A Local Shop for Local People

On Saturday night The Burp and I had dinner with our friend Dr Zhivago, who is over from Melbourne for a few weeks. It was a fun night. We ate at a yummy Vietnamese restaurant in Vic Park - cheap, with big servings. And delicious. It's on Albany Highway directly opposite the Coles - for those of you who are local.

For those of you who aren't: suffer in yer jocks.

The three of us were in quite an exuberant mood and I think we may have been a trifle, er, boisterous. But what the hell - it was all good, clean fun.

Well, mostly. That's right. It's all coming back to me now.

When we got up to leave I noticed the expression on the faces of the three women at the table next to us. How well I knew that expression, having, I'm sure, had it plastered all over my face on more than one occasion. It was the expression that tried to look blank but really said, "At last, they're leaving. Now we can have some peace." I should have leaned over and whispered, "Over to you, ladies."

One thing that disturbed me during the evening was how often when I went to tell some hilarious story the Burp would say, "Oh yes, you've blogged that." Note to self: must expand repertoire of amusing anecdotes. Also, cue Grumpy saying, "What, The Burp's only heard them once before? She should count herself lucky."

We then drove round to a coffee shop in Applecross for hot drinks and cake. The Burp told Dr Z and I off when she brought water to the table and we, apparently, didn't thank her. We spent the rest of the evening taking delicate sips and praising the heavenly drink and the saint who brought it to our table. Actually, I cut it out after a while - I was afraid we were going to be sent to our rooms.