in passing...

A brief update for those who care or those that ended up here accidentally. We came very close to getting evicted from our flat, but life is vaguely back on track and our name is still above the glorified bedsit's door. I feel it would be wrong to say that it's something we're overjoyed about because I've been to bigger toilets, but it's nice not to have a big red cross against your name. So fear not, any/all fan mail can still be received.

I just wanted to list all the things that have annoyed me recently:

- It was a joy to see that they do have Nandos over here, but an absolutely travesty to learn that they don't do bottomless drinks. Thus losing Nandos' USP.

- For the first two and a half months of us living in the glorified bedsit we didn't have a cooker, we received $150 in compensation this week. That isn't even enough for a sausage roll.

- I am now so desperate for a job I've been applying to become a car-washer and still I receive nothing back.

- The guy downstairs left his front gate open, revealing a washing room that seemed to glow ethereally, he's recently moved out and clearly doesn't use it. We are left to lug our smelly garments to the dingy alcove that calls itself a Launderette on Smith Street (think Hackney before it was cool and just full of the mentally ill, but on the up and about to become mildly cool. I was on Smith Street the other day and there was the woman sat at the bus stop, everyone that walked past she bellowed "HELLO!" to and every man that walked past she screeched "YOU'RE MY PERFECT MAN!". Incredible stuff, but I digress)

- I just looked at the cinema listings and 'Fish Tank' is a new release. I could've sworn I went to see it at least 4 years ago.

Anyway, onwards and upwards...

can I have your attention please?

On Monday night we were feeling exceptionally bored and in need of an injection of fun in our lives. With next to no money and all our friends and associates about 10,000 miles away, we realised that the chances of us finding something/anything to do were painfully low. So we decided to embark on some online karaoke. Our local Woolworths (yes, we're shopping there again now) has a killer deal on red wine, so we spent our remaining pennies on three bottles of that and consumed it all throughout the evening. An hour or so into our singalongs and at the reasonable time of 11:30pm one of our neighbours began beating at our door, a cacophony of thudding resonated through our bedsit and drowned out our harmonies. We paused for a moment and then continued with our wine and tuneful whining. In all our drunken glory we took their protests as encouragement to make even more of din. Our night took us on a journey through much of Eminem's back catalogue to Miley Cyrus, then Snow Patrol and back to Eminem. The buzzer started ringing at roughly 3am, it was the police and they wanted to talk to us about some complaints they'd received about our allegeded party. It turns out the police are really nice here, so we thus continued. Josh skated off down the streets in search of more wine, but returned only with a beige Ralph Lauren baseball cap he'd stolen from a kebab shop. Then came the Cranberries and Biggie and it wasn't until Slipknot that our neighbour returned once again, with all his banging and thudding. Josh opened the door as I hid in bed, pretending to be asleep. Our neighbour shouted "Shut up! Just shut up!" many times, whilst waving his open palm in Josh's face. We then decided bed might be a wise option.

You can find our karaoke attempts here:

When we woke up the following day we then realised we should probably leave our house, so that our neighbours wouldn't be able to confront us about our wildly inappropriate and juvenile behaviour. So we walked all the way to Thornbury and caught the tram into town. Our overwhelming fear of confrontation led us to believe that we probably shouldn't go home that evening, so we found an internet cafe and searched for cheap hotels in the Melbourne area. We booked a room and breathed a sigh of relief. The next day, with clearer heads and much less of the all encompassing sense of idiocy, lunacy and regret that comes with a hangover we decided to bite the bullet and return home. We surreptitiously climbed the stairs and found a six pack of rather nice beer (or so I'm told, I don't drink beer) and a note attached on our doormat. The note read:

Neighbours,

I am not in favour of grudges nor walking on egg shells. I am willing to admit to being imperfectly human and conclude that last night our worlds unhappily collided when we were both being somewhat very intolerable.

One of the few things I've learnt about Life of any value in twenty-eight years is that it's too short for holding a dagger in your hand longer than necessary.

Apologies, Peace & Respect

A huge relief, met with a small amount of wonder as to whether we are actually living next door to Pete Doherty.

Apologies, Peace & Respect,

Frances xx