Hieronymous the Anonymous

Hello summer

I had a CT scan and an ultrasound yesterday and had a lovely day regardless.

I worked through the morning doing this thing and that. It was a lovely day outdoors, the perfect summers day really, the temperature edging up towards 30 and the sky blue and clear. Towards lunch I visited my doctor and she instructed me to get the tests done pronto, so off I went to Fitzroy that afternoon to get the aforementioned tests done.

I always find it a little strange to be in a hospital environment, even when I'm visiting. My tests yesterday were at St Vinnies in Fitzroy, in the basement. I was called straight in and instructed to change my pants for the CT scan, first cab off the rank. I changed into a pair of navy blue cotton pants that reached to a little above my ankles, shapeless and very unfashionable, but infinitely preferable to the traditional hospital gown I was forced to don for the ultrasound, worn back to front and gaping at the back. Lucky I wore my good undies.

I was due to catch up with the yoga teacher later so rather than going home afterwards instead I drove into Carlton with the roof open feeling happy about myself. For the next couple of hours I walked up and down Lygon Street. I stopped for an iced coffee and a pastry. I poked my head inside a few clothing stores. I wandered around the lovely delis. And I checked out the bookshops, where I managed to spend money for myself and on Santa bag gifts for the family. Then I got a call from my broker. Good news H, he said, we've sold your contract. I had bought gold precisely a week before and had now sold with a $3,000 profit - not bad. Let's do this every week I told him. Then at 5.30 the yoga teacher arrived.

It was such a lovely evening that we popped across the road and sat outdoors at Jimmy Watson's having a couple of glasses of bubbles. The other tables were similarly full of people happily easing down on the day with a cold glass in their hand. A light and very pleasing breeze blew down the street. People heading home from work walked by with grocery bags in their hands. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the gently swaying trees. Do we have to go? the yoga teacher asked. Good question, but alas we did.

We crossed back over the road to the Nova where we saw a movie preview with a box a popcorn and a choc-top each.

Even driving home afterwards was good. The roads weren't so busy, though it had darkened the weather was mild still and I drove with the sunroof wide open. I reflected on the day, on life indeed, unconcerned about my tests earlier and focussing on the simple and good things that come our way unbidden.

Too much is too much

My life is getting ridiculous. I'm getting way too old to be keeping so busy, and I really don't want to be. Sigh.

Last week I had a little rant about my lifestyle and ever since, despite my best efforts (ok, mediocre efforts) have been pretty well non-stop.

Last Friday went into the city for a drink. It was a warm, sunny day so had a few beers sitting besides the river at Riverland. From there went for a quick drink at Comme before making our way to the excellent Von Haus for a bottle of wine and some supper.

Saturday night went out for a bottle of bubbles and everything that goes with it.

Sunday I caught up with JV and his new girlfriend at the new pub opened up in Church Street, Royal Saxon. We compared Audi's (he's just a new one too) and then adjourned into the stylish interior of the pub for a long lunch. Very well done place, well fitted out, similar to their last effort at the Public Bar, but on a bigger scale, and well managed.

Monday? Mmm. Stayed home I think.

Tuesday it was Whisky's birthday and he organised an impromptu dinner at Ablas, in Carlton. Good venue this, and once more we had the banquet, which is great value. Everyone goes on about the chicken rice, which is good, but it is the chicken wings in garlic and thyme that are sublime. I must have had about 4 chooks worth, and I'm not normally a fan of chicken wings.

Afterwards we adjourned back to an apartment in East Melbourne. I started to head off at about 1.30 when I was waylaid by one of the other guests, an American girl. I'd met her once before about 18 months ago, and had a positive impression of her which was contradicted earlier in the night by her loud and raucous behaviour. I'm nothing but polite though, and so I sat down to talk to her. Her opening gambit was to comment on the usual party trick I'd played earlier in the night, what would you rather be, a vampire or a werewolf? Most people say vampire, which seems a bit boring and, on reflection, maybe unwise. In any case this girl now had now changed her mind to werewolf, swayed by my argument, and wanted to discuss it. It may have been the few drinks we'd had, but there was a definite sexual undertone to the conversation, highlighted by our pleasured agreement that a werewolf was sexier - much more primal and raw, and besides being on all fours can't be all bad.

The conversation was surprisingly interesting and wide ranging after that, and with the same undertones. I enjoyed it, though I felt a bit suspicious - I almost felt she was trying to seduce me, and obviously so, with her provocative conversation, her pronounced fascination with me, her body language - both open and assertive, and how she would run her hand through her hair as she spoke to me, as if she was in a shampoo commercial. Notwithstanding my earlier disapproval it's hard to turn from that when you're a red blooded male and she is an attractive woman with excellent breasts. I didn't get to bed until 3.30.

Last night I caught up with Becky. We met at Riverland again, an excellent summer venue (though overpriced), where we had a couple of beers, a pizza, and a bottle of albarino. Next we sought out a proper meal. We went to a restaurant in Fed Square, Feddish (thumbs down), average food and terrible service. Still, we ate and had another bottle of wine. By now Becky was well and truly fired up and so we wandered up to the city square for dessert and a nightcap. Then home.

Tonight I'm going to the Pearl Jam concert. Tomorrow night I'm off to a party. Sunday I'm shopping for BBQ's with the yoga teacher. Monday Becky has invited me to a formal industry and networking lunch. Tuesday night I'm going to a wine tasting and dinner with Donna. Wednesday is another lunch with old work colleagues. And so on.

Too much. I'm getting old, and this rate will be getting fat too.

The carnival is over

It's a bright, warm, silent Sunday morning. I opened the blinds of my bedroom earlier and the sun washed in. I lay in bed reading the newspaper and drinking my coffee. It felt so still, so peaceful, that I read only cursorily before casting the paper aside. It was not that I was restless - just the opposite - but that I simply wanted to savour what was for the moment and would, if I could manage it, have halted time for a little while, or at least slowed it down. As it was I had an hour or so of grace.

The last couple of weeks feel unsettled looking back. The flow that comes from following normal routines has been largely absent. In the place of that has been unusual events that one must react to deal with, like a blind man following a familiar route discovering suddenly that in his way are obstacles that were not there before.

These 'obstacles' are hardly obstacles in the real sense, and in fact have been quite fun more often than not. It has been a little interlude in the normal way of things, something many Melburnians would have experienced in a similar way to me.

In large part it is the Spring Carnival that has done this; that and the bright, unusually warm weather for this time of year.

In the first place the Spring Carnival is such a celebrated time on the calendar that it is much more than a number of storied horse races and the excuse to party. There is a festive flavour to life in Melbourne over this period, even for those who have no interest in the racing. For the rest of us there is a certain romance in following the fortunes of trainers and jockeys, and favourite race horses. Almost everyone, including the biggest duffer, has an opinion suddenly, and a vested, but light hearted interest in how the romance unfolds.

At the same time there is a loosening of normal bonds that tie us to the familiar patterns I spoke of earlier. In part it is disrupted by the mere pattern of days - we have a holiday midweek after all, to watch and celebrate a horse race. People glam up to visit the track or else they stay home to watch with a betting ticket in one hand and a drink in the other. A kind of festive and intoxicating spirit permeates the ether. Monday night before the Cup is a good time to party and the few days after the cup feel too light-hearted to take seriously.

This year we are experiencing a spate of fine, quite warm days over the carnival. It looks divine, and for those not heading for the track it's nice to pull on a pair of shorts and feel dressed. While it's not unknown for it to be this warm this early in the season, it is unusual to have so many warm days clumped together. It is a reminder of the summer looming before us, of Christmas, of holidays, of parties and the beach and cricket and cool drinks and everything else summer represents. That's what I think anyway.

In my case I certainly feel interrupted.I have been very busy, in the thick of it really, and on a peaceful morning such as this find myself sighing and yearning for the 'me' time I have put to one side. The period is ending and I am glad because while it was good it was also enough. A little familiar routine is not necessarily a bad thing, and besides, it's nice to return to the other things you need but find neglected in times like this.

I'm afraid I must put that off at least another day unfortunately. The last couple of nights have been very pleasant and quite late, and today I have people coming for lunch. I must be entertaining and social and while I'm sure I'll manage that, I'm wearing thin with the effort. How much nicer to have an old fashioned Sunday doing nothing. Oh to just sit down with a good book and a cool drink and enjoy life as if Monday was eons away. Maybe next week.

Springtime in Melbourne: cruising

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

Busy days these, don't seem to have much time for anything at the moment. Right now there's that kind of dizzying holiday feel, the sun shining, a festive vibe in the air and a lot to do before settling down to enjoy things.

What's to report? Melbourne Cup day was fine. Not so good on the punt, though I only had a couple of bets, but certainly enjoyed the amenities. Had a few laughs and ended the day in a Fed Square restaurant.

For what it's worth it's Oaks Day today or, as they call it these days, Ladies Day. I've had a few bets amongst doing everything else. I'm having another good day. Haven't bet heavily but am about $300 up and one win away from the quaddie. Fingers crossed.

I need to do well because I bought a new car today. I'm trading in my old A4 for a more recent - 2006 - model. Pretty much the same care but a bit swisher, and with the turbo a bit more responsive. My old car had good pick-up, but this one feels like a skittish horse on the starting line, dying to get going.

Otherwise made my usual rounds and have planted a few vegies and herbs out in the back garden. And I've started writing a zombie novel, for the fun of it.

At some point I should do some work.

*Yep, got the quaddie. Nice day at the office, um, not at the office.

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Slob Saturday

It's Saturday morning and I'm sitting at my desk in my tracky-dacks and a t-shirt trying to figure out when I'll enter into the world proper today. It's bright outside - it'll be warm again - and a bird coos. I have it all mapped out.

I have people coming over for a barbie tomorrow and should begin the preparation for that. I ordered some top line steaks from Hopkins River Beef - reputedly Australia's best - during the week. I have a hunk of sirloin I'll carve into steaks and marinade. And I have to do some shopping for all the other fixings. I'm well sorted for beer and wine.

I bought some vegie plants yesterday too - some tomatoes, capsicum, zucchini, plus a mix of herbs - which I have to transplant. That'll be fun, kinda. I'm sure Rigby will be poking his nose into that, helping.

The rest of the day is being slob outside of a party tonight. It's Derby Day today, some decent horses going around. I'll put a few bets on this morning, including a crack at the quaddie, and I'll watch through the day the TV brosadcast from the track. There'll be 120,000 people there, but I'll be perfectly happily to slop around in my shorts watching it from home.

Blind tasting

Image via Wikipedia

Thursday night was a lot of fun, but perhaps a little messy. Over the course of 5 hours I had about 12 glasses of wine and two cleansing ales. In between times delicious finger food prepared by the Seamstress cook was brought around on platters for our delectation. The venue was interesting - the suburban offices of Jeremy Oliver - and the crowd varied. I had fun.

The theory was that each of the 12 wines served on the night were matched to the food. There were a variety of wines, from Prosecco and sparkling Shiraz, to Riesling, Chardonnay, a brace of Pinot Noir's and the wine of the year - which we'll leave to later. Each of the wines were introduced by Jeremy Oliver, and were universally good. Really quite a treat for a wine lover.

In between times we mixed and mingled. There were a couple from my footy club I was surprised to see, Alec Epis, a great footballer in his day, recent board member and pretty good wine maker in his own right was one; the other the recently retired CHF of the team, Scott Lucas. I'd like to blame the prosecco, but I found myself uncharacteristically star-struck as I shook Scotty's hand. I've met him before, but I guess that's generally at times when I expected to. On Thursday I fear I may have acted like an awed kid searching for an autograph.

Mingled with a few others, including a antiques auctioneer I'm hoping to see, some attractive types, a few winemakers, and the various scions from good families, nice people all.

We left at about 1am I guess, but that was not before we'd each had a glass of the wine Jeremy Oliver awarded wine of the year status to. Perhaps it's no surprise it went to one of the great labels of Australian, if not the greatest: Grange Hermitage, this one the 2004 vintage.

It was lovely as you would expect of a wine that retails around the $600 mark. Speaking later to the winemakers they raved about it. And towards the end of the night when I asked Jeremy Oliver what was the best Australian wine he'd ever tasted he said the 1953 Grange - but this was next best and still had a lot of improvement in it.

I slept like a baby.

Rigby 1, H zero

Image via Wikipedia

Rigby has the habit of barrelling down the hallway at full tilt and leaping onto my bed at the end of. He takes great joy in this, and though I am forever trying to dim his exuberance this always make me smile. You gotta love a dog that lives so joyously.

This morning though I wasn't smiling. I'm sitting on the end of my bed putting my shoes on when I hear Rigby clattering down the hallway in his familiar way, and look up just in time to see him leap and all 30 kilos of chocolate brown, fast moving muscle careen into me. The thick skull of the top of his head connects with my jaw and forehead and for a moment or two I lose consciousness.

I am dazed and sore when I regather some of my wits. My head aches all the way down to my neck. There is blood in my mouth from where my teeth have torn into my cheek, and a lump on my forehead. When I stand I feel wonky and somehow disconnected. I can talk ok, but it feels as if I have to drag my words up from a dep well, and they feel heavy on my tongue. It seems an effort to articulate. All is not right.

Perhaps foolishly I decide to lie down for a bit, and before I know it I am fast asleep. When I wake it is a little after 11. I have an appointment at 11.30. I quickly get up, feeling odd still, like my eyes and my head are somehow separate from my body. I feel a little out of balance, a little dizzy, and the pain in my head throbs. I swallow down a couple of ibuprofen and dash out the door.

The temptation all afternoon has been to sleep, though apparently that's not a good idea with concussion. I was so sleepy though that it was hard to resist.

I'm much better now, though not right. I've been into the city to collect my suit and had a quick drink sitting in the sun of City Square with Becky. Home now though, a quiet evening ahead and a good nights sleep - should be right for tomorrow.

As for Rigby? What do they say - no sense, no pain? That seems to apply to him. He probably thought it was great fun the little scoundrel.

Living it up

Image via Wikipedia

Much to share, no time to share it.

I'm sitting here at my desk with the sun shining outside and a headache splitting my head bi-laterally. It's almost 5pm, yikes, and at some point soon I have to have a shower and dress before the publisher gets here. We're off to a book launch tonight, Jeremy Oliver's Wine Guide 2010. There'll plenty of wine tasting naturally, good food, the wine of the year will be wheeled out and a good time will be had by all. You know I'm always up for a good time.

Notwithstanding a visit to the dentist yesterday, good times are abounding at the moment. It's that time of year, Spring, the weather improves, the sun comes out, Christmas is really only a hop, skip and a jump distant, and all the winter stuff is behind us. On top of that here in Melbourne is the Spring Racing Carnival. That's a pretty big deal.

I'm off on Saturday to the Cox Plate at Moonee Valley, and will be attending the Melbourne Cup just over a week later. I'm going plush this year, catered affairs with all laid on, pretty girls in their best frock and waering the annual fascinator, boys like me in the funky suit and tie. I'm even wearing a hat.

In the meantime the same old stuff - dinners, drinks, book launches and sundry celebrations.

Now I have to have my shower.

In the dentists chair

Image via Wikipedia

The main reason for my visit to the city on Wednesday was to see the dentist. The tooth that broke and fell out the other week was not dead as I had first thought. The discolouration I saw in it came from the filling, which had somehow corroded in my tooth and caused it to break as it did. A number of solutions were presented to me on my first visit to the dentist, and the best (and consequently most expensive) solution appeared to get a crown.

The visit on Wednesday was the first step in that. A cast was to be taken of my tooth, then the top was to be sliced off in preparation for the crown, another cast taken, before a temporary crown was to be put in place. All this was expected to take 90 minutes and cost $1,350.

So once more I sat in the dentists chair, tilted back and with mouth agape. Once more I felt silly and vaguely powerless as the dentist poked around and drilled in my mouth while his assistant diligently sucked up the debris from my tooth.

As always seems to be the case the dentist on odd occasions would choose to talk with me. I don't know if they're taught this in dental school, but it's damned hard to talk intelligently with half your mouth numb from anaesthetic and with dental instruments poking at your teeth. How you going there? Grumph, oomph, ar, aw, ee, you answer, like some ethnic hobbit. Shouldn't be long now. Have you been out much lately? he asks. Ow,or,grrh,nn, you answer somehow, wishing the fuck that he would shut up - which eventually he does.

If it's not much fun in the dentists chair then it's not terribly fascinating either. You lay back looking towards the ceiling, a bright light in your face beneath which the hovering masked face of the dentists comes into view, a cruel instrument in his hand. For a little while you follow the action attentively, but then your mind begins to wonder. What's for lunch you wonder. Can I eat? Maybe I'll just have a big dinner. Yeah, that'll do it. It's inane, boring stuff, and soon you tire of it.

On Wednesday I came up with the ploy of doing long division in my head. I've recently joined a beer club where I get sent a dozen bottles a month of boutique beer from small breweries all over Australia.It costs me $49.95 delivered. How much per bottle?

I don't know about you, but it's been yonks since I did long division - that's what calculators and computers are for. I was consequently pretty rusty simply remembering how to do it, and so it was with an unusual sense of triumph I came up with the eventual answer - 416.25 cents per bottle. Hah, I thought, gotcha. And so for the remaining time while the dentist continued to drill and prod I practiced all manner of equations in my head. And then finally left, my mouth half done, to walk the streets and do without lunch.

Hero or villain?

Some random media news from the life of H:

I watched the news the over night and saw a girl I dated a few months back, on top of a swaying pole in a promotion for a show her company is putting on in the Melbourne Festival. She's a dancer.

And a mate of mine is making a CGI fantasy/sci-fi movie and wants me to voice one of the characters. Either the commander in chief or a villain. Villain might be more fun.