Our friend who lives on the city side of the Frankston (railway code for the station, FKN) train line in Caulfield invited us for dinner. A couple of years ago we went to his his mother's funeral. More recently we went to his father's funeral. Post his father's death, there was the money to sort our and our friend's brother accused him of of being dilatory about sorting out the will. Our friend travels a lot and is a very busy person. Maybe he was dilatory or maybe his wasn't. Nevertheless, it caused a rift.
I don't know why people buy turkey, cook it and serve it but our friend did and invited us to dinner, along with his slightly estranged brother and sister in law. The turkey was dry, as it is inclined to be but it was a great three course meal. I am not much for seafood but if a prawn is deheaded and you can hold it by the tail and eat out the centre, not so bad.
His brother has a strong connection to our media famous bearded local resident who recently avoided being imprisoned. They both had liver transplants at similar times and know each other well.
I think we saw a family reconciliation. Our friend's brother is an amusing bloke and his wife never stops talking. She is past 60, has curly bleach blonde hair and to our astonishment now uses a fold up gold walking stick, the result of some unsuccessful knee operations. I watched how much wine she drank, and it was little, nevertheless, as the evening went on, her very black eye make up became messy. Her lipstick disappeared. Her foundation faded. It was like watching a flower wilt. I had gone there straight from work, so I was pre-wilted.
As she walked to their car, I could see she really did need the walking stick. She was so much fun, but I wouldn't want to live with her. You don't want fun all the time, or talk.