Our friend always puts on a Queens Birthday afternoon tea. I was able to attend this year. As usual there was an eclectic mix, three Malaysians, Manny being one and one from Borneo, chop chop, but lives in Bacchus Marsh, and another who owned a Malaysian restaurant in Acland Street (who said, of course I came. It is my birthday), one English Indian, four Indians, our friend's partner a Fijian Indian, one Lithuanian who is the partner of one of the Indians and has become a qualified podiatrist, and a few others, including our Brother Friends who have returned from Thailand for a couple of months before heading back to the place they love.
Our dyke friend was invited but given we have her dog Jack here with us at the moment, obviously she is away. The late Dame M's boarder, aka Jasmine, was asked but his mother is unwell and was visiting her in north eastern Tasmania. Our hairdresser friend is in one of her poverty and reclusive stages. We did not hear back from her.
The Brighton Antique Dealer called at 8.30 ON SUNDAY MORNING to ask if we could pick her up at Windsor Station to take her today, and of course I said yes if she made her way to Dandenong Road and posed as a prostitute. She initially suggested South Yarra, but we don't do Toorak Road in the car, thank you very much. Today, a public holiday, SHE CALLED AT 7.45! to say she will not be attending as her first husband was found dead yesterday by Ballarat Police after they broke into his home at the request of his children. It took some working out as she described him as her son's father and went on to say there had been calls back and forth between herself and her children. Ok, so he is father of her daughter too, so that would make him her first husband, the mega endowed Arab.
R made some savoury mini ham and egg tarts to take that were consumed in five minutes flat, but otherwise it was all sweet with cakes, scones with jam and cream, lamingtons and chocolates, with piping hot Ceylonese tea, coffee and masala tea.
I am not good at such social things. Boredom kicks in early. I try to listen to too many simultaneous conversations. I can't sit and talk to one person for a long time, as some seem to do. Every so often I need to get up and walk. I am a bad guest, so don't invite me.
I was amused though by the host's partner and the retired priest's ongoing argument over whether morning peak Frankston trains go directly to Flinders Street Station or go via the Loop. This is the third time they have argued about it. "I use the train from Caulfield every day", says one. "I have been travelling on Melbourne trains for my whole life and I am a member of a train historical society", says the other and continued, "I know Melbourne trains and I know the Frankston train as it comes through Armadale." They really don't like each other very much. I could check on a timetable of course, but I would spoil their ongoing battle with facts.
I was down the side of the apartment today. Our host's partner has two green thumbs and eight green fingers. They have lived in the apartment for two years and look at how huge the daphne is and full of flower buds that will soon open.