A Jeff of the South Special: Swim-Swim Goes To Melbourne (The Second Bit)

 And now it's time for...

Swim-Swim Goes To Melbourne

The Second Bit

Welcome back to Swim-Swim's rollicking adventures in Victoria's capital.

When we left him our hero had been making the most of café culture.  Now he wanted to immerse himself in Melbourne's footy culture.  Grunt grunt grunt grunt.  He had already been to Carlton's Holy of Holies; the time had now come to worship at football's Holy of Holies - the MCG.

We exist in a fog of reverential awe.

The Melbourne Cricket Ground:  home to football (and, presumably, cricket) since the palaeolithic era.

I accompanied Swim-Swim on his pilgrimage since, as luck would have it, on this occasion our team was playing.  Carlton!  The (once) Mighty Blues!  I agreed to join him on this visit since I utterly, thoroughly, entirely enjoy watching my team play football.  Oh yes. There's nothing quite so enjoyable as the sensation of stomach ulcers forming while-u-wait.  Watching the Blues play is for me a surefire cure for peace of mind and physical wellbeing.  Oh joy.

But I couldn't fail to attend, could I?  No, I could not.

So we settled in for 2 and a half hours of emotional torture.  Whee.

Actually, the Blues played pretty well.  Mostly.  Well enough for their coach, Mick Malthouse, to only scorch them with a minor haranguing at ¾ time.  Here he is with only one of the veins in his temple protuding.

The lads receiving a Malthousing

He seems positively zen, does he not?

Subsequent to this photo, in the final quarter, they did do their best to throw the match.  That was fun to watch, I can tell you.  However they managed to fail in that endeavour, and when the final siren went they were still leading.

Which prompted the following expressions of elation from yours truly and yours Swimly.

Unrestrained joy.  I was pretty chuffed as well.

So Swim-Swim and I could count the evening a success.  Wasn't that nice?


Hot on the heels of his thrilling escapades at the Doncaster shopping centre, Swim-Swim was still keen to get involved in a bit of shopping.    But he needed to go somewhere where he was a complete unknown.  Somewhere as yet untouched by knowledge of what had happened the day before.  Whatever that may have been.

Fortunately there was one place - one iconic place - that was still open to him.

Anonymity, they name is Swim-Swim.  For the time being, anyway.

The Queen Vic Market!  And how he thrilled to its atmosphere!  How the crush of humanity delighted him.  How the incomprehensible vocalisations of hawkers spruiking their wares filled his soul.  How the raw desire to acquire cheaply manufactured goods and tawdry souvenirs permeated the air. 

For over an hour he wandered the stalls, soaking it all up.  He dickered with some fellow who was  flogging cheap plastic toys (doubtless assembled by homeless waifs in SE Asia for 16c an hour) which, I am delighted to report, he did not end up purchasing.  He argued with another vendor about the quality of the clothing she was selling.  He was in his element.  He found it quite intoxicating.

Quite intoxicating.

Which was a pity, really.

I had been having quite a good day, actually.  Right up until the point I was approached by security men. They were very polite, under the circumstances (which they did not go into detail about), but were firm.  They requested that I find something else for my squat companion to do.  *sigh*


Giving up on the idea of retail experiences (thank goodness) Swim-Swim turned his thoughts back to the football.  Having enjoyed his evening at the MCG the night before he wanted to repeat the dose.  I suggested that he take his Mum-Mum to see the game that was being played there that evening between Hawthorn and North Melbourne.

Swim-Swim thought that to be a capital idea.

So, off he and Xanthe headed to catch a train to take them to the 'G.  ('G being short for 'MCG'.  Clever, no?)  And here they are, eagerly awaiting the beginning of their journey.

Excited!

Swim-Swim wanted a photo of himself on a crowded Melbourne train, so Xanthe obliged.  (She really is very good to him).

On a train.  Yay.

Those chaps in the background don't look to sure of him.  Perhaps they had been at the Queen Vic Markets earlier in the day.  Or at Doncaster the day before.

It wouldn't be a train ride through Melbourne without having to disembark and change trains at Flinders Street Station.  Xanthe led the way, of course.

Photo by Swim-Swim

A little while later, and they were at the 'G, taking their places for the big match.  This was the first ever game of football that Xanthe had attended, and she was bubbling with enthusiasm.  Swim-Swim, having attended his first match the night before, played it cool.  Smarmy sod.

Even though the game was between North Melbourne and Hawthorn, Xanthe wanted to demonstrate that she was a Blue thrue and thrue.  So she had brought her Carlton flag, and and was determined to wave it whenever a goal was scored.  Which she did.  The people sitting around us observed this indulgently, and there were plenty of grins.  (Grins which would have turned to scowls had a certain 45 year old blog author attempted a similar stunt).

Photo also by Swim-Swim

The two of them were having a ball, and by all accounts it was a very tight fought contest, with plenty to excite and thrill the spectator.

Unless, of course, that spectator happens to be a 6 year old girl whose attention is rather easily distracted.

In this case, it was distracted by two slightly older girls sitting nearby, decked out handsomely in Hawthorn supporter gear and sporting some Hawthorn face paint.  Xanthe and these girls (Chloe and Sara by name) soon found each others' company much more enthralling that the spectacle unfolding on the footy ground.

Photo by... someone.

Indeed, before too much longer Swim-Swim himself was caught up in the hi-jinks taking place nearby, and lost his focus on the game nearby.

Guys?  There's an exciting game of football happening just over there.  Guys?  Guys!?

Ah well.  Getting caught up in the excitement of the crowd is part of the reason for going to AFL matches.  If the crowd becomes more interesting than the game, so be it!

But it was a good game, and even if Xanthe largely lost interest in it, Swim-Swim did not.  In the end the final siren went with only 3 points separating both teams.  Very exciting.  Swim-Swim wanted it documented that he was there on this occasion too, and once again his Mum-Mum obliged him.

Penguin at the 'G.

And that was pretty much it for Swim-Swim's big adventure.  The next day was the day to return home to Hobart, where Swim-Swim and Jeff could be ever so slightly more 'of the south' again.

So we got up very early in the morning to make certain that we were ready in time, and then we battled frightful bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway out to Tullamarine.  Frightful.  Fortunately Swim-Swim had insisted that we leave with lots of time to spare (he sometimes has some good advice, that bird), so we were not at all panicked.

What we were, however, was miffed to discover that our flight had been delayed.  Not only were we miffed that it had been delayed by an hour and a half, but because it was only announced after we had got ourselves through check-in and security as quickly as possible in order to give ourselves a bit of time for a leisurely breakfast.  We needn't have rushed!

Here are Xanthe and Swim-Swim demonstrating their displeasure.

Disgruntled.

Ah, but it was all an act.  In fact, we had all had such a jolly marvellous time, we couldn't possibly be in a bad mood.  Nosir!

Quite gruntled really.

And that was it.  It was fleeting but it was eventful and (largely) enjoyable.  Swim-Swim declared that he had had an absolute ball, and would be more than happy to come back to Melbourne for a visit any time.

If they should ever relent and let him in, that is.  Which (between you and me) I think is quite unlikely.  But a penguin can dream, can he not?

So, that's it (again) for Jeff of the South!  Thank you for popping back in to visit.  Swim-Swim and I both thank you for your patience with us, and appreciate your taking the time to share our experiences with us.

That's it.  Stop reading now.

No, seriously, there's no more.  Stop reading.

Oh, fine.  Have it your way.