This room don’t really have a bedside table: This room, the room I am going to spent for the next three weeks was a small room, only enough for double bed, a study table for my laptop, with small telly round the corner of the room. So, I only have a bedside basket that I bought from down-town Paris yesterday. It’s a hill-tribe basket that women carry on their backs. It’s cylindrical, about a metre tall and it narrows at the top, so my books stack up and then fall off. Then they hide under the bed. At the moment I am reading simultaneously Michelle de Krestser’s The Hamilton Case and Rusty Young’s marching Powder.
De Kretser set her family saga in Ceylon in the 1930s and her language is so rich and luscious you could eat it. It’s languid pace is in stark contrast to Marching Powder, the story of one prisoner’s cocaine fuelled experience in Bolivia’s notorious San Pedro Prison, in La Paz – a real page – turner.
I’ve just finished reading Susan Howatch’s The Heartbreaker, turn out to be one of the best novel’s I’ve ever read for a long time. That was the most beautiful stories: The Heartbreaker still takes my breath away even after reading it the second times.
I read most nights, as always. It’s so comforting and womb – like. I particularly like it when there are no crumbs in the sheets. How long I read for, it depends on where I read, how much I’ve drunk before, during and after dinner. Sometimes I can do a good half-hour in the café, but sadly I have been known to watching peoples passing by with the book still propped up in my hands. I supposed, I am still good when I am reading my book in bed especially when I am alone.
I always carry one or two book with me during my holidays. It’s great company especially when I travelled alone.
I just had had the most wonderful time and great dinner, especially the beautiful company and with my great friends. It was kind of the greatest time I’ve ever had since my last Christmas dinner in Auckland in 2001.
Thierry’s my great friend and my host here in Paris, had made beautiful dinner just to surprise me. We had a Vegetable Terrene and Roasted Capsicum Risotto. As far as I can remember, he told me that he is hopeless in the kitchen and always impressed with my talent. It was a hard work and takes him a lot of his time to learned cooking while working nine to five everyday. That was amazing to find that he really make a big effort to cook for me tonight especially after long hours at work.
I have been friend with Thierry for the past five years. I met him in Melbourne when he’s kind of lost of direction. He couldn’t find his way back to his hotel in South Yarra. That was funny, and until now I still don’t know why he pick me for direction knowing that I am obviously foreigner in Melbourne as well (I am not an Australian). Since his hotel is just round the corner from my flat, so I just asking him to follow my away, and surprised he invited me to have a glass of wine as a result for helping him showing his way back to his hotel.
We’re click right away, the chemistry between us were strong, and for the next few days during his stayed in Melbourne, I was the tour guide as well the company for him either for dinner or drinks. That night at the Sky Bus terminal, on his way to Melbourne Airport, when he said good-bye: I thought that was the end of it. But two weeks later his long email with those pictures of us in Melbourne’s St. Kilda Beach had made me believed that this guy was for real, and not that kind of guy who’s taking an advantage of local for their own good.
Our exchange emails and calls had made us more closed. But I was really surprised when out of the blue he rang me that night to tell me that he will be in Auckland in four days.
I was surprised because he is not alone this time around. He didn’t tell me or never told me about this boyfriend of his, and when did he met his and how long he has been dating this guy etc…. If you know what I means.
Tonight was different, beside us, his boyfriend Josh, it also my ex-boyfriend Scott, who’s coming all the way from London with me. With Chateau Lafaurie Peyraguey 1995 collection that he had, and few bottles of Bollinger, I felt that am in heaven, one thing about French champagne, it was delicious..
As for his Josh, he is such a great musician especially in instrument like piano and double bass as well guitar, apparently he has been playing with the symphony for couple of years beside his day time job as a Computer Technical. He told me that he has been playing piano since he was five. I haven’t heard someone played that well since Angus. I am not even have the time to watch the concert like piano concerto like normally I did. It has been a long times.
I remember my late father always played Robert Schumann’s Traumerei and Child fallen asleep. My memories back to my childhood with my dad playing Robert Schumann’s. It was such a beautiful peace of work. That was the most beautiful moments and memories I had about my father. He’ll always be the man in my heart and my inspiration, and I missed him deeply. ‘I am sorry dad, because I wasn’t there with you when you calling my name.’ I say quietly to myself. I know that you were up there watching me, I hope they look after you as you always looked after me.’ I pray for him.
I went to bed and start reading my book, but my mind was interrupted by my memories:
Sometimes there are days when nothing seems to go right. One day like this, buy a dog or tell the old lady she looks nice in that hat (even if not).
As always, when that kind of memories had come to my bed time, I was quickly says to myself: ‘I don’t have to be so good at the time, I don’t have to be so perfect, I don’t have to be mother pleasure, I can be nasty, bratty, sloppy normal and peoples still love me as much.’ Of course, ‘I have been up, I have been down, literally the roller-coaster. I’ve had the most horrible things talked about me, and I’ve had the most lovely things talked about me too.’
So, before I closed my eyes, I’ll say to myself ‘Fucked them then’ I live my life and not them, and I fall asleep. It was three in the morning, I couldn’t sleep, and trying very hard but I couldn’t. I turn the light next to my bed on, and to read my book by hoping that will make me tired and sleepy, still I couldn’t put my attention to the story. My mind was with Scott. I am just wondering what he’s doing in the next room. I was afraid that I’ve had hurt his feeling or he might angry or upset with me. He has been very quiet during dinner time. It was unusual for him to be so quiet like that. My mind back to London….
It was Saturday night, we went out to one of the best restaurant in London. Which is full of stars, Madonna been here, Liz Hurley been here, Kyle been here, Jude Law was here last night. And that was Eddie Izzard and Naomi Campbell’s sit next to our table. I am personally wasn’t impressed with Savoy, the price for our dinner was the same price of my air ticket that I paid from Auckland to London. Of course the restaurant and the meals were absolutely fantastic but who’s care. Anyway, that was a good experience to dine at Savoy: at least I could tell my friends I was there with Naomi Campbell and seeing her in Person.
We had a wonderful time that night, since we haven’t have the right time for ourselves since he come to visit me in Auckland two months ago. We had a lot of catching up, has been six years since the day we were apart.
The email or the phone call we had for the past years wasn’t the same as we talking in person: face – to – face. I remember when he was in Auckland, we had so many thing that we’ve planned during one week his visit. But surprised visit from Suzie had turned our plan up-side-down, we not even had the time for coffee for our own…
After a cigar and cognac at Savoy, we went to Ritz for more drinks and to enjoy the great music. I want to say to the waiter. “Please bring us a bottle of Krug’ but that’s the kind of conspicuous consumption that’ crude and would mean a discussion of vintages plus a wait while the bottles being chilled. So I just say with restraint: ‘Could we please have a bottle of your house champagne?’ And before Scott can demand something with a phoney label I murmur to him, ‘I heard The Ritz champagne’s very famous.’ That shuts him up.
Finally I said: ‘It’s like Hello! Magazine come to life.’ I always dreamed I’d get to The Ritz one day, I like to dream, its dream that keeps me going.
We don’t say much more, and finally we stream out, leaving behind a trail of open mouths, fractured conversations and an atmosphere humming with pushbutton lust. Outside we turn to look at each other and I know we’re sharing the same amusement. Then we set off the Stand Place. The guy in the reception told me the bar in the lobby as very good on the weekend night, it was at the times when I check-in here last week. But I haven’t really put an effort to visit the bar by myself, since Scott with me tonight, why not, we just drop-by and to find it out.
Into the hotel we glide after the necessary visit to the cloakrooms, we’re creaming our way through the huge lounge to the bar which overlooks the river. More heads swivel, more jowls quiver. As I realize with astonishment that I am enjoying myself, I realized too that I am having more fun with Scott now than I’ve ever had with him when were together in Melbourne eight years ago.
The dancing hasn’t started so we have a quiet time to broad over drinks menus. Unfortunately my lessons on menu-French aren’t mush use and Scott too. He told me that over here French is pretty impenetrable, even for someone like Scott who learnt menu-French when he growing-up. “why can’t they use English?’ I say to him crossly. ‘I meant, is this English or isn’t it?’
‘I want more champagne!’ I said to Scott. He says firmly: ‘More fun to sample something else’s’ and select a vintage Chablis tart enough to encourage sipping instead of swilling. I also order a large bottle of water. 'So, what do you make of this place?’ He asks me when we’re finally shorn of flunkeys. ‘I love it.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I gaze avidly out of the long window as the trees of the Embankment Garden and the glittery of the river.
‘Dancing!’ exclaims Scott, his blue eyes shining like polished volcanic rock.
It was Scott who learnt about ballroom dancing, he always insists me to learn when we were in Melbourne, because to him, to be an Englishman, you have to learn and it was a social necessity to know to foxtrot.
When the moment we’re finally free to fling ourselves around, the band start to play that sexy classic the wrinkles love: ‘in the mood’ Scott and I look at each other, I know I was going to make a fool of myself. He jumps to his feet. ‘Come on!’ he shout, and we’re off, we’re skimming onto the dance floor, we’re showing all those wrinkles that not everyone under forty thinks dancing means up and down while zonked.
I return to earth after my brief glide around eternity. The applause has axploded again and we bow some more but eventually the band drifts into an ancient waltz and other couples return to the floor. Leaving the wrinkles creaking, Scott and I head for our table where the maitre’d offers us a complimentary glasses of –oh God – champagne. The evening blazes.
I just look at him, then say abruptly: ‘You’d better come in for some coffee.’ And seconds later he follows me down into my room.
‘Okey, here is the deal,’ I says, closing the door behind us. ‘No shag of any kind, and if you start whingeing about being short-changed I’ll belt you. You drink your coffee without being a pain and when I tell you to go, you go.’
Seem like he not even bother to reply, he just pad along behind me and sit-down, good as gold, at side kitchen table I makes the coffee, both of us opt to drink it black. When he finally sits down opposite me, he waste no more time but says in his flattest voice. ‘I’d sort of like to get sort of closer know – what – I - meant?’ I mumble. ‘But of course it all depends on what you want.’
It’s, the legacy from the life. I understand that straight away and straight away I say urgently: 'we don’t have to do this, it’s okey, and we’ll still be friend.’
He wipes his eyes: “I haven’t done it since I left Melbourne.’ My mouth drops open. ‘You meant, where you’ve been all this times?’ And he says: ‘I vowed I’d never do it again unless I really wanted to.’
‘That is wonderful! I wish I had that much control over my life!’
‘It’s been lonely,’ he says, wiping his eyes again, ‘but there are worse thing than being alone.’
‘I think you’re brilliant, getting free of it all.’ And I told him gently but very firm: ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing it with you if it wasn’t for that dance, but don’t expect anything much because I’ll be useless.’
He laugh and say; ‘Even if you just act like a sack of potatoes, I’ll still think you’re the best dancing partner in the world and we’ll still be friend.’
‘screw – up!’ I say, smiling at him through his tears and that turn out to be the last word spoken in that room for sometimes.
Later when I return from the bathroom he says: ‘I feel bloody sore, worse than a virgin of sixty who’s done it for the first time. Did I feel like a load of old leather?’ But I don’t answer him with words. I just slide back into bed and hold him in my arms and kiss him as I’d kissed the best boy in the world, and he kiss me back and snuggle closer to me than ever and I know we’re both happy.
Well in one way it was just a run-of-mill shag, which is why I am not wasting time going into prone-details, but in another way, the way that mattered, it was a special shag because we were being ourselves, both accepting each other as we were. Also – and I know this sound pathetic but it’s true – I was proud he decided I was good enough to do it with, after six years apart. I felt afterwards too that I could look after him in bed even thought he might have to look after me out if it. The real me need a bit of looking after.
The next morning, we snog for a long time in the bathroom, because we don’t want the morning to end. Neither of us tries to put our feeling into words. No points, over the breakfast we’re worked out our plan of action details, so there’s no need to say more about that either, and finally after one last kissed we made our own way to different direction.
Half and hour later, I arrived in the heart of Shopping Mall in Central London to find a present for Thierry. It was frozen, bloody cold and windy. As I walked pass the shops and cafes, I still couldn’t think of what’s good for him. Instead of thinking of the gift I have to but for Thierry, my mind runs to Scott. I start sweating in the cold London Winter, I just felt I needed to go for roller-coaster ride to get my head together, that’s all I need. Suddenly I felt upset over last night, that I felt it wasn’t the right things to do, and I force myself to walk, I know what all this is about.
That evening, when the doorbell rings seconds later but I didn’t answer it. Covering my face with my hands I feel as if the sharks have scented blood in to water and are closing in to tear me apart.
By the times Scott arrives, I am a red-eyes but tearless, I’ve drunk a couple of glasses of wine to clam me down. Three or four glasses, in fact I feel muzzy but no wuzzy. I could be worse. Scott got to be smelling the alcohol on my breath but all he says is : ‘You know how to enjoy yourself don’t you!’
‘Scott!’
'Sorry, yes, I am listening..’ I turn back into the scene to find Scott pouring some wine and we’re sitting side-by-side in bed. ‘Okey, this is what happens,’ I said briskly. ‘I made a big mistake, of course I missed you a lot after those years, but I had no plan to continue what we had left behind six years ago.’
He didn’t say anything, instead I say: ‘It was hard for me to explain the feeling..’ I stopped. I couldn’t continue. I remembered him saying he loves me but I don’t repeat that to him when he left me in Melbourne Airport six years ago.
De Kretser set her family saga in Ceylon in the 1930s and her language is so rich and luscious you could eat it. It’s languid pace is in stark contrast to Marching Powder, the story of one prisoner’s cocaine fuelled experience in Bolivia’s notorious San Pedro Prison, in La Paz – a real page – turner.
I’ve just finished reading Susan Howatch’s The Heartbreaker, turn out to be one of the best novel’s I’ve ever read for a long time. That was the most beautiful stories: The Heartbreaker still takes my breath away even after reading it the second times.
I read most nights, as always. It’s so comforting and womb – like. I particularly like it when there are no crumbs in the sheets. How long I read for, it depends on where I read, how much I’ve drunk before, during and after dinner. Sometimes I can do a good half-hour in the café, but sadly I have been known to watching peoples passing by with the book still propped up in my hands. I supposed, I am still good when I am reading my book in bed especially when I am alone.
I always carry one or two book with me during my holidays. It’s great company especially when I travelled alone.
I just had had the most wonderful time and great dinner, especially the beautiful company and with my great friends. It was kind of the greatest time I’ve ever had since my last Christmas dinner in Auckland in 2001.
Thierry’s my great friend and my host here in Paris, had made beautiful dinner just to surprise me. We had a Vegetable Terrene and Roasted Capsicum Risotto. As far as I can remember, he told me that he is hopeless in the kitchen and always impressed with my talent. It was a hard work and takes him a lot of his time to learned cooking while working nine to five everyday. That was amazing to find that he really make a big effort to cook for me tonight especially after long hours at work.
I have been friend with Thierry for the past five years. I met him in Melbourne when he’s kind of lost of direction. He couldn’t find his way back to his hotel in South Yarra. That was funny, and until now I still don’t know why he pick me for direction knowing that I am obviously foreigner in Melbourne as well (I am not an Australian). Since his hotel is just round the corner from my flat, so I just asking him to follow my away, and surprised he invited me to have a glass of wine as a result for helping him showing his way back to his hotel.
We’re click right away, the chemistry between us were strong, and for the next few days during his stayed in Melbourne, I was the tour guide as well the company for him either for dinner or drinks. That night at the Sky Bus terminal, on his way to Melbourne Airport, when he said good-bye: I thought that was the end of it. But two weeks later his long email with those pictures of us in Melbourne’s St. Kilda Beach had made me believed that this guy was for real, and not that kind of guy who’s taking an advantage of local for their own good.
Our exchange emails and calls had made us more closed. But I was really surprised when out of the blue he rang me that night to tell me that he will be in Auckland in four days.
I was surprised because he is not alone this time around. He didn’t tell me or never told me about this boyfriend of his, and when did he met his and how long he has been dating this guy etc…. If you know what I means.
Tonight was different, beside us, his boyfriend Josh, it also my ex-boyfriend Scott, who’s coming all the way from London with me. With Chateau Lafaurie Peyraguey 1995 collection that he had, and few bottles of Bollinger, I felt that am in heaven, one thing about French champagne, it was delicious..
As for his Josh, he is such a great musician especially in instrument like piano and double bass as well guitar, apparently he has been playing with the symphony for couple of years beside his day time job as a Computer Technical. He told me that he has been playing piano since he was five. I haven’t heard someone played that well since Angus. I am not even have the time to watch the concert like piano concerto like normally I did. It has been a long times.
I remember my late father always played Robert Schumann’s Traumerei and Child fallen asleep. My memories back to my childhood with my dad playing Robert Schumann’s. It was such a beautiful peace of work. That was the most beautiful moments and memories I had about my father. He’ll always be the man in my heart and my inspiration, and I missed him deeply. ‘I am sorry dad, because I wasn’t there with you when you calling my name.’ I say quietly to myself. I know that you were up there watching me, I hope they look after you as you always looked after me.’ I pray for him.
I went to bed and start reading my book, but my mind was interrupted by my memories:
Sometimes there are days when nothing seems to go right. One day like this, buy a dog or tell the old lady she looks nice in that hat (even if not).
As always, when that kind of memories had come to my bed time, I was quickly says to myself: ‘I don’t have to be so good at the time, I don’t have to be so perfect, I don’t have to be mother pleasure, I can be nasty, bratty, sloppy normal and peoples still love me as much.’ Of course, ‘I have been up, I have been down, literally the roller-coaster. I’ve had the most horrible things talked about me, and I’ve had the most lovely things talked about me too.’
So, before I closed my eyes, I’ll say to myself ‘Fucked them then’ I live my life and not them, and I fall asleep. It was three in the morning, I couldn’t sleep, and trying very hard but I couldn’t. I turn the light next to my bed on, and to read my book by hoping that will make me tired and sleepy, still I couldn’t put my attention to the story. My mind was with Scott. I am just wondering what he’s doing in the next room. I was afraid that I’ve had hurt his feeling or he might angry or upset with me. He has been very quiet during dinner time. It was unusual for him to be so quiet like that. My mind back to London….
It was Saturday night, we went out to one of the best restaurant in London. Which is full of stars, Madonna been here, Liz Hurley been here, Kyle been here, Jude Law was here last night. And that was Eddie Izzard and Naomi Campbell’s sit next to our table. I am personally wasn’t impressed with Savoy, the price for our dinner was the same price of my air ticket that I paid from Auckland to London. Of course the restaurant and the meals were absolutely fantastic but who’s care. Anyway, that was a good experience to dine at Savoy: at least I could tell my friends I was there with Naomi Campbell and seeing her in Person.
We had a wonderful time that night, since we haven’t have the right time for ourselves since he come to visit me in Auckland two months ago. We had a lot of catching up, has been six years since the day we were apart.
The email or the phone call we had for the past years wasn’t the same as we talking in person: face – to – face. I remember when he was in Auckland, we had so many thing that we’ve planned during one week his visit. But surprised visit from Suzie had turned our plan up-side-down, we not even had the time for coffee for our own…
After a cigar and cognac at Savoy, we went to Ritz for more drinks and to enjoy the great music. I want to say to the waiter. “Please bring us a bottle of Krug’ but that’s the kind of conspicuous consumption that’ crude and would mean a discussion of vintages plus a wait while the bottles being chilled. So I just say with restraint: ‘Could we please have a bottle of your house champagne?’ And before Scott can demand something with a phoney label I murmur to him, ‘I heard The Ritz champagne’s very famous.’ That shuts him up.
Finally I said: ‘It’s like Hello! Magazine come to life.’ I always dreamed I’d get to The Ritz one day, I like to dream, its dream that keeps me going.
We don’t say much more, and finally we stream out, leaving behind a trail of open mouths, fractured conversations and an atmosphere humming with pushbutton lust. Outside we turn to look at each other and I know we’re sharing the same amusement. Then we set off the Stand Place. The guy in the reception told me the bar in the lobby as very good on the weekend night, it was at the times when I check-in here last week. But I haven’t really put an effort to visit the bar by myself, since Scott with me tonight, why not, we just drop-by and to find it out.
Into the hotel we glide after the necessary visit to the cloakrooms, we’re creaming our way through the huge lounge to the bar which overlooks the river. More heads swivel, more jowls quiver. As I realize with astonishment that I am enjoying myself, I realized too that I am having more fun with Scott now than I’ve ever had with him when were together in Melbourne eight years ago.
The dancing hasn’t started so we have a quiet time to broad over drinks menus. Unfortunately my lessons on menu-French aren’t mush use and Scott too. He told me that over here French is pretty impenetrable, even for someone like Scott who learnt menu-French when he growing-up. “why can’t they use English?’ I say to him crossly. ‘I meant, is this English or isn’t it?’
‘I want more champagne!’ I said to Scott. He says firmly: ‘More fun to sample something else’s’ and select a vintage Chablis tart enough to encourage sipping instead of swilling. I also order a large bottle of water. 'So, what do you make of this place?’ He asks me when we’re finally shorn of flunkeys. ‘I love it.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I gaze avidly out of the long window as the trees of the Embankment Garden and the glittery of the river.
‘Dancing!’ exclaims Scott, his blue eyes shining like polished volcanic rock.
It was Scott who learnt about ballroom dancing, he always insists me to learn when we were in Melbourne, because to him, to be an Englishman, you have to learn and it was a social necessity to know to foxtrot.
When the moment we’re finally free to fling ourselves around, the band start to play that sexy classic the wrinkles love: ‘in the mood’ Scott and I look at each other, I know I was going to make a fool of myself. He jumps to his feet. ‘Come on!’ he shout, and we’re off, we’re skimming onto the dance floor, we’re showing all those wrinkles that not everyone under forty thinks dancing means up and down while zonked.
I return to earth after my brief glide around eternity. The applause has axploded again and we bow some more but eventually the band drifts into an ancient waltz and other couples return to the floor. Leaving the wrinkles creaking, Scott and I head for our table where the maitre’d offers us a complimentary glasses of –oh God – champagne. The evening blazes.
I just look at him, then say abruptly: ‘You’d better come in for some coffee.’ And seconds later he follows me down into my room.
‘Okey, here is the deal,’ I says, closing the door behind us. ‘No shag of any kind, and if you start whingeing about being short-changed I’ll belt you. You drink your coffee without being a pain and when I tell you to go, you go.’
Seem like he not even bother to reply, he just pad along behind me and sit-down, good as gold, at side kitchen table I makes the coffee, both of us opt to drink it black. When he finally sits down opposite me, he waste no more time but says in his flattest voice. ‘I’d sort of like to get sort of closer know – what – I - meant?’ I mumble. ‘But of course it all depends on what you want.’
It’s, the legacy from the life. I understand that straight away and straight away I say urgently: 'we don’t have to do this, it’s okey, and we’ll still be friend.’
He wipes his eyes: “I haven’t done it since I left Melbourne.’ My mouth drops open. ‘You meant, where you’ve been all this times?’ And he says: ‘I vowed I’d never do it again unless I really wanted to.’
‘That is wonderful! I wish I had that much control over my life!’
‘It’s been lonely,’ he says, wiping his eyes again, ‘but there are worse thing than being alone.’
‘I think you’re brilliant, getting free of it all.’ And I told him gently but very firm: ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing it with you if it wasn’t for that dance, but don’t expect anything much because I’ll be useless.’
He laugh and say; ‘Even if you just act like a sack of potatoes, I’ll still think you’re the best dancing partner in the world and we’ll still be friend.’
‘screw – up!’ I say, smiling at him through his tears and that turn out to be the last word spoken in that room for sometimes.
Later when I return from the bathroom he says: ‘I feel bloody sore, worse than a virgin of sixty who’s done it for the first time. Did I feel like a load of old leather?’ But I don’t answer him with words. I just slide back into bed and hold him in my arms and kiss him as I’d kissed the best boy in the world, and he kiss me back and snuggle closer to me than ever and I know we’re both happy.
Well in one way it was just a run-of-mill shag, which is why I am not wasting time going into prone-details, but in another way, the way that mattered, it was a special shag because we were being ourselves, both accepting each other as we were. Also – and I know this sound pathetic but it’s true – I was proud he decided I was good enough to do it with, after six years apart. I felt afterwards too that I could look after him in bed even thought he might have to look after me out if it. The real me need a bit of looking after.
The next morning, we snog for a long time in the bathroom, because we don’t want the morning to end. Neither of us tries to put our feeling into words. No points, over the breakfast we’re worked out our plan of action details, so there’s no need to say more about that either, and finally after one last kissed we made our own way to different direction.
Half and hour later, I arrived in the heart of Shopping Mall in Central London to find a present for Thierry. It was frozen, bloody cold and windy. As I walked pass the shops and cafes, I still couldn’t think of what’s good for him. Instead of thinking of the gift I have to but for Thierry, my mind runs to Scott. I start sweating in the cold London Winter, I just felt I needed to go for roller-coaster ride to get my head together, that’s all I need. Suddenly I felt upset over last night, that I felt it wasn’t the right things to do, and I force myself to walk, I know what all this is about.
That evening, when the doorbell rings seconds later but I didn’t answer it. Covering my face with my hands I feel as if the sharks have scented blood in to water and are closing in to tear me apart.
By the times Scott arrives, I am a red-eyes but tearless, I’ve drunk a couple of glasses of wine to clam me down. Three or four glasses, in fact I feel muzzy but no wuzzy. I could be worse. Scott got to be smelling the alcohol on my breath but all he says is : ‘You know how to enjoy yourself don’t you!’
‘Scott!’
'Sorry, yes, I am listening..’ I turn back into the scene to find Scott pouring some wine and we’re sitting side-by-side in bed. ‘Okey, this is what happens,’ I said briskly. ‘I made a big mistake, of course I missed you a lot after those years, but I had no plan to continue what we had left behind six years ago.’
He didn’t say anything, instead I say: ‘It was hard for me to explain the feeling..’ I stopped. I couldn’t continue. I remembered him saying he loves me but I don’t repeat that to him when he left me in Melbourne Airport six years ago.
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