Our buddies Andy and Kelsey came all the way from Sydneytown to spend some time with us. Sadly, I had to work on Friday, but the good news was that it was working at my favourite job—makin' coffee and spinning yarns at Sol Breads cafe in West End.
Hopefully there will be photographic evidence of this, and I am sending him an invoice for the saddle—yeuch!
Kelsey and Andy and Brisbane
Because mum was away for the weekend—and hence mother's day—she came along to Sol for morning tea, and Aido drove Andy and Kelsey for morning tea and we had a big noisy morning tea together. It was good!
That night, we decided to show the southerners the way we o burhers in Brisbane, so we went to Grill'd in Ascot for a mighty dose of mustard and pickles in a sesame seed bun. Mmm.
We then moved to our loungeroom, where we drank G&T's and I promptly started to fall asleep on the couch. Yes, I am very tough...
Saturday was a whirlwind of getting up super early to do k's so that I could hand out with Kelsey at the Green Flea markets, West End, and check out all the hip and cool things at GOMA, Brisbane's answer to NY's MOMA (or something like that). We ate sandwiches, bought many organic fruit, veges, meat and far too much coffee (because that's really unusual for me...) and generally had a merry time.
We also went wedding dress shopping, but I have a feeling that kelsey and I have rather antithetical views on such things—Kelsey loving big dresses with frills and ruffles...and me, well, not so much.
All the shopping was wearing me down, so we caught the train home, made a curry and drank G&T's while watching Napolean Dynamite for the 7000th time, while I fell asleep on the couch (is there a theme developing here?).
Sunday was another hoot—smashing the SS early before a mothers day brekky with Andy's parents? Strange but true—his parents live on the Goldie. So we hung out at Harvey's on James Street, drank so much coffee that I jittered for the whole day, and perused the local shops. But I had to—it gave me the edge to survive our BBQ madness of Sunday eve.
And madness it was. It consisted of Stevie, my singlespeed, being violated through a 20 second 'house lap' consisting of riding down the drive beside the house, up the front stairs, through the house, out the rear verandah, down the stairs of doom (watch out for the laundry!) and a flat sprint to the far corner of the year, hairpin and back to the start/finish.
The house-lap madness begins.
It was, by all accounts, a technical house lap. I would report on who won, but I don't think that anyone really knows. I was out when I rode into the plants beside the 'technical' laundry section, having to plaster myself up with band-aids and ply myself with beer (we ran out of Gin), as a form of pain relief.
I guess the most memorable thing—though I keep asking myself whether it actually did happen—was when we were haing a runners vs. riders house lap, which consisted of Mallet, Rowan and myself (runners) versus Andy (on Stevie). We smashed him, and were through the start finish before he even rode down the stairs.
It was immediately apparent why.
Andy rode down the stairs—a big, white and brown streak of nude body atop my poor bike. Am pretty sure the brown bits were merely tanlines, but I digress...
Andy and my poor bike
Now our Sydney buddies have gone, though they have left their mark here in Brisbane (at least on my saddle, anyway).
it's back to the daily grind, and it's killing me. I am living for the weekend.