Husband and I went out one night to a fancy restaurant. I cannot recall if the night was of any significance but of course when you’re newlyweds, every day is a reason to celebrate. We were ushered to our table and the  chef  himself came to greet us. We ordered the vegetable terrine for entree and the tuna steak for main. I remember the waiter wince when I asked him to make sure mine was cooked all the way through. We surely must have ordered dessert because I am an insufferable sweet tooth. Funny, I cannot recall now what was on the dessert menu.

The terrine was beautiful.  It’s easy to see why chefs regard themselves as artists. Layers of red, yellow, green then white. The tuna steak was huge! I could not finish it all. While we were enjoying each other’s company and nibbling on the food, a scruffy looking man wobbled over to us. His suit, while very expensive looking was far too large for a man of his small stature. The hand that held his nearly empty wine glass was smothered by his long sleeve.

“Enjoying the meal?” he slurred.

Husband and I looked at each other, both of us nervously waiting for the other to reply to the inebriated man.

“Yes, thanks,” one of us eventually mumbled.

He swayed on his merry way, accosting other diners.

It wasn’t until he died, when pictures and footage of his face splashed on the TV screen on every Adelaide channel, that we realised who this drunkard was.

Don Dunstan. Owner of the famous Don’s Table (where we dined that evening) and former Premier of South Australia.

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