Six Sleeps

After all day running a workshop I got home at six. I had plans to be a good girl and type up my Uni essay about Gerald Murnane, watch NCIS and sleep. Then I got a phone call.

‘I’ve run out of peanut butter and I can’t have a bottle of wine for dinner AGAIN, what are you buying me for dinner?’

It was Todd. With a jolt I realized, this time (6.30pm) next week he would be on a plane back to the States, for good.

What can I say, I’m weak. ‘I’ll see you on the corner of Crown and Cleveland at 7’

At 6.58 I received a text message, ‘Holy Crap. Drinks Expensive.’ I guessed I was late, standing at the traffic lights to the agreed destination.

After a quick pre-dinner drink we walked along Crown Street. The pizza place smelt good, the Vietnamese didn’t take Amex. The bottle shop did well, and CowBirdFish saw us sat at a table for two with corkage.

Despite me having made no effort and wearing lesbian shoes (flat sandals) and Todd in a sleeveless t-shirt that expressed affiliation with a sport team (I think) we were treated as if we were royalty. We had oysters to start ‘The special is freshly shucked oysters from South Australia.’ ‘SOLD!’ Barramundi and Salmon for main and cheese and meringue for dessert. Is it really only Tuesday?

We chatted about the usual and not so usual sh*t. Boys, books, boats, the movie ‘Airplane’, mountains and driving while we ate and drank a daft amount for a school night. Red, dessert and port. The waiters were really nice. Maybe they realized they were going to get a 30% tip early on, or maybe they were feeling generous.

- The Empty Chair

After two final glasses of port we adjourned to a less civilized establishment for a final drink of the evening. It was only half nine and the night was young, time for one more. JD&dietCoke for me, VodkaTonic&lime for him. Just the one. One AM, maybe.

It reminded me of when we first met. Working at TheBank, two oddballs in a bunch of suits. One straight as a die girlie with terrible fashion sense and a talent for making scrabbled egg in the microwave and one corporate suit that had long ago learnt to play the game. He, an unusually smart American (compared to others I had met) that had a knack of being in the right place at the right time, she a married Brit not reaching her true potential. Many a Thursday evening was spent in bars talking, having ‘just the one’ (one AM) and soon she (me) realized, I could take the bus!

I did take the bus, he’s taking a jet plane in less than seven days. I’ve been drinking since seven pm, give me a break and indulge me while reminisce about my friend who is pissing off and leaving me, It’ll all be over soon and normal broadcasting with resume, but bear with while it does, please.

Sloshed in the Valley

After arising at a decent hour for a weekend Hubby the In-laws and I made our way to the Hunter Valley for a spot of strolling around the gardens and cheese tasting.

Nah…who am I trying to kid!

Our first stop of the day (after lunch and a cuppa tea and bubbles at Petersons Champagne House) was Waverley Estates. Nothing at this vineyard is less than eight years old. MIL and I started by tasting a 1992 Shiraz, very nice. Then the 1994 Shiraz which is also called ‘bushfire in a glass’, extremely nice. Then came the 1998, which was a very good year, or so I’m told. This continued, shiraz, cab sav then the port, after nearly an hour MIL was having trouble with the slight movement of the bar (or was it her balance?). So we moved on the less intimidating surrounds of Vinden Estate.

Vinden Estate Wines has a wonderfully easy drinking wine called Alicante Boushet. It’s a red grape processed like a white grape so in the bottle it looks like a rose and drinks like pop. We had gone there with the express purpose of stocking up as we were down to the last bottle of 2004. A quick call to Trixy also revealed that he wanted some too, so we came away with twelve bottles (aka A Case). FIL was horrified, but despite being a tee-total he was quite happy to buy a hat.

We took them to a big, les boutique place next. Tempest Two has a spalling cellar door that includes three restaurants and a café. At weekends they have a Spanish guitar player that annoys the staff ‘cause he only knows six tunes. MIL purchased a couple of bottles here and seemed much happier than I’d seen her in a while. FIL and hubby had a cuppa tea and piece cake

The Cheese tasting was next and I as usual purchase a bit of each while MIL complained that she wanted a cuppa tea. We rapidly moved to a café down the road where tea was ordered along with a bowl of chips and a piece of cheese cake. I went to the shop next door and tasted more cheese and brought some candied figs to go with my cheesy purchases.

The car trip home resulted in me pretending to be asleep in the back seat and everyone else talking about stuff I didn’t really want to hear about for the forth time.

I know, I know, I’m not trying I hear you say (Hubby stop telling me to be less monosyllabic!) I try to be nice, but I can’t bear the inane conversations that we have over and over. I don’t like it when FIL asks a million questions (for the third time) about wine or cheese or anything in fact, but won’t try it. I don’t like the way MIL doesn’t get to do or see things, or doesn’t even get a look in ‘cause FIL isn’t interested, I find it tiresome to hear about hot it is when they decided to come to Aust in February despite us telling them it was the hottest time of the year. And most of all I really hate when FIL makes racist comments and then Hubby defends him ‘because he doesn’t know better’.

I do try and I’ve found out, it’s much better if I just keep my mouth shut.

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