do everything. When they were finished the friend motioned that he should take the saucer full of paper wrappings and put the rubbish in the bin. Cautiously, and uncertainly, the man walked over to the bin and dropped the whole saucer in. His friend came rushing over to fish the saucer out and place it back on the counter. It was quite touching to watch someone so completely unaware of what he should do in such a strange and outlandish situation. And to think that the Adelaide bus station was his introduction to life here in Australia! It makes me shudder.

I took a brisk walk in the light rain, and was daring enough to take photos of odd things that amused me, like the varied metal plates in the footpath that mark the service access sites for the phonelines and electricity and gas. People stared. Honestly, I was just being a Tourist! Get over it.

I liked the ceiling in the Post Office, beautiful mouldings and colours. More things to go in the Ideas File.

This sandstone rose was quite delightful, part of a large swag on another building.

People continually ask where our design ideas come from. The answer is from everywhere. We collect any image that interests us, and when we have to design a pattern there is usually something that we feel drawn to develop further. Without the bank of images we'd run out of ideas eventually, but there is always a new path to follow.

The patchwork block is one that Mereth made years ago for a project of mine, but then didn't give to me. She does that all the time. She showed me several

beautiful cards that she'd bought to send to her friends, and then couldn't bear to part with. (I was put in mind of the grandmother in Malcolm In The Middle). We just may give this block a few siblings while I'm down here, and turn it into a new project.....