This is a diary, so need to record.
Saturday, attend Save Lonsdale House protest. Do shopping at QV. Rest. Call in on dyke friends and drop off wine.
Continue on to Milanos Hotel at Brighton Beach. The Brighton Antique Dealer had organised a get together. The ex NT politician and his Fijian Indian b/f were there. The late Dame M's Boarder. A couple of friends of BAD, two gay guys who we had not met before. In spite of being 'antique' people, they were very nice. Our brother friends were there too. One absurdly wrapped in a coat and scarf indoors. Yes, we know you like Thailand and the heat, but stop being so melodramatic. Thirteen people in total.
Like the other two Brighton Hotels we have been in the last year or so, it was noisy. No complaints though. Hang on, just one. The food. I normally don't have roast beef in pubs. It is usually quite coarse. Not at Milanos. It was thinly sliced and melt in your mouth. Melt in your mouth to the point of eating nothing. Little taste and no texture whatsoever.
I paid my share and went outside to wait for everyone to come out. I was looking around the carpark, trying to see any remnants of where the St Kilda to Brighton tram used to pull in, but alas, all history had been removed.
Next to the car park is the Brighton Beach Station, surely one of Melbourne's most attractive railway stations. Searching won't find it, but somewhere back in time I posted a photo of the station. Daniel had posted an even better one earlier.
We went back to BAD's shop/house and stayed way too late chatting.
Next day, Sunday, did stuffs at home and then went for a last visit to Hotham Street flat. Something went wrong. Had strong words with R. I was left there with his car and he had marched off without keys to home. Eventually I went home and he arrived home a bit later.
I went off to model train exhibition at Caulfield Racecourse on the tram. I was well over car driving by this point. I have always fancied having a model train set. I am cured of that now. Boring as batshit is a phrase that comes to mind. Rest assured R, if you go before me, your bedroom won't be turned into a model train room.
Train or tram home? I dunno. I will think about it with a very refreshing gin and tonic at the nearby hotel. I inserted five dollars in the electronic gaming machine and proved once again that gambling does not pay. I finished my drink while reading about negative and positive polarity DC connections to your Hornby train set. I caught the tram home, and the useless thing went via St Kilda, adding ten minutes to my trip home. I tried to read more about Hornby train DC positive polarity connections, but it was making me very sleepy.
Home and R has taken to his bed. Prevaricate between going shopping by bus/tram or car to Prahran. Car wins. Home again as R is going out to do shopping. Curtly exchange details of what has been bought. Another war of attrition has begun.
This weekend, Hawthorn is playing at MCG, Sister's team. The game will be sans the nasty bloke who biffed Benny. Bone Doctor will be at work, so guess what? We will look after Little Jo. Sister said over phone, and would not elaborate, that she had something to tell us tomorrow. Please let it be that she and Bone Doctor are not moving to the the US. Fingers crossed that sister is pregnant. I am not sure we have as much energy for another one, but how I would love a brother or sister for Little Jo.