dinnertime thursday i was running about the house, grabbing whatever chocolate i could find and stuffing it into my going-out handbag. in the drizzle, we walked briskly up the hill, caught a bus, realised it was the wrong bus when it stopped way (way) short of where we wanted to be, walked even quicker (downhill, thankfully) for about twenty minutes, and arrived at the wharf just as the ferry did. on the top deck, in the drizzle, looking at the twinkly city, i tore open my emergency bag of muji roasted black soybeans covered in soy chocolate. do not be alarmed — there was only the thinnest shell of soy chocolate coating the crunchy, pulsy soybeans, and i ate many of them.

before too long, in the drizzle, a pointy thing covered in fairy lights appeared on the horizon: luna park! it got bigger and grinned at us, and soon we were there.

we were there to see eels!

somehow the boy had managed to get us on the guestlist. ’tis a very useful thing to have friends of friends.

in the big top (which possessed none of the magic and flair conjured up by its name) there was a russian animation about a crocodile and a small furry bear-like creature; a girly folk singer channeling phoebe buffet; and a bar of lindt pistachio chocolate.

“chocolate at a rock concert. that’s funny,” said the boy, as he helped himself to a square.
“funny, how?”
“funnier than beer and cigarettes.”
“i don’t think that eels are so beer-and-cigarettes a band.”

and in fact there was a string quartet, a double bass, a couple of keyboards, a saw, some other stringy things, and E in a bowler hat and a sharp suit, who drank what appeared to be whisky, and smoked a cigar. there you go.

eels = so very, very good.