Lovely Rice And Lots Of Booze

Mark

hey chriso... sorry we missed you… been up in the penhow (penthouse) mopping up after a big storm (rain)... got to get those windows water tight... matt and rob are ‘ere… been working all day getting ready for the painters... no one preps like I do, so I have to do it all, meself... cos I want it to be gorgeous...

HOW DIDI YOUR SOUP GO?... DIDI I LIKE THAT MISTOOK, i think I'll use that again... Indeed I didi... doo dah dayie.

Christian

The soup tuned out lovely, even if I do say so myself. I fed it to Sam who is a bit flu'wah... and whinny.

I lit a fire, first thing, and we sat with our Apple products and wrote and read respectively. Sam on the couch, me on the floor. Our morning library. Our meditation. Silent. Calm.

Sam coughed and snotted and spluttered and farted like an old maggot with consumption and diseased bowels. Poor baby.

 Kept the fire stacked and the temperature in the room at a lovely healing “toasty.”

Sebastian was hanging out in Shane’s room in the afternoon. He doesn’t come to say hello to us, not anymore. It is funny how the benchmark to behaviours is only a one way street, but, shrug, I guess, they are not unique there.

We headed out the front door to go to the supermarket without saying hello to Sebastian. Why, when he is content to be rude? Besides, if Shane said anything in the slightly miss guided sense of compadre’ship, I could simply say that I didn’t know he was there. 

I’m not sure I should have taken Sam out in the cold. He seemed to drag his feet just a little. I made risotto. Mushroom, bacon and leek. Yum, it was too.

Anthony came over for the evening. He said he won’t want dinner, he'd eat before he came over. He arrived and I think he was very pissed, more so than usual. Noticeably, which isn’t usual. I thought he’d given it up? He had a small bowl of risotto, and then he wanted more. 

"If you wanted food, why didn't you just say so?" 

“Oh, just a taste,” he said.

That was our lunch for tomorrow. I would have made more. Oh well, I didn’t really mind, don’t get me wrong, but I could have easily made more also, if I’d known.

He can’t communicate so well, I think because of the alcohol he has consumed. He sat on the couch and stumbled over his words. It was eye opening.

I ask him about being banned from Liquorland

“Well, when you arrive at 9am for booze… they ban you.”

9am? Really? I’m not even sure what that means? Surely to be banned you have to be pissed, not just enthusiastically buying supplies? Does that mean he was pissed at 9am. I guess I should have asked him?

We settled into watching TV, that seemed the easiest.

He had a couple of cigarettes and left at 10pm saying he has had a lovely time. I guess two hours is pretty much all he can manage.

It was kind of sad, really. He tells me about his latest health problems. He doesn’t seem to have any idea why he would have them.