Railway museum

We need to be up relatively early today. Or at least Andrew does. As we need to check out at 11. I rise just after 9. Andrew gets up somewhat later. In his usual zombified state.

We check out at 11 on the dot. And dump our bags. Then jump in an Uber and head for Port Adelaide. And the National Railway Museum.

The man selling tickets very nicely gives me the pensioner discount. Another victory for us oldies.

The museum is spread over a couple of sheds and full, as you would expect, of old rolling stock. Big, muscular steam engines and elegant dining cars and sleepers. Though some of the beds are tiny.

"You'd need to fold double to fit into that, Andrew."

“Triple almost.” 

There are exhibitions of every aspect of the railways. And pretty well done. We spend the best part of two hours there.

On the way in, I spotted somewhere called the Railway Hotel at the end of the street.

"That seems the logical place to go now, Andrew."

“Except it it’s not a pub anymore.”

“Aah. I didn’t notice that.”

“Like lots of things.”

“What about that other old hotel over there?”

“That’s a wool shop now.”

“Oh. How annoying.”

“Maybe we should just go to Pirate Life?”

“OK.”

“Like I suggested in the first place?”

“Yes, as you suggested earlier.”

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t it me who says that?”

“Usually. Always at the wrong time. And don’t you dare say it now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.”

Pirate Life is right next to the station. Handy for day-trippers, that. And for us.

The weather is turning filthy as we walk there. Yet there are still a few brave souls in the beer garden. Smokers. The hardiest tribe of all. Prepared to suffer the most extreme hardships to feed their addiction. You have to admire the commitment.

Inside, it’s huge. Truly industrial. With a brewing kit that's outsized, even for a place this big. It makes the Pirate Life in Perth look like a tiny Amsterdam brown café.

It's a Lager for Andrew and an XPA for me. I do love me an XPA. Whatever it is. But let’s not worry about little details like that. The Pirate Life version is what I would describe as a light drinking beer. A sort of AK for the modern age.

We have trouble finding seats that aren't either occupied or reserved. It's full of families. We soon realise why: kids eat for free on Saturday. Unfortunately, my kid is far too old to count as a kid anymore.

“Do you want some food, Andrew?”

“I don’t think we’ll have time for food.”

“Really?”

“Yes, there’s just time for a couple of pints.”

“Always time for beer, eh?”

“Yes.”

“They aren’t really pints, though.”

“Now who’s being a pedant, Dad?”

“Me.”

“That wasn’t a question requiring an answer.”

“I know.”

He’s probably right, though. As we need to get back to the hotel, then get to the airport, we don't have long. Just time for Andrew to have three "pints" and me two.

Nosing around, I see that there's a second brewhouse. One that's about the right size for the brewpub. Curious.

The weather has turned really nasty when we leave. Blowing a gale and pissing it down. Not that we care, safely ensconced in our Uber.

Only pausing to pick up our bags and have a piss, soon we're in another Uber for the fairly short ride to the airport.

When we're checking in, the lady says:

"The lounge is opposite gate 21."

"I can use the lounge?"

"Yes, both of you, with your gold status."

“I wish I'd known that in Perth, Andrew.”

“Me, too.”.

Obviously, we tip down the lounge. Which is massive and almost deserted. I get a whisky and Andrew a beer. Plus, I get some food: tuna salad and beetroot sandwich. Which I assemble myself.

“Are you going to get any food, Andrew?”

“Maybe later.”

“I doubt we’ll get a meal on the plane.”

“I said: maybe later.”

Alright, little Mr. Sensitive. I don’t say that out loud. I wouldn’t want to make him angry.

We have a few rounds before it's time to board. Obviously, Andrew hasn’t eaten anything. Our gate is nearby, which is cool.

It's not a long flight. But we get a drink and a snack. And free wifi. Which I use to check on the cricket.

Our taxi takes forever to get downtown. Has he gone the right way? It takes the best part of an hour.  Pretty sure Brunswick isn’t on the direct route from the airport to the CBD. It's getting on for 10 when we hit our hotel. And immediately go out for supplies.

The Total Liquor is just closing when we get there. But, on the way in, I noticed that the Exford Hotel bottle shop had a sign stating that it was open until 4 AM every day. So, there we go. Andrew has to show ID to get in.

I get a bottle of Jim Beam. Andrew gets some cider and industrial Australian beer. Over the road in the 7 Eleven, I get a roast beef sandwich and Andrew a sausage roll. We’re truly living the high life.

“It’s much livelier here, Dad.”

“Maybe a bit too lively”

A shouty-outy crazy person is just ahead of us. Belting out an incoherent torrent of words. And banging his hand things.

“I see what you mean.”

The street is dead busy, Full of young people having a night out. It’s quite a contrast with Perth and Adelaide. Total night and day.

“Much more fun than the last two towns, though, Dad.”

“I won’t argue you with you there.”

“That makes a change.”

Back in our room, we can’t get the TV to switch on. Oh, well. There’s always my laptop.

We watch YouTube for a while. Then slip off into slumber.




Pirate Life Brewing
18 Baker St, 
Port Adelaide SA 5015.
https://piratelife.com.au/