In a faraway corner of an enormous, lonely paddock lies the ruins of a tiny stone cottage.
Recently, on a Friday night we packed up homemade sausages and baguettes and reignited the little fireplace for the first time in many years.
Bread grilled and sausages sizzled while the sun set and the stars emerged.
We imagined when the last meal might have been cooked here and what those resilient pioneers might have eaten.
Whoever it was certainly wouldn’t have been posting photos on Instagram or demolishing a box of Jatz and a piece of oozy cheese on the back of a modern 4WD ute.
I quite fancy hosting tiny, open air dinner parties in this unique setting. It would be strictly BYO swags, torches and a sense of adventure. Any takers?
Happy Friday friends x