The banal first. Last Monday R and I went to DFO (Direct Factory Outlets) in Moorabbin after washing his car in Ormond and then having coffee at home with the ex NT politician/policeman in South Oakleigh. 'I'll get you there hon. No probs,' I said with great confidence as we headed down Golf Links Avenue. I know the area like the back of my hand. Bah, everything has changed. The roads are all different. I think I went down Clarinda Road (look R, Mum used to teach Sunday School there) and wove our way to where I could see modest airplanes in the sky.
I am not a great shopper. My low boredom threshold kicks in very quickly. I really have to be in the mood, and I did not think I was, but then we were there for more than three hours, so I did really well. It helped that I found three shirts to buy that were cheap and I think are nice shirts and suit me. R bought a few things too, including an extraordinary bargain suitcase for impending trip. I am cautions about bargain suitcases, especially those bought in Bangkok that have dodgy wheels, but this one seems good. I quite like the Moorabbin DFO, but it should be renamed DFS, Direct Factory Seconds, as that was clearly evident to me when buttons started popping off shirts after a first wash. NP, I can sew a button on, and mine never come off. The shirt may fall into the unfashionable zone and perhaps rot around the button, but the button stays on.
Today we were obliged to attend our sister in law's father's eightieth birthday at the Langwarrin Hotel.
There is not much to more to say than this old time ocker bloke who has been in and out of hospitals for sometimes extended periods over the last ten years and has nearly died many times, teared up as all sixty five guests sang happy birthday to him. Being the hard nosed bitch I am, I teared up slightly too. PS, if you want a lot of people of at your 80th birthday, have lots of child bearing daughters, who then have lots of child bearing daughters, and so forth. The cake said something like, 'The 80 yo Fossil made it'.
The worst part of the occasion was competition agin Little Jo. She was not the youngest and there were plenty of similar. I did observe her snooty looks towards the competition. I am sure I saw her look them up and down. I am now sure she will be a straight female. Only a straight woman or a gay male looks at a woman with such judgement.
It got a bit noisy at the pub, but it was quite a good venue with good food and a great outside deck overlooking the local
R and I stuck to light food as the night before we had been out for a big meal to the Dick Whittington Tavern the night before with the brother friends before they bashed off on their twice yearly visit to Thailand. The Dick cheese platter is always very good.
Last night I suggested we should have a decent walk before we went out for lunch. I am sick of local walks. We have done them all in all directions. From the back of my head came something. On the way to Langwarrin, Edithvale wetlands or something, or marinas. It pushed to the fore and I wanted to look at Patterson Lakes and nasty posh houses with jetties.
Well, I was a bit gobsmacked. Forget Patterson Lakes, which we did not see much of. We parked the car and walked along the Patterson River to Carrum Beach. It was gorgeous. I had to switch from inner Melbourne person and reply when greeted with good morning from other walkers. Boats up and down the river. People walking and often with dogs. Fishers along the banks and at the sea. It was great. You used to be able to pick up a place in Carrum for $20,000. Maybe they have gone up a bit?
Pic is the mouth of the Patterson River where it enters Port Phillip Bay.