Ah, its been a busy week or so since the last blog. I hammered away at our rather overdue CD-ROM project to get it as far advanced as I could before the break-up. Work will be very intense when we resume on Jan 2. We have not received from the client a great deal of the source archival stuff that is to go into the CD, so we are not entirely to blame.
We knocked off at midday on Friday for the Roar Christmas party. This year we did lunch, at Prossers On The Beach in Sandy Bay. We made a TV pilot for the owner and chef, Stuart Prosser this year. He has intentions of becoming a cross between pukka Jamie and khaki Steve - ooh, look at this lovely crayfish, isnt he a little beauty, you stick the knife in him here, slice him in two, stuff him with porcini mushrooms and panfry him with just a sprinkle of lime juice and balsamic.
Anyway, his food is fantastic and his restaurant was very enjoyable. It is on the beach, and with all the windows slid wide open, it felt like we were on a very steady boat, as all you could see beyond the window frame was the Derwent River. It was 31°, very muggy, absolutely no breeze.
It was while sluicing my 17th scallop from its shell that the dolphins appeared around the point, closely followed by bikini girls futilely wading after them. Futile but decorative. If Girl from Ipanema by Astrid Gilberto had been on the stereo it might have been a 5/5 on the sense-ometer. The dolphins headed upriver, as though on their way to town for some last minute shopping. Maybe for i-pods. (Ha!)
Friday was also my colleague and friend Raef Sawford's last day at Roar. He's a great bloke, and I have enjoyed his company every weekday for the last five or so years. I'll miss him a lot, but I am glad he is finally out of his dark sweaty editing suite, free to see the sky, and smell the flowers. Sure, he's made mistakes, but now he's paid his dues, its someone else's turn to sit in front of the hissing and bleeping monitors joining up bits of tape to make coherent stories. Be free, gay pirate!