Anthony Came Over

We were a bit late getting moving, considering Anthony was coming over, sitting in the lounge room until lunch time. In fact, it could be said that it was only Sam being hungry that got us showered and out the door. Still, I can’t say it wasn’t planned, at least in part, I find it easier if I have something to do while I chat with friends. It is easier than sitting and chatting solidly from mid afternoon, just me and them. I can’t buy a bottle of wine to lubricate the goings on, as Anthony is a recovering alcoholic.

It was quite a nice day. Sam and I ate lunch in Masak Masak, in fact we sat outside on the tables on the footpath, but that was mostly because the bbq grill inside was smoking and making the restaurant smell bad. Although, it was lovely sitting outside, I have to say. A gorgeous Frenchie wandered by who seemed to want to sniff everything as he went, just like a bulldog, just like Buddy.

We went to the supermarket to shop for lasagne and cake ingredients. Anthony had called a few days ago and said that he wanted either a banana cake with cream cheese icing, or an apple cake. He said he also wanted something satay.

Something satay, indeed. She never did recover from the illusion that she was a South African Princess.

I made apple cake. I figure you can never go wrong with an apple cake, they are always tasty and that apple and cake combination is so sublime.

When Anthony arrived he rang the door bell three times, three long rings. Really? We’ve talked about this before, it stirs the bulldog up, you know.

“No, I’ve got to ring the bell three times,” was Anthony's reply.

Maybe it has something to do with his, how shall I put it, various mental disturbances?

The apple cake went in the oven not long after he arrived – it should have been ready for his arrival, oh well – and we got on and made lasagne.

The apple cake was very runny as it went into the oven. Anthony declared it a disaster when it still wobbled noticeably an hour later when it should have been cooked.

“That’s going to be pudding,” he declared. “You better have bought plenty of cream.”

“Ye of so little faith,” I replied. “My oven always cooks slow. It always takes 10 minutes more and then possibly ten minutes after that before a cake is cooked.”

“It will be a miracle if that cake ever cooks,” declared Anthony.

Oh, I could have slapped him. Talk about your glass half full.

The ten minutes after that cooked the cake, which was a triumph. The apple slices and the apple crumble had sunk into the middle of the cake. It looked a little “warby” when it came out of the oven, sinking noticeably, but by the time I had plated it and sprinkled icing sugar over the top it looked great, like a fabulous homemade cake you’d see in any Fitzroy coffee shop cakery.

The lasagne was also good, even if I do say so myself. Sam took over the construction of it, after I’d made the various elements, so it was a team effort. It was paired with a rocket salad. Everything tasted great.

Late in the afternoon, when we were still cooking the lasagne, Anthony declared that he was cold and that he needed a fire straight away.

“Just wait until I put the lasagne in the oven,” I said. "And I will light a fire."

“No, I am cold now,” he said. “I need a fire now.”

“Okay,” I said. “The axe is out the back. Chop some kindling and away you go.”

He bristled at the suggestion - still more of the South African princess - but he headed outside to do it, none the less.

He had the fire burning not long after. I don’t know how many fire lighters he used. He seemed unconvinced when I told him I used only one. The next night I noticed that he seemed to have used half a box of fire lighters. Not that I care, or maybe I do consider I am writing this, but in what universe is that sustainable? Really? I am always fascinated by the things people do.

He insisted on having the screen in front of the fire. I bent over the screen later to throw some wood on and my stomach got in the way. Anthony laughed and said his stomach got in the way too. We both laughed nervously.

We watched Teev with our lasagne and later our apple cake on our laps.

Anthony smoked continuously. “Outside?”

“Yes, outside me luv,” I replied. “You only get to smoke inside when Mark is here, as he won’t listen.”

Sam went to bed at nana time. Anthony and watched a doco on Gore Vidal, which was fascinating, until Anthony left at 12.30am. 

We drank tea and ate more apple cake. Anthony insisted on more cream, each time. He denies himself nothing.