We really did bite off more than we could chew yesterday. Individually, each experience was great, but combined into one day was just too much, but you can't choose when many things happen.
The normal Saturday food shopping was completed and put away by 11.30.
We then popped into the city to meet Victor and any blogmate of mine must be thoroughly delightful, as of course he was. Originally when I learnt Victor was coming to visit Melbourne, I thought how nice it would be to have coffee with him at Riverland, on the banks of the Yarra. Well, Melbourne really turned on some crook weather and imaginings of sitting in spring sunshine watching river ferries sailing past and of course none of us noticing any attractive men passing by went by the wayside.
I decided Cafe L'incontro might be ok. I am not sure why. I have never liked the place. I had bad service there one day and another time diners left some of the pasta and pigeons descended and cabonara flying in all directions was disgusting. The staff ignored it all. This time, as we sat down, the semi outside area heating was turned off. Hmm, are they hinting? I expect it was because the heating was near the loud speakers, which were under repair. We were blasted with static and other faulty audio noise. Then, now this is a new one on me, the waitress asked if we could pay the bill as she was going off shift. Thinking about it later, it was obviously about her getting her tip. Honey, you did nothing to earn any tip and we don't tip in cafes normally anyway. The food we had was ok, but the coffee very ordinary and neither a bargain. Sorry Victor, will do better next time.
We then took Victor to the naughty shop. He could not resist the wares. While we were only there to buy a house warming gift, someone's better half also self indulged in the naughty shop. We bid Victor adieu and came home to watch some of the footy final.
But if meeting one blogmate wasn't enough, another was also visiting Melbourne and staying a hotel almost across the road from us. I suppose after a second meeting, a blogmate must actually become a friend and so Pants is now considered a friend, although the afore mentioned Victor was probably one before even meeting him.
Over a bottle of wine we and Ms Pants sorted the world and installed old style Labor governments along with looking at the bigger environmental picture, rather that the petty plastic bags. The meeting was all too brief, but we had to go out and Ms Pants had a train to catch.
The Brighton Antique Dealer has sold her shop house and moved into nearby 'over 55' accommodation. It was a house warming drinks and nibbles and then dinner across the road from her new abode. Her new place is very nice. Although hers is one bedroom, it is spacious and her spending a lot on the decoration has paid off. There are many apartments in the complex and the public areas are unbelievable. Socialising in the public areas is strongly encouraged and every facility to do so provided. No matter what you could name as an activity, I am sure it will be there and provided for.
We walked and trammed to South Yarra Station and caught the train to North Brighton. The train was packed with football attendees going home, many the worse for wear.
Along with half a dozen people who were mutual friends, a couple of her new friends joined us for drinks and dinner. One was an older woman who moved in on the same day as BAD. The other fellow resident was Don Quixote, or like I imagine him. He was European, dressed in a black suit and a black hat, broken by a red scarf. He was charming and urbane to all just being short of sleazy. I said to R later, was he an invented character? We trooped across the road to the very nice restaurant and the food was good, and not expensive given we were in Brighton and the place was a very stylish old building with a practical mix of new features.
The night involved spending time with older wealthy people. Let me tell you, it is not a bad thing to be an older person and wealthy. I contrasted them to my own mother, lonely, insular, self obsessed and constantly stressed, and I know which I would rather be.
It was time to go home. While there is a bus passing BAD's abode that could get us home, it takes a long time and the times it was due did not suit us. We caught the train to South Yarra and were about to get off to walk home, then R said, we should stay on and go to Flinders Street and get a tram home. Yep, I agreed. As we sat down, I noticed the passenger information display, City Loop. Damn. The Sandy train never goes around the loop, or never used to. It would have been quicker to get the bus. Actually, we had planned to get a taxi home, but for some reason did not. A friend had offered us a lift, but I don't like accepting lifts when we have chosen to use public transport to get somewhere.
While we found a quietish area, public transport on a grand final night is probably best avoided. It was pretty manic in old Melbourne Town last night.
Once home, we remembered daylight saving was starting in a few hours, and I had to work early in the morning. Cheated of an hour, I managed five hours sleep, then off to work.