Possums Getting Married

My childhood sweetheart of 15 years has decided that the time is right for her to sign my ownership papers even though I keep telling her that a semi-vintage model like myself doesn’t come with much of a warranty these days – too old to be considered fashionable, but not old enough to be considered vintage chic. Yet despite my many flaws – some rough paint work, zero fashion sense and a predilection for inappropriate metaphors to name but a few of the kinder ones, she’s still keen, god bless her.

So this weekend, vows will be said, rings exchanged, embarrassing family anecdotes inevitably retold and exaggerated, and much merriment will be had by all – and from this grand ritual, apparently I will metamorphosise into an honest marsupial. Well, not too honest… some things are probably well beyond the reach of any ritual.

As you would imagine, weddings bring a special type of holiday that generally takes ones attention away from the world around them and as a result, the Pollytics site will be going a little slower for the next 3 or 4 weeks. However, I’m fairly certain that our honeymoon won’t be as long as, say, a certain political leader’s, and I will be back before that mythical slayer of honeymoons everywhere – The Budget – gets delivered.

We are actually heading to Tasmania for our honeymoon – avoiding the usual tourist traps and spending a few weeks leisurely roaming around the State hunting down the best food and wine that the Apple Isle locally produces.

So maybe some of you folks could answer a question if you’d be kind enough – know any well hidden Tasmanian food and wine secrets?