Last night I cooked the rest of the fish that had been in the freezer since Good Friday. This was not nearly as pleasant as having a fish dinner served up to me at the Orrong on a Friday night. I kept thinking about witnessing their deaths at the hands of a four-year-old fisherperson and watching them suffocate. Not nice. They were also a gamey, strong-tasting lot. From now on it's fish from the fish shop for me.

I saw four films over Easter: a double bill of Tati films at the Astor (weird but fascinating); Starsky and Hutch at the Jam Factory, sitting on a pile of someone else's popcorn (mildy amusing) and Mystic River at the Como (gor blimey).

Today I am doing a tutorial by telephone from Singapore. Should be interesting.

Good Friday - no loaves but lots of fishes.
After our failed attempt at swimming with the seals in New Zealand we were keen for another try. The other party who had booked the boat with us cancelled and, rather than take out the Maureen M with just Right Flipper and me, the captain called his wife who turned up a few minutes later with the entire extended family. And so we went snorkelling. It was freezing in Port Phillip Bay but this time the seals cooperated, sliding off their new version of Chinamen's Hat and joined us in the water. Fantastic. There was also boomnetting, diving off Maureen M's roof and a sort of keelhauling trick which I decided wasn't for me. Then it was time for some fishing. The fish leapt into the boat on the lines of four-year olds. We were given a huge bag of fish and another of mussels to take home so we abandoned our plan of dining in Queenscliff and drove home for a fish-feast.