The Wattle Cafe, on the Great Western Highway at Blackheath, has been around since the 1940s. My Blackheath born friend Larraine tells me they used to serve hot milkshakes, which had to be drunk quickly, before the straw melted. It is such a warm sanctuary on a
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There is a reason why the Blue Mountains village of Blackheath is affectionately dubbed Bleakheath. Recently someone (not mentioning any names, Kim) asked me to write a winter post. So here it is. My husband often has to venture out with the kettle to defrost the bird baths.
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