| Weekend |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|01:57 pm] |
I am procrastinating - I should be either sorting out doctor stuff or, failing that, studying for my exam on Friday - but I would prefer to write about my weekend, instead.
It was relatively boring but exhausting, which just isn't fair. I think it was partly boring because I didn't have much more energy than to sit quietly and nod occasionally.
The weekend actually started Thursday evening, when Ruby came over for dinner. I cooked Linguine alla Genovese with brocolli and bacon. For those not in the know, alla Genovese is pesto and potatoes. Carb on carb. Yum.
I broke out the wines my brother had sent me from the Coffs Coast region as a belated birthday present - a Chardonnay (of which I can't remember the name of, and I've thrown out the bottle. It was either Kia Ora or Two Tails) and a Raleigh Wines Dry White. Despite the fact that I have declared a dislike for Chardonnay, I have discovered that it must be American oaked Chardonnay I don't like, because the one he sent me was delightful (and was French oaked).
Ramona and I both utter the famous last words of, "Ah, tomorrow's Friday! We don't need to function tomorrow!" *throws down vodka*
Needless to say, we weren't particularly on the ball the next day. I was meeting up with Lou for a free lunch, so I forced myself out of the house.
The free lunch was courtesy of Brasserie Bread, who invited their followers on Twitter to come and grab a free sandwich and a fruit mince pie.
Oh. My. God. The fruit mince pies. I have long held the belief that I don't like fruit mince pies. I've now realised I've just never had a good one.
Friday night was spent agonising over what to get for take away dinner, then not eating the very thing I was adamant needed to come with my meal - the potatoes. Then early to bed.
Saturday involved getting up early with the intention of getting to Everleigh Markets at a reasonable hour, only to have the morning get away from us and arrive at the markets around 45 minutes before they closed. We still managed to get my knives sharpened, buy organic steak and spatchcocks, gourmet breakfast rolls (I'll have the chorizo and onion with tomato and basil sauce, thanks) and get sub-par coffee that made Ramona and I both incredibly wired and dehydrated. Ick.
Then there was grocery shopping, where I finally bought big glass jars to make sauerkraut with. Have not yet made the sauerkruat. I will this week, I SWEAR.
I was supposed to meet up with a high school friend from Melbourne who is currently on a home visit from Ireland (it makes sense to me), but she got a bit drunk in Potts Point and time got away from her. Oops. Not to worry. She had already made the effort to come to my daughter's Christening in the Middle of Nowhere, Ireland, so I'm not too fussed.
Besides, it was an excuse to have a cider or two in the Carlisle Castle, of which I've walked past, but never been in. Two thumbs up from me. I'll be going there, the Court House, or the Rose of Australia from now on.
Speaking of that, I am never going to the Townie again. I was in the bottle shop, buying a gift for the birthday girl of the party that was our last stop before home, when there seemed to be a tiny altercation at the counter. I didn't hear it, but a woman, older than me, dressed fairly plainly, purchasing a can of Jack Daniels, apparently called the other girl at the counter, younger than me, who was going for a Bettie Page look but failed, a 'fucking slut'.
I didn't hear her say that, nor did I hear the younger girl apparently say something to her, which was the older woman's defence at the time. All I heard was the guy at the counter demand that she leave, then make a big show of getting the manager to tell her to go and get the security guard to escort her out.
Why did this turn me off? It was the show of strength to the potential mate by the bar staff, essentially. The young girl and guy at the counter were flirting, and, if the young girl DID say something to the older woman first, then it was a case of 'You're not pretty enough for me to care', and preferential treatment for someone they considered attractive.
Even if the girl didn't say something, the effort the bar staff went to to prove just how manly they were in front of this girl was really off-putting. The guy really didn't need to get involved, and he didn't need to throw the woman out. She wasn't shouting or making threats. She was fairly quiet, to the extent that I couldn't hear if she had said anything at all, 1 metre away.
I've seen bouncers do that and, sadly, it's almost become something you don't notice. When the bar staff start doing it as well, you know a place has gone downhill. Yes, it took me fucking ages to realise, but I get it now.
Anyway, we got home around 11pm, sat on the couch for 10 minutes, then went to a birthday party. Most of the party went to a club after we arrived, and I had every intention of going to bed after I had finished my Lemon Myrtle Witbier, but I ended up drinking some wine and not going to bed until 5am. Whoops. No wonder I still haven't kicked this 'flu.
Sunday was spent eating and snoozing, and studying while Brian took Roisin out to the shops. I also purchased some White Peach Nectar by Alain Milliat and some verjus with a $50 Visa gift card, which was also a present from my brother for my birthday. The idea was that I bought something food related and frivolous or expensive, that I wouldn't ordinarily buy. Now I am dreaming of White Peach Bellinis over summer. Nom.
Long post is long. |
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