wet wet wet

Yesterday saw the Marie Celeste christmas luncheon at the Botanic Gardens Restuarant yesterday, which was rather nice indeed.

Rather than the ubiquitous Kris Kringle exchange of cheap tat, we instead donated money for goats or chickens or sheeps (very nice to see senior management stuffing $50 notes into the collection box) – much nicer than agonising over what lame gift you can purchase for someone you are indifferent to, in the best case (or whom you utterly loathe, in the usual case) and in an unexpected move, Marie Celeste matched our donations dollar for dollar.

Afterward, half of those who had not vanished immediately after lunch, repared to the tilbury for some afternoon power-drinking (the other half of the remainder ventured to the Opera Bar).

Just after we arrived and were standing on a deck enjoying our first drink, the heavens opened (seriously, go look at those photos right now, see you when you get back), I can’t remember the last time it rained so hard. We all huddled under a market umbrella, giggling and squealing and getting soaked to down to the undies (I don’t know what it is about getting stuck in a sudden downpour that makes one laugh and smile, but it generally does seem to be the case).

Poor Don, who was on his way to join us, was cutting across the Botanic Gardens when the torrential rain hit and was rescued by the Friends of the Botantic Gardens, who beckoned him into their offices to wait out the rain. Then cracked a bottle of wine and shared it with him, which was rather lovely of them. He was impressed enough to sign the family up.

One thought on “wet wet wet

  1. God, didn’t it pour? I was about to leave to go into town to pick up my Aged Mamma and bring her back Victoria-Streetish so we could have an early dinner then go to the school concert – as it was, I left at 5.10 rather than 4.30, it took 45 minutes to get there and back rather than 10, and we ended up having pizza slices while the kiddies sang and danced. We all stayed reasonably dry, though.

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