Monday, December 04, 2006
BEER, OYSTERS AND PRAWNS............
Where do I start?
Friday morning, the taxi arrives one hour late.
Nothing new there, I should know better than to expect the cab to turn up on time.
Apparently my physio didn't bother to tell the girls, who organise the taxis, that I am starting a new schedule.
Why, even today it turned up late.
Friday evening I made my assault on the Empress Hotel.
It felt right and it went well.
Good mates, good food, good craic, shite beer, but then again, one does not go there for the beer.
Suffice to say that Saturday I was sporting a lovely hangover courtesy of The Empy's decrepit beer lines.
At least that is the shared theory as to why the Empy beer procures such foul demonic hangovers that can turn even the nicest of people into rabid, undead, incoherent spawn of satan ghosts of their former selves.
That afternoon I received a phone call from a dear mate of mine from Tassie.
Nev and his wife Lyn, were up in Melbourne for the weekend and not only did they intend to catch up with me in an ex hospital situation, but I learnt that they had managed to smuggle some contraband.
Plans were quickly drawn up for them to visit on Sunday.
Sunday came and so did they and their generous and well appreciated gift.
A dozen Cascade Reds!!!
So that arvo we sat in the sun and caught up on gossip and generally enjoyed each other's company, whilst being entertained by the free ranging, meat eating chickens' exploits in the backyard
Later that afternoon was spent down at another establishment, the Brandon Hotel, where for a cool $5 you can purchase a fine tasting pint of your preferred amber coloured refreshment, whilst watching the Ashes on the telly.
So Cam, Brenton, Princess Strawberry and I ordered our various beverages and proceeded to spew forth great chunks of bullshit over the period of a few hours.
I'd discovered a new pilsner called Bohemian and embarked on a quest to test it's drinkable qualities in the traditional manner, by consuming vast quantities and seeing if the taste gets better, worse or stays the same.
I can report that it did indeed maintain its drinkability. :)
Afterwards we retired to our to our sister house, Watkins Street, and engaged in yet more potation, myself enjoying the fine interaction between the Cascade Red and my taste buds.
After such a long period of time abusing my poor old taste buds with the local brews, it was like a shiatsu massage for my tongue, leaving it spent, but aching for more.
The oysters with bacon and red wine and the garlic butter and cream sauced prawns were kind of nice too.
As was the gnocchi that Cam had made, fluffy little packages of soft potato goodness.
Come Monday morning and the expected hangover didn't rear its ugly head.
I'd forgotten how that clean Tassie water makes the beer so much fresher and less likely to instill harm upon the devourer of afore mentioned liquid righteousness.
Hence the morning's physio and hydro were so much less of a struggle than they should have been.
Mail for Monday the 4th of December ( is it December already? )
1x letter from rehab hospital - wanting money from ex patients towards some cancer fund.
I may be an outpatient, but I'm still a damned patient!!!
1x letter from Traffic Accident Commission - telling me that they've finally sent money for outstanding payments. Again.
1x letter from Lawyer - expecting to find another request for more money, but happily informed of the lawyer's wishes to impart good tidings and joy upon me for the upcoming Christmas / holiday season.
Is this the normal kind of correspondence one should be receiving?
It all feels a bit Twilight Zone.
On a lighter note, went and saw Borat, the movie.
What a riot!
That bloke knows how to push boundaries.
Not to mention break them and then hug and kiss them in a way they should never be interfered with.
I found some cool x-rays too, so I'll be starting a short series of those that y'all can peruse.
This one shows my left femur, pre surgery.
Those two bones at the top, they're supposed to be one.
.
Friday morning, the taxi arrives one hour late.
Nothing new there, I should know better than to expect the cab to turn up on time.
Apparently my physio didn't bother to tell the girls, who organise the taxis, that I am starting a new schedule.
Why, even today it turned up late.
Friday evening I made my assault on the Empress Hotel.
It felt right and it went well.
Good mates, good food, good craic, shite beer, but then again, one does not go there for the beer.
Suffice to say that Saturday I was sporting a lovely hangover courtesy of The Empy's decrepit beer lines.
At least that is the shared theory as to why the Empy beer procures such foul demonic hangovers that can turn even the nicest of people into rabid, undead, incoherent spawn of satan ghosts of their former selves.
That afternoon I received a phone call from a dear mate of mine from Tassie.
Nev and his wife Lyn, were up in Melbourne for the weekend and not only did they intend to catch up with me in an ex hospital situation, but I learnt that they had managed to smuggle some contraband.
Plans were quickly drawn up for them to visit on Sunday.
Sunday came and so did they and their generous and well appreciated gift.
A dozen Cascade Reds!!!
So that arvo we sat in the sun and caught up on gossip and generally enjoyed each other's company, whilst being entertained by the free ranging, meat eating chickens' exploits in the backyard
Later that afternoon was spent down at another establishment, the Brandon Hotel, where for a cool $5 you can purchase a fine tasting pint of your preferred amber coloured refreshment, whilst watching the Ashes on the telly.
So Cam, Brenton, Princess Strawberry and I ordered our various beverages and proceeded to spew forth great chunks of bullshit over the period of a few hours.
I'd discovered a new pilsner called Bohemian and embarked on a quest to test it's drinkable qualities in the traditional manner, by consuming vast quantities and seeing if the taste gets better, worse or stays the same.
I can report that it did indeed maintain its drinkability. :)
Afterwards we retired to our to our sister house, Watkins Street, and engaged in yet more potation, myself enjoying the fine interaction between the Cascade Red and my taste buds.
After such a long period of time abusing my poor old taste buds with the local brews, it was like a shiatsu massage for my tongue, leaving it spent, but aching for more.
The oysters with bacon and red wine and the garlic butter and cream sauced prawns were kind of nice too.
As was the gnocchi that Cam had made, fluffy little packages of soft potato goodness.
Come Monday morning and the expected hangover didn't rear its ugly head.
I'd forgotten how that clean Tassie water makes the beer so much fresher and less likely to instill harm upon the devourer of afore mentioned liquid righteousness.
Hence the morning's physio and hydro were so much less of a struggle than they should have been.
Mail for Monday the 4th of December ( is it December already? )
1x letter from rehab hospital - wanting money from ex patients towards some cancer fund.
I may be an outpatient, but I'm still a damned patient!!!
1x letter from Traffic Accident Commission - telling me that they've finally sent money for outstanding payments. Again.
1x letter from Lawyer - expecting to find another request for more money, but happily informed of the lawyer's wishes to impart good tidings and joy upon me for the upcoming Christmas / holiday season.
Is this the normal kind of correspondence one should be receiving?
It all feels a bit Twilight Zone.
On a lighter note, went and saw Borat, the movie.
What a riot!
That bloke knows how to push boundaries.
Not to mention break them and then hug and kiss them in a way they should never be interfered with.
I found some cool x-rays too, so I'll be starting a short series of those that y'all can peruse.
This one shows my left femur, pre surgery.
Those two bones at the top, they're supposed to be one.
.
