Monday, 8 January 1996 3:00PM

Hey Sis,

How ya doin’?  Can’t believe you’ve been gone almost a week. Guess where I am. Yep I’m back at work, but I’ve been relocated.  Simon and I have been prised from under our rock and shunted out into the general office space.  I’ve lost my little cubby hole Sis.  I’m now back to back with Bett.  This is going to change things as I’m sure you can appreciate. I’m thinking of buying a computer for home to write these letters on now, as I intend to work a lot harder this year.  Really.

There’s a stack of new folks here, there’s a girl called Tatiana sitting behind me in Bett’s desk at the moment.  She’s OK. She and Bett will be swapping desks in a few days I guess.  It’s hotter out here too. I dunno, I’m not really that worried about it. There is a whole bunch of negatives to it, but they don’t seem to be bothering me oddly enough. Maybe it’s because I’m all relaxed from my holiday, chillin’ with my Sis.

I hope you got home safe.  Well, I know you did, Mum told me so.  She rang about ten minutes ago to gloat that she is still on holidays.  Evil woman.  Got a wedding to go to on Australia Day.  Buggered if I know what to buy for a present.  There’s five of us chipping in together, so we should be able to buy something nice.  I must ask if there’s a bridal registry at Myer or wherever.

Tuesday, 9 January 1996 12:35PM

Mum’s coming in to meet me for lunch in an hour or so.  I must get to the bank and have her rent money ready or she’ll beat me again.  She rings me every day to tell me she’s still in her dressing gown, whilst I’m heading down the salt mine. She is a Devil Woman. Sing it Cliff.

Read a funny book last night called “He died with a Falafel in his Hand”.  It was all about housing-sharing.  By John Birmingham if you’re interested.  He writes for Rolling Stone magazine, so you can guess how readable it is.  I actually laughed out loud at some of it.  It made me all wistful for house-sharing.  That only lasted about an hour or two.  First of all I started thinking about all the wacky goings on that I was missing out on, and how my life in Flemington is too insular. Then I got out of the shower and looked at the pile of dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner and thought how much they would piss me off if they were someone else’s.  Then I saw my socks in the lounge room, and the ironing I’d left out, and the placemats from last night’s tea. Oh yes, single living is still the only way to fly.  By the way I do use those placemats you passed on to me.  I sit at my kitchen table with the green table cloth we bought at Spotlight, with my placemats and coasters and napkins and mapkin rings and eat my little dinners for one.  (Sob!)

Where’s Mum? If she doesn’t get here soon the only thing she’ll be having for lunch is a knuckle sandwich!  (Remember my New Year’s Resolution – to be more tough.)  Sigh, New Year saving.  I’m broke, broke, broke.  And there’s a pair of Elvis sunglasses in Revival (remember I took you there) that I’ve got a real hankerin’ for.  What to do, what to do.  I know I should save, but I do want those sunglasses. God, it’s not as if I’m not denying myself enough already with this damned diet I’m on. I have to lose three kilos, it has to be done, I can’t even fit into my fat jeans anymore. Yep, I’m as fat as Elvis and need a pair of Elvis glasses. Well I’m convinced.