So we left Stella and Tony’s place just before 10, bidding it a fond farewell. We confidently expect them to be in their new place the next time we come to call. We stopped at the Mount Martha shops to inspect the gift shop, which is imminently about to close for ever (gloom!) and then ambled along the Nepean Highway towards Ormond College, arriving almost exactly to time. We found Robert in his study and wandered down through the University grounds to University House, which is the staff private club, for lunch. I think that the Howard Suite at Hallam is probably a nicer room, but the selection of food, and especially of wine, is far and away better at University House. You almost never see people drinking at lunchtime in the Howard Suite and if you do they are usually visitors. Melbourne academics have no such compunction! Fish for me. Again. Though I am finding that Australian chefs are undercooking fish quite a bit. I’m not sure if that is because they think that fish should be eaten nearly raw, or whether they are just mistiming their cooking. I agree that fish shouldn’t be over-cooked but I do prefer it to flake when I eat it!
Anyway. The company more than made up for undercooked perch. It was good to catch up with Robert, even if briefly. He and Pat are the only non-family who know that we are here, and Pat lives in Ballarat so it might have been difficult to avoid her (though I haven’t actually bumped into her since we arrived). Robert is planning to retire in the not too dim distant future. Must plot things for him to do.
So. Robert had a meeting to go to in the city centre. We left him planning to remonstrate with the chef about the fish (The Builder’s beef had been lovely and Robert didn’t complain about his ravioli; must be a fishy thing then!) and The Builder and I went for a lovely stroll in the sunshine through the grounds of Melbourne Uni. Then back to the car to make our way to Warragul.
The problem is, though, that I don’t know how to get to Warragul anymore from the city centre. CityLink and other new roads haven’t half complicated things. So we headed along the Eastern freeway and down Burke Road until we ran across the new M1 freeway which brought us directly to Matthew and Belinda’s house.
The dogs did not alert anyone at all to the fact that we were there. Just as well we are not mad axe murders. Or worse.
We found Matt and Belinda and Lindsey and Ian in the lounge room in front of a wood stove, drinking tea. We found Sage playing with Lindsey. We found William crying. I’m assured that he had stopped, once or twice since we saw him in Carlton!!!
We’ve had a lovely stroll through their garden and admired their avocados and lemons, oranges and mandarins. We somewhat tentatively tried a medlar each. Tentatively because Sage refers to them as poo fruit and Matt said they were an acquired taste. Actually, they’re quite pleasant, if an unusual texture. We’ve eaten lamb pie and potatoes and vegetables. We’ve drunk lots of wine. We’ve chatted and caught up. We’ve had a good time. And we didn’t go to bed quite so early. Consequently it was after six before I decided that it was time for tea!
The Builder and I slept in their bungalow. It’s a touch on the chilly side this morning (Thursday) but there was a glorious sunrise and it’s nice and snugly warm inside their fluffy duvet. Best get up, though, and see if there’s life in the house (the dogs expressed no interest in The Builder when he went in to make the tea!!!!!)
The word from Robert is that the chef was very apologetic. The fish wasn’t supposed to be nearly raw. It was a mistake. Was bawled out by the catering manager. No one suggested a refund, though.
Oh. And Sage has stolen my pyjamas. Went to bed last night in bright pink PJs with green frogs on them. Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiine! (Belinda says that she has an exactly matching pair as well!)
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