It is perhaps fitting that it took all of the month of February for us to finish our scheduled F date activities. And while it was an enjoyable month of festivities, I dare say it took much longer than either of us anticipated to bring this date to a finite end.
But, finally. We are here. Read on for the wrap up.
Nothing says “F” more than the French, home of the friand, French champagne and…these guys.
With a new diet on the horizon, a night of decadent French cuisine was deemed a little too risky by the controlling parties, however I thought I had harked upon a suitable solution: French inspired dessert! So it was that we ventured out one Thursday evening to a four course dessert degaustation at Cafe Rosamond, based in Fitzroy no less, courtesy of Pierre Roelofs. Too bad our friend Pierre is actually Swiss, but I would not be deterred. Hell, if Napoleon can claim Switzerland for close to five years, I can claim French inspired dessert for a few hours.
However, no inner city romantic evening would be complete without a parking fine…
This, coupled with the shady state of my beliefs of Swiss-French cultural boundaries, was not an auspicious start. (Editors Note: I seem to have a knack for being punished by the law, unraveled by the fuzz, impeached by the State, when I am doing romantic niceness with the lady. Day we got engaged? Parking fine. F date? Parking fine. ATTENTION CITY OF MELBOURNE & SURROUNDING COUNCILS: give a guy a break, hey? kthxbai)
Luckily, the dessert was worth the fine and then some. Golden syrup and vanilla bean dumpling flavoured tubes? Yes please. Raspberries, violet, strawberries, banana’s, lemon and other delights creatively re-imagined to make me forget my debt to the City of Yarra council? Too easy.
Perhaps smarting from my lack of French awareness, or even the weight of the fine, it was to be many weeks before I felt game enough to tackle part deux of our F date. Tackle being the appropriate word here, as one cold, wet Sunday morning we struck out for the ocean to do a spot of fishing! The Warmies, at the foot of the Newport Power Station, was to be our moist home for an hour or so.
It has to be said I am not the most natural of fishermen. Not being gifted with particularly dexterous fingers, nor an innate love of slippery creatures, renders me somewhat of a rank amateur in the fishing game. Luckily, a phone call to Fish Genius Mark, a quick read of this book…
…and a simple $6 fee later, and I had a license to fish. Apparently, this is actually more than you need, given that the book is not mandatory reading by the Department of Primary Industries, and that Mark is also not on the payroll. I don’t know that I was expecting more resistance, but certainly, given the propensity I have to do damage to myself with sharp objects (see: fish hooks, scaling knives, etc), I don’t know whether I was exactly a safe option for the DPI here.
But hey, if you can’t be the part, look the part, right? You want gear? OH WE GOT GEAR!
The good news is (for you, the reader, at least), that Theresa is a natural fisherwoman, someone with an affinity to the ocean, able to summon tasty morsels from the sea at the flick of her slender wrist. Proof? Exactly 5.5 minutes in, while Amateur Hour here was still baiting his hook, the Lady In Blue had snared a whopper!
The really sad thing is that TV has spoiled us. If it wasn’t for Rex Hunt or Deadliest Catch, maybe, just maybe, with some good PR I could have made this fish a champion. Instead we have this picture. Needless to say our mini snack size snapper (we think) went back in, and the rest of the time was spent donating pilchard, pippie and squid to the bottom feeders. We got nibbles, we reeled in, we casted, we waited and talked. All in all, the perfect fishing adventure, despite the lack of evidence otherwise.
You could be forgiven for thinking that like the traditional hunter-gatherers, we went hungry this day, unable to support our lifestyle from the bounty of nature. You would be wrong.
Fish and chips, the way only a corner store with a few deep fryers can make. Nothing against the original hunter-gatherers, but I do like my methods just as much. Crunchy on the outside, mushy and lovely on the inside. Sadly, our personal favourite corner store ‘Theo’s’ on Melville & Albion was shut for the day, but our substitute special of the equally Greek-inspired Joe’s made do quite comfortably.
And I can bet your bottom dollar Original Man didn’t have the fine dining entertainment I laid on for the lady this wintery afternoon.
If I can only convince you of one thing and one thing only this update, it’s this: watch Fringe. Then watch it again. The show will make your brain hurt a little bit, but you’ll be drawn in again and again, if only to see Pacey play a role that isn’t Dawson’s Creek or Mighty Ducks. If anything, season two of Fringe brought us full circle: lead actor Joshua Jackson is famous for playing your typical love-struck teen in an ongoing soap based near a creek/water source, which was no doubt full of fish and, well, you can see where I’m going.
In the aftermath of date F we realised just how far behind we’d become with this here alphabet dating series: only 36 more Saturdays to go, and close to 20 odd dates still to fulfill. We may have to improvise a bit here folks so stay tuned!