buzz & fade

Offices to the left and the right, all I can see is blue sky up above. Not a cloud, from building-ridden horizon to building-ridden horizon. »

I’ve got The Fear again, that mid-Sunday dread of what’s next. There’s a cold weekend wind whipping down the street, in one ear and out the other. A black cat yawns and stretches across the street as it follows its people around, oblivious to the pigeons bobbing around next-door’s front yard. It’s all so quiet, and despite being a fairly silent type of person I’m nevertheless comforted by a reasonable background of sound. »

It’s before 5pm, but the light’s starting to fade already as we hit one last winery so my friends can get some champagne. You can drink this kind of view. »

In the six years since I last came here, the captains of industry have swung by with a bit of architecture. Yering Station is no longer just a winery, it’s sprouted a euro-hopeful performance area with associated wine bar, all glass and stone and wood. A “historic barn” sits amongst concrete pathways and young trees but I think it’s just for show, there’s no sign you could go in. After all, what would we look at? »

The large group table near the window takes the banquet option. Snippets of conversation drift over my way – the “I was so drunk” anecdotes give way to “I’m allergic to this and one time, well, I nearly died” stories. »