And why mess up a good thing, baby?

Date: 14 August.

Location: Patch Cafe, a Paleo-inspired gem tucked into the renovated Studio Nine in Richmond. Coconut latte and tapioca profiteroles please and thank you.

What follows is list of interesting things that have happened, in no particular order, because we had Vietnamese for dinner last night and I think all the MSG (and Pinot Gris) have issued a fog warning to my brain function. All non-essential flights have been cancelled.

  • I had a job interview for the role of legal counsel with a company where there is an open makeup cupboard. I know. It really casts the potential roles for mining conglomerates and finically services monsters into a dull, pinstripey shadow, doesn’t it? It was also a valid excuse for this unemployed miss to get her hair done, buy a new skirt (went with a Veronika Maine black and blue silk blend with asymmetrical, below-the-knee hemline — aiming for cool but corporate), buy a new lipstick (their brand, obviously), get a manicure (in Angora Cardi, highly recommend if you’re looking for a pretty winter shade. You’re welcome.) Despite that, and burying myself in their annual reports and social media saturation, the interview did not go well. It didn’t go terribly, but it certainly didn’t go well. Watch ths space. I feel I should be buying a block of Cadbury’s Marvellous Creations in preparation for the rejection email. (But I can’t. Or I’ll destroy it before I finish this post.)
  • I am taking my goals seriously. Percy the cat still won’t fetch, but my Crow Pose is looking super (face-plants are a normal part of the learning press I’m told and, now that I think about it, these could be equally responsible for my brain fig) and I’ve been ticking a whole host of city breakfast nooks off my to do list. Today’s nook is Patch Cafe, a proudly Paleo inspired place with killer breakfasts and where your ‘I’ll have a latte’ is met with ‘and would you prefere almond milk or coconut milk?’ I just overheard my gorgeous, glowing-with-good-health waiter in possession of a Colgate smilebsay: ‘All the books in my bag today are my acting books.’ You embrace that stereotype kid.
  • Of course, in doing this exploring I do feel a little like I’m cheating on my regular cafe. Or, let’s be frank, my regular barista. This crush, which started out as a joke, has blossomed quite nicely into a non-joke. Barista has casually mentioned that he’s single and, as the majority of our conversations relate to my highly unsuccessful love life, I’m pretty sure he knows I’m (tragically?) single. At this juncture, I welcome suggestions on how to make your barista ask you out. Coffee puns encouraged.
  • Meanwhile, I appear to be platonically dating Wolfgang which rather works for me, less so for him (he’d prefere we scratch out the ‘platonic’ part). We’re the foundation of Tuesday’s trivia team, sarcastically affectionate text message buddies and wine-drinking companions. He has been a total champion during my job hunt and he would also, as Bunky has noted on multiple occasions, ‘be an excellent boyfriend’. But mixing friendship and romance is Manhattan Project dangerous and I’m not sure I want to meddle with something that explosive. That sais, I tend not to use this logical part of my brain so well after a cab sav or two.



Melbourne turns on a smidgen of charm.

Angora Cardi. Thank you very much Essie.


It's a lie. By 'tea' they mean wine and by 'spot' they mean 'loads of'. The Tippler.

Well out of my comfort zone with a raw, organic, living lunch at Shoku Iku, Northcote.

Trying to ween myself off One Hot Yoga with a new studio: Grass Roots Yoga.

My first kombucha brew. More on this monster next time.

I do seem to eat a lot, don't I? Ricotta fritters for breakfast at The European.

The view right now - from Patch over out pretty city.










2 responses to “And why mess up a good thing, baby?

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