Buns2025 – Day 1.1 Melbourne
Soundtrack: “Pink Pony Club”, Chappell Roan
Mick Thomas wrote, “There’s no point writing postcards on your bad days” (and I probably owe him a fiver for the number of times I’ve quoted it) and as far as bad days go, today is on the list. But I have time to spare, a need for a distraction, so I’m going to write this about yesterday instead.
Welcome to Buns2025, the next trip. Perth > Melbourne > Sydney > Paris > Dublin > Belfast > Singapore. A trip of much food, music, sights, sounds, smells, and much entertainment as I attempt the French language. In looking for a theme to tie it all together I went through a bunch of ideas (Hearts and Buns, Silent letters and buns, A pain in the buns) asked other people for input (Cool music and hot buns), and in the end it just got too hard so went with Occam’s razor and it’s just Buns. So there will be buns, bao, cheesy buns, soda bread buns, baked goods galore, and also some drag show buns too. Gigs include techno-pioneers 808 State and shoe-gaze deities My Bloody Valentine, as well as a support role in getting a 7 year-old through the excitement of Black Pink.
The planning for this trip has been a bit “organic”, things slotting in for convenience rather than an overall solid focus. It started with MBV announcing a Dublin show, their first in many years, and me securing a ticket. Then 808 State announced a Dublin show the night before, which seemed like a good excuse for me to get one too. Then came Black Pink and Singapore at the end of November, followed by Filipina drag awesomeness Marina Summers touring Melbourne and Sydney. I then tacked on a few Melbourne days at the start, and looked for somewhere between Sydney and Dublin to add another country to the list. Flipped between Prague or Paris, and with Lady Gaga in Paris across the dates chose there (I don’t have a ticket, and official resell hasn’t worked for me yet, can’t have everything i guess).
So Melbourne first stop, with a loose plan to catch up with people, see a few things, and catch some drag. An easy entry ahead of my planned mad dash of trying to see all of Paris in 5 days. Flying to Melbourne after daylight savings has started isn’t the best, the 3 hour difference just eats an entire day — a 9am departure to arrive at 4pm (but it’s good for the other direction, where I’d almost arrive before I depart). So an uneventful day planned, get on plane, land, check in, get some cheese, and head out into the ‘burbs for dinner with friends. Nice and easy.
The Virgin terminal at Perth airport wasn’t having a good Sunday morning. Having decided that they could replace people with check in terminals (or kiosks as they call them, but no one else would confuse a screen in a box for an actual kiosk — even French with all of its bullshit silent letters isn’t that cruel), all the terminals decided to die. Now there’s some language for you: dead terminals in a terminal. Anyway, the hundreds of folks trying to check into flights weren’t amused, nor were the couple of staff who’d sadly drawn the short straw of having to work that morning. Eventually maybe a quarter of the kiominals came back, so I’m madly trying to get my luggage tag as they are calling out something about my flight. Because I’m not a trained aircrew, i managed to attach the tag to the wrong part of my case, so just like the recycling machines when they can’t read the bottle barcode, the machine spat my case back at me. Fixed the tag on the side handle and the machine was happy.
The flight itself consumed my day in a not unpleasant manner. I was briefly filled with dread when I saw there were new parents in the row in front, but their baby was amazingly quiet and calm throughout. I think the kid thought I was a big chicken or something, with my bright yellow mask on, so they stared for a bit through the seat gap before faling asleep. I was struggling to keep my eyes open too, an early flight meant I didn’t sleep well, and my current trip reading is Simone de Beauvoir’s Prime of Life, which isn’t the most exciting of works. Fortunately it seemed whenever I did doze, the child of an age to know better sitting behind me started kicking the back of my seat. Some things weren’t meant to fly.
My luggage survived my untrained loading, and trained baggage handlers, and I was soon on the skybus into the CBD. A short walk to what’s becoming my regular hotel here, then I was off to find cheese as I didn’t want to turn up to dinner empty handed (well, I’d also scored a cool glow-in-the-dark dinosaur jigsaw puzzle for the “kids” but thought I should bring something for the grown ups too). Fortunately Melbourne has the Spring Street Grocer, a cafe and cornucopia of gourmet things open after 5pm on a Sunday. Their cheese selection is gourmet, i.e. an interesting assortment, not huge, and not cheap, but I was certainly able to get three decent ones.
One of the things I like about Melbourne is its public transport. It works, generally on time, and while no system is perfect it’s definitely better than many places. The free tram zone took me from my hotel end of the CBD to Spring Street without any issue at all, and being right near Parliament station I should have been able to take a train down to the GBP household in the same amount of time and cheaper than an Uber.
Should. For reasons unknown, the Melbourne train system took Sunday afternoon off, leading to the chaos that is known as “replacement buses”. Here helpful underappreciated staff guide confused people to well marked temporary stops, while locals complain and the bus drivers themselves seem to just make it up as they go along. The first bus, nicely correctly labelled, pulled up a little late, let off passengers and then refused to let anyone on. After a discussion with a supervisor, he proclaimed that he’d only take passengers to two of the stops on the route, neither of which I or most of the queue wanted. His bus obviously wasn’t powered by shits because he had none to give about any of us, and off he drove to the bemusement of all, including the poor assistant. While these buses were supposed to run every 20 minutes, it was a bit longer before we saw another, also correctly labelled, drive right past.
By this stage the locals, used to trains running mostly on time, were generally less than amiable. Fortunately a third bus came along soon after, and we were on our way. From what I could see the replacement bus system had potential, as unlike Perth where the replacement buses will go the full route, they’d broken up routs so one bus would do the first part, and a second bus would run express for that and then do the other half of the route. It could work, but today, for me and those heading my way, it didn’t.
Dinner at the GBP household was wonderfully chaotic. GBP is old pals A and T, plus their two hyper-precocious offspring M and P. The evening comprised discussions, k-pop videos, dinosaurs, as well as a bit of time in T’s workshop discussing all manner of wood and its acoustic properties, as his current hobby is making guitars. I might be slightly envious of his hand plane collection. In an unexpected coincidence, there were dinner rolls, so the first bun was consumed. It’s certainly a contender for the best bun, because what could be better than a supermarket bought dinner roll, warm from reheating, Lurpak butter, eaten at a dining table with friends. Offspring M also thought the buns were good, as she tried badly to conceal one in her pyjamas to take to bed (while she has an astounding imagination, her sleight of hand needs a lot of work). A great evening with people I sadly don’t see often enough.
It might have been 1030pm, but to my body it was 730pm, and with life threatening to throw in a change of plans I headed out to catch a late drag show at Sircuit in the “Gaybourhood” of Fitzroy/Collingwood. Performing were three local queens, Baby Slut (let’s see if that gets through workplace filters), Theresa Problem, and Gloss, who all put on a great, if short, couple of sets to an appreciative crowd. There were fabulous outfits, death drops, reveals, big shoes, cheap costume jewellery, and shade thrown, all that anyone could want in a drag show.
With my heart full from a good night out, and my head slightly buzzing from 3 bottom shelf vodka drinks, I headed back to the hotel, via a slight detour to get a chicken HSP from one of the three adjacent kebab shops. A good way to end the night: fresh chips and chicken covered in hummus and garlic sauce. I’ve sampled this from all three places, and all are decent, it’s just a case of picking the one that has the freshest chips. Melbourne’s finest.
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Due to things, there’ll be a short pause, and I’ll be back with Day 1.2 and Wednesday. Take care.
