Darlinghurst Dinner

It started with a cough on Tuesday. A persistent cough. I was in a series of quite important meetings, and apologised profusely to my colleagues about my cough. Later in the afternoon, I wandered home. And almost as soon as I arrived home I had a “Hillary Moment”, as I’ve since joked about. Within minutes I was in bed with quite a high fever.

Maybe because I’ve grown up on the North Coast, I have a “natural” approach to health. Go to bed, have a rest, and you’ll get better has mostly been my approach. But a couple of weeks ago, I learned of an old school mate who, with a persistent cough, went to the doctor, was diagnosed with cancer, and died a week later. These are the things that play on your mind when you’re fifty, I guess.

I spent the next day and a half in bed, mostly sleeping, before finally deciding I needed to come back into work for some more important meetings. Probably, I should have stayed in bed a little longer, but with some visiting interstate colleagues, I felt it was important to make an effort.

“This is my first glass of wine in a few days, and the first time I’ve eaten properly in about forty eight hours”, I told Damien as we sat down for a meal and drinks at Bar Brose, a bar/restaurant in Darlinghurst which, Damien admitted, he’d been two two or three times in the last few weeks. Though my appetite wasn’t that great,I understand why: the food and service were excellent. I especially loved their specialisation in organic “raw” wines. If I’d been healthier, I would have eaten and drunken more.

My favourite wine was a red from Portugal, and my favourite meal was the kingfish, which Damien told me was native to the area around Lord Howe Island (which I didn’t know). He and his wife are planning to spend six months there, ahead of moving to Hobart where they’ve bought a house.

It’s over eighteen years since we first met. I was 32, he was 23. It seems like a lifetime ago. This was a lovely place to meet for a meal, wine, and a chat, as we bid each other “farewell”, as he moves on to the next part of his life. Brose, bros.

 

One comment

  1. Not “farewell”, just “til next time”! Great night as always, looking forward to seeing you again in Hobart. Or Sydney. Still planning to get back here several times a year

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