Living with the Girlie is like crossing family life with shared accommodation. I flew back on Tuesday, arriving at my door with $3 in my pocket and all my accounts either blown out or inaccessible for tedious reasons I won’t go into.
I think beer might have been involved.
I’ve already told you about the plaintive calls from Sydney when I was in NZ, about the meltdown in the kitchen. When I checked the larder it was indeed a sorry sight. Girlie had eaten just about anything that could be eaten without turning on the stove or needing to be mixed with anything else.
With the $3 reserved for bus fare the next day, the options were limited. But there was, miracle of miracles, a can of tuna, some pasta and some sauce: Tuna bake!
I don’t have roaming so I’d left my mobile in my bedroom. When I switched it on there were eight messages, six from the Girlie, who didn’t realise the phone was just upstairs.
“Dad, call me urgently! I need to know how to cook refried beans!”
There used to be a can of refried beans in the larder, used for a quick taco meal with lettuce, salsa etc. I can imagine her now, warming it up and eating the brown sludge out of a bowl. Straight. On its own.
Yuk.
The house is a mess and someone has drunk most of my Scotch. Not just any old Scotch either, my Laphroaig, leaving me with the Ballantynes and a nip of McCallums that wasn’t there when I left.
The lights had all blown in the lounge and when I went to use the car the battery was flat.
On a positive, Girlie has always given me a hard time about my taste in music but I noted my LPs (yes I’ve still got ‘em and I pity all you bastards out there who sold yours), had been well and truly worked over. Turns out Girlie’s guests had really gotten into my old stuff. Sex Pistols on the turntable.
She’ll never hear the end of that.
It’s heading into Tropfest time here in Sydney. On the 23rd thousands will gather in the botanic gardens to watch 20-odd short films and a brief awards ceremony. Great idea, should be imported.
And the America's Cup has finally made an impact. Front page in the SMH. 3-0.