Spent the morning casually strolling through Deloriane again. We went back to the art gallery. There was a painting there which George had seen and really liked last time. It was painted with instant coffee used as water colour paint, so all in shades of brown. It also depicted a woman drinking coffee. It was part of a series by this artist, all themed around coffee. We had found and bought a small print of one of them last time, but not the one he really liked. There were no prints of this one, but the original was still there.

We walked on through town and had a coffee, reading the local paper. There was an article about an old man, a local character, who collected all sorts of junk and had them for sale in his large back yard. He lived in a town called Westbury, which was about fifteen kms back the way we had come.

It wasn't far, so we thought we would check him out. This was our last chance. Leaving tomorrow.

We found him easily - hard to miss really - with two large blocks full of all sorts of junk. Old bed heads, crates, bits of machinery, you name it. I did come across an old cast iron kettle, very heavy, painted with flowers. Although it was dusty and dirty, I thought it would go perfectly in Allison's new cottage, so I picked it up for her.

George was still dreaming about that coffee painting. (He may not know much about art, but he knows what he likes.) This would be our only chance, and he may always regret it, so we decided to bite the bullet, go back to Deloraine again, and buy that picture.

Now all that was left was to head back up to Devonport. On the way was a rest area which had a large sign up advertising a café. We had driven past this spot a few times, and were always curious because it looked really nice from a distance, but we had never stopped. So we decided to check it out - this would be our last chance. (A few of these last chances today.)

We were so glad we did. It was called the Conservatory Café as it was built in an old conservatory. It was a beautiful old building, all glass and timber and chock full of greenery. It had been a ruin for many years, and had just been restored. It had opened about ten months earlier, but had already developed quite a reputation based on the number of people swarming to get in there. We managed to get a corner of a table, but had to share with another couple. So we sat together and chatted over the best coffee we had had so far in Tassie. They were from Stanley, and we heard all about their children and grandchildren in Melbourne and all over the globe. They were a lovely couple and we had a very enjoyable afternoon.

Eventually we had to push on to Devonport for the night. There was a free camping spot on the oval, but apparently we had to pay ten dollars for a pass from the Tourist Info Centre. So we headed into town to get our pass, and found they were shut. It was not even three yet, but on Saturdays they shut at one.

Oh, well. We would have to spend the night without a pass. What a shame. If they came and checked, we would be happy to pay our ten dollars. But if they didn't even bother staying open, we didn't think it was likely they would come and check. We were right.

But before we settled for the night, there was one last thing we had to do. Dropped in to BWS to pick up a slab of Boag's Wizard Smith beer, that one we had both really liked which wasn't sold on the mainland. We found they had sold out of slabs, but they had four six packs left, the last in the shop, which they packed for us in a Corona box!