We met An and James for dinner at one of my favourite restaurants. Before that another dull day at the office was enlivend at lunchtime with a jog around the piers of Walsh Bay. For a change. After work I went into the local Virgin music store and picked up two copies of the most recent Billy Birmingham 12th Man CD, Boned. One for James and the other for Darren, my brother, who reads this and therefore should not be surprised when it arrives in a couple of weeks. I got the bus over the Bridge to Neutral Bay, a suburb I lived in from 1999-2002, and met Sally, James and An under the canopy of a large oak tree in the beer garden of the aptly named Oaks Hotel. The Oaks is a huge pub that most Sydneysiders know about. Probably because of the tree. It is a very pleasant place to sit and sup on a hot day, the tree (planted 1938) providing plenty of shade. It hasn't changed much in the 3-and-a-bit-years since I was last there. The pizza menu has not changed either, and that is a good thing, the parmesan and anchovy twists being a personal favourite. The big BBQ is still in the garden for those who like to cook their own steak. A nice touch that, common in Australian pubs, but one I am not sure would work in England's city centre pubs. I fear as many bottled faces as steaks would end up on the hot plates. Especially in Yate's and Edward's and other pile 'em high beer-barns.
I digress; back in the southern hemisphere we left the pub though the Tramway bar and that has changed. A bit. It has been refurbished in the style a cheap early 80s bar. Well I hope it has, because that is what they have achieved with various browns. A shame, because the tramway bar was the one amongst the Oak's 4 or 5 bars that looked most like an old Australian pub. It had a few dodgy bits of furniture arranged on dodgy carpet and it was frequented by the older, less cultured (Ooo, I'm so arogant!) clientelle. The more hip and well-healed played pool in one of the many upstairs rooms or slouched on their balconies, hung out in the garden or the back bar (good Guiness), or dodged large groups of diners in the bistro. I liked the tramway. We walked thorugh it and straight opposite to Kenta.
And it has not changed at all. The signage is stickers on the window, the handful of chairs and tables are mismatched cheap and not particulalrly cheerful, the menus have not changed and neither have the prices. And neither, therefore, did my choice of dinner; set special with sashimi and fish teriyaki. It is a good feed, right on the borderline of too much food. For $16.90, or about seven quid in old money, you can't do better. Even the presence of a kid throwing up into a bucket did not lessen, and in fact probably enhanced my enjoyment of the evening. He left shortly afterwards and - thankfully - did not leave behind the vomit smell that can set others a-chucking. Before we parted for what may be a year or so - their holiday is almost over - I handed An and James the CDs (Darren, you're waiting until those two get back to the UK and post one to you) and we get a lift home. And An handed me my (very) belated birthday present. Twenty two days beore my next birthday and one day after clambering back on the wagon I became proud owner of two bottles of Bundaberg rum. Roll on April 22nd...
The remainder of the evening was dedicated to measuring our (small) lounge room to see how best we can fit a (large) sofa into it. Got the tele, need the lounge...
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