032 Tattoo count. Zero. I have nothing against tattoos. In fact I am quite fond of those which tell a story of significance. I briefly considered getting inked many years ago but wasn’t inspired enough by potential designs. Now that I am past that phase, I am glad. With the number of people sporting tattoos these days, I believe not having one is just as much of a statement.
033 I wanted to live in Angel (London) before I had ever seen it. Angelic in her own right, my friend lived in Angel a few years ago and I just loved the idea residing in a place with such a name. Now I live here, I love it. It no longer belongs before jail on the monopoly board. I wish, only for my rent’s sake, it did.
034 Aside from London, I have lived in Wagga Wagga, Norfolk, Canberra, Townsville and the Gold Coast. All had their pros and cons. Some more than others. I could easily live on the Gold Coast again. It gets a bad rap (and I know Siamese Saffron is cringing) but I can hardly fault it. Sun, sand and surf. A café culture which kept me well caffeine-ed. Brisbane an hour to my left and Byron Bay and hour to my right. Apart from all the yucky personal stuff which went down there, it was a pretty sweet time.
035 Speaking of caffeine, coffee with friends is one of life’s simple pleasures. Flat white is my coffee of choice. I just don’t need all that froth and I most certainly prefer my coffee in ceramic as opposed to glass. Brits don’t do flat whites. It’s not a huge deal but I do miss them. Lattes fill the void reasonably when well made. I have recently converted to soy milk. When I am naughty I indulge in a little vanilla. The organic café around the corner from work has vanilla soy. It makes me happy.
dear england. make it happen.
036 I am not wearing stockings today. It’s the first time since October that I haven’t worn stockings to work. The sun is glorious. My legs feel liberated.
037 Maths came much more naturally to me than English at high school. This presented a slight problem because I loved English and hated maths. I think my teachers had a bit to do with that. I put so much more effort into English and, in the end, my results indicated that. I was not born to be a writer. I turned myself into one.
038 I so vividly remember kneeling over the back of the couch, head underneath the curtain, looking out the window and crying as I watched dad drive away. Moments before he had told me, for the first time, he wasn’t going to live with us anymore.
039 Dad left us a number of times. I always think it was six times but I have a feeling it’s more like four or five. Doesn’t really matter I guess. I only remember one other time as clearly as the first. It might have been the last but again, I can’t be sure. This time dad left mum to break the news. He had left overnight. I knew as soon as she sat us down. I started crying. One of my sisters, who would probably have been six, laughed at me for crying. I erupted. I think that might have been when I built the wall. A brief 18 years later, I’m working on pulling it down.
040 There’s a post-it on my computer which says ‘UNCROSS YOUR LEGS’. My legs are currently crossed.