Apologies for sounding like a broken record, but Grafton amazes me yet again. Being here feels like being in a chapter of The Waltons. Perhaps preserving old buildings and trees helps preserve some of the values that were around at the times those buildings were erected, and the trees planted. Food for thought.

Our neighbours are in a motor home, so they take the bus into town when they can, rather than packing up their motor home. Yesterday, they went into town to see the midday showing of, The 100 Foot Journey (Helen Mirren movie), which we saw the day before – great feel good movie.

After watching the movie in the lovely old world type movie theatre, they waited for their bus. Ten minutes after the time they thought it should be there, they checked with a bus driver on another route. They had read the holiday time table by mistake, and in fact it was almost another hour till a bus was due.

Whilst still in front of the bus driver they discussed getting a taxi. The bus driver wouldn’t hear of it, telling them to get on and he’d take them home. He went a round trip of over three kilometres off his route and took them to the entrance of the caravan park. They had stood ready to exit the bus on the road opposite, he wouldn’t hear of that either, and insisted on doing a U turn so as they could alight right at the entrance.

Where does that happen! And in what era?