Despite ‘different interests’, these mates have had coffee every Sunday for 15 years
By Susan Horsburgh
After Ian Forsyth, 61, and Scott Follows, 56, kept bumping into each other at South Melbourne Market, they began having a casual coffee together. Fifteen years later, it has evolved into something much deeper.
Ian Forsyth (left) and Scott Follows. “This relationship – two guys having a coffee every Sunday at 8am – is unique,” says Follows. “I hope it lasts another 30 years.” Credit: Peter Tarasiuk
SCOTT: We met at a dinner party in 1997 because our then-girlfriends, now our wives, worked at the same cosmetics firm. He loved Carlton Football Club, and elephants on ties. He was reserved and funny, a nice paradox.
We’d run into each other at South Melbourne Market every Sunday and it was like, “Should we grab a coffee?” We’ve never said, “See you next Sunday”: there’s never been any co-ordination. The South Melbourne bell tower will ring eight times and we’ll sit at a table at Clement Coffee, always the same table, and have two flat whites each. We laugh at the price of fish, how it goes from zero to hero at Christmas and Easter; Ian always knows the price of flathead tails. And Georgie from the potato stall gives us samples of jam and chutney she’s made.
‘I share my struggles, but Ian doesn’t have that many. Sometimes, it’s just knowing that if you want to talk to someone, you can.’
Scott Follows
We like to have a chat but then the buskers start playing, so we buy them a coffee and croissant so they’ll stop and eat; that gives us time to have a conversation. We’ll check in on the family, work, politics – at the moment he’s into the American Civil War, drawing parallels with the current political landscape. We’re not in Trump’s camp, but I picked that he’d win back in 2016; Ian didn’t see that coming. We’re simpatico – outraged about the same things.
I share my struggles, but Ian doesn’t have that many. Sometimes, it’s just knowing that if you want to talk to someone, you can. When I’ve been unemployed – I’m now a director and Ian’s a board member and consultant – he’s used his network to open doors. And when one of the stall-owners lost her husband, Ian helped her navigate the bureaucracy. He does random acts of kindness for people.
Going market-shopping is our contribution to our families, but he does one better than me: he also goes to the supermarket. I tried to do that, but I ended up getting the wrong things.
By the time we meet, he’ll have had a swim in Port Phillip Bay in his funky trunks without a wetsuit; he does this 365 days a year. It’ll be five degrees, I’ll have a parka, gloves and beanie on and he’ll be in stained, threadbare shorts and a T-shirt. He repairs his thongs with a plastic bread-tie. One Sunday, he came to the market and half his face had collapsed – Bell’s palsy – but he just drank his coffee in a different way. He had an aortic valve replaced a couple of years ago. Nothing overwhelms him.
He’s a cracker dad – his two girls love him; he had three sisters, so he’s managed having daughters really well – and there’s always a cast of thousands at his house. He’s very patient, so even if he’s not happy, you’ll never know. We both have daughters who’ve left home for uni, so we talk about that challenge.
Our friendship keeps me centred; I get an injection of humility from him. We’ve both got other friends, but this relationship – two guys having a coffee every Sunday at 8am – is unique. I hope it lasts another 30 years.
Their regular table at Clement Coffee, South Melbourne Market.
IAN: Scotty’s like a puppy: enthusiastic and a bit over-the-top sometimes, but loveable. He’s all over social media, loves a chat, is always having a crack at something – like a skateboard or an electric scooter. He’ll turn up to the market wearing a Prada hat. He’s into gym workouts and different diets: it could be the high-carb, the no-carb, the all-protein. He’s pretty manic. We take the piss out of each other.
Our interests are quite different: I’m not exactly footy-mad, but Scotty wouldn’t know a football if it hit him in the head. He’s mad on cars – he used to post a Porsche a day on social media – whereas I had a 1996 Saab until five years ago. He’s always on time; I’m always late. But our kids have grown up together, and [wives] Kirstin and Suzanne were in the same mothers’ group.
We started meeting at the market with our kids; they’d be off doing half our shopping and we’d be sitting there solving the world’s problems. The market’s a bit upmarket these days; we always laugh at the fish prices. How someone could pay 60 bucks a kilo for flathead is beyond me. Once it’s past $39, it’s off the agenda.
‘Meeting like this in the market is really easy. It’s a good, regular opportunity to chew the fat – it’s just what we do.’
Ian Forsyth
We catch up on the week that was, the week that’s coming, a lot of politics. I probably don’t listen as much as I should to Scotty; I get pretty dogmatic. I didn’t predict Trump’s win back in 2016 – but then I’d never tip against Carlton, even if we were on the bottom against the top team. I’m not as objective, so I couldn’t even contemplate the idea.
We often talk about challenges at work: Scotty’s had the rough end of the draw a few times and redundancy has had an impact. As Scotty says, “Pale, stale and male”: the opportunities might not be what they once were, but he’s in tune with what’s happening and a loyal person who’s got good ideas. If Scotty can do you a favour, he’ll do you two. I’ve forgotten my credit card, grabbed a bloody Bupa card instead: “Scotty, could you give me a couple of hundred bucks?” No worries. Very generous fella.
For 20-something years, I wore only ties that had elephants on them – good ties, not bloody comic ones! Scotty painted that big, elephant mosaic triptych which hangs on my living-room wall. I think he might have done a zebra at his place and I said I liked it. There was no fanfare; he just turned up with it. And there are a few tiny ballerinas in the painting because Lili, my eldest, was a mad dancer. It’s just as well I liked it; it wouldn’t have been too good if it was under the stairs or in the cupboard.
I don’t catch up with a lot of other mates. The temptation as you get older is not to withdraw exactly but perhaps make less of an effort to do things. Meeting like this in the market is really easy. It’s a good, regular opportunity to chew the fat – it’s just what we do.
I can be pretty pragmatic, realpolitik and all that. Pretty blunt, people would say. I’m very aware of Scotty’s generosity, his enthusiasm, his interest in what other people are doing. It’s good to be exposed to people like that, to make sure some of it rubs off.
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