Friday Crime–The Culvert (22)

Choices and Consequences

Brighton Beach
Tuesday April 27, 2022
10am

El

El plodded along the shore towards Seacliff Beach. Dan’s request had been troubling her all morning. ‘Darn! I was just beginning to enjoy my freedom,’ she muttered, ‘and now this.’

The crisp clear morning, blue skies dotted with cottonwool clouds, seagulls wheeling over the aqua waves and the sand crunching beneath her pounding feet, annoyed Eloise Delaney. How could she enjoy this brilliant day if she had to go back to work? Maybe after a few months of leisure she might get bored and want to return to the hamster wheel of police work and no play, but at the moment, she wasn’t bored.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

*[Photo 1: Towards Seacliff Beach © L.M. Kling 2017]


El stopped, gazed at the sea, the morning sun sparkling on the waves, dug the device out of her pocket and spoke, ‘Hey there Sven. What’s up?’

‘I was just thinking, why don’t we organise another get together for Zoe and Francis?’

‘Why? Can’t they organise their own social life? They are both adults.’

‘Yeah, but, actually, I was thinking, I could invite Tiffy, my niece to come along.’

‘Tiffy,’ El sniffed, ‘good luck with that.’

‘I dunno, it’s worth a try,’ Sven said, ‘we don’t have to say anything, but we could see if they look alike and have similar…I mean, they’d be half-sisters.’

‘I can’t see it happening. Nah, only way is to get Tiffy to do a DNA test and that’s not going to happen. Besides, won’t Tiffy think it’s a bit strange you wanting her to meet Zoe?’

‘Uh…well…’

‘I mean, from what I understand about Tiffy, is that she rarely turns up to family gatherings. So, how are you going to get her to meet Zoe at say a park or coffee shop? Huh?’

‘Er, um, she does tend to show up if there’s something in it for her,’ Sven replied.

‘So, you reckon, then, that Tiffy might come if you tell her that Zoe is her long-lost sister and that she’s a lawyer?’ El said.

‘Oh, er…she might. That’s a good angle.’

Tramping in like an elephant where mice fear to tread. El shook her head. ‘Could get awkward, Sven. As for your sister, you might be opening a can of worms.’

‘Yeah, but, but the truth must come out. There’s been too many lies and cover ups.’ Sven’s voice raised an octave. ‘Francis, he’s upset. You know that Lillie, my sister, never said anything. Went skulking off to Tasmania and had her baby. Gave her away and came back home. Like nothing happened. Who does that?’

‘Lots of people,’ El said with a sigh. ‘In my line of work, people do things, not very nice things. Darn awful things, actually. You know kill people and bury their bodies and then carry on with life, as if nothing ever happened. Happens more than you think.’

On the other end of the phone a pause. Then, ‘Right, well, I better get going.’ Sven ended the call with a click.

El stared at her mobile phone, confused. Why didn’t he suggest Zoe meeting up with his son? she wondered. If Lillie were Zoe’s mother, they’d be cousins, after all.

*[Painting 1: The Lone Seagull © L.M. Kling 2016]


Adelaide Police HQ
Tuesday April 27, 2022
10am

Dan

Detective Dan Hooper leaned back on his chair and grinned at his Crispy Crème donut. Caramel frosting. Mmm! He deserved it. All that hard work collecting evidence from within the dusty bowels of the station archives and frosty interviews with long-forgotten witnesses had paid off.

The boss had approved the reopening of the cold case; the one involving a certain Mr. Percy Edwards and his partner in some dodgy business, Jan von Erikson. The two “mispas”, had to be related.

Dan nodded and took a bite out of the caramel donut. His sugar levels and cholesterol would have to take a back seat—maybe in Mr. E’s blue Ford Fairmont station wagon—while Dan enjoyed this moment of triumph.

After the second bite, he raised a finger and summoned Dee to his desk.

Dee raced over, police issue I-pad in hand, eyes twinkling above her mask while glancing at the remaining three Crispy Crème donuts waiting in the box to be consumed.


*[Photo 2 and feature: Crispy Crème Donuts © L.M. Kling 2024]

Dan noted that Dee paid particular attention to the strawberry iced donut. He spoke, ‘We have permission to proceed, Dee. The new evidence in this cold case of the missing Edwards and von Erikson case has piqued the chief’s interest.’

‘Well, you did come across that body,’ Dee said glancing at the strawberry donut.
Dan picked up the box and held it towards Dee. ‘Take one.’

‘Aw, I know I shouldn’t,’ Dee’s hand, with a mind of its own pounced on the strawberry frosted donut. ‘But you’ve twisted my arm.’

Dee dropped her mask below her chin and the pink donut disappeared into her small mouth.
‘Your first task, Dee, is to contact a fellow by the name of Jim Edwards.’

‘Jim? Jim Edwards?’ Dee, still wearing her mask as a chin-guard, grinned like the cat that had licked all the cream. ‘He’s married to Lillie. Didn’t you know?’

‘Well, Dee, you really are the source of all gossip and information. I would’ve never…’ Dan sat up and drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘That’s one out of the box. The case has just risen to a whole new level.’
‘If you say so, Dan,’ Dee replied, more interested in the second caramel donut beckoning her from the box.

Dan pushed the donut container towards Dee. ‘Go on, I need to watch my weight.’

Dee didn’t need much persuasion. She plucked up the cake and that vanished in three bites.

Dan picked up the last donut and examined its chocolate icing. ‘Dee, would you contact Jim Edwards and arrange an interview, please?’

Dee stood, strapped the mask back over her mouth, and said, ‘I’m onto it, Dan. I have this feeling in my gutters; there’s more to Lillie Edwards than meets the eye.’

Dan frowned. ‘Try to keep an objective view, Dee.’

‘I will,’ Dee replied and hurried off to her desk.

*[Photo 3: Weight Watchers for my Cat © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger)circa 1978]

Dan settled his elbows on his own desk, and while savouring the chocolate donut, scrolled through the “millions” of emails that plagued his computer.

One caught his attention. “File of complaint—harassment”. He read further. He hit the desk. ‘The swine!’
‘What?’ Dee called.

‘Lillie, she’s filed a complaint.’

‘See,’ Dee returned, ‘I told you she’s trouble. Like I said about her; you wouldn’t file a complaint unless you had something to hide.’

‘I’m starting to get that same gut feeling, Dee.’ Dan ground his teeth. ‘She’s hiding something. Definitely hiding something.’

‘Told ya, Dan, I’m not Adelaide’s most famous gossip for nothink. I get these guttural feelings and I have ta run with them. You’ll see, I’m right. I’m always right.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Dan said with a chuckle.

He spent the rest of the morning printing photos of people related to this cold case and sticking them onto a Perspex storyboard.


© Tessa Trudinger 2024
Feature Photo: Crispy Crème Donuts © L.M. Kling 2024


Sometimes characters spring from real life,
Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction.
Sometimes real life is just real life.
Check out my travel memoirs,
And escape in time and space
To Central Australia.


Click on the links:


The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977


Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Or for a greater escape into another world…

Check out my Sci-fi/ dystopian novel,
And click on the link:

The Lost World of the Wends

Nostalgia–Christmas

Christmas Day With the T-Team 1978

[Why 1978? Nostalgia for one. Some snapshot of the past for future generations. And, well…I do wish I could share the shenanigans of current family, but I think that would leave me Christmas card less and spending the next 40 years on my own at Christmas sipping some sort of spirits to drown my sorrows, forget my regrets and missing all the entertainment Christmas in Australia brings. So, what harm would be done to reminisce about one warm Christmas Day when life was simple, and the stars of this show are now twinkling in the sky of remembrance. Needless to say, like Mr B, I will not use their real names to protect the not-so innocent, and the little bit affected.]

Christmas to a T

The sun filtered through the dusty window golden and warm. I flung off my sheet and raced to the Christmas tree; a real one that filled the lounge room with the scent of pine.


Mum, still in her nightie, watched me as I opened my presents: two skirts and a pair of scuffs.


I hugged her. ‘Thank you, Mummy.’


‘You’re welcome.’


‘So, what church do you think we should go to, today?’


‘I was thinking Maughan Church in the city.’


‘Excellent, I like that church.’


‘Well, then,’ Mum glanced down the passage way, ‘you better get ready.’


I hurried to my room and changed into my new Christmas skirt, relishing the T-female tradition of new clothes for Christmas. Even better, home sewn by mum, so no one would have the same dress as me. I pulled on a white lace shirt to match the simple V-cut skirt of fine red and white plaid.

*[Photo 1: Another Christmas, matching outfits © C.D. Trudinger 1975]


Mum called out from the kitchen, ‘Hurry, we have to get there by half-past nine.’


‘Alright.’ Easy for her to say, but the challenge was my Dad and brother, Rick. How to wake the men who lay in their bed-tombs asleep?


Mum had an idea. ‘Why don’t you put the radio on? Make it loud. Really loud.’


I followed Mum’s suggestion and tuned the radio to 5KA and turned up the volume dial until it would turn no more.


Boney-Em blasted out a Christmas carol causing Mum to jump. ‘Not that loud,’ she cried through a mouth full of milk and Weeties cereal mixed with her ever-faithful All-Bran.


An unimpressed and bleary-eyed Rick and Dad joined us on our jaunt into the city to celebrate Christmas Uniting Church style, not much different from the Lutheran Church service. Rick nodded off during the sermon all the same.


Then, the highlight of our year, Christmas at Grandma’s. Always a spread, but as it was simmering around 35-degrees Celsius, cold chicken and ham, for meat, and potato salad, coleslaw, tomato and onion salad, cucumber and beans from Dad’s garden swimming in mayonnaise, and for our serve of greens a bowl of iceberg lettuce.


The food was only second to the company. Grandma, with her G (she wasn’t a T) gifting of hospitality, had invited some friends from church. My uncle and aunty from the inner suburbs of Adelaide also came to complete the gathering around the old oak extendable table. That year, the numbers being not large, I sat with the adults. Other years children were relegated out in the passageway or exiled to the back garden to sit at the “kindertisch”. Anyway, at 15, I was almost an adult.

*[Photo 2: All decked up for Christmas dinner © L.M. Kling 2006]


After lunch, we lingered at Grandma’s all afternoon, waiting for the second wave of visitors to arrive. I flicked through Grandma’s photo albums and then read some of her books from the bookshelf in the spare room. Actually, that’s what I did, after helping Grandma and mum wash and wipe the dishes while the others lazed around chatting and playing cards.


I’d started on The Coles Funny Picture Book when called to bid one of Grandma’s friends, my uncle and aunty goodbye. Within minutes, the next influx of relatives rolled up the gravel drive. Aunt Wilma and her husband Jack stepped from their yellow Volkswagen Passat. The couple impressed me; so striking with Aunt Wilma’s elegance, matching her husband’s movie star looks and Scottish wit.


Sidling up to Mum, I asked, ‘Why didn’t the others stay?’


Mum mumbled something I didn’t quite catch before rushing up to her sister and hugging her. I followed mum with the greeting rituals of hug and kiss my aunt and uncle. Then, while the adults engaged in honey biscuits, tea and banter, I resumed my perusal of The Coles Funny Picture Book.

[Photo 3: Ah, the joys of Coles Funny Picture book © L.M. Kling 2018]


Dinner was left-overs from lunch. Sorry Wilma and Jack, but that’s the tradition. Waste not, want not, my Grandma used to say. She was a parson’s daughter and married a parson, not just any old parson, but a missionary one, during the Depression. And she and her missionary husband moved up to Hermannsburg at the start of World War 2. I was convinced that she still had rusty tins of food mouldering at the back of her cupboard from the “Dark Ages”.


Uncle Jack was in fine form—they’d obviously had a merry time at the last Christmas appointment. True to form, he kept us entertained with his brogue accent and humour, repeating variations of the Wattle ditty. Here’s how it goes with his accent:


“This ‘ere is a wat’le,
The emblem of our land,
You can stick it in a bot’le,
Or ‘old it in your ‘and.’

Jack performed this with variations, and some subtle actions that at fifteen, I was a tad too innocent to “get”, but we all laughed anyway.

*[Photo 4: This here, is a wattle…Life of the party Uncle Jack © C.D. Trudinger 1978]


As the night progressed, the bolder Uncle Jack’s jokes grew and the more most of us laughed. Perhaps not Grandma’s friends who had dared to stay on; they kept glancing at Grandma, the expression on their faces reading, “Pull your son-in-law into line, dear.”


My dad sat on the piano stool, hands under his bottom, his lips doing the bird-in-mouth thing and a snort escaping with every new and daring quip from Jack. Dad hoped to play the piano as we sang some Christmas carols, but as each joke escalated in levels of risqué, clever though they were, the likelihood of carol singing became less likely.


One of Grandma’s friends suggested we should sing some carols. Ah, the innocence of good Christian folk in the 1970’s.


Rick and I commenced our own rendition of We Three Kings


Grandma picked up a present and quietly said, ‘I don’t think we will sing this year. Let’s open our presents. Lee-Anne, you’re the youngest, you can start.’


So, here’s how I scored in 1978: Cosmetic mask from Aunt Wilma and Uncle Jack, hairdryer from Mum and Dad, photo album and book from Grandma and a cassette tape from my country cousins.
Grandma’s present, a book, interested me the most and I stayed up to 2am reading it.

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018
*Feature Photo: Christmas Tree Admirers © C.D. Trudinger 1978

***

VIRTUAL TRAVEL OPPORTUNITY

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The T-Team With Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Friday Crime–The Culvert (21)

The Boots


Tuesday April 26, 2022
10am

El

Before picking up her phone to arrange another portrait session with Lillie, El, paused. She reflected on the previous day.

*[Photo 1: First Falls Waterfall Gully © L.M. Kling 1996]

After the discovery, Dan had instructed her to make her way back to the car park.


‘I’ve called Renard and asked them to wait for you,’ he said.


‘What about you? We all came together, so, how will you get home?’ El asked.


‘Don’t worry about me. We’ll be here for hours yet—maybe all night,’ Dan replied. ‘I’ll get one of the team to give me a lift.’


El nodded and then trekked down the hill, then the steep steps of the gully. From the first lookout, the vehicles in the car park appeared so small, like toys. People like ants crawled around them.


I wonder how many of those “ants” know of the body? she thought. I hope no journalists got wind of the situation and are lurking down there with their lumpy film equipment and hundreds of onlookers.
One thing she had learnt from her years on the force was that news like this, the finding of human remains, seemed to bring journalists out from behind their computers. As if they could sniff out a breaking story. Or was there a leak? Someone on the force mentioning it on Titter or Myface?


‘Wouldn’t put it past Dee,’ El said.


She had caught Dee out, mobile in the palm of her hand, scrolling. Then there were the Dee-spamming episodes. El had made the mistake of joining Myface, for a start, and then in a moment of insanity, accepting Dee as a friend. In a blink of a screenshot, inane and blatantly silly posts flooded her email and Myface page. Dee, of course. “Find out what sort of lover you are—do this survey”, “Upload your selfie and find out what you’d look like when 80”, “Stop pigs being persecuted—copy and paste this article and send to 10 friends” … And the list, the scrolling was endless. All Dee. Only Dee.

*[Photo 2: Spam! Spam! Spam! And more Spam © Readers Digest circa 2017]

‘Doesn’t Dee have a life?’ El said shaking her head at the bottom of the steps.


El passed the kiosk, still shaking her head while mulling over her mistake with Myface. She’d ceased using social media. She had a life, even while on leave. When some suspect character stole her profile and pretended to be her, El erased all her social media platforms.


‘Hey! El!’ Renard called.


El spotted the father and daughter pair on the alfresco deck of the kiosk.


Renard waved his hand which clutched a mint-with-choc-chips-flavoured gelato. ‘Up here, El. Come join us and have an ice cream.’


El trotted up the steps to the kiosk and after purchasing a latte-flavoured gelato, joined Renard and Zoe.
By this time Renard and Zoe had devoured their treat and sat with El at the metal dining suite, watching her lick her ice cream.


‘Well,’ Renard said, ‘that was a turn up for the books. Fancy finding a body…’


‘Shh!’ El said, ‘you don’t know who’s listening.’ She observed Zoe play with a watch, and then slip it into her pocket. Just the way she held the watch caused El to assume that the watch didn’t belong to her. Besides the watch looked old and rusty.


She was about to ask Zoe about her “find” when a van with a television logo crawled along the road below.


Instead, El nudged Renard. ‘We better get going before they start snooping around.’


El, Renard and Zoe made a quiet and unobserved exit from Waterfall Gully before the journalists became aware of their presence and connection to the “Breaking News”.

*[Photo 3: An Old Watch © L.M. Kling 2024]

Next morning, as the news chimed triumphant, “Human remains have been found…” El dialled Lillie’s number. While waiting for Lillie to answer, El registered that the exact location of the human remains was still a mystery to the public.


Tuesday April 26, 2022
10am

Dan

In the informal interview room, Dan gestured to a comfortable chair to the side of the low coffee table. Fifi perched herself on the edge of the seat offered and kneaded a ball of tissues in her palm. Every so often, she dabbed her eyes with the tissues.

*[Photo 4: Old Boots © L.M. Kling 2024]

‘Now, Fifi,’ Dan placed on the table a plastic bag that held the mud-caked leather boots, ‘do these look familiar?’


Fifi nodded. ‘My father had a pair like those. He wore them when he went camping…and hiking.’
Dan looked at his voice recorder and said, ‘Fifi Edwards confirms that the boots possibly belong to her father, Percy Edwards.’


‘Why did it take you people so long to find the body?’ Fifi glared at Dan. ‘We told you guys forty years ago that he was down there. And you did nothing.’


‘Forty-two,’ Dan said with a brief cough. ‘I’m sorry for the pain and hardship you and your family have been through, not knowing what happened to your father. I can’t make judgements, but as you can imagine, it was a different time and policing…’


‘But we told you!’ Fifi thumped the table. ‘How hard would it have been for a detective back then to just listen and take us seriously?’

We have no record of anyone coming in and making a statement.’


‘Probably thought we were just kids and were just wasting their time.’


‘So, you and your friends came into the station and spoke to someone?’


Fifi sighed. ‘Well, actually, we got my friend Lillie to come in and make a statement. She said she did, and I believed her; she was that sort of girl. Solid. Trustworthy. I mean, now, look at her. She’s a principal of one of the most prestigious colleges in Adelaide.’


‘And your sister-in-law.’


‘Who would know better?’ Fifi continued, ‘I’ve known her since we were kids. We were neighbours. Best friends since kindy.’


‘Best friends, eh?’


‘Oh, well, these days not so much, I must admit,’ Fifi said. ‘She’s always busy with her work. No life outside of teaching, and now she’s a principal, the task is all-consuming.’


‘Hmm,’ Dan uttered, but thought, Just the sort of person not to be trustworthy. After all, if Zoe is her daughter, then Lillie would have been in the initial stages of pregnancy. Perhaps she had other things on her mind when her friends instructed her to go and report their finding. Did she get distracted and forget? Did she turn up at the police station and have to wait too long? Was she afraid her secret would become known if she reported the discovery of remains? What was her secret? Pregnancy? Or something more sinister?

*[Photo 5: Hiking Buddies © C.D. Trudinger circa 1970]


Detective Hooper leaned back, laced his hands and rested them on his taut belly. ‘What can you tell me about the day your father went missing, Fifi?’


Fifi shrugged. ‘He went to work and never came home.’


‘Then, how come he was wearing hiking boots?’


‘I don’t know, I was just a kid. ‘sides, Mum ‘n I went to town that day. Had to get a new pair of school shoes. I remember ‘cos I was angry. Really peed off. My friend Lillie and her brother, Sven and my brother Jimmy, were going for a hike up in the hills and Mum said I couldn’t go. Not fair!’


‘And your dad, as far as you know, went to work.’ Dan leaned forward. ‘And what sort of work did your dad do?’


‘He was a businessman.’


‘What sort of business?’


Fifi shrugged. ‘I dunno. Cars, I think. Holdens up at Elizabeth, I think.’


‘I see…’ Dan mused. Always remember him into Fords.


‘So, on that particular day, January 1978, your dad drove off in his…’ Dan looked up from notetaking.

‘What car did your family own?’


‘Um…a station wagon…blue…’


‘What make and model?’


‘Gawd! I can’t remember. Those cars, they’re all the same. And Dad had so many of them. I mean, we’re talking fifty years ago.’


‘Forty-four, Fifi,’ Dan said, remembering that at the time, the family had a Ford Falcon, XA Fairmont station wagon. And she was correct, it was blue. He mused how the family looked a sight all piled into the wagon rolling up the church driveway to swell the numbers of the congregation on Sundays. Mr. E (Edwards) big noting himself after the service, Sunday best brown suit—look at me! I’m from Somerton. Look at me! The latest model car! Look at me! Look at what a good father I am! All these children I have! I’m a good Christian. I’m fruitful and multiplying. Look at my wife! She’s the most beautiful lady here! Dan’s dad called her a “trophy wife”.


‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Fifi lifted her bag from the floor and rose from her chair. ‘I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you, sir.’


‘Thank you, for your help, Fifi.’ Dan also stood. ‘If there are any developments, we’ll be in touch. And if you can remember anything else, let us know.’

[Photo 6: The Opposition to Ford: Proud owner of a Holden Monaro reborn © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) circa 1982]

When Fifi had gone, Dan reflected. His mum had once said when Mr. Edwards had gone, Mrs. Edwards came to life, became her own vibrant person. Before, she had no personality, she really was just a “thing”, a trophy. But once her husband had left, she was filled with verve and energy. Then there was no stopping Mrs. Edwards.


He thought about Lillie. At college, a pretty, but dull kind of girl; the sort who melted into the background. Studious, he reckoned. And now, according to Dee, all class and power, running a fancy-wancy college in the Eastern suburbs.


Dan chuckled, ‘It’s like Lillie took over where Mr. Edwards left off.’

© Tessa Trudinger 2024
*Feature Photo: Boots © L.M. Kling 2024

***

Sometimes characters spring from real life,
Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction.
Sometimes real life is just real life.
Check out my travel memoirs,
And escape in time and space
To Central Australia.


Click on the links:


The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977


Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Or for a greater escape into another world…
Check out my Sci-fi/ dystopian novel,


And click on the link:


The Lost World of the Wends

K-Team Travel with a tiny bit of Family History


[Have you ever been to a place and had an immediate affinity with it? Well, that’s how it was for me when the T-K Team on their Swiss adventures visited Murten. Loved the place. I’m sure, now, that it wasn’t just the perfect weather, the picture postcard views of the lake and the charming medieval architecture so perfectly preserved. There was something more, which I was to discover recently.


Of course, my younger son would insist on putting a dampener on my dreams—’How can you be related? You’ve got no Western German in your ethnicity,’ he harps on and on about that point. Anyway, we will put that matter aside and I’ll take it up with My Heritage.


All I can say, is that there must be something in the connection I felt with the place. While doing my family history, I came across some ancestors, the De Bons, who lived in Murten, my five times great-grandfather was a protestant pastor in Murten. There were Huguenot connections in the family. And note the museum, where I mention that the Celts lived in Murten. According to my DNA results from My Heritage, my ethnicity is 25% Celt.]

Murten/Morat


Thursday, August 21, 2014, even earlier up as we planned to drive across the country to Bern and beyond, near the French part of Switzerland. Granny excused herself as the last two days had exhausted her and besides, she really needed to catch up with her uncle and auntie.


I might add here that Granny and her family, being Swiss German, were not fans of the French part of Switzerland. The feeling, I’ve heard, is mutual. (Thanks to Nepoleon, the French part of Switzerland only became thus in the early 1800’s. So, when my ancestors were living there in the 1700’s, they would’ve identified as French.)


In Murten, the people speak French. So, when P1 spoke Swiss German to the Museum attendant, she was not amused. We almost didn’t get a Museum pass.


Back to the timeline, and some photos.


Despite Tomina’s (Tom Tom) and my under par navigational performance (early morning—yawn), we arrived at 11.30am in Morat/Murten and relished a day of summer, eating lunch by the lake, exploring the Old town and its buildings garnished with flowers, the museum of Stone Age, Celtic, Roman and Medieval relics spanning 10,000 years of human settlement around Murten. Followed by a visit to the Roman ruins in Avenches, the ancient capital of the Roman province of Helvitica.


On our return, we suffered the frustration stuck in peak hour traffic, and Granny suffered stress worrying about our late arrival “home”.

Photo 1: Perfect summer’s day on Murten Lake © L.M. Kling 2024
[Photo 2: Gnomes © L.M. Kling 2014
[Photo 3: Archway © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 4: Water for all © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 5: Museum © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 6: Charming Castle with Roman ruins (foreground) © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 7: Where are all the people? © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 8: Roman tunnel © L.M. Kling 2014]
[Photo 9: Lone spectator at old Roman amphitheater, Avenches © L.M. Kling 2014]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2014; updated 2024
Feature photo: Murten/Morat © L.M. Kling 2014

***

VIRTUAL TRAVEL OPPORTUNITY

FOR THE PRICE OF A CUP OF COFFEE (TAKEAWAY, THESE DAYS),

CLICK ON THE LINK AND DOWNLOAD YOUR KINDLE COPY OF ONE OF MY TRAVEL MEMOIRS,

EXPERIENCE HISTORIC AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK ADVENTURE WITH MR. B
IN

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

OR COME ON A TREK WITH THE T-TEAM IN

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981.