Meyricke Serjeantson

 

Mar 4 Blenheim & home again

Definitely an autumnal morning. There was a distinct chill in the air as I left the motel. I sought their help in sourcing fruit and veg from somewhere other than the supermarket and they assured me that there wasn’t anywhere else in Blenheim. There was talk of a small Asian shop but no one knew quite where it was.

Bowing to the inevitable, I bought milk and veges from New World and then drove to the edge of town, to one of the excellent butchers, of which Blenheim seems to have more than its fair share. Meaters has some of the best black pudding in the country, so I stocked up with some and a few other odds and ends, so that I wouldn’t starve before the weekend.

I arrived at Lawsons Dry Hills long before the scheduled opening time but they were already up and running. I did some tasting, had a chat and bought some wine. We discussed the chilly weather and how they were hoping for a couple more weeks of sun to finish ripening the vintage. I then meandered along the road to Renwick, taking occasional photos of bits of blue sky or misty mountains against the foreground of vines.

Renwick is a small town at the opposite end of the plain to Blenheim. I spotted the museum, which was unmanned and had an automatic lighting system. There was the usual collection of stuff, mainly pioneer vintage, and nothing too exciting.


Across the vines


Renwick Museum


Roses

I drove across the road and found the local chemists, where I bought some sea sickness pills. The lady said they were very effective. Time will tell.

My feeling of unease was intensified by the lady who sold me coffee at the vineyard café. She told me how rough it had been the day before and how several rather green people had appeared in the café, wondering if they could manage to eat anything. The drizzle had returned by now so I didn’t bother visiting any of the pretty vineyards.

At Picton, I had a brief wander around the town but it was damp and unpleasant. Last time I was here the façade of the old pub was being preserved for incorporation in a new development. This had now been completed but I can’t say that it looked particularly impressive. Feeling that nothing was to be gained from walking around in he rain, I returned to the car and joined the queue at the ferry terminal, where I listened to the car radio whilst the rain continued to fall.


Picton town centre


Picton Harbour


On the way home

Once on board, I found a comfortable corner and continued to do not very much. The trip up the Sounds was smooth enough although, when I ventured up in deck to take a photo it was unpleasantly windy. The open sea arrived and, in spite of the wind, wasn’t too rough. I decided that I could face a sandwich although, it has to be said, that the food on the new ferry is no better than it was on the old ones. Eventually Wellington hove into view, we landed just about on time and I drove home without incident.