Adelaide is, of course, known worldwide for its generous hospitality and welcoming ethos. Unlike our countrymen and women in the eastern states, we have very few ultra-right-wing groups and skinhead individuals with tattooed skulls of swastikas living here. Instead, we torture our guests by plying them with world-class wines from all over the state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Friends I have taken on wine trips have confessed to me that the wineries and wine tasting are probably the most horrendous activities they have ever been subjected to. As a gesture of appeasement and being polite, they tell me, they buy crates and cartons of wine, which they later sacrifice to the gods. Many of them can be heard sacrificing to a god in the early hours of the morning, when they are spotted parking the tiger and talking to their chosen god on the big white telephone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I have discovered something hidden, secret and almost-evil about Adelaide, something that shocked me to the core. Well, that’s what I told Rosanna Mangiarelli. She declined the opportunity to pursue the story further. My mother did that to me once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n