Scenes from a Weekend
In brief...
I'm kind of heartbroken by what's happened to Newcastle. I'll be putting a longer, thoughtful analysis of the effects of the curfew on my blog later.
But interestingly enough, this was my first trip to Newcastle where it didn't feel like home. I had to tell Nathan and Dayman that basically, in the foreseeable future, I am not coming back. It's still a good place to visit but it's not where my heart is anymore. I have a palpable sense of not being "one of them".
I nearly adopted a kitten on Saturday. A gorgeous little tortie. Only the nightmare logistics of getting her back to Sydney stopped me. I'm still tearing up at the thought of her being stuck in that little cage instead of with Xander and I.
On Saturday night, it was...strange. No one even seemed to mention Vicki. Through the course of the night, a guy proclaimed I was Jesus and fell at my feet (well, I've been saying), too many people stared down my dress, and I was still the most sober person around. The only negative remark I got was a guy who said "What did you do that for. It looks really stupid, like a big mole". The doctors are cautiously optimistic that he'll walk again, so I'm hopeful the charges will be downgraded from attempted murder.
It was like the old days, except I don't sleep with strangers anymore.
The photos went by the wayside yesterday, since a)I can't get in pools or saltwater for two weeks; b)The piercing is still fairly red anyway, and c)I was not looking my best and capable of only eating a massive pile of eggs benedict and bacon, crawling onto a Sydney train, and quietly dying there.
Anyway, it was good to get back to the inner west. (Although it's so much cooler here). I think I might now consider...buying a flat down here...
I'm kind of heartbroken by what's happened to Newcastle. I'll be putting a longer, thoughtful analysis of the effects of the curfew on my blog later.
But interestingly enough, this was my first trip to Newcastle where it didn't feel like home. I had to tell Nathan and Dayman that basically, in the foreseeable future, I am not coming back. It's still a good place to visit but it's not where my heart is anymore. I have a palpable sense of not being "one of them".
I nearly adopted a kitten on Saturday. A gorgeous little tortie. Only the nightmare logistics of getting her back to Sydney stopped me. I'm still tearing up at the thought of her being stuck in that little cage instead of with Xander and I.
On Saturday night, it was...strange. No one even seemed to mention Vicki. Through the course of the night, a guy proclaimed I was Jesus and fell at my feet (well, I've been saying), too many people stared down my dress, and I was still the most sober person around. The only negative remark I got was a guy who said "What did you do that for. It looks really stupid, like a big mole". The doctors are cautiously optimistic that he'll walk again, so I'm hopeful the charges will be downgraded from attempted murder.
It was like the old days, except I don't sleep with strangers anymore.
The photos went by the wayside yesterday, since a)I can't get in pools or saltwater for two weeks; b)The piercing is still fairly red anyway, and c)I was not looking my best and capable of only eating a massive pile of eggs benedict and bacon, crawling onto a Sydney train, and quietly dying there.
Anyway, it was good to get back to the inner west. (Although it's so much cooler here). I think I might now consider...buying a flat down here...