The Washup

How did you enjoy the Clipsal? I asked Pliny, when I saw him in the morning.

I found it quite edifying, said Pliny. I learned, for example, that at the Clipsal a red jacket is not just a red jacket, but dictates the man you are. I became, inadvertently, a Holden man, and what is more, a bogan.

You should have asked me, I knew that, I said. Wherever did you get that jacket from?

EBay, said Pliny. $8.95, Buy It Now. It was a ladies size 14, but I didn't think that mattered. It was a cheerful colour, and it kept me warm and dry.

You are certainly no bogan, Pliny, I said, affectionately. You are a something of a quiz.

I don't mind being called a bogan, said Pliny. The Premier said that bogans were the salt of the earth.

He would say that, he'd like them all to vote for him, I said. So you met the Premier? Who else?

I met Leo Sayer, a singer from the old days, I believe, and Murray Walker, the famous motor racing commentator. He was sitting at the table next to mine.

Wow, Pliny! Murray Walker. What was he like?

A little odd. He commentated on everything he ate.

You mean he commented?

No, he commentated. As if eating were a racing event. "And now here come the oysters up to the plate...."

How hilarious! Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Pliny.

I did. And what did you get up to on the weekend?

I went to a 40th birthday barbecue at the St Peters Billabong, on Saturday. It was lovely
there.

What a coincidence! I believe I passed your barbecue early in the morning. Did you have egg and bacon roll?

No, they were up to the chops, sausages, chicken wings and rissoles when we got there.

Well, said Pliny. Would you like some now?

Some what?

Some egg and bacon roll. I still have a large quantity of it in my pocket.

No thanks. And now Pliny, brace yourself, I have to tell you something tragic.

Pliny turned pale.

Odd Lunch Out

Yesterday I had a strange lunch. I didn't want an egg and bacon roll, or minestrone soup, or a stout and beefsteak pie, or a sausage, or a cheese and tomato toastie. I was looking at the menu of a lunch van on wheels, out of doors.

Why are there no greens? I asked myself. If anything had lettuce in it I would have had that.
It was the Farmers Market. You could obviously go and buy a lettuce, but it wouldn't have been washed, and it would just have been a lettuce.

So I went back to the food hall, and looked again at the stalls. Cheese, honey, chutney, bread, cold pies and tarts, everything was the colour of pastry. and nothing was warmed up. It was a cold day too, I'm telling you, you'll feel sorry for me soon.

The last stall at the northern end sold slices of leek and gruyere tart, cold lentil pie, falafel, vegetable fritters and little pastry triangles the colour of cold feet.

But, at the end of the display, was a row of fluoro yellow pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffins with a green swirl through the middle. This was the greenest thing I had seen to eat other than the lettuce, broccoli, chard, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini and other greens outside. So, tempted by the bright yellow muffin, which was also very cheap, I bought one and took it back to the outside table where my companions were eating.

They were eating egg and bacon rolls and hot minestrone soup. I opened my paper bag. What's that? they asked. Pumpkin risotto and sweet chilli muffin, I replied optimistically.

Now cooked rice loses texture when it's a day old. Pumpkin can be bland. And I never did discover what the green swirl was. It was just a green swirl tasting of nothing in particular, marking the point at which the muffin was to break in half, revealing a blob of cold sweet chilli sauce.

I ate the halves, breaking off each piece as though it would be my last. How was that? asked my companions.

It would have been nicer warm, I said, biting into an unwashed pear.