Melbourne – Gone Fishing
The next day, though cold again, was dry and sunny, so Alice and I were persuaded to go fishing by Hugh, his brother, and their friend (also called Hugh). Was this against my better judgement? My first experience of fishing was at our caravan in the lake district when we were small, where both Michael and I showed a disconcerting willingness to hit the fish over the head; my second (and only other) fishing experience was with an ex-boyfriend who, I’m sure, only took me fishing to shut me up – he told me he wouldn’t catch any fish if they heard any noise. I think it says more about me than about him that I thought this was an acceptable date! Fortunately (for all of us), the day turned out nothing like that at all.
We were headed out to a place called Williamstown, and to a stretch of water in particular called the Warmies; it got that name because of some kind of power plant nearby that heats the water up, and all the fish become radioactive or something (well, not exactly that, but I don’t think you’d be eating them in a hurry). Down by the river it was quite chilly, and I was grateful for the warmth of my new hat, purchased the day before as a barrier to the cold Melbourne wind.
Before the guys settled down to their fishing, and Alice and I settled down to the important business of gossiping, we had to make a stop for fish and chips, with Alice and I also picking up a bottle of champagne (I’m cursed with good taste!). Seriously, does ANYTHING taste better than good food and cold champagne eaten outside with friends? If it does, I’ve never eaten it.
We were there for a few hours, eating, drinking, laughing, chatting. We took some classic photos that will be up on my site (SOON!), including one that Hugh took of Alice and I that has become an instant favourite, a real Kodak moment. One to frame when I get home. Along with all my other favourites – there really isn’t going to be a spare inch of wall at my house at this rate.
Hugh’s mum kindly picked us up, and then, after a quick stop back at the apartment, we headed out to a house party. By now, the effects of the champagne (and the other bottle of wine that I forgot to mention) were well and truly taking effect, to the point where we thought it would be a good idea for me to get in a shopping trolley and for Hugh to push me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the behaviour of a mature 30 year old. We could not stop laughing for what seemed like hours.
At the house party, I was introduced to the Aussie version of cheap cider. Remember when you were underage and the drink of choice seemed to be that fowl cheap cider? The Aussie version is called Passion Pop. It costs $3 per bottle, and it tastes like it costs $3 per bottle. Pretty grim. Still, I had to give it a good try.
After this, the night pretty much continued in the same vein. We moved on to a pub, and then Alice unfortunately lost her bag, which put a dampner on the whole night, and before too long we were back at the ranch, Alice desperately trying to cancel her cards and her phone.
Things always seem better in the morning, and this was the case here. Yes, the bag was still gone, but Alice was her usual lovely chirpy self. As was Hugh, and the whole of his family – for this was a Big Day. We were going to the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground – a stone’s throw away from the apartment) for another footie match. Hugh and his family are Carlton fans, and they were playing Collingwood, of whom probably the most apt description I can give for UK readers is that they’re the Manchester United of Aussie Rules. The fans love them; everyone else hates them. Carlton aren’t doing too well this season, so I was grateful that I’d been to the Saints game a couple of days before, otherwise I might have got lumbered with being a Carlton fan. I did sport a scarf that Hugh gave me, though. Yeah, I know, I’m fickle. That’s me.
The MCG was a wonderful, huge, atmospheric stadium, and it was great to see such an exciting match there. Sadly Carlton lost, after rallying in the first couple of quarters, but I DID get to see my first few fights on the pitch, which excited me no end. This was what I’d been promised, and what kept me coming back for more. Yet again I was right in there with the crowd, screaming “BALL!” when the players refused to release it. And yet again I had a famous four and twenty pie, a quintessential footie snack. And it was deelish.
I crashed out early that night, exhausted from the previous night’s shenanigans and the cold air at the football game. I also knew I needed a good night’s sleep to prepare for the coming day. Possibly the most important day of my life. I was going to the Neighbours Night.
Tags: Australia, Travel
Suzanne