I didn’t wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy. I vacuumed instead. I wonder how often Mr Diddy does the vacuuming. Not often is my guess.
Then to the gym (via being annoyed by a large group of idiotic young males on the train). After riding the stationery bike, I thought it was time for a change and took one of the hire bikes (pictured) down Swanston Street to Jungle Juice instead of taking the tram. It was the first time I’d ridden a bike on anything but quiet suburban roads, but I think that if you’re going to be riding anywhere in the city, Swanston Street is the way to go. Most of the way from the uni to La Trobe Street is on a bike lane segregated from traffic by concrete barriers and parked cars, and then once in the grid, you have only delivery vehicles and trams to contend with.
Coffee at Jungle Juice was good, even if the staff are getting a bit annoyed at Josiah for continually bringing large groups into their cafe that take up all the room. There was one very rude girl that kept asking whether people were going to order. I told her that I had ordered fifteen minutes ago and was still waiting for my drink. Grr. After that, we moved towards Carlton to meet with a friend of somebody’s (can’t remember whether it was Josiah’s or Matt’s) and to the Prince Albert for drinks, wedges and discussing of Julia Gillard and Iphones. And many inappropriate Michael J Fox jokes. How insensitive.
I went back with Andrew to his place and then to mine for sausage rolls and learning how to say lesbian in sign language. Thank you Steph.