After spying a chinese restaurant at Southbank on the way home from one of my hospital visits the other day, I had a hankering for some chinese food. I was dreaming of dumplings, salivating about san choy bow, dying for some duck (OK, not literally dying for some duck but I think you get the picture here).
I confidently said to myself in my firmest teacher head voice "you'll remember the name of that place, won't you?"
"Yes" I answered myself obligingly. "Of course I'll remember the name of that place. I'm in the mood for chinese!"
"Good".
And then I promptly forgot the name of the restaurant.
After I'd come back from the hospital, I'd spoken to Odette about this need for chinese and she agreed that she too could go a serve of sui min. She'd heard that there was somewhere good in Southbank and we set the date. Thursday night seemed like a goer for both of us and so I went about searching for this elusive restaurant whose name I couldn't remember. I'd make the booking.
"That's OK" I told myself again. "This is exactly what the internet was designed for. For finding restaurants that you know very little about in locations that you have minimal understanding. You'll find it, no worries".
I typed "chinese restaurant" and "Southbank" into my search engine. Bingo! There it was. The Red Emperor (http://www.redemperor.com.au/). I made the booking online, even provided my correct mobile number. The next day, the restaurant confirmed the booking and so I settled back relishing the thought of the meal.
We drove down to Southbank with a vague idea as to where this restaurant was but ready for a good feed. We got one of those magic parking spots - free and insanely close to where I thought we needed to be.
"Where is this place exactly?" Odette asked
"Definitely along Grey Street here. I'll look at the address that I've printed off though" I said with the certitude of someone who actually had a detailed knowledge of the Brisbane landscape. And that's when the belly laugh began. One of the ones that starts deep in the pit of your stomach and invades your entire being by the time it's done.
"What are you laughing at?" Odette enquired and looked at me quizically.
"So, I've booked us a table at 1830hrs for Southbank in Melbourne. I don't think we're going to make it in time".
Once we'd picked ourselves up off the floor from laughter and seriously considered calling the "Depend" incontinence pad group offering to be ambassadors for their product, we looked at each other and still giggling to our respective selves, silently got back into the car. Before we moved on, Odette looked at me again, and, shaking her head said "You idiot Malouf".
And she was right.
Who the hell left me in charge of making the booking????
