Goon of Fortune

I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to gently coax my body out of holiday mode. Back into a rhythm that doesn’t involve late nights and midday naps. Starting out a new year where if the past few years are anything to go by there will probably be lots of new faces in my life. There is a seductive excitement, a shinyness (I’m know this is not an official word it’s my word) that comes with meeting new people, making new friends, new relationships…. When you have no history it’s like a blank slate this person doesn’t know any of the back stories and you can choose to give it way in little pieces or big chunks. Then of course there are the few people who not only know the entire back catalogue but are more than happy to jog your memory lest you choose to forget the less classy moments in your life….

So what am I going on about? I was at a wine club yesterday afternoon organised by my place of work. It was basically a group of about ten people discussing among other things wine. I learnt that the majority of people would not be impressed if a bottle that cost less than fifteen dollars was brought along. There was also some general sneering at people who drink cask wine. The major highlight was one girl recounting her “goon of fortune” experiences. It was around the time that office politics started being discussed that I made my exit….

I was recounting this experience to a friend; the lovely wine glasses, the no-bottles less than fifteen dollars accepted rule, the somewhat stilted conversation, when I mentioned “goon of fortune” she was quick to refresh my memory of teenage parties involving hill hoists, four litre bladders of wine attached to the hill hoists and herself hanging upside down from this contraption sculling something that cost much less than $15 a bottle… so the next time I’m listening to someone discuss the merits of different types of wine I’m going to call on that memory and smile.