Marion emailed me today with her phone numbers. The greeting was “Halloechen” which is a mixture of German and English meaning something like “A cute little hello”. So the email is all really good, but she says “See you Sunday, or Friday if Harry drags you along to the swing social.” Harry is Sarah’s boyfriend, who is being dragged along to the socials himself. My worry today was that while I have some rudimentary Latin dance skills, which I was able to demonstrate last Friday night, I have no swing skills whatsoever. Given that I’m pretty shy as well, I didn’t want to burden her with my doubly-left-footed presence. So tonight she’s getting lots of quality dancing. If she misses my company I have only myself to blame. Should I invent an excuse— “I was at home making a kickarse curry” or just say I didn’t go because I’m a spaz at swing? Is that good enough? Only time will tell.

I can tell it’s the time I’m about to consider going out on a date because for the first time in a couple of months I’m broke again. Of course it wouldn’t be a proper date if I had any money to spare. Wouldn’t be the same... but it is you, gentle reader, who benefit from my poverty (if reading my diary could be said to benefit anyone) as the broadband is paid for, whereas an evening out is not.

My landlord and the guy next door have declared war on the ivy covering next door’s shed. I had a bit of a hack yesterday, but most of the damage had been done. I’m generally an Italian as far as a garden is concerned, and a three-metre square of concrete would put me in horticultural heaven. Thus for four and a half years I have kept the grass shortish and let the ivy roam free. Cutting all that ivy down will seriously affect Australia’s greenhouse gas quota (as if Little Johnny cares). My landlord also had something that cut through all the amazing supply trunks the ivy had going, so the ivy on top of the roof is going to die. The flowering thingies that normally reach toward the sky are starting to droop like a nursing home waiting for its viagra shipment. Generally with gardens I’m happy to let something grow if it has the gumption to, especially those plants that grow out of cracks in concrete (they would be the vegetation in my concrete garden). But it’s sort of fun with a destructive implement in one’s hand though the ivy certainly looked better growing on the fence (and covering it) than lying on the grass. C’est la vie...

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

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