Sunny Saturday

It's hot again today. Sunny and hot. The sun is burning me, as me as I step into it. The air is hot The day is hot. It is a case of too much cake, now. We've had perfect and now I want something else. A change. Relief. When is autumn? When do we get the leaves falling gently to the ground in the cool breeze? When will we feel rain? Please let it be soon.

It is quite nice really, 30 degrees. It is especially nice sitting in front of the fan, on the couch. It would be so nice if there was a beach, just over there. You know, across the road. Or a lake. Or a river.

I got up, pulled myself away from the fan and swept the back yard. Even though it is shaded by a tree, I was sweating by the end of it. I thought it was the least I could do, as Nicholas and Tim are coming over, with Mary... ? Their new best friend. WTF? Every where they go... It is all I've done. Swept the yard. I've bought nothing and yet they'll be here in fifteen minutes.

I went to the Milk Bar and bought three bottles of Agrum, dodging the slow walking tourists in Gertrude Street. So much foot traffic, now a days. Oh oo ah! Yes, yes, lovely isn't it. Can I get past? Go home. I can't wait for us to be, "Soo yesterday." And we can get back to just the locals.

I filled the pond, it has been empty for some time. I've been thinking, who cares? It has been the name of my maintenance program. But, Nicholas is the only person who would notice, so it was a respect issue. Ha, ha. But if someone is going to notice, you've just got to milk it, a little. The world is so short on gold elephant stamps now a days, don't you think?

Nicholas made his joke about duckweed, he always makes a joke about duckweed. When we lived together, I came home and he told me he'd got this new weed for the pond, "It is great!" It was duckweed. It took me years to get rid of it, after it took over the pond... as I predicted, after he told me what he'd done.

"Oh." Sharp intake of air. "You've already put it in, you say?" Wince.

We ate pizza and drank vodka mules.

Fitzroy terraces

Hot February Morn

Sam woke me, I was very groggy. Big night, I could hear Shane saying. I could see sunshine and bright light. He bought Buddy upstairs. I could feel the heat of the day all ready and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and I turned, but no.

So Buddy, and I, headed down stairs.

I finished the coffee beans yesterday, so I have to go to the supermarket, before I do anything else. Bugger! I was still feeling some what bonged over, on just a slight tilt. The world was bright beyond the house. I still didn’t want to walk to the supermarket.

I rolled a joint and sat at the coffee table. Buddy was straight underneath and he was snoring in no time.

It was quite, but my ears might be blocked. Does the planet have that natural ringing sound?

I rolled another joint.

But I needed coffee, was strong enough to pick me up off the lounge room floor and propel me up the stairs to the shower. But I needed coffee was enough to dress my and propel me out the front door.


Oh Good, your talking to me again , if that is what it takes then ....

I was only attempting to protect the innocent from a mind filled with clutter. A(ntony)


11.07.

The world has been restored, I am sitting here with a cup of coffee by my side. I can’t tell you it was easy. A straight line was hard to work. I was hoping that the shadows would still be cool, but the sun had risen just a little too much in the sky.


I’d had 4 joints, by the time I went to Woolies. I’m not pretending that I didn’t find that difficult. Oops. Not so much against my capabilities, but way past my comfort level. It is all quite doable, in fact, it is kind of nice just floating along, the only thing you have to remember is to put one foot in front of the other, and look both ways, carefully.

Then you are right.

I tried to walk as close as I could to the fences. Come to think of it, that would have looked kinda mad, staggering just every so often.

My mouth went almost completely dry half way to Woolies. I wasn’t at all sure if I’d be able to speak, if required to do so. But the whole experience is surreal and funny and I giggled, at just the slightest thing, even a stumble could produce mirth.

Self service is a godsend. I press each button as carefully as I could. As long as I was careful, there would be no requirement to speak to anyone.


As I walked up the back stairs of Woolies, a handsome black man in a suit, stopped me and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but notice you are staggering a bit.” He smiled, his white teeth were dazzling, his eyes were big and brown. The sides of his eyes creased. He smiled. He did that short exhale thing. “A lot.” He tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

I turned to him and his earnest demeanour nearly set off a fresh round of giggles in me. I said. “I am staggering just a little.” I felt a chill run up my spine at how much I was sounding like Frank Thring.

“It is just that last week end, I was learning about the signs of strokes in people…:

“But.” My voice raised an octave. “I’m fine, I can assure you… thank you for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?”

I laughed at the ridiculousness at having to come clean to a total stranger about my bad behaviour. “I had a joint just before I left home… that is all.” I smiled.

There was a moments hesitation, as he digested the fact that what he was hearing was, actually, what I was actually saying. Then he smiled. “Well.” He smiled again, as if at the same ridiculousness of confession. “I’d be lucky to make it to the supermarket at all… if I’d had a joint.”

We both smiled. He was lovely. He kind of nodded. We kept walking in our opposite directions.

Just the one? I thought, as I walked away. He never would have even seen me stagger, if I’d had just the one.

The sun was hot. The shadows were now not long enough across the footpath, to shield my head from the sun. So I was even stooped, and cursing every time the already hot sun hit the crown of my head.

Terrace houses are always cooler inside.

The bulldog snores. The air is hot.

David rang me five joints in, lazing back on the couch, momentarily exhausted from a burst of creativity. He’s on an unnatural high, thanks to signing the lease to his latest cohabitation… and, then by natural extension, his immanent wedding.

“I’m fabulous, actually” I laughed. “I got a bag of pot.” I laughed again. “How are you?”

“OMG! That is never good,” said David. “Why?”

The rest of the conversation consisted of many giggles emanating from me. I gave into hopelessness, completely. The heaviness had swelled in my eyelids and I was rapidly heading towards not caring if I kept my eyes open, or not. That was the heaviness of the absurd that is the best part about being stoned.

Matt sends me a dance track, which seems kind of cool in the beginning, but at mid day on a stoner day, it just kind of felt interminable in the end, half way through.

By 1pm, it is time for a nap on the couch. 

But, I felt restless, like I should do something, for an hour at least each day.

I picked Amy Winehouse and lamented my loss of the main disk, only now having the bonus CD. And Luke took my Lionheart, which I must get back. Poor Amy should be better represented. I could at least fix that today.

I walked into Collins Place. Instead of lamenting the loss of Any Winehouse's Back to Black, I decided to go to the cheap CD shop and purchase a new copy. It was exercise, so I decided that I would just do it and not think any more about it. It is hot, over thirty. The sun burns down fierce and dry. I used to be able to walk to Collins Street in relative shade, but they have removed so many trees there are now huge sections where I am now subject to the burning sun. I was sweating profusely when I got back. Not to mention the CD shop has sold out of all Amy Winehouse. 

I came home and eat ice cream.

Cool scooter. If I was braver, I'd ride one.

Guido Just Dropped In?

I did the jigsaw in the afternoon. It was lovely, as a cool late afternoon breeze blew in the back doors.

Sam and I took Buddy for a big walk. Sam is much more interested in walks than the dog park, as he reckons at the dog park, he and I just stand in one place, or worse still, sit.

“Come on, fat boy, move,” is the thing Sam says to me mostly these days.

As we walked across the oval at the base of the commission flats, I confessed to the pot, he gave me the in.

“What is wrong with you,” asked Sam. “You seem way too…” He shrugged. “Relaxed.”

That was my moment, it was here right now, I couldn’t let it pass. “And what produces that kind of relaxation in me… huh?”

“I was…” oh… “Going to ask if you…”

“What?” I was imploring him to go there, so I didn’t have to confess.

“You got mari?”

Bingo. “Yes.”

“What? I wasn’t thinking that at all…” Sam seemed more concerned that he’d missed the signs, than any subterfuge by me. “I didn’t smell it in the house.”

“I guess I had the back doors open all day.”

“But usually I…”

“And I hid the ash tray.” I laughed. “Not so much hid it, as emptied it.” I gave him my cheekiest smile.

“Really.”

“Guido came to visit, what was I to do?”

He gave me a look. “Guido just came to visit?”

“Yes, this afternoon, he was passing through Fitzroy.”

He held my gaze. He didn’t believe me. All I had to do was not flinch, and I’d pull it off. My face remained expressionless.

“And you are very proud of yourself,” said Sam. “Look at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop smiling.”

I waited out side the supermarket, as Sam went in and bought noodles. It was cool standing under the shade of the big Plain Trees.

We had stir fry noodles for dinner.

Sam went to bed at 10pm. I hope I’m not turning into a bad boyfriend and I just don’t know it, is what I thought, as I wished him good night.


I spoke with Mark. He’s opened the restaurant for just coffee and drinks, before the 5 days of Tet holidays that had planned is over. Cutey boy Houng has come in to help, he was bored at home. So Mark and his (new) boyfriend are working the joint together.

“I want to come up one night and sleep with you and Luke,” apparently, Huong's sweet innocent face said one day when they were working together. Affection between men isn’t frowned upon, and a lot of the time this just simply means to sleep.

Even if he knows Mark and Luke are gay? He could be in for a startling surprise.


I fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 4am, lights on, doors open, everything.

“Oh.” I sat up. Some sport is on. What time is it? “Ah.” It is 4.10. “Oh.” Not 4am again? Pot is such fun, ay? Why do I keep buying it? It is a sedative. Why do I want to be sedated? I don’t know? I half thought I’d have some here for Nicholas on Saturday night. That was my weak justification. You know, like a good little co-addict, I want to share the love, seemingly it makes no difference to me that Nicholas has quit the hooch, for some time now.


Shane sends me one of the “Keep Calm” series, with a picture of Alexander Skarsgard, “Now what was I saying.”

Looking at Alexander Skarsgard, and keeping calm? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

Tricky street barriers, Fitzroy

Hot Hot Boys

I woke up at 9.30am, heavy eyes, thick head. definitely sedated. I woke up to the Valentne’s Day Message from Aby. I messaged her back, “Happy Val Day toots,” a Brian Wilsonisim (Leah’s father, Leah my exgirlfriend, he was such a bloke). Aby sent me something odd the other day, a Youtube clip of, Didn’t we nearly have it all. Two seventies models in a speed boat. Cheesy. With Aby’s sense of humour, I kept expecting a ski rope to decapitate them both, or some such thing, but it never happened, and I just felt a kind of confusion as to why she would send it to me. Traditionally, all the girls I have lived with, have fallen in love with me, none told me until after we had stopped living together, expecting that I knew. But I never got that from Aby. I never got that from any of them, come to think about it. I wonder if the born again Christian stuff is sticking with Aby. She had a baby as a single mother a few years back, pregnant to a moron, after which she found god. She said it was only the God people who were interested in her poverty ridden plight, but, apparently, you have to become a member. She went in, we lost her.

Two messages in two weeks, I thought as I padded down the staircase with my mobile in my hand.

It was a gorgeous gentle sunny morning. The air smelt fresh and clean. I’m greeted by sparkling mornings and shiny air filtered days, the weather has been glorious, it hasn’t been hard wagging work.

I opened the back door for Buddy, who raised a paw at me as if to say hello, and then wriggled around in his bed and closed his eyes again.

I made coffee, set up my laptop, rolled a joint and opened the Age. There was a cute anti Valentine’s Day Youtube clip, featuring the bearded-men twins, from the ad on TV. I had to sign in, apparently there was inappropriate material. The slightest thing is inappropriate material, does it always have to be about the kids? It didn’t work so well, but I saw enough to learn that the bearded bicycling girls meet conjoined twin boys.

So I took the opportunity to watch my two favourite sign in Youtube clips. Cazwell’s Ice Cram Truck, a cuter bunch of boys could not be found. And he has a more interesting back catalogue than most pop stars. The sexy boys are back in his Rice and Beans.

And Marilyn Manson’s Sweet Dreams are made of this, it is genius.

Sam messages me, Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.

Happy Val Day, pumpkin.

Buddy didn’t get up, he was obviously having a lie in. Perhaps he is depressed because he doesn’t have a girlfriend… on this day? He tries to hump the dogs down the dog park, not always, just sometimes, when a pretty pretty catches his eye. But, the ratio of males to females is pretty much 50/50. Maybe I have a bisexual dog? Ha ha. He doesn’t seem to have the idea yet, it is always just a part of rough bulldog play. I think?

Why is this day the day of love? What is the story of valentine’s day? I don’t know, but surely it isn’t just rampant commercialism?

I’m guessing with the auspicious start that this day has had, it could be a Youtube day?

The sun is shining. I made more coffee.
The Cazwell boys have made me horny?

I listen to Renee Geyer’s Really Really Love You live recording, never has there been cooler music made.

I went to see her live once, Diva’s week at the Prince. She was up there complaining. The publicist for the event was young with a degree and no idea, apparently. “He soon let me do it.”

Someone kept saying, Sing the Peggy Lee number, Sing the Peggy Lee number, and suddenly Renee looked down into the audience, she repeated the fan mercilessly by imitating her, “Sing the Peggy Lee number, sing the Peggy Lee number, no I won’t sing the Peggy Lee number.” But as soon as she started singing, everything was right with the world. She kept the audience transfixed.

Marcia Hines was on too, but she seemed awkward and uncomfortable on the small stage and she came off screamy. But, as it turned out, I saw Marcia Hines at the Concert Hall not long after and she just shone on the bigger stage. I think that was some of the finest music, she sang like a goddess.

I reckon Renee Geyer and Mick Jagger should do a song together. They’d be great. Of course, Mick has Tina Turner to play with in song, they are great together too.

Me being arty, I call this Orange cup on the red sea

Drifting Through

It was a beautiful day today, really. We have had beautiful weather for weeks now. There was one Friday, I don't remember if it was last Friday, or the Friday before, when it rained, but other than that, it has been blue skies and sparkling light covering us for weeks now. Not too hot, just right. 

The days are starting to drift, I'm sure that is not a good sign,  but boy does it feel good. My laptop addiction takes care of the hours quite nicely.

I met up with my neighbour and drank home made lemonade, after  we'd complain about Establishment X to the nice council men who came out to listen to our complaints. I was hoping Jackson would offer me a joint instead of the lemonade. When we walked around to the shop together the other day, he talked about the pot he'd been smoking, when I said I was getting cigarettes.

I came home and swept the front yard. I wondered if I'd peaked in school. I was one of the cool kids, although in my school that was more like the popular kids, who were at the top of the heap. I don't think any of us knew what cool was? We did, but no one thought they were cool. Not seriously, we were only just learning. I was one of the popular kids, it was good. I had a boyfriend in my last two years, the vice captain of the school, what's more. Such a cliche, I know, but true. And then I had a beautiful girlfriend by the time the year twelve end of year dance came around. I was always more interested in my social life than school work, probably true.  But all of that was such fun. Young and vital. Do we all peak in our youth? Everything was new.

I was happy sweeping the yard in the sun. And drinking home made lemonade with Jackson Wag. He's funny. He has pictures of muscled guys up his staircase. Is Jackson Wag gay? I've never thought that.

I have to lose weigh, I know it is making me unhappy... not so much unhappy, but old, no lazy. It makes me feel lazy. All this sparkling weather and my bike has remained against the wall for most of it.

I think being fit makes you feel vital. I think I realise now.

Dr Brian Cox is just naturally cool. I had hair like his when I was a teenager. He was the keyboard player in D:Ream. Some people are amazing, gifted.

The bulldog snores on the persian rug. A cool breeze blows in through the french doors. Sam slept at his place. I haven't eaten.

Bulldogs are beautiful dogs. He comes and sits next to me sitting on the floor and leans his head against my chest and goes to sleep.

It's funny when you are stoned. I'm watched TV all night, with the back doors open, with a nice cool breeze blew in, after the 30 degree day, gorgeous. I kept thinking I'm hearing breathing, I keep hearing it, it is definite breathing. I just keep hearing it. I could definitely hear breathing coming from the direction of the kitchen. In the end, I decided I just had to get up to investigate. I stood up and nearly stood on Buddy. He was lying right next to me, it was his breathing I could hear. I had completely forgotten about him, the TV has been good, ABC. British comedies. I jumped.

It was when I switched to a commercial station and I started to mute the adds. So I'm just hearing it intermittently. 

My head spun.

I wished I had chocolate and marshmallow ice cream. I only had chocolate, it seemed so plain, the oat meal of the midnight binge. I thought about going to McDonalds for a Caramel McFlurry.

Mark messaged me from Hanoi. stoner... I'm cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom... loving it... cos it's filthy... and now it's not... love that feeling...

I messaged back that it was a sickness, enjoying the feeling of clean as a kind of orgasm.

Entertainment Tonight came on and I am mindless on pot and chocolate ice cream.

Slowly, two of my favourite cars materialise before my eyes

Trying Not To Think About The Bitches

I’ve been stewing over the reports from Antony about the gossip coming from The Hags. I’ve tried not to let it bother me, however.

I often wondered what was really being said about me, by The Hags, when I was excluded. I knew there would be things said, as The Hags cannot keep their mouths shut. It is impossible for them. Insecurities abound, and huffing and puffing at other people’s candles occurs to build themselves up.

This is, of course, Antony’s interpretation, it is his version of who said what to who. But, it all fits with what I know of...

The Hags have an abnormal, and unjustified, dislike of my Mark, because, essentially, Mark doesn’t like them, so that part of the information rings true. Shane can’t hide it from me, he used to tell me openly, to the point where I was often left wondering if, somehow, he’d forgotten my relationship with Mark?

As far as keeping my friends at arms length, according to reported gossip, maybe that’s true. But who kept who at arms length first?

I don’t count David in that, even if he does have hag status. While David is completely focussed on himself, he does have a lovely warmth and charm as well.

As far as keeping my boyfriend at arms length, Sam just laughed and shook his head and said, “I don’t know why you listen to any of them.”

“The independent thought comment,” is just too laughable and barely worth a comment, other than to say some people follow trends, religiously, never missing a fashion, and some people like interesting and new things.

And the general filth of my house… some days when Sam asked me what the foul waft was in the air, I used to take him to Shane’s bedroom and push the door open. Sam used to wince, as I asked him what he thought it was.

“Oh… I don’t know?” he’d say.

“BO, dirty socks/clothes, smegma, and filthy bed linen.”

I think it is so laughable. I have two of the most anally clean freak friends, Mark and Jill, who would certainly comment. Mark would not stop chastising me for some considerable time, until he broke down and pulled the mops and buckets and vacuum from the cupboard and turned into his mother before my very eyes. Jill would hire a cleaning service, who she would meet at my front door, and she would direct the whole cleaning proceedings. If, indeed, it was as dire as Shane has been telling everybody. Both Jill and Mark have been here very recently. Mark complained about the garden. Jill hasn’t said a word.

I some times wondered if Shane knew how to turn the dishwasher on? Still, I guess, when you grow up with Mr and Mrs Poverty in butt-fuck nowhere, I guess you aren’t blessed with those life skills.

That is what I am going to say to The Hags, anyway – Sebastian, Dante and David. I’m sure they will repeat it, as they are incapable of not gossiping. I’m counting on it.

I told Sam that was what I was going to say to The Hags when they visit and commented on the cleanliness of the place.

“You know they will tell Shane that word for word…”

“I never say anything to anyone that I wouldn’t want them to repeat.”


Oh, I am just venting and I probably won’t say anything. Blah blah, blah, it is good to have some place to vent. Many years ago, I learned that the very best revenge truly is living well. I leant that the best response to all of The Hags self-aggrandising, boredom relieving, bitchiness blab is a dignified silence. If you don't give them a target, they invariably turn on themselves.

It is here I can blurt it out, exorcise myself of it, get it off my chest, and shake the ooze from my tongue. Then I can dust the muck off me and move forward as stately as a galleon.


Perry dropped over yesterday for a catch up. He said that it was nice that Shane had gone to London for a new adventure. “You know that I have always found Shane to be… um… er… hard work.”

This is from Perry who never says a bad word about anyone. It was Perry speak for no liking him.

Sam and I had a late lunch with Tim and Nicholas yesterday, after Perry’s visit.

“Oh what, Shane has moved out. Oh good,” said Tim. He looked genuinely pleased. “I can come and visit now. I’ll come over in the next week, or so, and visit Missy – she was Tim’s cat originally – and I’ll cook you a curry.”

So there you go, I lose a housemate and get all of my friends back.

So What Have The Hags Really Been Saying?

There is peace and quiet, except for the dulcet tones of a bulldog's snore, as I sat here with my laptop at 10am.

It was quiet here today, beautifully so. We’d left the kitchen in a diabolical state last night, there was nobody else to worry about after all, so I popped on some music, rolled up my sleeves and stared to clean. Pretty soon, I realised I was hampered by the overflowing bins which Shane had left me with – the kitchen bin, the outside bin, the front veranda. So, I cleaned all the dishes and was content with that much.

I have to say that I am loving my itunes, running music from my laptop wirelessly to new wireless speakers. It means I can dispose of my bulky sound equipment and space consuming cds. So, I copied the rest of the Labelle CDs into my itunes.

I spoke to Jill for two hours in the afternoon. Bitching. I can’t deny it. It was therapeutic. Cathartic. I wondered if Shane and Tulli’s ears were burning.


It was a sparklingly sunny day. Gorgeous. Gentle. Relaxed. Carefree. The mood in the house was light. No bad vibes, there is only sweetness and light remaining.
Anthony had, rather cryptically, told me there was news about the recently departed that he could only share with me after the problem housemates had left the country. I pumped him last weekend for the information, just in case it really was something I should be aware of before they left, and he told me some story about an apparatus that attaches to the toilet which one sex partner puts himself into head first as the other sex partner licks his arse. Quite frankly, I didn’t believe the story was something that had to be kept secret until borders were cleared, that, quite frankly, just sounded like idle gossip.

Okay Miss, they have left the country, so what was the truthful big news you had to tell me.
Christian


Were you really that stoned on the weekend that you did not hear my story regarding the rimming machine, that was the news. As for the pernicious little bitch with the hyena laugh and her thug, they may be turned back when they arrive at Heathrow. Have you thought about that?
Antony


I heard your story about the rimming machine, don't you worry about that, I just didn't believe that was the big news that could only be shared once they were safely out of the country.

As far as being turned back at the gate at Heathrow, my dear, I care not a whit. I mean to say, that I certainly hope that doesn't happen, for their sake, I hope they have a great adventure. But having said that, let me say this, I have all the keys to my front door back, and Amalgamated Locksmiths have been here today changing the locks, just in case there have been any copies made, so return to Australia ricochet style, if they must, and I am sure they will be happy cohabiting in Kyenton, with Mr and Mrs Dribblepuss.
Christian


This is of course one of the more wise moves you have made. I have nailed a notice onto a tree, Elmer Fudd style, with a photo of Shane and Tulli on it titled "Duck season Open”. This is of course a tradition when a person leaves X street and lasts for 30 days.

I must say that i think this is jointly considered comments some of which you have heard from me already, so i am sure it comes as no surprise that both your and Mark’s relationships are on the cusp of doom especially seeing you have both become so conservative and bitchy. As for the X street kennel and the general filthy state of your house, not to mention the odour, its all now beyond control and it has to now simply be left up to you to sort out on your own. Its also about time you stopped keeping your friends and boyfriend at arms length and start engaging in some independent thought, not just Mark’s input. Of course i must now put down my smoking double barrelled shotgun and cook dinner and i said nothing, i just wrote it.

A(ntony)


What? What are you talking about?
Who said these things? I haven't heard any of them? Oh, do tell. Is it the sad (drug addled) hags, yet again? Is this the talk from those who like to talk? and talk? and talk? and talk? After which, they laugh, which I can only assume they do to make what they are saying seem even moderately interesting?

I am considerably amused by them, don't get me wrong. How deluded some folk are?

Do give me names? I would be tickled to know?

Christian


I have just finished my fish and bok choi dinner and it was splendid. I have decided to leave out breadcrumbs and just dust the fish with plain flour from now on, also to make my own chicken schnitzels and kievs from fresh breast fillets. I just have to buy a small kitchen mallet. 

Now, i have no doubt that amused would sum the matter up, i guess if folk get together and talk about you things are not so bad after all. As for sources well you know them and yes it is the hags. I wonder what they say about me, i think im about to find out soon i will let you know. I also strongly suspect that Duck Season will be on in many households for a while. Get lives first, god knows nobody is getting any younger i think.

What are you and the lovely one getting up to this weekend? I have to up early to take Mother for a blood test and then hit Coles.

A(ntony)


Tomorrow, I have a builder coming over to give me a quote to finish the en suit in the top room and to assess the main bathroom to fix the toilet and the tiling once and for all. After that, I am going to investigate carpet for the lounge room. I don't know, I'd really like just to have the plain concrete, but short of polishing it and enduring the dust associated with that, it would mean just the plain concrete.

Then, I am vaguely considering renting out two of the bedrooms via a B&B website, where I can charge $100 a night. Maybe? Apparently, it is very popular. I just have to decide if I want that many people in the house. Right at the moment, I am so over having people living in my house, hugely, that I am going to have to give it some serious thought. But, owning a house in such a premier location, it would mean I could do that and not ever go back to work again.

Sunday morning, I am going to visit me dear old mum. After that I am going out for lunch with Nicholas and Tim.

Sebastian wants to come in the afternoon to pick up Shane's (chipboard) book shelves, saving me from calling 1800 junk, but I'm not really sure what time I will be back from lunch. That rather depends on the strength of Nicholas's dope. Still, I do want to get Shane's shit out of the house as soon as I can, so I can clean up the rooms. Apparently, Sebastian wants me to call him on my way home. Hopefully, I will be in a state where I won't even know how to dial a phone. He he. Big smile. I hope his taxi truck is flexible.

That will only leave the other bookshelf and the appalling white IKEA laminex desk. That is if the council ever comes to collect the mountain of shit that Shane left on the front veranda, as he assured me they would. (How long did he and the prostitute have to clean away Shane's mountain of garbage, one may ask? Too busy being fabulous, no doubt?) Of course, I can't clean any thing up until the bins Shane left literally over flowing onto the ground are collected next Wednesday.

Still, there is no hurry. The days have been glorious, sunny blue skies and a very appealing temperature. So I might just do nothing until March. Why not, I say.

Christian


I think that Mid March would be a good time to make decisions about the b@b, live alone for a while so to speak, and get hold of a couple of visitor parking permits in preparation.

Bye A(ntony)