Sunday, 8 May

Day 23: Springfield Lakes

That visit to the IGA while we waited for the takeaway had unforeseen consequences the following morning. Ex-Neighbour Bloke’s sighted a fair bargain in the bacon department, and had ended up buying the lot of what was on display. One suspects there was more lurking in the deli’s equivalent of the pantry fridge, and shudders at the thought of what may have happened had the tray been replenished earlier in proceedings.

I buy bacon from the deli every so often, usually as bacon pieces rather than rashers, and in specific quantities depending on whether I’m looking at a pasta carbonara (80-100g) or a matriciana (120-150g) or both (200-350g). That gets over the issue of deli workers whose estimation skills or lack thereof produce a glance in the customer’s direction when the quantity on the scales is outside a reasonable margin of error.

The girl behind the counter’s first two attempts were comfortably under the required amount, and with uncertainty about how much of what was left in the tray would be needed to bring it up to the required quantity, we’d walked away with the lot.

Understandable under the circumstances, but it didn’t necessarily mean the whole lot needed to go on the barbie the next morning. There was a further complication in the form of some rather good sausages sourced from Schulte's Meat Tavern near Marburg, home of the wursts of fond memory from late eighties Ipswich cricket trips.

Separately, the quantity of bacon on offer would have done for breakfast for a couple of reasonably hungry adults, as would the supply of sausages that had joined the bacon.

Put together, however, they made a mountain that took a deal of effort to work our way through.

I’m not quite the trencherman I used to be, but I’m happy with the concept of a substantial breakfast, and something along those lines will usually keep me going until dinner time, so I hoed in, figuring that the talk of visiting Little Vietnam in Inala and lunch would involve a snack rather than a substantial meal and would be taking place later rather than sooner.

Both assumptions proved unfounded, since it wasn’t long between the end of breakfast and departure, and a relatively late breakfast, even after a good hour’s perambulations around the shopping centre, was followed by suggestions of an uncomfortably early lunch.

Everyone else (or at least the rest of the adult portion thereof) didn’t have the same problem, having exercised more restraint at the breakfast table, so I can’t report on what was on the menu at the selected venue.

While the others sat down to eat, I found a bench in a shady spot and ended up having an interesting conversation with ex-Wo Wo Boy about large numbers. He’s certainly come a long way since everything that moves apart from Mum and Dad was Wo Wo, but they do that and there’ll be a long way to go, of course.

We were back home around one, which was the time I’d possibly have been thinking of lunch, and probably have been coming up with a maybe not quite yet, and the rest of the afternoon passed without dramas on the travellers’ side of things although Hughesy got an up close and personal look at parenting issues when you’re dealing with a toddler and a Year One kid, but we might draw a discreet veil over that one.

Dinner was a steak and salad with the regular sides, and went down well. Hardly the largest meal I’ve consumed, and I just managed to finish it, which means, of course, that had the maybe not quite yet in the preceding paragraph been followed by a well, why not? we would have had ongoing issues at dinner time.