At large in St Kilda

The flu has given me a hangover without the fun drinking part. I have drunk litres and litres of water over the last three days. My body is trying very hard to flush out something or other. The glands in my neck are swollen and my throat feels like I have been eating large triangular things.

I woke up feeling not too bad, considering. I set off at 8 am to walk to my old place in Elwood for a look. I didn't take long to change my plan. It was, in all objectivity, a dull part of Elwood, and why the hell should I walk that far? So i just schlepped through St Kilda, enjoying the eclectic architecture, as far as the Elwood canal. Phew, the canal is still better in photos than in real life.

I skipped back to the hotel in time to meet Alex and Suparna for brunch. Fruity porridge on account of my throat. They are very keen to have kids, and we talked a lot about that stuff. I was showing off the award to them when I somehow poked myself in the face with it and drew blood. Then Roz and Mike and their kids Cooper and Kenzie arrived. Mass rearranging of chairs and dragging together of tables. I was carpeted by a staff member who said "Did you do this off your own bat or did you organise this with a host?". It's their way around the waiter/waitress thing I guess.

A man ran through a busy and complicated intersection diagonally, flat out, fists pumping, mullet trailing behind, carrying two litres of milk. He looked a lot like the guy in the 4 Corners doco on ice, the new scary drug. A little later a plodding, nodding, shuffling guy went past, in the same direction, with two litres of milk, with just a little bit missing out of it. He was less exciting and I suppose no-one is making documentaries about him.

Fitting right in so well I nearly missed him, Brown walked past gingerly. I hailed him. He gave me a few of the details of what I had missed, then went off to do Christmas shopping. Christmas day might be interesting at his place. Pink had already gone past looking credibly human, with his sister who lives in Melbourne.

The trip home was ragged but pretty uneventful. Beige had bought some fancy speakers with "signature yellow woofers" and everyone had to take turns carrying them. He cannot make any serious purchase on Tasmanian soil. I shared a bus home to Kingston from the city with a large contingent of facially pierced yoof who had been to a beer festival, and had cartons of Beers of the World to prove it.