A blog of grumpiness, stilts and skin.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Whistling Dixie

Freo was buzzing at lunch time.

Even so, I managed to nab a free car park, and my favourite seat at The Roundhouse.

The Roundhouse staff are none too friendly or efficient, and I think there was sand in my risotto.

But I do like to sit at my table hoping Tim Winton will some day join me for a latte.

Unfortunately, like a young Lester Bowie blowing his horn out the window so Louis Armstrong might hear, the great man never drops by.

It must be the risotto.



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