Good morning, good afternoon and good evening readers,

So, let’s be honest with one another here, the first week was rough. That seems to be “ma thing” when I set foot onto a new country. I used to hate it when people said they “lived for the weekend”. Ya’ know, when Janet comes up to your desk and squeaks, “Uh Thank GOD it’s Fridee. Next thing ya know it’ll be Sundee, then cums those Mundee blues and gawd I’ve got me slimmin’ world on Sundee and Body Blitz on the Saturdee”. But you and I BOTH know she is crying over Bridget Jones with a bottle of piNOT GriGGio Echo Falls and TUB of Häagen-Dazs because she went abroad once on her olidees.” Anyway, I used to hate it, but this week, I’m Janet and I’m thanking fuck it is Fridee.

This weekend has been lovely. One of those weekends where there are no gaps to fill, you just accept it for what it is. When you don’t try to hold onto happiness, it sticks around for longer. On Saturday we chilled in the flat all day, writing, guitar playing, watching The Royal Tenenbaums, eating and snoozing. Then on Sunday it was my BIG day. My first outing to socialise. My first rendezvous if you fancy.  Faysal wrapped up a plum, handed me my tobacco and said “There’s ya packed lunch”. Off I went to STFU. The “STFU and Read” book club is a club where a group of readers get together and shut the fuck up to read their books. Then in intervals and at the end you can chat about your book or any other ones you have read. I thought… perfect. I love books. I love being quiet at first. I love not talking. I was a tad nervous before hand, so I ended up circling the meeting location about three times before I went over. They probably thought “Who is this random white girl with orange curly hair and stupid sunglasses circling us in the park? Is this the Matrix?”. I said, “Mother fuckers it’s meeeeee” (to be read with the voice of blade). I’m really digressing today. Anyway, I digress. At the amazing book club I met a lovely woman who gave me her telephone number so that we could meet in the future and explore Melbourne together. I didn’t completely initiate the chat BUT Jane through me a line, so I nibbled the bait. My first friend in Melbourne.

After smashing that little number, Faysal and I went for lunch in a Pub. The Edinburgh pub. Which is so pubby, that you sample the menu on the menu, your shoes stick to the floor and you can’t work out if that smell is beer or piss, and are you gross for liking it? I had Kangaroo. I know, I know. I felt so sad when I was eating it thinking of the life it could have lived. But the tears were only making it saltier and I’m afraid one little Roo has lost its parent. This is a conflict in my life. When we were there a vintage, folky, country bad went on. They were okay BUT then we saw The Texan. A guy with a badge that said, “Don’t Mess with A Texan”, complete Levi’s outfit, cowboy hat and yes, yes he also had that. A red paisley scarf in his back pocket. I said “Faysal, what sort of life do you think he leads?” So, off he flew on that train of thought and created a story of the man’s life.

The day finished with watching David Attenborough and falling asleep on the sofa. I enjoyed every second. Although I have got this whole snoring thing going on. And to be honest I had no idea I did because I haven’t really shared a bed in like 3 years. Or maybe when I have people are too scared to tell me I snore?

This post has been a lot about what I got up to in one day. No deep reflection or what it teaches me about the world. Just an itinerary of one wonderful, accepting, ball of light which made all the harder days prior to it worth it.

In acceptance,

C x