It's Tuesday night in the 'bush

So, two facts. Both rendered indisputable like erosion renders things indisputable: by the steady drip-drip of me saying it over and over. First, I live in Carringbush and the Tote is my local. Second, I do like my booze.

Except, one of these isn't quite true. With a good arm I could throw a stone from here and hit the Tote. But as this posited stone approached the top of its arc, it would fly past another watering hole. That one, if you're being pedantic, is my local. It's a corner hotel, built in a Walt Disney castellian style, with bright turquoise spires projecting from every perpendicularity. From a distance you'd say it's almost cute. Actually it's rough as guts. The closest I've ever been to mugged was walking past the front bar one Sunday afternoon, when a bloke with one arm wrapped around his girl put his other hand on my chest and inquired after my finances. That was something of a quandry, because you don't want to antagonise a belligerent man in front of his woman. The situation was eventually defused by the security guard who (oddly tenderly) embraced my assailant, turned to me and said "You'd better get the fuck out of here, bro".

I probably owe that guy a beer.

Anyway, the Tote is my local. The alternative doesn't even really register anymore. But this evening I had some work to do, and by extension that involves a dose of the great programming elixir. This pub is by any measure the most convenient of my available liquor vendors, and tonight I figured that having navigated the shadier streets of Gotham, nothing in Carringbush could hold any terrors. So I ducked across the road into the bottle shop, looking for a white wine. I cast my eyes about the shelves for a second, and then the proprietor appeared. "Have you got... oh," I said, as I found the fridge on the other side of the counter. She sort of snorted, and I looked at her.

She was a short, stocky woman with close-cropped hair. And a well-groomed moustache.

"...Could I get the Jacobs Creek Chardy?" She snorted again, we swapped bottle for change, and I was almost laughing. God I love Carringbush.

Joseph | 1 Apr 2008

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