Heavenly Beverley : Cheap Wine And ... Catastrophe!

Those of us who are a certain vintage would be familiar with the Cold Chisel classic "Cheap Wine". Written by Don Walker and usually belted out at full throttle by Jimmy Barnes, the song suggested that good times could still be had, even if down and out.

"Cheap Wine" resonates with me. Back in the Days Before Michael, I was a single parent working in Aged Care and then as an Education Assistant. My duplex was in the suburb of Marangaroo, which along with neighbouring Girrawheen, sometimes drew less than favourable press. However, I never felt unsafe and I made some terrific friends, most of whom have remained as terrific friends.

Friday afternoon ushered in Drinkies at my place. Most of us who gathered together around my table were either parents of children with autism or we worked with children with autism. Or both. Most of us were also single parents with limited financial means. Which meant the weekly celebration of Drinkies was somewhat frugal in nature, particularly in our wine selection.

Gossips is a wine brand that brings back a lot of memories. Particularly their Sweet Lips variety which was like drinking alcoholic lolly water. We drank the stuff with gay abandon. Along with cheese and nibbles, Drinkies would often move on into the evening. Our children, sometimes in attendance, did their own (solitary) thing - disappearing into a room to read or play on my ancient desktop computer or watch the telly. If the time had marched on too far, somebody would be dispatched to the local Fast Foodatorium for the kids. Or we'd order in pizza.

Those afternoons were sensational. And yes, some of us (including me) drank a lot. One evening, a husband had to be Sent For, as one of our number was certainly over the limit. But these weekly events offered us all the chance to unwind, to laugh, to talk and to give ourselves the courage to face the next day. Anybody who has a child with a disability will need no explanation.

These days, I tend to drink less and I don't have to resort to the likes of Gossips much anymore. As part of our low carb diet, I aim, every day, to have two or three glasses of wine in the evening. Last night, this was an epic fail.

The Freemasons Tavern, known as the Bottom Pub, is in the last gasps of a lengthy renovation. We have become quite friendly with some of the blokes toiling away there. Last night we joined Toby and Pete, Ferret, Q and Greg to check out the progress and enjoy a drink with them. When the Freemasons Tavern reopens, Beverley is in for a treat.

The previous publican had known very little about vino. Hence, she had stocked Gossips. Last night Greg produced a bottle of Gossips Chardonnay for my delectation. The boys were all drinking beer. I poured a glass and tentatively sipped the contents. For Gossips, this was high-class Chardy...

The wine went down very nicely. I returned home with about a quarter left in the bottle. Michael cooked Italian sausages on our Baby Q. I was on the couch watching Gardening Australia. My legs refused to budge so dinner consisted of sausages...and more wine. We'd had a huge salad plate at lunchtime, so I figured we'd had enough vegetables for the day.

The Gossips bottle finished and thence I decided to have a glass of a respectable Pinot Gris. This is when it all became rather fuzzy. I remember falling asleep on the couch and going to bed. Apparently, I was also bolshy and argumentative. Michael held his tongue as I raved on, reasoning that he was getting a taste of nighttime disturbances of his creation.

My first clue upon waking was my mouth resembling the inside of a cocky cage. I was seriously dry. The headache was another warning sign. I searched for the ever-reliable Panadol and slept for another half an hour. Eventually, I rose, carefully dressed and went into the living room to search for any wreckage.

The Pinot Gris was nearly empty. Ye Gods. The dishes were piled up. My shoes were strewn around the floor. Glasses sat where they had been left. I was swept by regret and a bit of shame.

So I tidied up, stacked the dishwasher and drank water. Lots of water. I was congratulating myself that I had got away relatively lightly. Until I prepared to shower and Frock Up for the Gallery. Oh, the danger of smugness. First of all, I knocked over a stand of my earrings, breaking one irretrievably. I followed this with a flinging of my favourite perfume bottle around the bathroom, which ricocheted off Michael's beard and moustache trimmer, sending it tumbling in pieces onto the tiles. Finally, I had extreme difficulty working out the sequence of how to put on my bra. Twice. Needless to say, the East End Gallery did not open on time.

I have learnt yet more valuable lessons. I am not as young as I once was. Hangovers are unpleasant, tending to lead to all manner of catastrophes. And never drink a bottle of cheap wine and follow up with a reasonable one.