The Olympics start this weekend. I love the Olympics.
I love the pomp and circumstance. I love the uniforms that always manage to be kitsch despite being designed by the latest celeberity designer. Or perhaps because they’re designed by the latest celebrity designer…
I love the drama – nothing better than a good disqualification in the final moments of the walk. I love the athletes village – how much sex is happening there in the final few days of competition? I love the argy bargy in the waterpolo games, I love the steeplechase while simultaneously finding it faintly ridiculous, I even love the rhythmic gymnastics. Especially the rhythmic gymnastics. That back arch they do after they’ve pranced about the mat like they’re dancing on hot coals – it’s fantastic. Who came up with that sport?
So here at Hartsyard I’ve decided to run an Olympics all of my own. So far i’m the only competitor and my uniform appears to be uggboots and some old, saggy running gear. Not that i’m planning on running anywhere. No, my Olympic event is the Hartsyard Heptathlon. I have set myself a challenge – by the time the real Olympics are over, I must accomplish 7 tasks that have been on my to-do list ever since we opened.
Wanna know what they are?
- Scotchguard the banquette. Yes, this should have been done before we opened. No, it is not hard. But it does require 2 applications and 48 hours before being used. Which means I must do it on my days off, which makes them not days off and so consequently I never remember to do it until Tuesday afternoon, by which time it is too late.
- Fix the ice machine. Or ‘fix’ the people who sold it to us. We got fleeced people, and spent a lot of money on a substandard machine, which means we spend $10-$20 a day at the servo across the road buying frozen water that has successfully managed to turn itself into ice. Water has been doing it for billions of years. I don’t know why our water has such a tough time.
- Mend the front door. You know that saying ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out’? Well, that’s exactly the problem at Hartsyard. You enjoy a pleasant evening with your friends, sipping on cocktails, feasting on lamb ribs and stuffing yourself with Andy’s sundae, you bring your meal to a close, wander towards the front door, gently pull it open, step through and next thing you know you’re in the middle of Enmore Road as the door catapults you out with all the gentility of a Kings Cross bouncer.
- Fix George the Duck. Poor old George. He stands guard at the host stand, steady and strong…until a guest puts their elbow up on the ledge and next thing he knows, he’s lying broken on the floor, his styrofoam beak rolling to rest under a nearby table.
- Christmas break. It’s July you say, yes well, that just means we’re even further behind, this should have been sorted by June at the latest. Andy, Sung and Cassie are all planning on heading OS for Christmas, which could make the running of Hartsyard rather difficult. So we’ll probably just close. How’s that for a solution!
- Tax. Let’s just pretend I didn’t even write that. I can’t deal with tax. I can barely deal with invoices.
- Get bi-fold doors installed in the front window. This was our original plan, but having to do a DA meant both money and patience we didn’t have. But that dining room gets hot yo, and if we don’t do something about it sooner rather than later, ya’ll are going to be sweating more than a prostitute at confession. Anyone know anyone in Marrickville council…
So there you have it. The Hartsyard Olympic Heptathlon. If anyone is up for joining the event, there are a couple of lanes still open. 7 to be exact.
I’m also more than happy to make it into a relay. I’ll take event number 5.
Right people, back to it. It must be time to start tapering or whatever it is athletes do before a big event. Does it involve coffee and a kit-kat? If so, I’m set to win.