Nothing particularly exceptional happened today. I woke up pleased with my night’s performance and lounged a bit before helping Frank cut the lawn. Threw on the hat, glasses and earplugs and fired up the lawnmower. It had a strong motor on it, and I felt like I more guided it as it ate up the grass rather than pushed it around. It was hot, and the grass smelled rightly fresh. Prue served up some lunch. Chicken and salad followed by some good bottles Frank had got last night as a coaching present. Sitting outside in the shade of the gazebo with the wine and freshly barbequed chicken smelling the orange and lemon scent of the gum trees made me want to mow nearly and acre of lawn every day if this was what was waiting at the end of the mowing rainbow. The afternoon moseyed on by, and soon it was time to head back to Traralgon and Guns’ place where I was tricked into watching “Saw 4.” It was as good as you might imagine. Fortunately, I managed a nightmare-free sleep.
Woke up late once again, but not unhappy for doing so. On my travel schedule I find it hard to sleep late and take any chance of it I may. It was another loungey, lazy day until 4:30 when Guns and I got nostalgic for our days at the gym at Melbourne University as occasional lifting partners. This of course prompted a move of the home gym out into the back yard into the afternoon sun where we proceeded to pump iron.
I find lifting hunks of metal to be one of the most stupidly satisfying and cathartic activities that humanity in all its wisdom has ever contrived. With his broad shoulders and midsection, Guns resembled a beer keg. We chatted with the usual bravado and self-deprecation that accompanies any male endeavor. That evening we headed to town to have a drink with Guns’ dad, Steve Plunkett, and his friends, and we ended up with dinner. This was an understatement as plate after plate of food that was ordered kept getting handed down to me – meant, no doubt, to counter any possible loss of weight that could have happened on the bike. Steak, prawns, lamb risotto and veggies. Quite the feast.
After thanking Steve for a lovely meal and assuring him I would be there for his Easter barbie tomorrow, Guns and I headed to the Cargo Lounge (same one from St. Patty’s Day) to meet Gun's cousin, Georgie, for a drink. Georgie is a lovely girl, small and petite, and like so many pint-sized people, more than willing to take the piss, especially if it’s her cousin. Guns flexed his guns a lot that night, and we drank really, really girly drinks like Cosmos and Irish margaritas. Someone asked me to sell them drugs on the way to the bathroom. Couldn't help the guy.