It's Later Now

So, Aussie Rules is finished, and, with it, the penultimate stage of my time in Oz. We are not entering the final chapter of my time here (I was gonna use the final chapter title from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as the title for this post, but that's Home Again, which doesn't really suit this post, and the chapter before that is the rather esoteric (and spoilerish) Glinda the Good Witch Grants Dorothy's Wish, so I'll have to come up with something on my own). Granted, I have two assignments, one test and one exam to go before I'm done with uni, but I saw Aussie Rules as the last bastion of mid-exchange-year-Rory, a lad who could still sleep in if he wanted to, or take on a show, after all he'd have time later to see Oz- well, It's Later Now (ok, title found).
To mark this occasion, I have booked my tickets for New Zealand, and, even more excitingly, shaved my face. Yes, I took the advice of that drunk lady on the train and got a hair cut. Just not on my pate. I have a few other plans for my time here (hopefully Uluru and more penguins).

Ladies. 

Aussie Rules went very well; my hats off to Andrew for pulling off the frankly bizarre idea he pitched to me all the way back in October ('No, see, cos football is Islam...'). I had some one thank me personally for my performance and say he'd come specifically to see me (having been bowled over by me in Confetti and Everything) and honestly this was a lot more pleasant than the fan I had in Edinburgh, who walked up to me in the middle of the meadows and whispered 'multim olim' in my ear AT ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING. But, yes, Aussie Rules was a success, and I'm proud to have it as my final impression upon the melbourne acting scene (though not the theatre scene in general- hello, BESTies).
Speaking of theatre, it was over two weeks ago, but I needs must mention the Amadeus pre-show sing-off. If only because I got to fulfill my dreams of singing 'American Pie', 'Moonriver', 'Blue Moon' and 'Mr. Sandman' before an extremely captive audience. Also, on the final night I did what can only be called an astonishing rendition of the song below.

Let that image burn into your retinas.

In other news, I skyped with Esmond on Friday, and it was lovely: we spoke for two and a half hours, and despite ten months apart, we still fell into conversation so easily. It's nice to know I'll have at least one friend when I return to the Great Wet North (I thought of that on Wednesday and by God, I'll get the mileage out of it).

In other other news, it was Victoria's birthday last Saturday, and, wouldn'tcha know, she had a sci-fi party, so naturally....

The very definition of a coquette.

What? You can't guess? I'm Poison Ivy from Batman and Robin. Duh. I mean, the hair's a little off, and I've really made no effort at all apart from holding a plastic flower and wearing a Batman-related T-shirt, but I think everyone can agree I've adequately captured the campy awfulness of that film.
The party was a lot of fun, and I got to see Victoria's assorted friends, probably for the last time before I head off; as Ryan North is wont to say, 'partying is such sweet sorrow'.

Last night was Eurovision here in Ozland, and, much like with the Olympics, I found myself the token pom in a group of Aussies watching something distinctly English. I got a lot of mileage out of the fact that no one gave us any points (it's all political, I tell ya), but I didn't realise how seriously the Antipodeans take the damn thing. Everyone, that is, except the closed captions guy, who added such delightful additions as 'you can guess what she said' and 'what's she gonna do with flowers? Put them down.'
Victoria, Aspen, Michael and myself were enraptured by the cheesiness, and I found Aspen's knowledge of past contestants to be vastly superior to my own, which isn't actually saying all that much, but she remembered 'I'm in love with a fairytale', which I only recall because it was the night I came out. Funny old world, innit?

Finally, when I was crossing the road this morning, my hood slipped (yes, it's finally started raining in Oz- laugh it up, Edinburghers), and when I lifted it, there was a car right in front of me. It was really very terrifying. I also realised I hadn't updated this thing in ages and I didn't want to die without you guys having heard my inane prattle for a month! Hence, this post.
Blame the hood.

Demonstra-babble

So, I haven't updated y'all in a while, and quite a lot has happened in that time.
No, really. Some of it would have merited blog posts of its own.

So, we had a punch party.
Everyone dressed up (Martin went for a Sound of Music feel- Lord knows why). And the punch was non-alcoholic so I definitely did not get tipsy and fall asleep in the midday sun, only to be woken by the nudging of a passing stranger's foot. There was also a bocce tournament, and I am assured that I was amazing, as I threw the ball the furthest, which is surely the point of bocce.

I also met with Charlotte for coffee, who pointed out that I overuse the word 'demonstrable', causing me to move on to the word 'emphatically'. Who knows what my buzzword will be when I kick the 'emphatically' habit- previous addictions include 'ostensibly' (brought to my attention by Chaz), 'obtuse' (Aspen) and 'appreciative' (Esmond).

I've also been to two plays with Andrew recently: Gaybies- verbatim interviews with the children of gay parents staged with panache, flair and pizazz, and with Geoffrey Rush in attendance (yeah, I was standing a foot away from Lionel Logue)- and Act A Lady, which was akin to an Almodovar film being staged as a pantomime (yes, it was that bizarre). Act A Lady really warmed my heart because it reminded me so much of the old boards I used to tread in Broseley, Wenlock and Horsehay; it was the first play I've seen in at least a year that wasn't a polished, big-budget, unsinkable whizzo affair. And that was good for me- the tech was minimal, the acting unaffected and the sets simple. I should see more theatre like that and remind myself what's possible even without money. 

In other news, I was nearly hit by a car (and I mean, really nearly- it was two inches away) whilst driving about with Victoria and Finny (who's a Doctor Who fangirl- yay!). This guy came out of nowhere and nearly smashed right into the side of the car I was sitting on. Luckily, Victoria swerved, because if she hadn't I would have been hit head on by a car because this guy was not stopping. I remember muttering 'Oh, God' and Finny screamed.
And then the guy had the nerve to beep at us. Asshole.

It was also Australia day on Saturday, and I drove with Aspen, Martin and Victoria to Aspen's hometown, (in the car on the way, ABBA's 'The name of the game' got stuck on repeat- I miss you, group 4 (except Joseph)), where her Dad was named 'Citizen of the Year', which was pretty cool. She got her picture in the paper, which was kinda cool. And there was free face painting, which was super awesome amazing.

Don't worry, it's gone now. By which I mean the beard, not the face paint.

We then went for a party at a friend of Victoria's, which was, quelle surprise!, a barbecue. It was very fun and I got to meet many colorful new characters, including a descendant of bigfoot.

The next day we went back to Victoria's, and there this happened:

 

Eat your heart out, Mary Poppins.

Echo de Menos

I'm forgetting people's names. I don't know if I should be worried. Last week, it took me three days to try and remember Amadeus Alasdair's full name- this was someone with whom I shared a room for five days during NSDF, and I genuinely couldn't think of his surname. It was distressing. I actually exclaimed "Wilson!" aloud in the street when it occurred to me- I was tempted to go the full Tom Hanks, but I haven't actually seen that movie and I didn't want to get it wrong and look like a freak.

Now today I can't think of the second name of Rachel-who's-the-ents-manager back in Edinburgh. I want to say 'Madow', but that's a left-wing newsreader from Americaland; I have a feeling it's 'Meyrick' but if I had to put money on it, I just wouldn't and keep the money for myself.

But on the reverse side, a couple of nights I dreamt that Rosie limped up to me in the street (she'd broken her foot again); I keep seeing Thom Louis in the street, or Chris Craig Harvey on the tram. These aren't people with whom I'm particularly close (although I did lock lips with Chris SEVEN TIMES), but I keep seeing them. I don't know if this is normal, but I didn't see Shrewsbury people in Edinburgh, and it's not like it's just a physical resemblance- they always seem to be wearing clothes that I associate with them.

The natural conclusion is just that I miss them (it's true I miss Chris' lips), but then why am I not seeing Esmond, or Daniel, or Rice Krispies?

These are the clothes I associate with Daniel. They are, naturally, his mother's.

It's harmless, obviously, but it's weird to keep double-taking at strangers on the street. Also, if this blog isn't here for me to obsess over minor details then what is?

P.S. Rachel's second name was 'Murray' (just looked it up) but I'm pretty sure I had a 'Rachel Meyrick' on Facebook. The plot thickens.

EDIT: Rachel Meyrick was in my year at sixth form.

Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants my will

I had to do something unusual during training on Monday (no, not that, it's not that kind of call centre)- I had to decide where my 'super' would go if I didn't claim it before I died. This apparently refers to a superannuation fund, and I think it's like a pension- they were using lots of unfamiliar words like 'work' and 'standard'.
Anyway, I'm not gonna say who I decided to leave it to, but I want this on record- if they do get ahold of the money, then they have to use it to par-TAY. And I mean so hard it hurts. I want them to shave at least five years off their lifespan over the course of a Krazy (with a Kapital 'K') weekend, spent doing all manner of depraved things in which I can no longer partake. Game's on, Mr. Sage. Damn, gave it away.

In other news, training was alright, my co-workers seem cool, the job doesn't seem too difficult, but I imagine the first time I actually make a call to someone I'll freak out and end up insulting their mothers- true fact, this is how 90% of first conversations go with me.

We just had a meeting of the Blank Slate theatre company, of which I am the Producer; queue to the left for the casting couch. It was really fun; we played some games (name games are another facet of theatre that is universal), then we made some tableaus on the theme of 'connections' (honestly less wanky than it sounds). Hopefully, we'll be meeting weekly, and it'll be nice to get back into some theatre stuff- this has been my first semester without doing any plays at all, and I've missed the camraderie and sense of whimsy that accompanies the best productions; I've not missed the self-consciousness and irritation that accompanies not-so-good productions ('Alack! The Killer flees!' 'Killer fleas? Where?!). But I have a good feeling about Blank Slate; I have a lot of good feelings now-a-days.

First world problems

I am facing an essential dilemma, and one I would genuinely appreciate opinions on, so please leave a comment telling me what you think.

So, I was just asked by an Aussie friend to show them a picture of Esmond; I searched on my computer and found exactly one picture. I then searched on Google and found exactly one picture. That's two that I have access to; one for every year he's been my friend.
I know I'm being precious- I still know what he looks like, I still have the memories that photos are meant to invoke, and, most importantly, I'll see him again, and can take pictures then if I so wish. But I got to thinking: I have few pictures of my first term in Edinburgh. Or my second. I uploaded them to Facebook and then deleted them from my hard drive, supposedly to save space (notably my flight details for Belgium are still on there). Now I no longer have Facebook, access to those photos is gone. And this is where the dilemma comes in: I could easily reactivate my account, download all the photos I have stored on there, and then redeactivate it (remember how I snuck back on a few months ago to create the cast page?*). The problem this creates is that my Facebook page is finally gone for good- I don't get updates, or pleas for my return, and if I want to reactivate my account then it will take a full 24 hours (I've done my research); if I reopen it, however briefly, I go back to getting invited to crap I wouldn't go to even if I were in Edinburgh, people who blatantly haven't paid attention to anything I've said for the last five months writing to me as though I'm their best friend...all the stuff I've come to resent. I don't want to seem a contrarian- I freely admit that Facebook is a brilliant social tool, just not one I can allow myself access to, and so I have to play up its negative aspects. But this isn't even really a problem- I can just ignore it, I'm a big lad. The problem is the moralizing that inevitably accompanies this move.
See, I feel I shouldn't need the photos; I reiterate- I still have the memories. But even memories need stimuli, they rarely come unbidden. But then, not all my memories are positive ones- do I want to go remember all the bad stuff that happened over those two years? On the other hand, if I somehow forget all the bad stuff, don't I run the risk of making the same mistakes? However, there are some extremely positive memories, which I want to hold onto, some of which are probably already starting to fade, if my inability to remember names or events are any indication (which is kind of scary).
But then, I come back to the idea that I shouldn't need the photos. I'm meant to be living in the moment. And I don't mean that as in a 'this is a philosophy I'm espousing at the moment' kind of way. I genuinely think it's healthier to focus on where one is currently than where one's been/where one's going. I want to live that way. I want to be healthy. I want to be able to let stuff go, not hold grudges, not be bitter and resentful. Leaving has helped with this, but it can't do all the work- I have to make a concentrated effort not to dwell on things I can't change.
But the photos would make me happy...I think. Or, at least, they'd sate a thirst. But then, sating some thirsts can just lead to bad habits (alcoholism springs to mind)...

This goes on and on. And on. And I never reach the end. I don't know what to do, I don't know which argument to listen to, and, unusually, I don't know what I want. So, I beg you for your opinions- I implore your wisdom.

*And somehow failed to get any pictures of Esmond. Alack.

Could do better

So, I'm officially on spring break! Woo! Spring break! I feel like such a frat boy.

So very frat.

These last few days of term have been somewhat uneventful, hence the lack of updates (because I am certainly not one to get hung up on minutiae). But I feel I need to update y'all before I head out this evening. Because, yes, your beloved wizard is heading out on a small trip, to Phillip Island.
If you google it, or if you're Esmond, who happened to be with me when I discovered what was on Phillip Island, you'll know why I'm excited. I'll give you a hint:

Ladies.

Last time, I spectacularly failed to photograph the little blighters, and apparently you're not allowed to take pictures on Phillip Island, but we'll see how we go: you may yet get a snap of a Fairy by mine own hand.
This trip will be taken in the company of messieur Jason, and a bunch of his friends who I've never met. We'll be driving in a car and staying in a hotel together, so this should be interesting at least.


Driving a rental car with a bunch of strangers across a penguin island called Phillip; what could possibly go wrong?

In other news, I went for lunch in the queerspace, which is where the theory session from Tuesday was held, in case you can't put two and two together. It was fine; the conversation was less intellectualised, which was appreciated, but also less focussed, which was not. I got invited to a party, which I don't think I'll be attending, due to a sudden case of the penguins, but it was nice to be invited- the guy even gave me his number (though he gave it to everyone else, lessening the impact).
And finally, although the lunch thing has been the only real news, so more, and secondly, I got a very good mark on my Language, Society and Culture essay, so I'm feeling really smug at the moment.

Smug? Moi?

Dinosaurs on a spaceship, snakes on a plane, freshers on my turf

If my calculations are correct, which is by no means certain, Edinburgh Freshers' week began this weekend (a quick google confirms this).
I'm trying to work out what I'd be doing were I still in Edinburgh; no doubt part of me would be tempted to repeat my actions of the previous Freshers' week, where I tried to reinvent myself by attending all manner of different events, including, *shudder*, a bingo night, before returning, somewhat gingerly and with my tail firmly between my legs, to Bedlam.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Of course, it's impossible to know what I'd be doing, as I would've acted differently towards the end of last term if I'd thought for a second that I'd be coming back. I probably would've tried to put a play on during Freshers' week, and maybe auditioned for one of the plays already on, or maybe I would've even waited to put on TWWOO until this semester. I wouldn't have spoken to some people so frankly, and I also wouldn't have buried the hatchet with some people (I'm looking at you, Gem).
I'd have most likely spent the summer in Edinburgh, so maybe I would've suffered a relapse to the state I was in last July. Or maybe I would've risen triumphantly above the black dog like a phoenix (anyone else flashing back to Harry Potter?).

Above: my (hypothetical) summer.

I'd go and watch Becky perform stand-up and Daniel perform Blue Room (this is the thing I'm most sad about missing.)

Imagine this in a sex play.

I'd maybe staff at Bedlam a few times, try and get to know some of the newbies- there'd be numerous trips to Doctors, no doubt, and a bit of mythicising those who'd have departed (I've decided in this alternate reality that Esmond also didn't leave, so the whole ladies' man thing didn't come into play).

Dreammaker, heartbreaker.

I'd have fish pie at Teviot, and meet with Bammers and Henriette and talk about what we did all summer, and I'd hang with Luci and Bryn and feel awkward as they lit up and started getting all metaphysical. I'd have hot chocolate with Freya and discuss Lord knows what.
And then a black hole would open up over Edinburgh and everything I know would be consumed by the void. Because, after all, this is all postulation and furthermore, is completely useless because I'm not there, I'm in Melbourne and besides, Freshers are all mistakes. Filthy, nasty things. Glad I never was one.

Of course, I also can't help looking forward a year and trying to imagine how I'll act during my fourth (God, that's too many) Freshers' week. Maybe during final year I'll finally have figured it out and I'll be cool as Corbin, taking in the sights but not getting unnecessarily agitated over little things of no significance. Somehow, I doubt it.

Two drifters, off to see the world

Another piece of evidence that the Rowden White natives are starting to accept me as one of their own: I was given a free mars bar with my headphones and PC this morning. Spiffing.

I actually managed to beat someone at a sport this weekend- and not just anyone, either. It was Adrian, who owns multiple sports shirts (which somehow make him look kinda like the knave of hearts).

Go Dropbears!

Admittedly, the game was air hockey, which, granted, hasn't made it into the olympics quite yet, but I'm pretty sure it involves hand-eye co-ordination or something. So, go me.

This weekend also saw the largest party I have ever managed to gather for my evening constitutional; an entire six people! This was mainly due to the alcohol the other five had imbibed, which made the stroll feel a bit more like taking the family's pack of inebriated, hyperactive dogs for a walk, but it was still a pleasant evening.

The pliant one is now in the great white North, which feels odd. I was already half-a-world away from him, but now he's not even in the place I left him, not unlike my house keys; if I was to go back now, he wouldn't be there. I feel like Andy in Toy Story. I don't know why, cos that doesn't happen in those films. I just identify with him on a base level, I guess.

Above: Esmond and me, I guess.

Anyway, I'm now listening to 'When Somebody Loved Me' from Toy Story 2, and it's bumming me out so I'm gonna go. I have more adventures scheduled with the doctor this evening; let's hope it's more The Unicorn and the Wasp than Love and Monsters. 

The Four H's

Before coming here, I had to attend a lecture wherein I was told that I would go through the four stages of exchangeitude, called the four H's, these were:

• Honeymoon period- where everything is great, all the songs on the radio are about you and you're getting near constant lovin' (mom, dad please stop reading)
• Homesickness- you start to miss your friends, family, more reasonable prices, less noisy birds, more comprehensible accents, shorter games of cards, properly labelled Rice Krispies...
• Hostility- this university is silly, why can't they do more like Edinburgh does? I mean, that's the better system, clearly, so just stop being so contrary, Australia and just do what we tell you!
• Happiness- ok, it has its flaws, but at least there are no squirrels to worry about. I'm content.

I don't know which H I'm in- obviously, I'd like to say happiness, but I don't remember going through hostility ('cepting X-bar, but that's hardly Melbourne-specific), and I'm definitely not homesick (see below), meaning I must be in the Honeymoon period. This is worrying because it means all that other stuff's still to come. I can't imagine what I'll get homesick over (the last time was my bathtub), because I've pretty much replaced all my friends- I just need a Rik and a proper Daniel (Darryl has an accent, but that's pretty much where the similarities end). And hostility seems outlandish- I love it here! The lectures are more engaging (yet again, barring syntax), the campus eateries are more varied...writing this out has made me realise I am definitely in the honeymoon period. Well, damn. However, this does have an upside- I should have a bit of honeymoon left when the Pliant one begins his, meaning I won't feel miserable by comparison. Huzzah.

Quick side note: I skyped the 'rents yesterday, and it was exactly the same conversation we have when I talk to them back home: my mom worries I'm not getting out enough, my dad worries I'm spending too much and they both agree I don't contact them enough. If I'd recorded the conversation and bleeped out proper nouns (oh god, I'm flashing back to X-bar) it would have been indistinguishable from the dozens of other times I've skyped them. But, more to the point, we hadn't spoken for 34 days, and the conversation lasted 47 minutes. My mother said she felt it lasted long, but that it was only because we hadn't spoken for so long. By this mathematics, my mom wants us to talk for 98 seconds every day. Half that, and you've got yourself a deal, mother.
Of course, I shouldn't be so harsh, they are, after all, paying for me to be here (mum's defense, not mine). This, however, will not stop me being so harsh. Huzzah.

Solitario Ror-hey!

So, today my parents left for Spain (it's alright for some- I'm just slumming it in Australia!), and will not be contactable by email during this time. Father instructed me to phone should the need for assistance arise, but alack, my mobile doesn't seem to work in the land of Oz.
I am on my own.
Granted, it's only for two weeks, which is not a lot of time; I've been out of contact with my parents for longer, certainly. But this time I am on the other side of the world, in a country where I am still very new; where I can't just make a transfer from my savings account if I mismanage my funds, because it takes a long time to transfer; where I can't contact Orla or Moira if something comes up.
I am on my own.
I understand I'm being melodramatic and that, most likely, this fortnight will pass without incident (I am trying to kick my habit of knocking on wood- right now is an ordeal, to say the least. It's just the knowledge that, should some thing go awry (this word should not rhyme with my name, Esmond), I will have to brave the storm without parental guidance. I could fall so much further than I ever have before, but I could also soar to new heights.
I am on my own.
Time to kick ass.

The only one he ever feared

Finally updating from the ol' Y to the A-RR-A; I've borrowed a charger from Jason. So, what's been going on since I last upadated y'all? (Esmond now reads as well- SQUEE!)
Well, I saw a possum during the day. It was humungous! It just ran out in front of me as I was walking to the bus stop on wednesday morning; it scampered up a tree and then sat there staring at me and urinating. I hope these two actions were not related. I also visited a 'chocolate restaurant' with Millie, Victoria and Martin- the furniture wasn't sculpted from chocolate, as I'd hoped, but the waiting staff were so 'comme ci, comme ca'.
There was a party in Games room 1 last night- a brilliant opportunity to observe the Australian student in its natural environment; turns out they drink alot and challenge one another to 'Aboriginal-offs'. Guess what that consists of.
I watched the opening ceremony of the 2012 olympics in rec room 2; I was the only Brit there, and so had to apologise for the shortcomings of said event- although I personally thought that Mary Poppins vs Voldermort was not only inspired, but also nucking futs. And I don't know if that's good or not.

How do you say 'jumped the shark' in olympiad?

I wasn't gonna watch, but then I realised that London 2012 is, unfortunately, going to come up alot in the future, and now, when it does, I'll be reminded of that warm 'winter's' day, sitting on the faux leather sofas with my ozzie mates and ripping on Danny Boyle. I think that's about as fun as the olympics are ever gonna get.

For anyone.


Ever.



So now they can stop showing it.





Please.

Postera Crescam Laude

I have given into temptation and bought one extra-large, navy blue hoody with the university of Melbourne logo proudly brandished across it. The pricetag was kinda scary- $100!- but my mother said she’d pay for me to get one, so I’m trying to see past that. I am painfully aware that in two years I will most likely purchase an Edinburgh equivalent and thus my collection will be complete.

Hoody aside- it’s too warm to wear it- I am very sorry for not having updated y’all (I know for a fact that both Spanish Daniel and my parents are reading this, and so it’s ‘y’all’ and not ‘you both’) since Saturday, but in my defence, I have new friends now and y’all seem kinda dull by comparison.

Yes, O-week, the exchange students’ freshers week, has begun and has bought with it the chance to talk to people without seeming precocious. So far, I’ve met Will, who I’m seeing as the Universe’s way of balancing out Esmond’s infidelity as he’s from McGill, Jason, a quiet home-schooled New Jersey-ite, Daryll, a Korean illustrator and fellow nerd, Clara, a contemplative Spanish biologist and Bastian, who’s Dutch and that’s all I really know about him. In terms of actual ozzies, there are Logan and Aspen- who I feel have to be mentioned together, so inseparable are they- Victoria, Elle and Ben. I don’t really know any of these people tremendously well, but they are at least people who I can count amongst my acquaintance and speak to of an evening. It seems the place to go in the evenings is the second floor rec room, there to be found are assorted nerdly activities like playing playstation 3, monopoly, minecraft, magic: the gathering or trying to solve the tetris cube.  It’s noisy but friendly, and I’m working up the courage to step in there on my own one of these days.

As to the events themselves, they’re rather self-conscious, but can be quite fun. There was a poorly-thought through scavenger hunt which wended too far from the building and that no one really completed follow by a barbeque which everyone without fail completed. There was the casino royale night, which boiled down to one in ten people in suits, playing poker, dissolving quite early but leading into another night in the second floor rec room. Then last night there was ‘christmas in July’, which frankly was just an industrially cooked roast dinner in the cafeteria with some Christmas decorations put up. I’d love to say that by leaving at 7.30 I was ducking out early, but I was one of the last to leave. I was really tired so I skipped the rec room and went to bed. There’s nothing on tonight, as far as I’m aware, but I’m hoping I’ll find some activity to latch onto, as I finished my book today and if I start another one tonight I’ll feel like a harlot.

One phenomenon I need to remark upon is that old people feel they can eavesdrop on one’s conversations and then give their revered opinion- it happened to Jason and me on the bus yesterday and Emma, Esmond and me a couple of weeks ago and I only mention it cos they’re discussing spiderman at the next table and I really want to weigh in, but I can’t cos I still have all my original teeth and they’ll (justly) think I’m rude and weird. Alas.

Is there anything else to say? Um. I’ve been passing my days by going into the uni campus and should really start venturing out to the rest of the city soon- I did go to a pawn shop and Aldi with my yarra friends yesterday, but that doesn’t feel adventurous and I can’t imagine why. Once I find someone to explore the city with, hopefully, I’ll have more to write about and I’m also looking into finding some way of taking photos. Watch this space. 

The Parting of the Ways

I bid farewell to Mel and Travis today- that's my second oldest friendship now sealed for a year and put into the back of the wine cellar to mature (one can always hope). I don't know if I'll even get to see Dan, my longest-running friend, before I leave, as he's off sojourning in Brum, which I'll admit is hardly, oh I don't know, 10505 miles away but we're not close enough for me to travel more than a mile and a half (i.e. the distance between our houses) to see him. So, I like to think I've hit my nadir in terms of sadness; Esmond and Emma are both coming over the next few days to keep me company, but for some reason these have the feeling of a joyous celebration, like the prospect of a sleep over with my friends when I was twelve, whereas visiting Mel felt very much like the end of something- not to say I didn't enjoy her company, but we both knew that the friend ship was going to be moored for a while (see what I did there?) I think part of this might stem from the fact that Emma and Esmond are coming to me, while I had to go to see Mel- I wonder if they'll arrive filled to the brim with lugubry to find me wearing a party hat and carrying a bowl of warm water, a mischevious glint in my eye. Travis certainly displayed no outward signs of lament as I hugged him one last time and helped tuck him into bed. Then again, he's two, so mayhap he should not be my role model.