Last night I ventured out to have dinner with the publisher and her new husband. Rigby was excited to come with me and to meet their dog buster. I had a beer and caught up on old times and stood by the very fancy Weber as our steaks were being cooked and then returned inside to open a very good bottle of Kilikanoon shiraz I had brought with me and continue our conversation sitting at the dining room table while the two dogs raced around us. It was a fine meal, a meal given my recent impoverished diet that eemed like a royal feast – scoth fillet wit a peppercorn sauce, frsh made onion rings and salad; and then cofee and a dessert of freshly baked chocolate brownies with the chocolate still oozing from them.
It was good to be social again. It’s remarkable how unsocial my life has become. From being famous for my social options and getting out 2,3,4 times a week I have become a virtual recluse. Being out again and in the company of others felt like I was breathing a different air. I felt myself expand and the raconteur in me come to the surface. I spoke of my recent travels to China and Malaysia, about the situation with mum and the ongoing dramas concerning her will, I expressed my opinions confidently and fluently while they sat and listened. It was as if all this time these things had gathered in me, stuck because they were unexpressed. Last night cleared the logjam and it felt good.
Later we drove home through the dark. Like so many times before I felt a subtle thrill to have such a powerful beast at my fingerstips. We drove along familiar roads, taking the curves and pressing down on the accelerator. The radio was on as I searched for a decent Melbourne radio station (I know: doesn’t exist). Occasionally a decent song would come on to which I would sing along to as I drove. It was simple, clean, an everyday activity elevated for now into something more. Make of it what you will, but I felt in command again and it felt fine.