I regained consciousness this morning in time to snap this mayhem below at 6.45 this Friday, ANZAC Day. At one point the traffic was banked back along Toorak Road from Punt Road to St Kilda Road. You don't even see it this bad if the Burnley Tunnel is closed. The pedestrians and cars were all people leaving the Shrine. It was all over in twenty minutes.
We then did the Lake, Albert Park Lake. When I say we did the Lake, I do not actually mean we walked around it. I mean we walked to it. That was enough for someone who regained consciousness, rather than woke up. We sat and watched the birds on the lake. I heard a bit of squawk above us, and lo and behold, there were a pair of rainbow lorikeets. Did they have a nest under the tin? Wrong time of the year I think. It must have been their food storage bin. The tin encircling the tree is to stop possums climbing into the trees. I like palm tress in context. I hate them in Melbourne.
By noon we were at the Kew cemetery with friends to see where Dame M is buried. The family crypt did not match my mental image. I imagined something like in this picture. Kew Cemetery is nice enough, but very jumbled in places.
Dame M is on the right when looking at the grave, on top of her mother who is on top of someone else. Attending were us, the brother friends, the dyke friends, the Boarder and the Boarder's hair dresser surviving breast cancer friend. Dame M loved glitter. She used to slip it into greeting cards and it fell out all over you when you opened the card. Once I complained about glitter everywhere at home when the brother friends dressed here for a special outing. Dame M said she loves to see glitter on her carpets and be reminded of parties and fun times.
We did the flower thing for her funeral, so this time we sprinkled glitter all over her grave. The camera does not capture how pretty it looks. One hundred year old Agnes in the grave next door got a fair share too, thanks to some gusts of wind. Bet Agnes never partied like that before. Maybe it was the wind playing tricks, but we are sure we heard a voice coming from Dame M's grave, 'I am as dry as chip in here. Anyone got a drink?'
Kew Cemetery office was closed, but they have this nifty electronic grave finder. It even does print outs. Being electronic, you would think it would be regularly updated, but Dame M was nowhere to be found. Oddly I recalled Dame M's mother's maiden name, Warhurst, and one of the brother friends recalled that her first name was Cora. Eureka. None of the names on the grave are Dame M's name as we know it. We worked out who the people were, and on this Anzac Day, one of Dame M's uncles died in France in wartime, no doubt fighting for King and Country.
We all then spread out, looking at different parts of the cemetery. Being a stalker type, I came across this tribute to a dead lad who I immediately recognised as a Xavier Boy. Wonder how he died? I googled him when I got home and there were a couple of mentions of his death at school sites, but nothing in the press, so I would assume either suicide or medical. Such a handsome young lad. What would it be like to lose a son/grandson/sibling/friend of that age?
We all then adjourned to the Skinny Dog Hotel at Kew Junction for lunch. I had heard of it. It used to be called the Greyhound. Meals were ok but the footy was on tv and got turned up. So, rather than hang around, we partook of coffee and cake at a nearby patisserie. To conclude, once again, I was out of my area and felt a bit alien. But this park looked gorgeous.