By the time I arrive at Tom’s house, Melbourne has been out of lockdown for nearly a month. Most restrictions have been lifted, however mask wearing is still required in supermarkets and shopping centres and on public transport.
Over the next couple of weeks I need to undergo a colonoscopy and consult a heart specialist to sort out my high blood pressure and to see if there are any underlying issues I need to be aware of.
But first I need to meet with my lawyer and update my will.
Presently, if I were to pass away unexpectedly, the house I own with Penny will, by law, revert into her name. My business assets and other worldly belongings will go to Josh and Tom but there is presently no allowance made for Dewi.
A quick chat with my lawyer enables me to arrive at a simple solution.
I took out a life insurance policy many years ago that would have enabled Penny to pay out our home mortgage in the event of my untimely demise. But our mortgage repayments are now being covered by our business income and will most likely be paid out in the next couple years. In the past twelve months, I have nominated Josh and Tom as the policy recipients but as my lawyer now points out, they will pay tax of least 30% on the proceeds. However as Dewi is not in the Australian tax system, she is entitled to receive the entire amount tax free.
All that needs to be done is for me to submit a signed document to the policy issuer, nominating her as the sole beneficiary. It actually benefits her a little more in dollar terms than the boys, although given they would arguably inherit the house if Penny were to also pass, it is a fair and equitable split which requires no alteration to my will in it’s present form.
An all round elegant outcome.
By now the vaccine rollout in the world’s worst hit country, the USA, is well underway and US President Joe Biden looks to be on track to deliver 100 million doses of vaccine by the end of March. This as new daily case numbers are still hitting 50,000 people per day.
The UK has already vaccinated 40% of it’s population. The EU appears to be trailing at around 12-14% coverage, however about 30% of their vaccine production is being exported to countries such as Mexico, Canada, Chile and funnily enough, the UK.
Despite a press release issued by the Office of the Prime Minister last August, declaring that Australians will be amongst the first people in the world to receive covid vaccines, the rollout is running well behind schedule.
The Federal government has overarching responsibility for the national quarantine response but has passed responsibility onto the states. It also has ultimate authority over the aged care sector and although it has prioritised vaccinations for the elderly and the nation’s health-care workers, state governments have been handed responsibility for implementing the vaccine rollout. Yet most are still in the dark about a timeline for vaccine delivery.
The Federal government initially committed to rolling out 4 million vaccines by the end of March, including up to 1.4 million doses for those most at risk. But as the month of March draws to a close, less than 700,000 doses have been administered.
Many, especially those in the media, are questioning the pace of the rollout yet Prime Minister, Scott Morrison, who up until now has been a steady hand, is having none of it.
He declares that the rollout is not a race and that it will ramp up when his government strikes the best deal it can with the major vaccine providers.
The best deal his government has been able to strike so far is a licensing agreement to produce Astra Zeneca out of a specialist facility in Melbourne. Despite repeated overtures from the manufacturers of Pfizer and Moderna, this very self-assured Prime Minister and his government have decided to put all their eggs into one basket.
He and the federal government have off-loaded all but this one important task to the states. What could go wrong?
Fortunately, Australia has been very successful to this point with it’s suppression strategy. In the second week of March only 77 cases are reported nationwide and 97% of those cases were travellers returning from overseas.
Back in Tom’s apartment, I am being treated to some formidable culinary skills as he prepares a number of vegan delights, including his Shepard’s Pie, which is the equal of any meat based equivalent.
Veganism isn’t for everyone but it is definitely gaining in popularity, especially among young, socially conscious adults. There are now a number of vegan grocers and deli’s popping up in all the major cities, so much so that the major supermarket chains have begun ramping up their vegan product range.
When you consider the fact that more land is cleared every year to grow crops to feed livestock than is used to house our farmed animals, a drastic rethink is required before we strip the planet bare to satisfy our appetite for meat.
And yet, after a few nights, I’m in need of something more than just vegetables, so I pick up some chicken breasts and steak from the local supermarket.
Sorry Tom, old habits die hard.
Bowel cancer is one of the more common consequences of a meat-rich, first world diet and this fact weighs on my mind as I prepare for my colonoscopy.
The procedure is very straightforward. I’m under anaesthetic for about 20 minutes as a probe performs an internal investigation.
The doctor has good news. He discovered a couple of polyps, which he was able to remove on the spot and although they need to be sent off for analysis, he assures me they were benign and that my bowel is in good shape.
After the procedure I’m in the recovery room and I get chatting to a couple of nurses. One is an older woman who tells me she visited Lombok around 30 years ago. Another is in her mid twenties and has visited the island in the last eighteen months. She has fond memories of the dance parties on Gili Trewangan.
The older nurse accompanies me to the main entrance where Tom is waiting to collect me. He seems as relieved as I am to know I’ve been given the all clear.
The following day, I visit dad’s former heart specialist. He’s fairly young, probably in his mid 40’s and he exudes an effortless confidence. Many years ago, he assured dad, he was one of the best heart specialists in the world.
He spends a couple of minutes going over my recent health results, then checks my blood pressure. It’s a little high.
“I’m going to prescribe Candesartan,” he tells me. “This medication will protect your heart but as a diabetic it will also protect your eyes and your kidneys. Take one of these a day and you will have no problems.”
He also books me in for a cardio-angiogram which I can get done for free at a clinic nearby.
“This will tell me about the health of the blood vessels around your heart and whether you have any fatty deposits building up in your arteries,” he says. “When are you flying back to Indonesia?”
“Not for a couple of weeks,” I reply.
“Alright, we’ll book you in next week. That way if you need a stent, I can do it before you leave. You don’t want to be flying with blocked arteries.”
I’m glad that he’s being so thorough but I also feel that I have no sooner ticked off one item on my health checklist, than I have another issue to contend with.
At Deidre’s suggestion, I have also added a diabetic eye test to my to-do list.
Although my eye sight is good I wear magnifiers for reading. However, I mentioned to Deidre that my eyes are continually weepy, something that I understand to be a by-product of my sinus condition.
Deidre thinks it will more likely be macular damage or maybe glaucoma.
Fortunately, the tests reveal that my macular is in good shape and there is no sign of diabetic degeneration.
And the Candesartan prescribed by the world’s best heart specialist, will give me ongoing protection.
My lung function test returned a score of 73, which, according to my GP, means my lungs are also fine.
My cardio-angiogram a few day later reveals no issues with the blood vessels and arteries around my heart.
So I’m all done. Since arriving in Australia, I’ve started taking medication for cholesterol, diabetes and hypertension, or high blood pressure, all very common for someone my age but all my vital organs are in good shape.
I think that calls for a drink.
The clinic where I did my heart scan is about 15 minutes walk from my pub and since it’s a sunny day I decide to take a stroll.
My pub is one of the oldest purpose-built drinking establishments still operating in Melbourne. It was built in 1865 but had a major refit in the early 1980’s.
One of Melbourne’s most famous criminals, Squizzy Taylor, received his first conviction here, at age 15, when he was caught trying to steal money out of the till.
In the 1970’s it was the local watering hole of a notorious crime family, Kath Pettingill and her druglord sons, Dennis and Peter Allen.
Today the neighbourhood has been transformed from a rough, working class suburb into one of the most affluent and most sought after locations in inner Melbourne.
The old warehouses that produced working class staples such as tomato sauce and soap have been transformed into boutique office spaces that house advertising agencies, marketing and graphic design companies as well as tech startups and the head offices of some of Australia’s major retailers and fashion brands.
The pub’s main clientele these days are a mix of local residents, creatives and office workers as well as craft beer enthusiasts who come from all over Melbourne. Toby and our hand-picked staff ensure it is a relaxed and convivial meeting place.
It’s mid afternoon when I arrive and I’m greeted by Toby and a couple of our front bar regulars, Kane, better known as Fudge and Andrew, better known as Rourkey.
Rourkey has worked for most of his life in the Australian music industry, which means he’s had no work for the last twelve months.
Fudge recently completed a course in underwater welding but since most of his employment opportunities are offshore, he has also had no work for the past year.
His new career choice however, is ideal. He was previously a chef and has worked for Penny and I on and off for a number of years. So far, he has set fire to the kitchen no less than four times across two different venues.
I say his new career choice is ideal but if anyone could start a fire underwater, it would be Fudge.
Both Fudge and Roukey are unique characters, very Australian in their laid-back demeanour but there is much more to each of them than first meets the eye.
Rourkey is like a walking encyclopedia with a wealth of knowledge across a broad range of subjects although music is clearly his favourite topic of conversation.
Fudge has more of a knock-about style, which belies a sharp intellect and understanding of human nature.
He is moreover, one of the funniest people I know and it’s hard not to end up very drunk whenever you settle in for a yarn with him.
As much as I try to avoid drinking shots in the middle of the afternoon, it appears there is going to be no way around it today.
We order a round of James Franco’s, Jameson’s whisky with a splash of Frangelico on top.
There are 16 different beers on tap in the front bar, all made by small independent brewers, so there’s always something interesting to try. I settle on a porter, a dark ale not quite as heavy as a stout.
There are a couple of new people behind the bar with Toby and our assistant manager, Sarah.
Sarah has worked for Penny and I longer than Toby but she has taken breaks of two or three years at a time to explore different opportunities. She is experienced, quietly spoken and professional.
The two new staff are Kate, who has also worked for many years in the music industry and is good mates with Rourkey. She is a great bar personality and has fit straight in with our team.
Then there is Ned, a lovely young guy who greets me with an “Apa kabar?” (What’s news?)
He’s fluent in Bahasa Indonesia, having studied at one of Indonesia’s top universities. Toby has spoken to me about him previously and holds him in high regard. I can see immediately he is a good fit for our business.
Fudge and I talk non-stop for about five hours which probably slows my drinking, still, I have little recollection now of what we talked about.
He was very interested to find out how things were going at the guesthouse and when I told him I was staying with Tom he sung my younger son’s praises and that’s about as much as I remember.
Just two barflys, refusing to grow old and talking a lot of shit.
When he goes I order some dinner and switch from beer to red wine.
Rourkey has been sitting quietly while Fudge and I have been chattering away and now we fall into conversation.
He’s a normally gregarious character who wears his hair like the 1980’s rock stars of his youth. He usually comes across as self-reliant and unflappable, so I’m surprised to hear him describe how he struggled during Melbourne’s extended lockdown.
Although it has been five months since the lockdown ended he’s says he’s still getting back on his feet. As he lives alone and was not working, he had a lot of time to himself during the lockdown.
111 days staring at the same four walls.
The thing that saved him, he says, was being able to steal away at night to a nearby pub, whose employees would allow him to sit and enjoy a couple of quiet beers as they finished up after takeaway meal service.
Off to the side of the front bar is a small lounge area known as a snug. The snug is closed off to public view on most sides and when the bar closes, a wooden sliding screen can be drawn across the service window to the front bar and a priviliged few can sit, out of view of prying neighbours and the law and continue to drink, with the publican discretely passing refreshments as required, through the sliding screen.
Rourkey’s father had told him the story of this pub and the sliding screen many years before and how it was used to get around the licensing laws back in the days when pubs in Melbourne were required to close at 6pm.
It wasn’t until he was sitting in the snug, enjoying an illicit beverage himself, that he recalled the story his father had told him and realised that this was the pub.
It was such a small connection but it bought a glimmer of joy in what was otherwise a very bleak time.
It’s closing time and I probably should be going but I haven’t really had a chance to speak with Toby.
A couple of staff are bringing in the outdoor furniture and so I decide to give them a hand. It’s quite a big job. Six large teakwood tables, 4 stools to each table, two umbrellas and stands, two A-frame blackboards and a couple of outdoor heaters. Every morning they go out and every night they need to to be brought back in.
Toby and I now have a chance to sit down and catch up on events of the past months.
We chat regularly so most of what he has had to deal with during the pandemic, including retaining staff and running a scaled back takeaway operation has already been talked through.
As the economy has reopened, many venues have experienced difficulty finding staff to cater to the surging demand.
Our decision to retain all our staff, with government support, has allowed us to maintain an ongoing connection with the local community during the extended lockdown and has ensured we are well placed to benefit as the economy reopens.
A number of people approach me during my time at the pub and praise Toby and our staff for the way they managed to keep some semblance of normality during an exceptionally difficult time.
Our conversation centres around Good Beer Week, an annual event held every May, which showcases the vast array of craft beers produced in Australia and around the world. The event has been going for less than ten years but is our busiest time of the year, busier even than Christmas.
Each year, a handful of venues present a selection of craft brewed beers from each Australian state as well as from a number of overseas countries. Our pub has been part of the event since it’s inception and each year we have focused on the beers of regional Victoria. We also host a handful of ticketed events, such as Home Brewer to Pro-Brewer, where budding enthusiasts can interact with big players in the industry as well as hear from those who have recently made the leap from home based production and become fully-fledged brewers.
As we have a number of advertising agencies in our neighbourhood and are on good terms with many of the creatives who work for them, we usually invite them to host an offbeat panel discussion, looking at idea’s that are trending in beer advertising.
In the past we have invited brewers to come up with a unique ad to promote their beers based around a particular theme. This year, Toby has invited the ad agencies themselves to come up with their own beer ads that will be judged by a panel of their peers.
Although the Good Beer Week festival is held in May, all events need to be submitted to the organisers by the previous October, so there is much that needs to be planned for well in advance. Fortunately for Toby, he already has our program format largely in place, and all that needs to be done is come up with a theme for the event each year.
Toby manages to talk me into a cheeky nightcap before we call it a night.
I left my keys at home when I set out earlier today so I need to wake Tom when I arrive home at around 4 in the morning. He shakes his head as his wayward father weaves his way into bed.