Sunday, September 30, 2007

The weekend that was

The start of some leave from work should be a joyous occasion, instead it has been rather mixed.

Friday work was a thorough screw up because of the AFL grand final parade in the city. My workplace could not organise a urination contest in a brewery at times. I was home very early, but oddly R was very late.

We decided to be slack Friday night and have take away pizza at home. R broke a tooth. R also wanted a good chat about his workplace problems, which are many at the moment.

Slept well and off to Clarendon Street for breakfast and shopping then home to do housework. Normal Saturday, but there was something troubling in the air. Half watch football final on tele. Fall in love with number 4 Geelong, Andrew Mackie I believe.

Go out to NT ex policeman's house for dinner. Barely out of the building and R feels there is a problem with my driving. I continue on. Ex NT was not there but the Fijian Indian boyfriend and his boyfriend entertained us well and there were many other interesting people there. But I did not feel great and wanted to be home. Home about 10.30. Stay up until 1am chatting and watching tv.

Wide awake at 5am and get up at 5.30. I need more that 4.30 hours sleep. R was awake too and watching tv in his bed. He arose soon after. This is so weird, to be up so early on a Sunday. What do we do? We just hung around I suppose you could say. I did at least call our friend in old Derri, Derrinallum and caught up on his news.

10.30am off to Beacon Cove for a beach walk and coffee. No sooner out of our car park and R started to criticise my driving. Stop car and change positions. R bumps and marks front his spoiler as he parks at Beacon Cove. He hands me the keys for the return journey.

At home I read an incident report R has written to be submitted at work. I can understand how he is very stressed at this time.

12.30 set off to Rivoli theatre at Camberwell. Meet brother friends at 1.30 but beforehand, be very bad and head to Hungry Jacks. 'Due to a maintenance problem, there is no beef'. I made do with chicken while Hindus rejoiced. I am sure the Indian staff at Hungry Jacks refused to kill another cow.

1.50 See Hairspray. I could not stop grinning after coming out of the movie theatre. It was such a happy and cheering movie.

Discuss the brother friends new computer and how I will help them. So hard.

Return home and R cooks a fat laden meal. It just suits our mood.

R sends coffee flying over lounge chair and carpet. Sunday evening spent on knees mopping up.

Please lord, just let me sleep well tonight and I will be totally refocused and fresh tomorrow.


  1. Hungry Jacks, on the arcade corner. What do you make of the place on the other corner, more to your taste I'd think?

    I believe Brownlow winner Bartel is a gay man.

    And you're prolific, hard to keep up with.

    So is Bartel.

  2. I did not notice it today. Camberwell Junction was as manic as usual, but I think I know the place. Probably a nice place for a Sunday lunch.

    You do me no favour by getting me all excited over Bartel.

  3. Yes, and I suspect that advert showing two bogans munching a pie while observing a refined bloke in a nearby restaurant was inspired by that Hungry Jack place across from a breakfast cafe, with respective patrons able to see each other.

    I ran a stall at Camberwell trash market for about eight years, selling questionable goods to posh dames. None asked where it all came from, which impresses me still. Say what you like about the toffs, they're broad minded.
    Appreciative of wit too; that's how I got started, and got wordly as well. Travel is the best educator, but you don't have to go far, enlightenment is a suburb in the same city.

  4. Don't tell me it was in the nineties RH, when we went to Camberwell market almost every Sunday.

  5. It was from about 1986 until 1994, at which time I was banned from selling new goods there. I transferred to Wantirna -a less moneyed, but equally acquisitive demographic. Everyone loves a bargain.