I’m leaving, no I’m not, yes I am. No I’m not.

Wednesday, 29 September 1993

Dear S,

How was your birthday mate?  How’s it feel to be TWENTY-FIVE (as opposed to twenty)? I hope it was a good one.  How’s everything going?  Mum told me you got another job and with a good long Corporate Ladder to climb and plenty of backs to sink knives into, the way it should be.  Personally, I’m still plodding away here in the sweat-shop tying up the final loose ends for the 94 edition which they seem to want to push out too damn fast for my liking.  They never let me finish anything, it’s always rush, rush, rush, shove it out into the market while I have to deal with people whingeing about this and that – things I would have done if I’d had the time.  Fuck it.

Did Mum tell you I nearly left Leah?  I thinks she was secretly pleased about it.  I moved most of my stuff to Mum’s house on Show Day because Leah had to work and I had all day to get Dad to move my stuff.  It was pretty under-handed.  Anyway I changed my mind and got Dad to shift all the crap back!  He didn’t really say anything, he never does.  He’s too afraid I’ll burn him off so he’s always playing this inanely grinning benevolent father type who never really says anything.  It is handy having him around to cart my shit though.

Mum was rather terse when I told her I’d changed my mind.  It was all “Oh well, I think you’re making a mistake.  I mean you’d made up your mind and now you’ve gone and changed it.  I don’t know…”  You can tell she doesn’t like Leah, but I don’t really care, there’s a definite use-by date on this relationship, and I figure it expires in about two months.  I’m too young to be tied down like this.  I feel like my youth is sort of slipping quietly away when I should be out there being silly.  It’ll be hard to pay the rent for my room if Leah goes though, I’ll most likely have to pay about $80 a week, which probably isn’t much in England but its bloody loads here.

Gotta go, heaps to do.


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