Yes, indeed I had a nice day. Being yanked out of bed after only four hours sleep meant that I was shaky all day: because holding your breath when you need to do something requiring coordination is so fashionable…heh. I think not.
For some strange reason, I was taken to brunch by my mother. It was really lunch but semantics, warple warple (as Jeremy James’ dad would say - from a children’s book). It’s been a very long time since I had a Caesar salad and it was a most welcome experience (oh no, Rashenbo, I’m talking about…LUNCH! Forgive me: I don’t have that particular meal often *grins*). It was a damn fine one. Anything that has me nearly eating egg yolk has got to be pretty bloody good. Not that fond of eggs, let alone egg yolks (poached egg).
I was pretty full as a result but knew I’d be dining out later. A good friend had told me that his cousin was having an art exhibition (way away from where I lived, of course!) and it would be soon time to leave.
Except that I got a very pleasant surprise - a phonecall from my closest former schoolchum. Well, we did go to the same university…eventually. He’s now technically my neighbour, living about 5 minutes’ walk from where I am (hardly anyone I know lives near me, acquaintance or close friend!) and alas he had some news that was of an unpleasant nature. Him and his fiancée had sadly parted ways. It is always so much fun to talk to this friend of mine: it occurred to me later that we will most likely be friends for the rest of our lives. A heartwarming thought, though that means more mischief for others…
This led to our phone conversation being, naturally, somewhat long and before I knew it, I was running horrendously late to this art exhibition I was to attend. I did eventually make it there, having spent 2 minutes travelling and 58 minutes squeezing into my jeans (so I exaggerate…) but it was great to meet some artistic types not restricted to the visual kind. There were musicians and even another poet. Graciously, the gallery owners ushered everyone out (they’d let people stay way later than originally agreed) and it was off to one of Melbourne’s favourite bohemian streets, which admittedly has gone rather up-market.
Pah, I don’t care. It’s always a fun place to stroll and said strolling led to…book buying. God, it’s been so long since I’d bought any books but tonight, I was determined to get one if it were in stock: Burlesque/Fetish and the Art of the Teese by Dita Von Teese. Goodie! However, it didn’t stop there: I picked up a pop feminist book too. I figure it’s okay…I did use my discount (an entitlement thanks to the state’s writing centre membership).
It was most likely incredibly stupid to have left that secondhand copy of Wilfred Owen’s complete poetry volume, as edited and annotated by Cecil Day-Lewis (father or grandfather of actor Daniel) - Day-Lewis being a poet of repute himself. Groan! Especially when it was only six bucks! Damn that hippy clothing store for putting out those pre-loved books! It’s impossible to walk past I tell you!
Not to fret. Many dollars later, it was suppertime. Feeling very much the olden-day spoilt British child, I ordered trifle and Irish Breakfast tea. Fancy that, trifle for supper! Mmm. Nice food for tummy, nice food for brain.
How could I neglect to mention that I’d also received a book from a dear pal in the States? A book on cosmetic surgery of all things! I hope it’s not too gruesome! Such a sweet thought. Presents in the mail are so nice! (thank you Ash :D)
Yes, ’twas a lovely day. Am well tired, and happy.
