My frank and considered opinion of the Barossa Valley is that everybody seems to know a bloody lot about wine. I imagine the conversation at parties gets very technical; a lot of serious debate about oaking and overtones, varietals and blending.

Apparently, viognier is the go this season. We'd been seeing a few popping up on menus, and had assumed it was the new pinot gris/grigio (i.e. what everyone will be drinking this spring, dahlink). Our personal assessment was that it was a nice little wine, but further consideration has been cruelly thwarted by Yalumba, who apparently decided to give us a (much more expensive) chardonnay instead of the viognier we bought. Fascists!

Incidentally, the visitor's centre at Wolf Blass looks like something out of the finale of Aeon Flux. It's enough to make one wonder if Herr Blass hoped that if he builds it, a leather-clad Charlize Theron would come. We kept off the grass, in any case.

Also discovered in South Australia:

• dingoes look like the poor Weasley cousins of wolves and don't bark;
• Tassie Devils have the hand-eye coordination of a flying brick;
• numbats are awesome;
• In fact, beware ninja numbats, combat wombats and killer koalas - the dozy thing is just an act;
• Billy Corgan whines a lot;
• Adelaide driving is catching;
• I am a a second-class citizen and Qantas is onto me.

In conclusion:

Dear England,

Thirty-one points. Suck it, blaggards.

Love,
Dee.

(Although actually, when Anthony came in and said, "Australia's beating England by nine-nil," my first thought was, "But we're not even in the same World Cup group as them!" Yep, it's all gone soccer-crazy down here.)