Last night, as we were sitting down to the televisual joyfest that is Rake (membrum virile, anyone?), Seriousimo and I felt like wetting our whistles. (Cleaver Greene kind of makes you want to hit the bottle.) We scoured the cellar — nestled beneath the dustiest and most pigeon poo-splattered nethers of Palazzo Trivialista — and stumbled upon this gem. Twas gifted to us by our very good chums, Los Harissas of the Wick of Rand, for Seriousimo’s last birthday.
La looked askance at Seriousimo. “Shouldn’t we wait, share it with Los Harissas?” And it took us all of, ooh, a third of a second to agree that it would be best tasted there and then.
Surely no-one would lop us off the friendship tree for that? Would they?
Today La enjoyed a real treat: lunch at Matt Moran’s new Wick of Chis in Woollahra. Good place, but the larger treat was the company — three gorgeous McK woman, currently visiting from the Land of Queens.
There was an interesting spud vignette going on near the entrance to the toileys. Not sure whether I’ll try this at la Palazzo just yet, but certainly something to keep in mind for those under-utilised corners.
I know this is La second mention of toot paper in the past few posts (have you been stocking up on 20 packs of Quilton for $10?); don’t want to appear obsessed. But this was a fetching meat safe/bog roll arrangement in the gorgeous loos.
What I am not loving is having been summoned for jury duty on Monday. Civic duty be damned — La did it in Londra a few years ago and there’s no more torturous experience than having to sit in a room with 11 complete strangers and come to an agreement. Apart from genuine torture.
Wish La luck.