Wine, (scary) women and song

It was rather a bizarre day at the Sea & Vines yesterday. C & I met up with another couple, friends of ours, at Coriole, which is probably our favorite spot in the area. The wine was very drinkable and the bouillabaisse was on par with previous years (though quite how you're supposed to eat the whole lot, we weren't sure. The cutlery was wooden, so eco-friendly but not really eato-friendly. If you have any tips on how to eat soup with a spoon-shaped icy pole stick, suggestions are welcome). The afternoon was pleasant and we even got chatty with another group who ended up standing near us, which was nice. We moved onto Penny's Hill after that. I'm not sure what time it was but we were just in time to hear Daryl Braithwaite break into Howzat. Now, I'm not a huge fan of Daryl but I can respect the guy. Sherbert were a pretty good band, as Australian 70s bands go. Sure, they had some fucked up haircuts back then and wore some rather embarrassing leotard arrangements from memory but you couldn't fault the music: tight arrangements, good harmonies and not every song about bein' in lurve. He still has a pretty good voice and seemed to be enjoying himself up there. But oh, when people get pissed... I have seen no better illustration of the dark effects of alcohol than to see two middle-aged women, earnestly singing along with Dazza's musings on life, getting most of the words wrong, then sauntering up to my friend and I (our wives were in the mosh pit) and start trying it on with us. Now, to be honest, they were trying it on with my friend. He's a few years older than I am. I'm still within the 18-35 demographic but while I remember seeing Daryl on TV as a kid, he was probably going to concerts. He's also much taller than I am, and has a rather distinguished, manly look to him, so it was to him that these ladies directed their attention. "So you're both unattached?" one of them asked? "No, were both married, but not to each other, of course," I said. (Gee, I'm witty, aren't I?) "So where are your wives?" "They're up the front, moshing," said my friend. Then, the shorter, fatter of the two, directed the following at my friend. "So would you like to have it off with us while they're up there?" I had to turn around so she couldn't see me dripping tears of laughter into my cheese platter. One of the group we'd kind of hooked up with was a little scary too. We got chatting and discovered we had a mutual friend and, while that was good for chat-fodder, I think she started to fancy me after that. Did I mention I was there with my wife? It was too weird. I just don't expect girls to flirt with me. It's rather unnerving and I feel awkward and want to run away. And I so didn't fancy her. She then bought fish & chips and was sharing it around on the basis that she was really worried about absorbing the consciousness of the fish. I figure the fish probably kept most of its consciousness in its head before it was dragged from the water and dismembered and was probably finished with it by the time it was dipped in batter and deep-fried. Anyway, time to go around 5 and the other of the earlier two again approached my friend to say goodbye, with "Y'know, if you're ever looking for a bit on the side..." It was just really sad and embarrassing now, and I think she realised how sad and embarrassed she appeared. With any luck she'll have drunk another bottle of red last night and forgotten all about it when she eventually wakes up today. Then how about the game last night? And to think, around the 81st minute, I'd lost all hope and was seriously considering going to bed.