You can all relax, comrades. I'm back in the federal electoral district of Batman, and have spent the last twenty-four hours frantically atoning for my Weekend of Profligacy. (Hear that, Sydney? Profligacy!) Melbourne feels new all over again. I noticed a poster for the Victorian Denture Scheme this morning, and immediately thought of dental prosthesis, 1860s-style.*
Sydney Town was the victim of an unprovoked deluge last week. By the weekend he was glittering and splendid. On my way to the Leichhardt Ladies' Hostel yesterday morning, I chanced upon an advertisement for hair-extensions, viz. "EMPOWER yourself with the HAIR OF YOUR DREAMS, thanks to the WORLD'S BEST hair extensions". That's my Leichhardt: bring me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses, and lo!, I will empower them with hair extensions.
I spent the better part of the weekend at Chateau Wool Spaniel, which was downright lovely. For me. My poor wee niece had to suffer my belting out Handel on the piano in preparation for Wednesday's choir audition. My full-throttled yodel was eventually subdued with her tactful "I think I've had enough of this music". Doesn't bode well for Wednesday, but at least she called it music.
I made a guest appearance at the Finnegans Wake Reading Group yesterarvo, for scoffing of pikelets and assassination of plain English. I'm seriously thinking of setting up the FWRG Melbourne Chapter. I can fit the meetings in between choir rehearsals and Women's Christian Temperance Union assemblies.
* By the mid nineteenth century, dentures were quite the thing in toothless circles. Indeed, the first porcelain dentures were constructed in the late eighteenth by one Alexis Duchâteau (no relation).