It has been a cold, wet and blustery day here today, with wind and hail coming directly from Antarctica. Just the day to go down to the bay, drink coffee, and check out how the waves and ships handle the weather. We decided on St Kilda pier kiosk, a delightful little café at the end of an about a kilometre of pier jutting out into the bay.
The walk there was like a gym workout, struggling against the blasting wind, hardly able to keep our feet. But we finally arrived and despite our many fellow travellers heading in the same direction, we found terrific seats at a window facing the ships anchored in the bay.
We ordered coffee: Julie a skim milk, decaf latte and (despite me only ever ordering small coffees) I ordered a large flat white (mainly to help me recover my breath and body warmth). And a lamington to share.
We had a lovely time.
When I finished my lamington (I’m not supposed to eat too much chocolate, so I always leave a few crumbs as a sop to my conscience) the sight of the leftovers on my plate triggered a long-repressed memory.
About ten years ago, Keely, one of Julie’s nephews, came to live with us. He had grown up with his mother in Queensland and decided he would move to Melbourne to find a job and maybe continue his studies.
Like every 18-year-old (then and now) he lived on the computer – our computer. One time, after quietly waiting for him to finish whatever he was working on, he logged out and left. I jumped into the still-warm seat and called up my current work. I had been eating a lamington at the time, so I put it (on a plate) next to the keyboard. As you do, I slowly ate the lamington as I worked. When it was all gone, I noticed coconut crumbs on the keyboard, so I started picking them up and eating them. Finally, I picked up quite a large piece and started chewing. It was hard and sharp. It took it out and looked at it. It wasn’t coconut, it was a chewed off fingernail. Keely’s fingernail. I spat and spluttered any trace of it into a tissue and told Julie. For some reason all she could do was laugh.
Which reminds me of another Keely-activated adventure. I was sitting at the kitchen table, about to eat a biscuit and drink some afternoon tea. As usual, I forgot to get my phosphate binders from the kitchen shelf. On the way there I noticed one sitting conveniently on the bench next to the table. So I picked it up, popped it in my mouth and had my afternoon tea.
I thought nothing more about it until Keely came home that night. In front of everyone, he said to me, Hey, did you see the white pill on the bench? Yes… I said, with the start of a bad feeling. Oh good! said he: I put it there. Mitzy (our cat) was trying to swallow it and kept sicking it up, so it I thought I’d put it out of reach. What! said I. What’s the problem says he. I ***ing ate it, that’s what!
Again, no sympathy from the rest of the family, just laughter.
I waited a week or so to make sure I hadn’t got feline enteritis or something before I started to see the funny side.
Ah, happy memories on a cold and wintry day.