Wow, hasn't it been raining. And it's still raining. Thursday morning I watched some shops in Gertrude Street have water lapping under their doors.
I went out and took and E and danced at A Bar Called Barry, with Tim and Nicholas and co – Patricia, Sarah, fat Nikki, and a bizarre friend of Nicholas’ called Cathy. Too many drugs over the years for that one, I suspect. Found under a rock, I believe.
None of the girls, we meet out, ever believe Nicholas is gay - big, strapping, dark-haired and handsome boy that he is. There always seems to be a gaggle around him, saying that it can't be true.
The music was heard-every-song-a-zillion-times 80's retro. The club only ever filled up to half full, maybe a few more.
Tim went home and then called Nicholas to come home, the usual shenanigans with those two.
I took E, I danced and I only drank beer as a fluid. Oh, my aching head.
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