But with the Myki bit sorted, both of us had some shopping to do. Having parted company at Federation Square and nominated Basement Disks as the rendezvous I don't know too much about Madam's next twenty minutes. For my part, I hot-footed into the Basement for a preliminary look at what was in stock, escaping relatively lightly with a couple of New Orleans R&B compilations (Allen Toussaint and Ernie K-Doe), along with a highly-rated Dr Feelgood DVD.
The latter purchase brought with it news of the forthcoming Roger Daltrey/Wilko Johnson album, which was the first I'd heard of it.
Madam arrived on the scene as I was negotiating the purchase, and we headed back towards the hotel with a Hughesy diversion into an intriguing operation called Minotaur. I only had time for a very preliminary investigation, but what I saw suggested it might be worth making a more thorough examination on Monday, though I wasn't sure I needed a lot of what's there.
But there's a lot of stuff there, and I'm quite likely to find something of genuine interest it I look carefully.
However, as I emerged from Minotaur there was no sign of Madam. Fair enough, I reasoned. She'd be on her way back to the hotel. If I was quick enough on my feet, I'd probably catch up with her before Bank Place.
Predictably, it didn't work out that way, there was no familiar figure on the footpath ahead of me, and when I headed up to 802 there was no one there. I headed back to Minotaur, but there was no joy there either. Still, you can make a few deductions. I'd gone back and forth along lIttle Collins! the hotel lies between Collins and little Collins. If Madam was headed back to base, she'd be somewhere along Collins.
A text message revealed she was headed back to base, and by the time I was passing the half way point there was a familiar figure around a hundred and fifty metres ahead. I finally managed to catch up near the Bank Place laneway.
With the Myki cards in the equation and a $6 cap on weekends, it made sense to take a tram back into the heart of the CDB and a second along Swanston Street up to Chinatown. Outside the library, where I'd been led to believe there was a free WiFi facility, a phone call caught us up with The Brother, and the rendezvous was arranged for the Little Bourke Street entrance to Chinatown. Number Two Nephew would be arriving at some point, making his way in from his own domicile, and had a fair working knowledge of the alternatives in Chinatown so that removed decisions about eateries from the equation.
Still, it took a while for Wee Bro, Bride and Number Four Nephew to make their way from East Malvern, and once the rendezvous had been accomplished we stood around chewing the fat while we waited for the final member of the party to arrive.
Once he had, a short stroll took us to a decent yum cha operation, which provided the fuel to keep us going through the evening and a lengthy conversation that touched a number of bases.
We had the regulation references to obscure reading matter from our respective youths, covering, among other material, A.A. Milne and The Magic Pudding, though Wee Bro and clan were totally thrown by my citation of Vivian Stanshall, Sir Henry Rawlinson and the sweet essence of giraffe. Cultural references tend to be abstruse when the Hughes Brothers touch base.
Not Quite Raining on my Parade