Cooking Without Love

I was up at 9.45. 

I had things to do today, pay bills, go shopping, make a cake. Sebastian insisted that I made a cake for tonight. It’s Project Runway night. Oh really, I thought. Insisted, demanded, both I respond to so well, as a rule. I kept it very cool and matter of fact. 

“It has to be gluten free, of course. Or, there has to be a gluten free option.” 

I’m not sure what is up Sebastian’s nose, but I’m sure something still is. Besides, you fucker, it is you who has offered to cook for everyone.

Anthony called, before I’d made coffee, when I was still thinking about the gluten free order. My voice was still gravelly. We laughed, as we always do. He left an abusive message yesterday, then he called to say sorry, he was in pain with his second broken shoulder blade. I told him, “Lovely, you get in pain and then you abuse me.”

“I’m sorry, luv.”

I smiled to myself. I’ve got two good arms, I’m hardly in a position to be pissed off.

“What are you doing today?”

“Making a gluten free cake.”

“What did everyone do in the past?” asked Anthony. “Before gluten free became so popular?”

“Fuck knows.” All those gluten intolerant types. “Self aggrandising, self focused, attention seeking, me me me types, who buy into a condition to gather attention for themselves.”

Mark sent me a message saying pack my bags I could go to Vietnam. But, I said no to Sam about going to Indonesia, because I couldn’t afford it… now, I could hardly turn around and go to Vietnam.

Sam leaves for Indonesia on January 7th.

I spoke to Mark later, he said I didn’t have to pay for the ticket, as Jane will no longer be using it, that it could be the interest on the money of mine he has had for two years.

Mark said to speak to Sam. Mark thinks Sam is sweet and he wouldn’t mind. I dunno? He so wanted me to go with him to Indonesia.

I head to the supermarket. Gordon, my next door neighbour, is there with some other old guy. I go pay my bills. I haven’t spoken to him since he suggested that I need to pay some money towards his sewer. Our sewers are connected and Gordon is on the other end of the terraces and is always having trouble with his blocking up and he thinks it is time I contributed towards the repairs.

“You are just lucky you are on the end that you are.”

Yes, but isn’t that the point?

I chat to Mark. We’re trying to sort Skype out. Ah, welcome to the 21st Century. I haven’t called by phone as I don’t want to have an enormous phone bill when we could sort Skype and not pay anything.

Later, I chat to Rachel by text. She wants to go and hide in Marshall’s Garden. I tell her about the small cottage on the property. She says that I am torturing her.

I make the cake. Hazelnut… with little love. I’ve got the TV and my lap top and I’m smsing the whole time I’m making the cake.

I watch Weeds. Season 7. 

Sam arrived, before I get to the end of Weeds.

David arrived, doing his “look at me” dance in the lounge room, also before the end of Weeds. He wanted all of the attention on him... as he always does, sucks it away. Actually, he pretty much wanted all the attention on him all night... as per usual.

Sebastian and Nick arrived last. Nick’s his usual, unfriendly self. Well, when I say unfriendly, I mean surly, oh, stand offish, um, smart arse, oh, I’m not sure how to describe it. And Sebastian, well, I don’t know about him either. I’m just not sure about Sebastian any more. He seems hard-arsed and, what’s the best way to describe it, kind of pissed off, almost, unfriendly, now a days… like I did something to upset him but we are just not going to talk about it.

D comes over in the middle of proceedings and says he has a lead on pills for new year. We all order.