Road Reports and Lebanese Food

This morning, as I prepared to leave for work the morning road report on Channel 7 was advising caution and care around the intersection of Crown and Oxford Streets, an intersection I cycle through. I was there no more than 15 minutes later and there was no sign of a crash, no traffic delays, nothing. So who was that traffic report for? I assume most folks do not have or listen to TV in their cars. I also assume that I was at that intersection as quickly as it is reasonably possible to get there after having seen the report on TV. On my bike I will certainly out pace a car. So who is that report for? You hear about a problem that is defintely not a problem by the time you would get there. I think Channel 7 are just showing off about their helicopter. Them and their sponsors.

I need a backpack for use when on the bike as a holdall flaps all over the place and could have me off balance and in front of a car. So at lunch time today I decided to trawl around a few shops and see if I could find a suitable (decent but cheap) replacement for my Camelbak H.A.W.G that I left in the UK. I found the new model Camelbak; decent yes, cheap, definitely not. In one store, one of those dodgy stores that seem to appear and then disappear overnight, I was pounced upon by a creepy employee who kept trying to convince me to buy a larger pack that I wanted, presumably because they did not have one in the size that I did want. Not sure how many times I said "20 litres is too big" in response to his "get the 20 litre one" but I got sick of it, trawled on to other far more helpful staffed places and still failed to get a backpack. Note to shop workers; if it is really very clear that I know what I want and I make that clear to you and you do not have what I want, do not try and sell me what I don't want. You'll not only not make the sale you were never going to make anyway but you'll stop me from ever coming back into your store. Probably. I don't remember what was packed in our large case from the UK that we sent late and I paid duty on today and that arrives here at the flat next Wednesday. Maybe there is a backpack in there? I think not. One of the advantages of a piss-poor memry is the joy of rediscovering things you already own but have forgotten about. Far cheaper, in the long run, than having to continually get new stuff.

Apart from the slight increase in lunchtime blood presure the day passed uneventfully enough. Sal has had Kristian (aka Jody) over from the UK this week to help her at work and tonight was his last night in town and we went out for Lebanese in Surrey Hills. We went to Habibi on Cleveland Street and ordered the banquet of more food than you could ever need in one meal and stuffed ourselves on falafel, kibbi, houmus, kebabs, babganouche and loads of otehr stuff I can neither remember, pronounce or spell. All topped off with a baklava and peppermint tea and a belly dancer. I managed to get in trouble for "checking out" another woman diner in the restaurant. In my defense, and without a word of a lie, her breasts did enter the room before she did. Where was I supposed to look? Jody is a top lad and Sal is kinda sad to see him go but go back to Blighty he must. We bade him farewell, jumped in a taxi home and now need to sleep off all that good Lebanese tucker.