Days in Melbourne
Friday is Jonno’s Saturday, and I was under strict orders from Suse that Jonno should take this day before his birthday party to relax and read the paper for a minimum of two hours. Jonno’s pace is, at least around me, a constant yet relaxed movement. We putzed around the house; he did some light cleaning, and we put up a hose rack in the brick outside his back yard. I had never drilled into masonry before, but Jonno had enough faith in my handyman skills that I could figure it out. Afterwards we watered the veggie garden, which in my absence had been cleared and replanted, and was growing (according to Jonno) at a rate of "at least eight inches a day."
We headed to lunch at the Leviton, the pub to which we would be heading to the next day for Jonno’s 30th birthday party. They were closed until noon, and we killed time at a one of Jonno’s favorite coffee shops whose name regretfully escapes me. In addition to the typically good Italian inspired Melbournian coffee, the shop sells an arsenal of coffee brewing contraptions. A bit of this was a "mini express" stove-top espresso that looked a lot like drug paraphernalia. Jonno and I both thought (in our manly way) that it was adorable, and he insisted I buy it. Unfortunately, I find it quite hard to not treat myself, and his threat of buying it for me was more than enough motivation. Our barista was an American girl with a oval shaved out of her head; in this oval, the Batman symbol was tattooed. I reckon that for as hard core a look as it provided, it is actually an easy tat to cover up. Even so, she will still have to come to terms with always having the Chief looking for Batman on her head. She was angry that Jonno was reading the Business Times, stating that it was a worse habit than heroin. This statement surprised me, considering that Bruce Wayne was himself a successful businessman.
The afternoon commenced with excessive relaxation. I was pleased that I could tell Suse that Jonno had relaxed the whole day. We enjoyed a beer and potato wedges at the Leviton. Eating continued with sandwiches and the fixings of a ravioli dinner at the local Kensington Italian deli. Movies were rented, and the afternoon floated slowly by. That evening, I bustled into the kitchen, boiled some water, grilled some Iserno sausage, cut fresh basil and parsley from the veggie patch, and using some leftover fresh bread from the bread-maker plus some of the leftover sauce Suse had made for the cous-cous, managed to put together a rustic, but filling dinner for my Lovely host and hostess. This most simple of days was amazing.