Morning, Melbourne

Doug: Well, hello to another working week. Good morning, Melbourne.

Melbourne: Good morning, Doug.

Um, right, I wasn’t entirely expecting you to answer back.

Well, anyway, what have you got planned for the day?

Thought I’d go with a crisp, cold autumnal morning and then crank it right up to a late-summer 24 degrees. I flirted with the idea of a re-run of Wednesday’s dust storm, or Saturday’s unpredictable rainy squalls, but I hate repeating myself.

The dust storm was a nice touch. Reminded me of my Broken Hill childhood. Still, I like a city with a decent winter.

I noticed. You do realise it’s still not quite cold enough to be going to work in a vest and overcoat? Not everyone is as enamoured of your Giles first-season Buffy fashion statements as you, you know.

Feeling good about Monday, though?

Little tired. Big weekend. In the words of Homer J Simpson: “stupid liver”.

I’ve also missed three yoga sessions in the last eight days. Wednesday night is going to hurt.

Well you did promise yourself that moving down here was a lifestyle choice.

Which has paid off handsomely. As I was saying to people, even months ago, I’ve never been happier with a change I’ve made. I like my job, my boss, my work colleagues, my landlord the gentleman academic and the pittance he charges me in rent, the friends I knew from other cities who I’ve managed to set up the Book Club of Intestinal Fortitude with.

Things were pretty much rocking along before I got into blogging.

And blogging’s been working for you?

Has it ever! Blogging has been fantastic to me. The principal pay-off is the discipline of writing daily and the self-esteem boost that comes with being read daily. Gaining enough technical competence to install a comments system and site meter, as well as tidy up my formatting a smidgin has been good too.

Launching “Naylor’s Canberra” as a blog too was a good idea. I’ll actually have to finish the project now or fail in a terribly public forum – and people are beginning to feel free to leave constructive criticism.

And socially?

I really didn’t expect the additions blogging has made to my social life. It was a big weekend for blogging. Friday night I was treated to pasta alla pixelkitty when I went to dinner at Natalie and Mark’s place with missjenjen – though I was, cumulatively, the worst scoring scrabble player present on missjenjen’s new scrabble deluxe board.

You do feel old, though, when at the working week’s end three games of scrabble and some wine is enough to wipe you out completely. Still had a really great night, it must’ve been the company as it sure as hell wasn’t the quality of my game.

(How does Mark always get out first, darn him?)

Saturday kicked off with providing wheels for a shopping posse: Jen, Ange and Ms Erin were off to hunt in A Secret Factory Outlet in Abbortsford. I dropped them in some non-descript location and went off to brunch and burn CDs with Beth and her fab (“I call it a ‘laser’ …”) flatmate. Not before Erin leant me a sampler CD of the magnificent Brad Mehldau, though – a modern US jazz pianist of the first rank I’d never heard of before. The seven minute non-album track, a piano only interpretation of Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android”, is magnificent. (I like Erin’s style.)

Saturday night, though, was the blog-based killer. The culmination of JenFest 2003: missjenjen’s birthday drinks at the Black Pearl on Brunswick Street. (Also Marcus’ birthday drinks of course, but it was a Designated JenFest! Event.) Great 70s burnt-orange and brown, mood-lit, loungey atmosphere – Deane Martin coulda swanned in sporting a tux at any moment.

And the cocktails?

You know my weaknesses, you hussy, and you’ve designed this town as one big Doug-trap. Yes, there were great $12 cocktails. Yes, I put my card behind the bar. Yes, I had a least four cocktails after a gin and tonic kick-start.

Oh dear. But the company was good?

Of course it was! I walked Jen over, birthday-boy Marcus arrived next and Beth and Andrew of Monkey Puzzle weren’t far behind. The Pixelkittys were there, and Erin and her husband Simon – who is just as charming as Erin, which is altogether more charm than one couple should be allocated. Oh, there was Hot Soup Girl and Gulfstream as well – lots of cool people including several I didn’t really speak to, and whose URLs I didn’t collect, dammit. And the “civilians” were also great value: yes, I still talk to people who don’t blog. How the evening ended anyway other than face down on paving stones in my dinner jacket and Chinese-print black waistcoat is beyond me.

So you were really hung over Sunday, right?

No, my policy of sticking to clear spirits pays dividends.

Very tired, though.

Very tired.

Thanks for that cool afternoon and not too much harsh sunlight though, nice touch.

Nice quiet, non-blogging start to your week, then? Well deserved liver-cleansing night in?

Actually, I’m going for a beer with Marcus. I need someone to initiate me into the ways of the Bulldogs, my newly and accidentally adopted local team. Beth may join us, too.

Wait ... 'accidentally adopted'?

Um, I said I’d supported the Bulldogs in primary school. I actually meant Canterbury. Wrong football code, apparently. But now I’ve declared a team, I’m stuck. Nothing worse than a Melbournite who changes teams.

Well, at least you’ve learned something about my mysteries …

I’m working on it. Now I just need to see more live music.