another blissful reunion

This is a strange old holiday, going through this strange reunion thing with people you haven't seen for ages every couple of weeks. But the one person who I hadn't seen for the longest was dear old Cristos, who pre-dated even my drinking days at the Bank, and that's a few years ago now. These days she's working at a strange little place south of Melbourne called Flinders, which, for want of a better description, is Victoria's answer to Stonybridge (anyone else remember Absolutley?) Anyway, being a woman of some means now she came up to Melbs to pick me up and whisk me down south in her little jeep fro a whistle-stop tour of the area; we took in the Pig And Whistle, a bizarre english-style pub set in the hills with a beer garden to die for (which is useful, since most people would have a coronary at the prices!) Then it was onto Flinders and the motel where she worked for a few pots in the afternoon sun and some catching up. Back in the jeep for a trip to the blowhole, which I can't be bothered explaining but it was lovely (once we eventually found the bloody thing) Back to the motel again for some more beers and dinner; I went for the weinhaus sausages on creamy mash with green peas, mmm! And Chris' boss even sorted me out with a room in the motel for a night, which was awfully decent of him, though I had to whip her at pool before I went to bed. The next day we took a trip up to, erm, Arthur's Seat, had a beer overlooking the peninsula before taking our lives in our hands and taking the chairlift down the hillside and back, probably the most relaxing and enjoyable half-hour of my hols so far. Then it was back up to Melbs and see you again in five years sweetie. But what really made my twenty-four hours in Flinders, apart from Chris insisting on paying for everything, was the fact that she said I was fatter than when she saw me last, and that it looked better on me. Now that's a mate!

the blowhole; don't ask...