News from London.

 Letter from S to friends back in Australia.

 

18 Sep 1991

Hi Girls, thanks for the communal letter, thought you had all forgotten about me.  It’s nice to know that you’re all still alive.  I can’t believe that seven months has gone by.  I don’t quite know where to start with all my news.  It is now 4.30pm, I finish in an hour and Fat Fraudulent Frances (FFF) is out so I will type as much as I can as quickly as I can.

As you know when I got to London Adrian met me at the airport and it just wasn’t the same.  I didn’t even like the guy, on his own territory he was and is pathetic, his parents have to do everything for him. Sometimes he just goes all out effeminate – like completely over the top, very odd.  It got to the stage that everything he did shitted me off a real treat.  He would chew his toe nails after he cut them and he would sneeze into his hands and then lick his hands and he had this absent minded way of always having his hands down his pants, give you the screaming shits, men really can be disgusting.

Anyway to top it all off I found out that he had been sleeping with his ex-girlfriend whilst I had been travelling through Thailand/Sweden.  Her name is Anice (A Nice Slappa – if you ask me) anyway she has a wonderful job, she poses nude for porno magazines and has even done the famous Page 3 for the Sun Newspaper over here.  So it was off to the clinic for me to have some tests for any nasty’s Anice may have passed along, all is well.  Anyway there was a hell of a fight – mind you it wasn’t over what Adrian had done because to tell the honest truth I was glad, it gave me a way out.  The problem was he couldn’t believe that I would want to leave him no matter what he had done, talk about a serious ego problem.

I moved out of Adrian’s parents place straight away and moved into staff accommodation at the hotel in Whitehall.  The hotel sure is nice and fancy but as for the staff accommodation oh my god, rat hole is too good a description.  It was a lot of fun though.  I spent 7 hours cleaning it the night I moved in.  One of my windows had a hole in the glass so I pinched a shower curtain from Housekeeping and hung it behind the curtains to keep out the cold, permanently borrowed some towels and a hotel bathrobe, pulled all the labels off and washed them with every piece of red clothing I had and now I have lovely pink matching robe and towels, Mum would kill me.  Borrowed some Wedgwood from Room Service, borrowed anything I could from anywhere to get the place half nice.  My room cost £45 a week deducted straight from my salary – not bad for a room smack bang in the middle of London, I loved it, as crummy as the room was – the hum and buzz outside my window never stopped, it was great.

Anyway started to see Jack who I met through Adrian, their circle of friends overlap now and then, so unfortunately I do have to see Adrian from time to time,  I am quite civil which annoys him I am sure.

After a while it seemed that I only kept my clothes at work, after work I would rush upstairs, change and jump straight on a train to go and see Jack or he would come straight into London to see me, so it was costing me a train fare as well as £45 rent a week.  Jack asked me to move in with him and I was honestly scared after living with “Fuck Face”.  I had promised myself I would never live with anyone again but not every man on earth is out to hurt you or spend what little money you have earnt on fucking remote control planes, why on earth I put up with that git I will never know.

We have been living together for a while now and it’s working out OK.  Jack and his sister Jane own the house that we are living in.  We live upstairs and Jane lives downstairs, we all share the toilet and bathroom upstairs and the kitchen downstairs but it seems to work quite well with no major hassles so far.  Jane can be a little strange though, she is 29 in November but calls herself 30 because it makes her look good for her age, dates endless men, two stipulations though; they have to have money or be set to inherit money one day and they must be black, half caste will do at a push.  Their Dad is racist and I’m sure Jane subconsciously does it to piss him off.

The other night Jack was running a bath at about 9.30pm – it is strange the way the English prefer a bath to showers, and if they do have a shower it is one of those that is over the end of the bath tub.  I would kill my grandmothers cat for a shower with a 3 panel sliding glass door, its own drain hole and tiles up to my head (can one of you have a long, hot Aussie shower for me).  Anyway Jane came into the lounge and asked Jack to leave the water in the bath until the morning, I thought she wanted to perform some odd ritual with her brothers bath water. The reason was that the water would wake her and scare her guinea pigs when it hit the drain downstairs, I laughed hard and loud, oh I couldn’t help it, I just sat there laughing out loud at her – have a feeling the relationship may get a little frosty from here on.

Anyway better go FFF will be back any minute.

Thanks again for your letters, keep me up to date.

Love S

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