Wednesday, April 16, 2008

The social baton - the OTHER relay race

Overall it was a great evening but more ‘cause of the company than the place. A table companion who is quite the seamstress herself regaled us with the tale of her visit to Nick Cave’s book signing. She got his tome signed, hung back in the crowd berating herself for harbouring a desire to have a photo taken with the rock poet, until a staff member from the Arts Centre where the scene was playing out, came out and shoved her forward and told her she’d regret it if she didn’t , a very Nike way, “just do it”. Now she has the book, which he signed with ‘love’ and a photo on her phone to boot to remind herself of the adventure.

Seamstress has a great bar up a very UNgreat flight of wooden stars. Is it just me or do cocktails and neckbraces come to your mind too?

Our pre-booked table took a year to become vacant so we weren’t ordering til 10pm or so … I was pretty chuffed to be in a restaurant at that point and not in pyjamas in front of the TV and some hideous medical travesty story.

Nearby four young urban professionals were in their squash gear, having clearly had a mid week game and then popped into this new groove-Asian eatery for a bit. Seeing this this week and seeing masses of young ones out for dinner at a St Kilda joint (Banf) last Wednesday reminds me of how the phases of our lives just shift on and on. My girlfriends and I were once the midnight eaters, the drinks after work crowd, the spontaneous ‘let’s go to the Mask of China after the movies’ people and now the baton gets passed on. I love eating out, investigating new bars, people watching etc and Mr Underhill and I regularly have a bar hopping date in the city so we can get trashed (okay, that’s more my part of the evening) and annoy bar staff with 8000 questions and make up stories about fellow diners and drinkers but, even more regularly, we’re at home getting over excited about the bounty we’ve just picked up from a Dan Murphy trip and the rib eye we’re going to experiment with on the new ‘Beefeater’ (seriously, that’s the brand but I think you are allowed to cook other stuff than beef) barbecue. I’m not sad about the baton hand over but I just can’t quite pin point the moment when it happened. Guess because my process didn’t involve pro Tibet protestors or little Chinese men in black tracksuits swarming out of people movers.

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