Happy Birthday to me…

A visit to Melbourne is incomplete I feel until I do several things: spend time with my family in my home, dine in one of Melbourne’s restaurants, catch up with Chris, stroll through the CBD and Carlton and last but by no means least see Sherly. Until Saturday I had done all but the last.

On Saturday night, several of the old actuarial gang had decided to visit Cheryl in her new house in Rowville. Given that I hadn’t seen most of the gang in ages and due to the close proximity of my house to Rowville, I decided to drop by. As nice an area as Rowville/Lysterfield is to live, it is one that has been somewhat neglected by the public transport system. You see, in Melbourne, the vast majority of the public transport system was built in the 1930’s when new suburbs like Rowville and Lysterfield were still farmland and the network has hardly been updated since. Public transport just doesn’t buy votes it seems and despite almost the entire population of Rowville unanimously demanding a rail service, not one resident would want a rail line passing by their house. Hence Rowville remains a stranded suburb, bursting in growth fuelled by the great Australian dream and the relative convenience of affordable private transport. Consequently, the roads clog and choke under the extreme pressure, which happens to a point where traffic jams and grid locks occur on roads that are 30kms away from the city. It is a ridiculous situation and the solution offered by the government (to build more roads) is equally as ludicrous, but hey it is home and a darn good one at that.

Anyway the point of that socio-political commentary was to highlight the fact that Sherly and Alfred had no way of getting to Cheryl’s house, so I decided to offer my services as a driver and pick them up from the closest station, which is Glen Waverley, about a 25minute drive from Rowville. As always I had let time escape me, when Sherly called to be picked up from the station, the Pavlova was still baking, my room was a mess and I was barely ready. Nevertheless I somehow got most things together in 5 minutes and drove to Glen Waverley. Rain was cascading and everyone was running around me seemingly in random directions.

Everyone, it seems, has a different style when caught unsuspectingly in heavy rain, some have the ‘bent down head covered with both hands’ run, some have the ‘ducking with jacket pulled over head’ run, some have the ‘arms flailing’ sprint and some have the ‘sure and careful puddle avoiding’ run, but whatever style, no-one wants to get wet.

There was an undeniable aura of freshness that came with the rain, almost as though the parched land was breathing a sigh of relief at having its raging thirst sated. I didn’t do any silly runs through the rain, I simply put my hands in my pockets and appreciated the freshness and the cool sensation that each droplet gave as it struck my neck. I was happy, I sported a large smile as I walked to the station, I was about to see Sherly again.

I looked around the station until I saw her standing underneath the shelter. She gave me a warm smile as her big beautiful eyes locked with mine. Sherly is a girl of mesmerising beauty, but who is even more beautiful on the inside. She is one of the most kind hearted, honest and supportive people that I know and to go with that she is also one of the smartest people I know (and I know lots of smart people).

I pulled the car around so Sherly and Alfred didn’t have to get wet and I drove them to Cheryl’s house without getting lost even once. I briefly chatted to Cheryl to see what she had been up to and then I had to excuse myself to go home and finish making the Pavlova and clean the place up.

I returned bearing a Pavlova and was promptly invited back in to the house. By then everyone else had arrived and soon we started chatting against the backdrop of Oprah dispensing her advice and gems of wisdom on a big television. We ate (Sherly’s meatloaf was superb incidentally), we chatted and we played ‘uno’, which most of us needed a refresher course in how to play. As the night pressed on I went to get a bottle of wine from my place and took Sherly with me to show her my house. I gave her a tour in near darkness and with a whispering voice, as it was quite late and my family were sleeping. As we were leaving, Sherly something in one of upstairs windows and asked, “What is that?” To which I replied, “Oh, that is just my sister peeking.” What a strange sight it must have been for her to see: her brother with a strange girl and a bottle of wine driving off into the night.

We got back to the party and some of us decided to start drinking. Unfortunately I accidentally ‘christened’ the carpet of Cheryl’s new place by spilling my wine on it. Soon after I decided it was probably a good idea for me to head home.

When I woke up it was Easter Sunday and lunch was almost ready. Dad had cooked a nice meal and we ate together as a family, possibly one of very few times this year that we have actually managed to all sit down and eat a meal at the same time. That night Dad, my sister and I went to the comedy festival to see Dylan Moran, whose dark twisted style of comedy had us laughing for the bulk of the show and caused us to drop quotes from his act the whole evening. On that night I decided I would stay in Melbourne as long as possible, until the following Sunday.

My birthday was on the Monday and I headed into the city to meet up with Chris and Derek for lunch on Sydney Rd. Derek is one of the good friends I made during my undergraduate degree at Melbourne Uni. He is, if there could be such a thing, a fourth stooge to our core group of three stooges (Chris, Irz and I), an honorary stooge if you will. He is full of amazing and perplexing facts and often broaches topics that cause Chris and I to stare at him in shock and cause passers by to subtly walk past several times in order to hear him out.

I think the problem with birthdays though, when you get older at least, is that they force you to reflect on what you’ve achieved, where you’re going and ultimately come to the realisation that you are a helpless blob of matter being thrust relentlessly down a one way street on which the only two things that are known are what you have seen so far and what is at the end of the street.

Although, birthdays are also a day for one to feel loved by their family and friends and that warmth outweighs any other inevitable negative thoughts.

Until next time, take care.