The single Dad everyone else wanted to date.

When I lived in Hobart I had a friend who'd lived in a Melbourne CBD apartment whilst attending University High. On a visit to Melbourne family, she took me to Pelligrini's for dinner, then a warehouse party in North Melbourne on a 40 degree night where I met the love of her life, who, coincidentally, was a flatmate of a guy I knew from school.  Back in Hobart we'd swim at Taroona, she'd explain her Czech and Finish parents and theories on divorce, if you date too many people, you lose perspective, limit yourself to no more than 10-bedroom partners. She introduced me to her flatmate/ex-boyfriend, who would win house mate arguments by saying “I’m a cool, down-to-earth guy”. We cycled down the mountain, he introduced me to SOHO parents, showed me how to pack for Cygnet Festival using an "essentials” list he'd typed. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Anniversary of Grandad

When my youngest was very young, eldest thought his brother was Grandad reincarnated (same day of earth arrival separated by 96 years). As it happens, Grandad died on my nephew's birthday, which we celebrate each year, this year ate at to a pub that is okay but nothing special, compared to gaslight tavern, circa November 2004, as enthusiastically described to Guy.  Nephew agreed people who barrack for the Crows are like flat earthers-that's what was cool about GI Jazz: Melbournite's admiring my Tigers scarf.  SIL came by to pick up youngest who offered to help with chores if I didn't make him leave and told her he'd made himself baked beans and a chip butty, like a before character on a heart attack advertisement.  Meanwhile eldest has been unhappy ever since he headlined with his band, and now I feel like a bad parent for sending him to a Car clew camp. Right now, he's chatting on the phone about something being 'bad', his friend is asking 'how bad...
Read more

Little gems

This evening, I was reading to the kid. Every book I read at night time (and many books I read in the day) are about going to sleep. The message is getting through. When I read out the catchphrase "Do you need to go to sleep?" he closed his eyes and made pretend snoring sounds. So much fun! He had a busy evening rearranging baking trays and lego displays and trying to build the tallest lego tower that wouldn't fall over and eventually I found art invites and lego in the oven. I also decided to empty my handbag. Open bills. Sort my life out. Try and get back on track. This is all prompted by asking a colleague for something from her handbag (I shudder to think what-hopefully money, hopefully not a tissue) and seeing her sort through clutter that included the voting slip from 2010 Federal Election. Anyway, I found a diary entry, scribbled on paper, which I may have written here in different form: "Different films I've liked that have been 'mood' number...
Read more

My perfect hour (and giving music as presents to your 11 year old nephew)

Image
Tonight. Sometime between 5-6pm. When it was still light, light less, not yet faded. I was listening to ABC Classical and it was jazz hour. Exactly what I needed. The kid was slurping on his pasta, well occupied, I sat at the end of the table, staring forwards to the lounge and front garden and rose bushes, sipping my tea, thinking of how long it might be before my day ended, but otherwise in the moment.  I missed a gig because I was at the beach. Well good. It reminded me of packing up to leave hospital after giving birth. GIVING BIRTH! Yep, amazing miracle of life etc. Husband and I were lolling around, feeling like confident parents and Pavement were touring in March, and we wanted to attend, looked up tickets online, before we realised our media was 12 months out of date. Told my nephew about the Presets concert, felt bad about the fact I hadn't bought him a ticket or arranged to take him, though he's 11 and it's on a school night. But imagine how IN I would be. He to...
Read more