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The bits
of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous
fortune. |
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| July |
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Close
this window to return to Mike Rudd & Bill Putt's Stop Press |
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 1)
Max clearly adores his new master 2) Chris recovers from his
dental procedure |
Chris'
day of reckoning
29.7.08 - After Chris' last encounter with
the dental profession, it was decided that a general anaesthetic
was the way to go, and an appointment was booked for yesterday
(Monday). I had to fit in my daily feeding frenzy with Max (pic
1) before meeting Chris and Teri at the Sir John Monash
private hospital, but |
| managed to arrive just a couple of
minutes after the appointed time of 9.00. I needn't have worried
- Chris wasn't actually required in surgery till after 11.00.
He was very calm and co-operative, and, happily, only one extraction
was required - plus three fillings. I stayed with him in the
post-op ward till after 1.00 when he was judged to be fit and
ready to tackle the rest of his life, and he walked a little
gingerly but unassisted to the van. I've just spoken to Eric
at Vermont St and apart from a little bleeding from the nose
- probably due to a tube being inserted in there during the
procedure - Chris seems to be recovering quite OK. |
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Robbo,
Lisa Robbo, and not so Stupid Max |
The
Robbos leave Max in Mike's care..
24.7.08 - You'll be aware that the Robbos
are heading over to Edinburgh so that Mr Robbo can don the full
Scottish regalia and bang his drum with the Rats of Tobruk Pipe
Band in the Edinburgh Tattoo - as well as having a well-earned
break from his massive list of students and the cares and worries
besetting him at home. (It's a long story). The potential complication
is Max the cat, (pic), and I have been chosen from
a host of applicants to give Max his morning meal and sponge
bath while the Robbos are away. (Only kidding, Max!) Max is
showing his age a bit, (he's fourteen), so I hope he's still
in good shape when the Robbos return, sporting their enviable
Highland tans and speaking in their newly acquired Scottish
accents laddie. |
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You will
burn in hell, Rudd! |
The
devil made me do it..
10.7.08 - Surprisingly, I don't feel too
bad. By rights I should be suffering for my night on the town,
but I actually feel pretty much as I always do at this time
of night - braindead, but otherwise sort of okay. Iain Ross,
(pic) South Australian and ornithologist in denial,
pops over to Melbourne in the course of his work every month
or so, and so we made arrangements on the Net to meet for a
meal. He was staying in Flinders St not far from the Aquarium,
so I chose to tram it, making sure I was in a good seat to keep
the two canoodling punks with the super-extravagant hairdos
under close observation. Trams are good for that. Iain had been
to the Meat & Wine Co. restaurant before and liked it, and
as I didn't have any other constructive suggestions, that's
exactly where we went. I'm not big on steaks normally. It's
not that I don't like them, they're just a bit rich for me these
days in just about every sense. But hell, this was a night out,
so we both chose 300g New Yorkers and washed them down with
a pretty Marlborough pinot. |
Some mighty fine discussion ensued,
a lot of it revolving round Dubai as I recall. Iain has spent
some time there and described in detail this fantastical city
of dreams built on the shifting desert sands.
We finished off a perfect meal with definitive crême
brulées, said our cheerios and walked off contentedly
in opposite directions. It was only when I was on the tram home
I realised that I'd left my trendy fingerless gloves at the
restaurant and texted Iain to retrieve them if it wasn't too
inconvenient. I'll pick them up when we're next in Adelaide. |
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