Mornington

So, yesterday evening, we went to beautiful Mornington, on the Mornington Peninsular. More specifically, we went to McCrae which is where Andy's boss owns a batch, or as they call it in Australia a "cabin". And it was so gloriously a seventies batch, built almost entirely in "natural" pine, and with an entire set of stoneware dishes (sighs with joy). Clearly somebody had an obsession with owls because there was a huge amount of owl statuettes, pictures, macrame. There were also lots of photos of babies we didn't know in the bath and lying naked on lambswool blankets. And, how much better does this weekend get, as there is nothing but musicals on TV tonight and I have a big bottle of scotch with my name on it (or at least, it looks like my name - it keeps swimming in and out of focus). On Wednesday at work I played the soundtrack to Chicago and had this twisted sort of fantasy that everybody would start dancing and singing about eggs and coffee and blood and stuff. That would have made my day. At secondary school a group of us wrote a remarkably entertaining operatta about, well, being at school. At least, it was funny for a group of fourteen year old girls. It included the immortal lines I can see the buboes appear, in my armpits and around my derriere Now, that's clever for a bunch of fourteen year old girls, you have to admit. It was the swansong of a character that was named after one of our teachers and that had contracted Bubonic Plague because of their nastiness.