Birthday party

June 14, 2010

Queen’s Birthday today, and her gift to us is a day off work. Hurrah! We three went for a four-hour walk to celebrate. To North Fitzroy for breakfast then Carlton, Royal Park, around the zoo, through the virtually student-free Melbourne Uni, and then home through Collingwood. ‘Twas lovely. Especially the bit where Squid splashed boistrously through the long pond of the university’s South Lawn (something I had always wanted to do myself when I was a student) then bounded across the grass to where a couple lay canoodling and stole whatever snack they had been picnicking upon. We waved and shouted at her like fools, trapped on the other side of the moat.

The Queen’s was not the only birthday of the weekend, mind. I’m astonished we could walk at all after the German-themed party of one of the Curmudgeon’s oldest friends on Sunday evening. Beer, pretzels, 23,634 types of preserved meat and sausage, onion cake, roast pork and apple cake. Lordy. I don’t think the Germans poo much, do you? I couldn’t spot any fibre at all among myriad foodstuffs. Perhaps explaining the national obsession with inspecting one’s own wurst, faciliated by the platform toilet.



  1. Dirndl photos? Pleeeeeeease?

  2. Go Squid! Liberate those bourgeois foodstuffs from the grasp of the enemy!

  3. I miss my old planform toilet….is that wrong?

    • Nothing’s stopping you from pooing on a plate, Fi. You can inspect your wurst whenever you like.

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