Who would have thunk it. Dykes can organise a fabulous party.
Actually, no surprise. They have done it for a few years now and we have attended our friends' party every year.
Fortunately they live close by, in East St Kilda. R and my banter about who was the nominated driver went to hell in a handbag once we sampled the lethal punch.
We laughed, we talked, we played games, we et, we drank...we had a lot of fun.
It was not too late when we left. We dumped stuff in my car and walked along Alma Road to Hotham street to get a cab. One came soon enough. The driver was not interactive, but that is ok. We wanted transport home and he provided it efficiently.
Dyke friend's brother who we thought homophobic is now very friendly. He might be just a wee bit too well groomed for a straight bloke. Not a nostril hair showing, not a hair in the ears. Maybe his wife groomed him. But it would not be the first time I have mistaken a latent homo for a homophobic straight bloke. He told me a horrible story about his work on reconstruction of the Monash Freeway. I will tell you at some point.
Next morning, instead of driving to pick up my car, we caught the tram and walked through the very busy and quite pleasant Alma Park to collect my car. In my boot I discovered desert packs of trifle and pavlova. I forgot I put them there. I had one today and very nice it was.
It must be three years ago, maybe four, when the late Dame M came to the girls' christmas party.
Ah, she was such fun, especially after a drink or ten. I can imagine her playing a game of stick Santa's balls on.