Tag: Manchester

Max Brenner, St Michael’s, Manchester Superiority and Majan


Tress and I started going to Max Brenner’s about a month and a half ago. We never thought of going to this place, until we heard of how rubbish groups like Socialist Alternative and Justice for Palestinians started spouting anti-Semitic thrash. See this story.

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What a night of north England showing London how to play football. After Manchester City rolled Spurs over with a 5-1 thrashing, which I watched just the first half, it was great to wake up to an 8-2 victory over a troubled Arsenal. Newcastle got into the act as well, beating Fulham.

This is unusual for me to say but I feel sorry for Arsenal and Wenger at this point in time. Their stable has been raided and the players Wenger nurtured into brilliant play makers are now happy to deliver their services elsewhere for a range of reasons, not least money.

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Yesterday Tress and I went to a hairdresser down the street from our home. Majan Mahani had done Kiddo’s hair less than a couple of months ago (for her formal) and I needed a hairie badly so we (especially I) decided to go with Majan. She is a lovely Iranian, described herself as Persian, and was a bit more talkative than other who have worked on my hair before. It was the first time I ever had any Persian person work on my hair. She was also very polite. When she was done with me, she held up a mirror behind my head and asked me if I was happy. I asked if I looked like Tom Cruise now and she went all quiet. She must have struggled between being polite and being honest but Tress rescued her by letting a loud burst of laughter and Majan acquitted herself by saying most of her (surely middle aged) clients preferred to look like George Clooney.

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Sat we drove Kiddo to St Michael’s Grammar School in St Kilda East. For the entire ride to and from the school, which was easily half an hour each way, she and her friend Charlotte spoke in what sounded like Greek but was surely English. Their dissertation of various English Literature themes and writers thrilled me. At some point, I wanted to interject and ask “Which character did Brad Pitt play?”, but decided to stay silent and look a little more sophisticated. The VCE English Literature lectures there was from 9-3 and in between, I went to the MST library, did some shopping, took Tress to Madam Kwong’s in Box Hill and …

It was that sort of weekend…

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Noisy Neighbours Near but United Shows Class


And we’re off… this morning’s game was really good to watch, especially since I only watched it from the second half on. Wellbeck, Anderson (his especially) and Rooney all finished really good moves. After City’s impressive display a day earlier, it was good to lay the markers down for the red side of Manchester. Apparently Spurs have now come to Old Trafford without a win for 22 years. Long may they remain in the Premier League… 🙂

Another year, another season. After last year’s less than expectant start, it is really good to start, albeit uncharacteristically, on a really bright note. Looks like a fantastic season ahead.

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1994 was a Great Year


Last night we went to a local hotel for some pub food. It was kiddo’s birthday and I think we have stuck to keeping things simple and pub food is still a night out after recent battles the family has had to mount to cope with my cooking.

We went to the Mitcham Hotel and kiddo and Tress ordered from the board – roast for kiddo and a fish for Tress. I asked for a steak from the regular menu.

I then took kiddo to the bar and ordered a white wine for her – yeah, it is that sort of joint, where no maitre d came around with a wine list. I asked for a sweet Riesling (a Lindeman’s I think) and I had a house red myself. At 17, she was allowed alcohol when dining with the family and having a full meal. She mentioned the vodka cruisers and I explained to her why those beverages are drinks for losers, sort of (I’m sorry if you like that sort of thing). We also shared a chocolate flourless cake.

She appeared to handle the wine ok. She is 17 now. It didn’t feel like it was 17 years ago when after watching United beat Oldham Athletic (I think it was them) in an FA Cup Semi Final we went to the Subang Medical Centre and waited a number of hours before she finally arrived in the arvo. Everyday for the next few days, I’d stop by the hospital on the way to work and peek through the glass windows of the nursery. She was the most beautiful baby in that nursery, often the only one awake, eyes wide open.

1994 was a great year – Kiddo was born. And United won the double after going on to thrash pre-Roman Chelsea in the final.

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