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08 July 2005 - 12:22 pm

As you have probably worked out, I’m perhaps just a wee bit susceptible to pursuing activities for a while, then running out of steam. The biggest drawback to all this is that pieces of crap like my last entry become the public’s doorway to the world of Josquin for say, 49 days. Which is genuinely appalling, and should never happen again. Unless of course it’s an enlightening, fascinating, and intriguing (that’s my personal hardest word to spell, since I learned French and mastered manœuvre) introduction to my cyber-confessions...

Life at the moment has reverted to my pre-life-changing-girlfriend bachelor existence, with the aforementioned life-changing-girlfriend currently gallavanting around Poland. Apart from the occasional heartening email or phone call, I’m single again, without the trying to seduce women bit of course. Though, given my history, even if I was trying hard, I’d need orders of magnitude more than a month to actually seduce anyone. With Hilda on holidays in Tasmania for the week, I’ve engaged in a very rare bout of housecleaning: Bathroom, Living Room Part 1, and Living Room Part 2. The biggest challenge will be the Bedroom Saga, probably with more parts than Star Wars. It’s probably worth trying though, as however well she puts up with a war-zone bedroom, I know Marion in her heart of hearts would be very impressed if it were clean. After all, she has half of her mother’s genes, even if they’re not fully expressed as far as tidiness is concerned.

But enough of my uneventful solitary life. Let me tell you of an event. On Tuesday morning, my landlord was going to come over and fix the hot tap in the bath. With Hilda away, I thought it may have been an excellent opportunity for a day-trip. Unfortunately, when I was supposed to get up, my body thought differently, so I decided to stay in bed, but let my landlord think he was on his own. Eventually he arrived and knocked loudly on the door. I didn’t answer, so after a suitable pause he got his keys out. With the door right outside my bedroom window, I listened as he tried at least twenty different keys (I don’t think the lock has recovered- it still feels a bit funny). When he finally opened the door, he checked the bedrooms “to warn [me] he was turning the water off”. There was my sheepish head peeking from under the covers at 10:30 in the morning explaining that I wanted him to relax and think there was no one there. I was most worried about the time it had taken for him to get in the door because I hadn’t got off my lazy arse out of bed, but he took that in his stride. Because of some massive airlock in the hot water pipes he took ages and ages, and I had to make use of the chamber-bucket I’d thoughtfully taken to my bedroom just in case (having lived above a shop where the only toilet was downstairs and out the back I’m not squeamish about such things). After all that, hot baths are now possible chéz Josquin. Since I moved in, I’ve had an average of a bath every three years, so this is a very minor boon to me. Hilda, on the other hand, decided to stay partially because of the bath, so she’ll have lots of girly, aromatic fun, no doubt.

I’ll point out that while my landlord does seem a little strange and hands on, any perversity in his character is far outweighed by his zeal to collect the rent each month.

Anyway, I have a couple of weeks left to ponder how I should celebrate (or is that celibrate?) turning 35 the day before Marion gets back. And it certainly is something to celebrate, because it looks like I’ll catch up with the lovely Hiss, which is really quite an honour. In that case, a dinner party with large quantities of red wine seems like an excellent idea.


Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by Twinsie, or is that me this week?.

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