POT SPOT WATCH: Well, the sign said the lease finishes Sunday 9th of March. Sure enough this afternoon there was no sign of movement. Inside it appears than all the stock has gone. So… this could be it. Stay tuned for more developments as they happen.
First stop this morning was one of Isaac’s colleagues’ second birthday party in a park. We foolishly left the house without checking where we were really going, and this being the Garden State and the City Of Far More Parks Than Necessary, we ended up in the wrong park. (Not before we had spotted the inevitable Whitman’s blimp, however). Eventually we found the right place.
This afternoon I headed over to a flat rented by a couple of friends (the ones who got married in December). It’s very near Albert Park, the Grand Prix circuit, so they decided to have a little GP party. It’s not close enough or high enough to watch the race from, but close enough that you can get a glimpse of the tops of the cars whizzing by, and the noise well and truly drowned out the TV. Certainly beats surround sound.
Looking skyward it was amazing there were no aircraft collisions. I counted five helicopters at one stage (and yes, the Whitman’s blimp) as well as an RAAF jet that whooshed through just before the race started. At times it seemed more like a war zone than a sports event.
The race itself was interesting, though confusing. I freely admit I don’t follow Formula 1 enough to really know what was going on, and we couldn’t hear much of the commentary. And every so often a helicopter would fly over low and interrupt the TV reception.
For those of you who watched the race on the telly, I can let you into a little secret: they don’t stop during the commercial breaks.
The laughs came after the race when the Pommy commentators kept proclaiming how much of a "nice chap" the winner was, and one reported that it had been "a cracking race". That of course lead to "Cracking race, Gromit!" done in my best Wallace voice.