July 10

Oh no – I think I may have left it too long this time…

I remembered yesterday how when I was at high school we had to write a drama journal after every lesson which had to be handed in at the end of term for marking. I was really good at my drama journal, and always got top marks. I fucking loved drama, I lived for it BUT I never wrote my journal really. My 93 year-old grandma, Wynne, has an astounding memory. I have inherited some of her ability (handy). And I always wrote my drama journal the night before it was due (sorry to disappoint you all these years later, Ms Gav). I swapped pen colour a sensible amount of times, altered the mood behind the entries, varied length and content, and without fail, the night before, created a killer journal.

The pretence that I am blogging this on 10 July, or the day after, I am willing to expose as a falsity because I have no idea what happened on 10 July.

My computer calendar says nothing more than a day off in Perth. Which is true. My iPhone calendar says 12:15 yoga – which now I remember is also true. And it hurt. The yoga class. I wanted to cry pretty much the whole way through. Oh, and that’s right, then I went and met Jace for lunch at a little cafe called The Secret Garden. I drank a soy latte – it was the first coffee I’d had in over a week and it tasted so so so delicious. This lunch was also the first time I said out loud that “I AM A VEGAN”, I may have blushed as I did so because it is certainly now established that I have a talent for blushing. I ate a burrito – I make better bean filling.

Oh, then Jace wanted to go and have some cheeky afternoon drinks as it was a day off for all of us. Oh yeah, and the first thing I saw on the menu at The Secret Garden was a cocktail called cherry coke, or something like that. I love cherry coke, and I definitely wanted to taste this alcoholic version, to drink it right there after my needing to cry yoga trauma.

But instead I went back to my hotel room (I think). Oh, and then I caught a train to Stirling so I could go to Ikea and lie on beds. When I alighted the rain was pouring so I sat at a bus shelter next to a little Ethiopian girl with bare feet eating Pringles, offered my place to an elderly woman but she refused and stood next to the bin instead. When the rain eased a bit, I followed an undoubtedly local Ikea-going woman down a shortcut through an open carpark of dark yellow sand to the warmth of Ikea. I walked through and lay on beds… as planned.

Ikea.

Lying in beds.

I’m buying a new bed, you see.

I did an ad for Ikea once –

 

Then my dear old friend/manager/housemate Scotty picked me up and we drove to his house while he explained to me the drinking habits of Perth natives. We took his ginormous 11-month Great Dane cross puppy to the beach in the dark. She dug a massive hole. She has a talent for digging holes. Back to Scott’s then off to Mt Lawley to where his partner, Emma, works. Scott and I worked, and lived, in a pub together. We met in a world of booze. Although he has never been the biggest drinker of them all (a good thing), had it not been Dry July, it would have been a gin and tonic, not the tonic they accidentally brought me instead of my standard soda and lime, which I had ordered. But I sucked it down as if it had been spiked with gin.

A yummy dinner, and loads of conversation. I said goodbye to Emma, and Scott drove me back to my hotel.

Well… There you go…

Shit, I shouldn’t have confessed to the drama journal thing cos I have obviously still got mad skills in the remembering and journalling department.

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