Not much to say

This will probably be like my non blogging posts, my thoughts and fingers will run away with me.

Saturday, I invited Phyllis and Kosov to the big green shed where I would buy some plaster screws, with the tempting offer a charity fund raising sausage in a roll, onions on the bottom, with the choice of tomato sauce, barbeque sauce or mustard. They failed to arise by 11.30 and I was hungry, so left without them. 

My trip was pointless, as I didn't really know what I was looking for and there weren't staff available to help me. I went on to Bay Street, Port Melbourne and bought a chicken and avocado sandwich with coffee at a bakery. I asked for half of the sandwich to be wrapped to take home, and it was. I took the car through a car wash, and then I was caught in a terrible traffic jam in Albert Road, thanks Australian Grand Pricks, with road closures. It took about 20 minutes to travel one kilometre. I was in a very bad mood by the time I was home. Phyllis apologised for not getting up earlier. 

Sunday morning former Tradie Brother, now Caring Profession Brother sent me photos of plaster screws. I was over complicating it. But then Phyllis and Kosov arose at a reasonable time and asked if I would like to visit Victoria Market. Yes! 

It was principally to buy fresh food. I made them stop while I had coffee but then Phyllis bought a shared meal for us. They only bought one bag with them, so Kosov had to carry a cauliflower around the market and on his lap on the way home. 

Phyllis lost his sense of direction but I had not and we walked back to the 58 tram stop, unfortunately via the jewellery and toy aisle. That took some time. 

Sunday evening I was apprehensive. My former gay workmate had suggested we catch up for a meal at the nearby France Soir. It had seemed so posh to me in my mind. While it was upmarket, it was fine and the staff, mostly French backpackers I would guess, were great. I asked for the wine list but it was overwhelming, so I asked for a house sauvignon blanc. Even so, I doubt it was a $10 glass of wine. The food was nice. My friend has a very healthy appetite and there was plenty of food to satisfy us. Another glass of wine, and then an espresso coffee, wound up the night nicely. My friend, ever so kindly, paid for our meal. I will return the kindness next time, where we will dine at McDonalds. The cost was somewhere between $200 and $250. The fellow diners were all interesting too, with quite a few gay men and the usual mix of inner Melbourne society. So my fear of being a common person in a posh restaurant was unfounded. 

Mondays I have to hang around at home to wait for my weekly meals on wheels food delivery, which arrives sometime between noon and 1. But earlyish, I crossed the road to sit and have a cup of coffee. 
In the afternoon wee shopping and a haircut done in Prahran, and Phyllis arrived home from work quite late, as he had stopped off to buy chick pea flour, and a model dragon for Kosov. The fish curry had been in preparation since yesterday, with Kosov doing some more cooking during the day. I was served the fish curry, with rice and a nice sauce, roasted cauliflower florets and spicy broccoli. My mentions of having greens seems to be getting through to them. At the age of 21, Phyllis is a terrific natural cook.

It didn't occur to me for a while, but both of them were born in the 21st century. They are millennials and digital natives.   

The middle of the month is when I catch up with my neighbour HH for brunch. I suggested to her that today, Tuesday, would she like to brunch at Acorn Nursery, as I need to buy a balcony plant at the nursery, and she replied with a yes, so it will be a motor car journey to the plant nursery along the most horrible and congested road you can imagine. I will put on my chill coat and not shoot fellow idiot motorists.

Phyllis is quite nice looking and impeccably groomed, but I've never taken a good photo of him. Kosov, with a bag over his shoulder full of fish, fruit and vegetables, dutifully carried the cauliflower home on the tram from the market. 

I live a privileged life compared to many, but at times it all feels so hollow and purposeless.