It’s not my party, but I’m still gonna cry about it.

Tuesday, 18 August 1992

Hey Sis,

Your second letter in two days! It’s just that I only get half an hour for lunch so by the time I actually get anywhere it’s always time to come back so I figured I’d start another letter, it burns time.

It’s Mara’s 21st party thingy on Saturday night, something I’m not looking forward to. Ma says it’s formal which should be a hoot. I was thinking of dragging Leah along then getting her to fake a sickness, but she won’t be in it. This is just one of those things I guess. I mean it’s nothing personal, I just don’t like parties much. I most certainly am not going to have a 21st party, and if any dick nose decides to throw me a surprise party, he or she shall be scraping their innards into small Tupperware container from the floor, I really, really, really don’t want one. Although, Cousin Kezza’s was a real blast wasn’t it? Do you remember that rousing little cabaret number they did for Dazza, Kezza’s boyfriend “Rooty Toot Toot, Sweet Kezza in her Birthday Suit” Brought tears of joy to my eyes I can tell you.

Wednesday, 19 August 1992

Well it’s tomorrow now and it’s another boring lunchtime. What exciting news can I share? Leah might be getting a job. Brett resigned from the fabric shop because the dyes they use were making him really sick all the time so he quit yesterday and recommended Leah to his boss for the job, He said that she’d probably get it, although they ideally want someone a bit younger because they are skin flinted bastards, but hey, it’s a chance.

Do you think it would be rude of me not to go to Mara’s 21st? I mean, I haven’t seen her for probably three or four months, and I’m only invited because she feels obligated, and it’ll probably be really fowl with Mum and Dad there together, with Dad playing the big jolly party man and eating his steak raw, declaring loudly for one and all to hear, “I like ‘em still mooin’!” Christ Sis, I really don’t want to go, but don’t want to raise the wrath of Aunty Mim either. Poo, poo, poo.

Speaking of Dad, I’m pretty sure he’s living at Lilith’s now, because the phone at the flat was answered by someone who said he’d shifted out and they’d shifted in. However, Dad didn’t mention it to me that he’d moved at all, and he keeps ringing me at work every day so that I never have to ring him. BUT, I tried to ring him last weekend to help us move a fridge, and he wasn’t at the flat anymore. When I asked him about it, he said he was “In the process of moving”, which is such a load of shit. Mum says he’s been out of the flat for at least a week, so where is he “processing” at the moment? If he is so ashamed of living with Lilith then he shouldn’t be doing it. But hey, who gives a fuck? Just don’t try to ring him at his old number anymore.

At last, someone else is working here who has a little musical taste! I was just talking to a casual they’ve got working in despatch, Russel and it turns out he’s actually easy AND pleasant to talk to. This probably means that they won’t keep him on of course.

Alas the day of Mara’s party draws near and still I remain stuck in this web of indecision. Mum, last night, modelled for me an extensive range of clothes of most sartorial elegance which, to my joy, also measure up to the standard of formality required for this glittering occasion. They included;

  • Those black slacks, picked up in K-Mart, complete with scratchy inner thighs, purchased “Just in case” (ie for funerals and other obligatory social occasions that one never wants to – but always does – go to).
  • Those large waisted, short legged brown slacks that Dad left behind (and I’ll bet he’s hunting high and low for these couture classics).
  • That black V-neck jumper, crafted by the same master tailor who wove those black slacks from a sheet of Velcro.

Fuck it, I’ll probably end up going, sorry for harping on about it so much. I’m going to post this baby tomorrow, I’ll stick some of Leah’s photos in with it. I’m going to Leah’s tonight (I’ll get them then). I’m going to the Sarah Sands Hotel again tonight too, and hopefully I’ll be OK for work tomorrow. It’s Cure Special tonight and they’re giving away front row tickets, so Gerry (complete wanker whom Leah and Belinda used to live with) will probably be there.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Love J

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