There is nothing like going out with your nephew to find yourself waking a couple of days later, finally able to put pen to paper. Cocktails.
The Butterfly Club: after that scare when they closed down in South Melbourne, it’s a relief to see not only that the BC is still around, but in a fantastic venue, utterly appropriate to them, just off Little Collins. Cocktails? Good. Music? Excellent. Ambiance? The Butterfly Club invented the word.
The Hyatt on Collins: ordinary cocktails, and dismal nibbles. This is a case where none – which is what you get at the Butterfly Club – is better than some. Intensely irritating music. I don’t know what sort of music it was, but I don’t want to meet people who like it. Ambiance? I think if they mentioned it, it would be misspelt. Sorry, Hyatt on Collins. You do a lovely cuppa. I do think that the fires going in summer is hilarious. Well, it would be if it weren’t necessary. (Written before it hit 25, let alone 45.)
It won’t be the first time I’ve mentioned that if I can’t read a book while drinking a cocktail, something’s failed. It might be the lighting, it might be the sound. So I understand the popularity of 1816, but it isn’t for me. Nonetheless, I was there. I had a cocktail in front of me. Enjoyment ensued.