Made positive contribution to a great Australian initiative (good beer week) yesterday by involving myself in a bit of a craft beer session in Fitzroy. After several pubs and pints (and discovering to my abject horror that the former Bar Called Barries is now some hipster joint with pool tables) we decided to head further north, concluding beer crawl at the pub only 400 metres from the old apartment.

It was easy for Young M and myself to get a little misty eyed at our memories of the old joint as we nursed our crafties – the parties on the roof, waving at the train passengers flying past on the Epping line; the hungover mornings around the kitchen table clutching cups of tea in our hands; the mixed results from growing vegetables in pots on the balcony. They were fun times – but like any nostalgia it’s always easy to remember it nicer than it really was. In reality, the house was modern but flimsily and hastily built – when there was any significant rain the grouting on the balcony showed how permeable it was and leaked through the light fittings on the floor below; and for all the togetherness of the people at the lived there was the usual backhanded bitching / passive aggression about who last washed the dirty tea towels, whose food was rotting and taking up available fridge real estate, who never takes the bins out, not to mention the obligatory sex scandal and the resulting fallout. So it was fun while it lasted, I spose.

What’s the moral of this story? Live in moment I suppose. Stop looking in that rear vision. Also drink craft beer, it won’t stop you getting a hangover but it will be fun getting there.

Jogging update: 6k yesterday up the Dandenong creek and back. Hard!