The European
When I die (probably by drowning) I hope to come back as that slate grey stretch of footpath outside The European. Not because I like looking up office girl's skirts, but because that's one of the sunniest stretches of concrete I know of in the city of Melbourne.
Sure, watching the multitude of knicker clad bums drift overhead all day without the slightest inkling of Catholic guilt would be awesome, but I'm primarily interested in the abundant sunshine that drenches that part of Spring Street. There's nothing like it. And there's nothing quite like sitting and sipping an ice-cold beer with your breakfast outside the European on a clear sunny day. Just soaking up the rays, smiling at the working stiffs as they go about their business, and imagining what it would be like to be an enormous slab of cement that just happens to have hordes of secretaries trotting all over it.
Jesus. It's official. I can't write about restaurants, and I really, really miss my girlfriend. The menu at The European is brilliant, as is the service. Go there now. Ehh!
Venue: Restaurant
Meal: All day
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