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.


1 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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