Crofting in Melbourne Diaries

The weather, now in its middle winter, may be pretty awful, but overall I’ve had a great week. Because of the new job, I’m able to continue living in Melbourne, my employment and pay are more or less secure, and I’m even feeling fitter, running ten miles for the first time in about a year last night (in my work towards being able to run a half marathon again, this is a major step). I’m feeling far more relaxed, able to put my feet up on the sofa and watch the World Cup and True Detective without any background burdens.

On Friday night, I went out for celebration drinks (this may seem strange, but when somebody is able to leave the Commonwealth public service, there is an immediate round of congratulations). Ended up with Marilyn at the Croft Institute, a hipster hideout with medical-themed drinks containing a sugar content that could induce diabetes. I think she wanted me there as her wingman. As I’m only four years older than her, I instinctively treat her like my little sister, trying to make sure she doesn’t drink too much (which she invariably does) and doesn’t end up with some creepy guy (which she often does). The men there tonight seemed alright, so I was happy to let her scout out the room while I concerned myself with a weird art film being projected onto the back of the room. A former dancer and a very, very sexual person with a much younger face and body than her actual years, she never has any problem picking guys up. I was mostly there to have a few drinks and make sure she got home okay, or with a non-psychopathic man. On one previous occasion at the same bar, she ended up screwing some bloke in the graffiti-laden alley around the corner, returning nonchalantly five minutes later without speaking to her partner any further - at 33 (and with an intimidating sexual tally that runs into triple figures), this seems worrying behaviour. She’s also had long issues with drugs, mostly coke. I’m not judgmental about this sort of stuff, more concerned that she’ll get herself into serious trouble. However, this night was fine, as at about 1AM this night she remembered she had a gym appointment the next morning, and we headed off to our respective homes.

Also watched Richmond finally win a football game with my father on the weekend. Some arsehole behind us supporting the opposing team was incredibly unpleasant, personally insulting opposition players as ‘junkies’, ‘scumbags’, ‘cheats’, etc. My dad finally got jacked with him and told him to stick to his own team (some of whom have been in and out of court on rape and assault charges). The man then started to fire back, but it only took a one glare from me to shut him up. What a cowardly lion! I’m not tough in any real way, but with some muscle mass and a shaved head (currently sporting an unpleasant scar at the back from a running-related fall) I don’t look like the placid lawyer I am. It’s weird going from a meek 57kg schoolboy to someone with a more solid 85kg – at a particular point you cease to tolerate the crap you previously used to put up with.

All quiet at work this morning, or maybe I’m at ease for the first time in a year.