Let's call today: 'Wednesday, 21 February 2007'
wrote in the notebook:
My visit to Melbourne, and SE region in and around Ringwood, involved in no particular order:
Tim Finn, James Blunt, drunk follow-spot light man, a pool, hot weather then rainy hot weather, not-shy fans of not-shy lesbians, making out, coronas, strongbows, a nasty hole in my toe, missing out on QVM jam donuts, a cool artsy hostel, a very cool theatre on Flinders St, stupid pub managers, an independant band with KISS-style makeup, nice skybus people, a big black dog called jack, a slightly less large boxer dog called monty who slobbered on me, a mystery bruise, playing with shutters on my camera, rediscovering of highlights from last easter's visit like the bowling bar and adjoining wine boutique and the scary fountain, a long and costly cab ride, nice JW's from NZ, crosswords, cockroaches and other insects, yucky sinuses, late nights and sleep ins, introspection retrospection & quiet resolutions, sms', a call of love from Ember in sufer's paradise, yelling at quizmania, Chinese New Year street celebrations, KFC and Hungry Jacks (ewww), an Irish pub that played Faith No More, learning the metcard system again, trains, trams and lots of walking with my bag around the hot hilly Melbourne streets, and a brush with 'fame' in the Info centre in Federation Square: the annoying loud boy-girl with glasses from Jamie's Kitchen... *shudder*
I think that's everything.
My return home and the following day involved in no particular order:
Mugged at the airport (Dirk literally jumped 'on' me), The Pancake Kitchen, a spunky waiter boy, notes of love complete with phone number and hearts and stars, discounted sushi, melody pops, photos outside festival theatre, singing lots of Wicked, watching an electrical storm, The Game (dammit I just lost!!), backseat groping, tickling, photos of stars, being ghosts in a carpark, pirate pistols and patches, subway, photos at the beach, sugar-art in Billy Baxters', an excursion to the city, passport photos, fingerprinting, licenses, centrelink regulars, napkin hats in Parisis Cafe, finding Spats Cafe closed yet again (we're always either too early or too late), spunky joggers in swimming trunks, D & Ms while laying on the grass watching the stars, cuddles and bites, a boring beauracrat whose signature I needed, and a man laying under a bike in an alley - not hurt, not asleep, just laying.
Dammit I just lost The Game again!!
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