Sometimes, when travelling without junior cost centres and turbulence, one can savour the chance to remind Laself of the miracle of flight.
And the triumph, these days, that is Virgin (above, new shiny plane) and the tragedy that is Qantas (below, old grotty plane).
So why such a reflective, slightly melancholy Triv? Today, Ladyfest 2012 ended prematurely, under very stressful and worrying circumstances. BeBe Brunny, la much-loved mother-in-law of fellow Ladyfester, Brunny, ended up in surgery last night with a torn aorta, and is currently in intensive care. La and Brunny returned to Brunswick (well, where else would she live?) so Brunny could give an understandably upset and anxious Mr Brunny lots of hugs. The fest was brief, but precious. Fingers crossed for Mr Brunny’s magnificent mamma.
But, before that, this was a welcome sight at the Harbour City airport.
And this was beyond delicious.
In an effort to funk it all up a notch, treated Laself to these at the aeroporta.
L’arrived at Tullamarino and drove to Brunny’s, being careful to keep la heart rate under control whenever I was forced to share the road with a tram. Those monsters scare the bejezzers out of me.
Brunny had a gorgeous rose in her garden. Wish this was a scratch-and-smell site, as its bouquet was amazing.
Before the neutron bomb of poor Brunny’s family crisis hit, she and I hit the blacktop and headed for the Ton of Kyne. Once there and safely installed at Mollisons, we headed out and wasted no time ordering our first cocktail, a Middle Eastern Lemonade at the delicious Mr Carsisi on Historical Piper Street. This is Brunny, clutching hers in a vice-like grip. Too tart for her as it turned out, but just fine for La. Cheers!
Historical Piper Street has amazingly historical flagstones. Glad it wasn’t a teetering-heels type of weekend.
We looked at these in the divine Prunella florist, also on Historical Piper Street. They’re photos ($195 unframed, $395 framed) which look uncannily like Dutch masters. Telephonic purchasing is defo happening this week. Era of Frugality be damned.
Dinner was gobbled at the sublime Royal George Hotel. Meal was amazing, and dessert even better, especially with a little snifter of 1985 Pedro Ximenez. There was lots of ‘soil’, but — unusually in la books — it managed to be delish instead of annoying.
Walking home from dinner, poor Brunny got The Call. Unfortunately, those dastardly Middle Eastern Lemonades and Pedro Ximenezes meant we couldn’t drive back to the Wick of Bruns last night. Sleeping it off, as they say, was in order.
Back to the Harbour City. Fingers and toes crossed for BeBe Brunny.