As much as you think you won’t like it, because it’s chock full of gross dried fruit, held together with beef fat, and has been sitting in a corner unrefrigerated for six weeks, Christmas pudding is an objectively wondrous thing, and you will love it. And you will ask for more.
I used to be Australian. Like, I was pretty good at it. I played cricket, I ate vegemite every morning, I made fun of Americans- I was an Aussie bloke. And above all, I knew how to act in a pub. I was more comfortable in a pub than in my own home. And the … Continue reading Farm animals, a sex romp, and some un-Australian behaviour: Brisbane & Melbourne
By my calculations, there are upwards of a metric bunch of restaurants called Bar Italia around the world. But my absolute favourite, and without doubt the only one ever I’ve been to, is Bar Italia. That place is great. It’s in the Sydney suburb of Leichhardt, which despite being named after an explorer from Prussia … Continue reading Stimulants, Attack Birds, and a Lovely Pie: Sydney
Note: this all happened ages ago. N When we left each other last, I was dealing with my 40th birthday with calm, philosophical, zen-like acceptance. And four jugs of Illusion and a tattoo. This dubious landmark fell, as have so many before it, on New Year’s Day; and as this was a big one, my … Continue reading Barbies, Big Bands, and Bolting from Bar Tabs: Sydney, Week 2
Note: the word "now" in the first sentence refers to a time about two weeks ago. Pretend I posted this then, and you're just reading it now. I know, you've been busy... I’m writing to you now (that was it) on a Cathay Pacific flight from Hong Kong to New York. They’ve got a good … Continue reading Little Italy, Big Fish,and Skank in a Chinese Brothel: Sydney, Week 1