went to Greenvale reservoir

Last night Mia and I went out to briefly celebrate her last real day at VCA, and we went to Di Caprio's, a restaurant over the car park at Tullamarine from the restaurant I always thought was called Di Caprio's but it is actually called Fieste. That's where they make you wait near the toilets and the Elvis pictures (the two most revolting things in the establishment) if you want a takeaway pizza. Di Caprio's, like most of the restaurants in that strip, is absolutely colossal; it must seat 50 000, alright, a thousand. Alright, five hundred, I don't know. Anyway we went there and I had risotto and two bottles of mineral water (I know, two! Grown up) then we went for a scenic drive in the country, or the illusion of the country created by the aircraft noise zone to our immediate north, and we went to the Greenvale Reservoir, which is a pretty incredible place, it has an extinct volcano feel and there is a suburb (Greenvale, for all I know) on its northern shore, although while they are on the shore of this rather extraordinary body of water, they have no access to it, of course, lest they render it unclean. We stayed in the Reservoir park too long and got locked in but fortunately there's an after hours exit. Then we came back and watched the Martin Scorcese Bob Dylan documentary. Having read Chronicles I was not too shocked by a lot of what was there; I think some stories you can kind of predict by now anyway (and I am sure I am not alone in feeling that I know so much about American pop culture history of the 60s that I'm almost a voyeur into that time). Dylan looks so weird these days - when you see his fresh-faced version in the early 60s you can't imagine how he ended up looking like that old gypsy woman, though I guess we all do eventually.

Judy still has her cough but she also seems to have become quite philosophical as well.

I have been listening to Oliver Mann Sings. What an extraordinary record. I accept that some people have the opinion that these days are kind of like the low ebb of music comparable to the mid-1970s - and like a lot of old people I reckon that without the boundaries that used to exist, therefore nothing to kick against, there is probably less outrageously good music being made than there was in, say, the late 70s/very early 80s. But on the other hand, a lot of people seem to be revelling in the chance to do absolutely anything. Oliver Mann is an extraordinary person, judging by this record. I think along with Mum Smokes it might be my pick of the year (thus far) in the category of Incredibly good debut.