Well, that was a washout. The lovely hand-propagated plants no longer existed; it was all commercial-grown stuff I could get more cheaply at Bunnings. And the sale guides kept asking me to identify plants.
Boo hoo.
I wondered where all the lovely older ladies who used to grow the plants had gone.
A long drive then to the Golden Plains Shire, and well named: God, it's flat. It's on high, ancient volcanic lava flows, and windy as hell too. We were drawn to a farmer's market at Bannockburn, which proved to be very small, but with some excellent native plants for sale: two more grevilleas. Also poncey olive oil and artisan bread. :o
The bonus was a lovely barbed wire sculpture at the local gallery art show. David Dickson, whose work will sadly have rarity value soon, I fear.
Back home to the completion of the mowing to make the backyard less snake-friendly. Tonight we'll fire up the brazier in the front garden, listen to The Archers or Just A Minute, and try to remember to put the clocks forward.