Between Us

Saturday mornings when I lived in Sydney were always reserved for Stuart, Andy and I to have brunch at the Greek cafe, Metaxi Mas run by the lovely Angela and her husband Peter.

Metaxi Mas means 'between us' in Greek.

Peter would press cakes and home made chocolates wrapped in a brown paper bag into my hand every time we would be leaving. Stuart and Andy didn't get the same sweet deal and they would always maintain that they didn't need the extra sugar or carbs. I of course with my fondness for all things fatty and sugary, would gladly accept their take on this special treatment extended only to me as it made feel less guilty.

I'd had a night with Stuart last Tuesday which meant that I was keen to also hear all about Andy yesterday like the Saturdays of old. Andy has called the 3 of us his 'urban family'.

After a busy week at work, in the past we'd all take our seats and start speaking at once, offloading the stresses of our demanding jobs, nobody really hearing all of what the others said. Stuart would drop out first, followed by me leaving only Andy holding court and us listening. He'd also sprinkle his conservative political views into the mix which would get me fired up and we would start arguing. It got to the point where some Saturdays, needing peace, Stuart would start off our gathering with a request to the two of us of 'no politics today'. Andy at those times would instead tell us all about who he danced with at Palms the basement club the night before as was his Friday ritual. Then he'd read the paper and Stuart and I would chat.

Yesterday we only briefly touched on politics as there has been a change in state politics and New South Wales has a new Premier, Gladys B. The first question the media asked her after her appointment was why she was not married and whether she felt equipped enough to represent the interest of families. It is a question that is beyond stupid and narrow minded. Gladys is also not disabled, a man, a refugee, a child, gay or a senior citizen, a student etc etc. Why would an intelligent journalist who by the very nature of their profession ought to ask informative questions be stuck in a Victorian time? Maybe I'm giving the profession too much credit.

Andy didn't have much to say about Palms either as he hadn't been able to dance. The club couldn't open the night before as there was a problem with their air conditioning.

So he read the newspaper and Stuart and I chatted. It felt like the old days and sweet in its comfort and certainty. Except we met at the Factory, a new cafe and not Metaxi Mas. I didn't get cakes or home made chocolates.

The heat has been intense. Stuart and I later went to Clovelly beach. There was nowhere to park so we did a drive along the sea. Sydney is postcard beautiful.