Tuesday, 25 April 2017


I didn't sleep much last night. Stressing. I got up at four, went to work at five as a spectator (rode there in the rain, which was heaps more fun than it sounds, because I have had mudguards put on my bike and I so I enjoyed the twin novelties of entirely empty roads - not even any trams on the main CBD drag- and also, no wet gritty road spray flying up and making my bum and back wet). Stood in the rain and the dark with 29,999 other people, reflecting on the interestingness of an event which involves 30,000 people standing on a grassy hill in the rain and the dark, then went home again and made Anzac biscuits with Lenny while watching the march on telly. Then I went back to work to actually work, worked my arse off, eventually the day ended and I rode home again. I have had a shower but I think I might still be able to smell myself.

It was all worth it though because Canning St came through again.

You can't see the signs but they were selling Anzac "Cookies" for a dollar each, and "10% of profits to the ANZACS". Kids who live in Carlton alright. I interrogated them a bit about the pathetic 10% and who exactly they were intending to give it to. Between ourselves they didn't know so I suggested a charity which assists returned service people under thirty who have PTSD and explained what PTSD is and how soldiers come to get it and what tends happens to them if they ask for any help with psychological distress while they are still in the army. I had the gratification of seeing them actually squirm about on their chairs like the tiny winsome frauds that they are. Not satisfied with this adventure in the humiliation of children stakes I bought one "cookie" and took it home so I could compare it with those we'd made just a little while earlier and see whose was better, ours or theirs.

Here they are. Top = ours. Bottom = theirs.

Mine and Leonard's: tender, firm, nice caramel flavour, coconut and oats crisp but not dry, whole thing not too sweet.

Theirs: hard, cold, stiff, unpleasantly sugary, brittle, generally pretty disgusting if you ask me.

I am almost sure that Lenny thinks Anzac Day is the day of Anzac biscuits.

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