I was still feeling a tad too closely embraced by my cold - yes it has been around so long and so many times, I have developed Stockholm Syndrome attachment to it - so today was designed to be a quiet day where nothing much of anything happened.
We sort of stuck to that. The only planned item on the agenda was brunch with friends Fahmi, and Waz, on Saturday which was lovely as far as it went. As usual, they were great company but we mistakenly picked Jett Cafe at St Peters station who's menu is designed to cater to busy commuters want quick, easy and generic on the go food and coffees. It is not really a brunch destination, and while the food was OK, I won't be heading back there for brunch, or probably ever. Ah well.....
We redeemed a lacklustre brunch with a meander down King Street into all the antique and second hand goods stores, where Fahmi picked up a retro seat for his loungeroom, I grabbed a birthday pressie for my gorgeous guy, and we thumbed through more LPs than I have seen since the 70s! Lovely relaxing rambling. Perfect.
Since that took longer than expected, my gorgeous guy and I headed back to his place, had a nap, read the paper (and did the usual Saturday Top 20 Quiz in The Good Weekend) and then gave up on going to the movie we'd planned for a chilled night, having dinner at good ol' Jinnahs, the quirky, kitsch-laden Pakistani restaurant in Dulwich Hill (which would be the perfect venue for a Eurovision party; heck even Eurovision itself!) before watching the Dr Who episode we'd missed the previous Sunday while we were soaking up the gloriously tacky vibe of Eurovision's final.
A great makey-uppey day (as my Irish flat mate would term it).
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