It is a bitter wind that does nothing for no one.Or words to that effect.
Now whilst I must take some blame for absent mindfulness in forgetting my wallet as well as the map of Ballarat and the tickets ,
it is lucky i was able to keep BBo on an even keel by directing him to many of the Historical Public houses ye Olde Ballaarat has to offer.
Our meandering journey traced steps taken by many a digger in search of fortune and beer , and we were no exception.
BBo himself became whimsical as our historical journey ended and we made it to beautiful Wendouree ,the home or true Ballarat culture and Style.
BBO insisted on paying for everything and was in fine form I am pleased to report and i was pleased to be able to negotiate on his behalf with the fine people of Ballarat,and the bogans of Wendouree.
As the day progressed and a Demon victory looked a certainty ,Bitter drifted back down memory lane and into his perverted old self as he discussed the beauty of some of our younger members,one in particular who did not mind the leering and accidental bumps from behind that occured from nowhere and often caused the spilling of beer.
I must say she did have lovely denim shorts on ,as did a few of our junior female supporters, which I applaud.
Years ago ,I am told ,it was nearly culturally acceptable to sample the material of these shorts by hand .Sadly ,for Bitters ,those days have passed.
As the match deteriorated ,we too began to wilt and BBo managed some beautiful shepherding of two old ladies in footscray colours whilst I borrowed a child to help us steal a cab (one of the only 2 in town). Fourty Eight bucks later and we had made our reservation on time ,the wine ,beautifully decanted, awaiting us.
I had taken the liberty of ordering the 8 course degustation menu as a treat for BBO and although he probably wont thank me now ,in time I am sure he will appreciate the cultural growth I have engendered in him.