We’ve worked pretty hard on weekends lately, so, due for a relaxing one on Sat. we lobbed down to see the Bukowski documentary at the Lumiere. He was just as drunk, obnoxious, and yet more charming than I suspected. After a particularly filthy tirade of F and C’s early on, I waited for the first person to walk out of the cinema. A surprisingly older crowd in attendance – but no! Afterwards, perhaps influenced by Henry’s unquenchable thirst, we killed 30 minutes waiting for the restaurant booking time and drank Coopers Dark Ale (D) and Bohemian Pilsner (K) at 3 Degrees in QV, and tried to work out how many days we’d need to drive to Darwin and then Perth in September 2006. The always delightful waiter at Lebanese House (est. 1959) made a few quips about which table we were allowed to choose, and a few minutes later, told a newly arrived bunch of young girls that because only 3 had turned up for a booking of 5, that “it is policy that you’ll have to take a table for 2 and share a seat”. An unremarkable day today; a mixture of housework, fitnesswork, socialwork and foodwork. I started off on an initially freezing cold 80k ride to Mordialloc with Alan; struggled to find my old fella in a chilly toilet block in Port Melbourne and was hit by a ferocious coffee craving that started whilst still in the CBD. A cold southwesterly made the going slow and sniffly, and what I couldn’t snort out, I wiped off onto my gloves. A lot of people don’t know that the foamy padded area around the base of the thumb on a cycling glove is designed exactly for that purpose. Trying to pick out a tissue from my back pocket at 30k wearing gloves is laughably impossible. Sore knee duly obtained, I basked in exhaustion at home before painting the last of the hallway, nudging interested dogs away from the paint tin. In a queer fit of social behaviour, we walked the hounds down to Michael and Jenny’s to see their redone kitchen and ogle at new appliances. For environmental reasons they collect all unused tap water in buckets to presumably use on the garden – but they hadn’t done it in a while. There was at least 8 full tubs scattered like Twister circles through the narrow laundry, inviting a midnight spill or bizarre canine drowning. Weed spraying, dog poo collecting and hand washing completed, Kim baked chocolate florentines and rasberry and marmalade biscuits and I made up a batch of pasta from a glue-like mix of flour and egg. What a bloody mess. We made it too eggy and some got stuck in the machine. Eventually got some decent looking fettucine and promptly dropped the lot on the floor due to some bad storage decisions. And worst of all – IT TASTED NO DIFFERENT TO SAFEWAY PASTA. It was a lovely weekend really. 
