On Friday night I enjoyed a night of fine wining and dining with some work colleagues, at a very nice restaurant that I’d never have dreamt of going to myself, because I have to admit, it’s just a little bit out of my league. In fact, Cafe Di Stasio is very probably the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to. The wine was lovely, the food exquisite, the service was excellent, with possibly just a hint of wankiness. I felt a little bit out of my depth, though I don’t think I was the only one more familiar with the not-so-fine dining of establishments such as Maccas and Pizza Hut.
It was a great experience, especially with such fine company. Though I’m certainly glad I wasn’t paying the bill which must have made a sizeable dent in somebody’s credit card. And I couldn’t but help think of the above song quote afterwards.
Sunday morning was spent going for a little stroll down St Kilda Road with my mum and her boyfriend and a few hundred thousand other people on the Reconciliation Walk. As usual there’s debate about how many people there were. All I know is it was a lot. The police say about 200,000 people. The organisers say 300,000 to 400,000. Why can’t they ever agree on these things? I mean, you could understand estimates being 20% or 30% different, but 100% different? And it happens every time there’s some humungous event like this. You get the feeling that if they filled up the MCG with 98,000 people, and the grandstands were quite obviously full, the cops would still claim there were 70,000 and the organisers would say 140,000.
Anyway, the rain held off, and merry old time was had by all. No matter how many of us there were.