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melbourne: so hot… so completely cool

I think I’ve only been to Melbourne in summer once before. Today she is gray and wet and from my window on the twelfth floor I can see buildings and cranes with little twinkling lights on top. Today she is what I’m used to seeing her like. People scurry like ants on the street below. They seem huddled in on themselves.

But she turned on a fine show for me these past 48 hours. She was warm but she’s just so fucking cool. She dazzled with light and sparkling blue skies. She caressed with cold when the heat became unbearable.

Melbourne invited me in to her shows and restaurants in little graffiti laneways and fed me exquisite morsels of food that seduced my tongue and my tastebuds. She molested my mouth with microherbs and creamy avocado and nuts and seeds roasted in heaven. She exposed me to oysters and slivers of kingfish served in little cast iron cauldrons. They were like magic. You lift the lid and tendrils of trapped smoke jump out at you and tickle the inside of your brain. The dish begged to be licked.. but this is Melbourne and I don’t think they do that here in public. 

I ate and I drank. Mimosas at breakfast, gin and tonic at tea. I walked the streets and took photos. Nearly too many to count. I celebrated friendships old and new. I talked and talked and talked. And laughed. And cried. I met women I want to grow up to be like. I met others I never want to grow up to be like… I even managed to shop a little. Mostly black. 

I learned about the myriad forms of love. Safe love and precious love. Reckless love and unrequited love. Everlasting love and complete love. I learnt that I can’t be away from my little family for more than three nights without wanting to run back to them. Desperately. Longingly.

I reignited my love for art and creativity and three years on, I cannot imagine a more perfect way to celebrate my Comaversarry than by being in Melbourne by myself. I may even be getting a bit of my mojo back… and every time I worry about not going forward, I look back and realise how far I’ve come. The recovery was harder than the illness but the journey back up to the top has made it all worth it.

Melbourne you seduce me. I will be back. 

Dee x

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it doesn’t have to be long to be pleasurable…

There are restaurants and there are restaurants and then there’s Papa Goose. Tucked away in a quirky little lane way in Melbourne, this place had me at Papa Goose. I literally could not go past the name. Or that they were superb from the moment I made my first phone call to them ten days ago. Or that they were happy to chop and change and plan and accommodate and unset their set menu just for us. 

Or the fact that my husband is now convinced I will send Christmas cards to the very gorgeous Tammy and Alex. What? They were lovely. And the amount of times I called them, they might think I’m family no? And let us not forget Nora. A lovelier waitress I have not met in my entire life. Thank you. 
I wasn’t convinced that ‘British’ was actually a cuisine. I mean fish and chips cannot possibly please everyone can it? So our little group was quite chuffed when they brought out the most exquisite food. Even the Grumpy Gorgeous One Who Shall Remain Unnamed got his Yorkshire Pudding just because he asked. Nicely.
The salmon was lovely…we had to lean over and swap and share to taste…but good friends can dig in to each other’s plates can’t they. The porterhouse (I think it was porterhouse) was divine. I didn’t get to taste the crispy skinned chicken but it looked pretty damn fantastic too. But for me the highlight was the lamb. Oh. My. God. I would like to say no lambs were harmed for this blog post but I am grateful that they sacrificed their own lives for us last night. Thank you lambikins, may you come back as an evolved being in your next life and may no one eat you. 
And wonderful food is still only just food without the love and laughter of friends old and new. Though most were old, some were new but felt old… like a pair of soft comfy uggies. 
Like the diver who’s old but new. He’s interesting and he’s lovely. He rides a bike that’s not a Harley but I will forgive him this one indiscretion. And a man who’s about to become a father and keeps an Excel spreadsheet of his wife’s progress. How gorgeous. And my beautiful friend who saves lives with the SES and is the only woman in her team who can do everything the boys do. Or the other crazy beautiful girl who’s triumphed over something so scary, I wonder how she laughs with such abandon, let alone gets out of bed. And my beautiful bald shiny husby. And every single person at that table last night…
It wasn’t an excessively long evening but it was an excessively enjoyable one, so I will end with what a wise man once said. Re-read the title. I wasn’t being vulgar!
Dee x