Tag: work

1995, Letters from J, Letters to S

This letter will probably get opened and read by the French Secret Service and I’ll have dodgy looking Peugeots parked outside my house for months.

Monday, 19 June 1995 3:03pm S, Dad called me at work and just told me you’ve finally named my niece – hell it only took you 9 days!  Brady, (I hope I’ve got the spelling right). That’s really nice, I like Brady.  So how are you coping as a new mother? Is Brady keeping you up ’til all hours? You will have her walking and … Continue reading This letter will probably get opened and read by the French Secret Service and I’ll have dodgy looking Peugeots parked outside my house for months.

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1995, J's Diary Entries

J the handyman continues his conquest of the world of hardware.

J’s Diary Entry Monday, 5 June 1995 My God!  It’s so cruelly cold in my house. My hands are so cold I can hardly write. Stood in a queue today next to some Canadian guy chatting with a 50-ish Australian woman about Melbourne.  He was tall, lanky, blonde, tanned and had a slight lisp, that made his s’s sound like zh’s, if you know what … Continue reading J the handyman continues his conquest of the world of hardware.

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1995, Letters from J, Letters to S

My workmates have about as much sensitivity as a Russian condom.

Monday, 22 May 1995  1:38pm Dear Sis, Howdy.  I thought of you on the tram this morning.  A pregnant lady was sitting opposite me, rubbing her belly with this secretive smile.  It was a bit creepy to tell you the truth.  Then the tram conductor sat diagonally opposite me and started talking to himself as he leafed through the form guide.  He didn’t ask for … Continue reading My workmates have about as much sensitivity as a Russian condom.

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1995, Letters from J, Letters to S

When I’ve exercised all this wobble off, I might even venture out to pluck a fruit from the Girl Tree.

Friday, 12 May 1995 Howdy S, I’d ask how you are, but I’m too self-absorbed in horror to think of anything but my own suffering.  She touched me again, you know, the Ms X that I don’t want to name for fear of litigation.  She linked her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder and quaked with laughter as I vibrated on … Continue reading When I’ve exercised all this wobble off, I might even venture out to pluck a fruit from the Girl Tree.

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1994, J's Diary Entries

I’d better buy a suit I suppose.

Diary Entry for Wed 28 Sep 94 I found out today that Jeremy is going to be working on my book full-time. This is not good, with Jeremy taking over the Company side of the book, it will expand and may usurp the biographical section and me in the process.  I talked to Jeremy about it and he seems enthusiastic and imbued with a combination … Continue reading I’d better buy a suit I suppose.

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1994, Letters from J, Letters to S

Nothing works around here, especially me.

Tuesday, 27 September 1994 Dear S, I thought I’d write a letter, the weather here at the moment recalls my mind to Old Blighty, and I thought I should post off this Cleo to you. I know you wont have your birthday present yet, and you must be getting toey as to whether it will come at all, or if it even exists, so I … Continue reading Nothing works around here, especially me.

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1994, J's Diary Entries

I have no great desire for human contact at this point in time.

J’s Diary Entry Tue 5 Jul 1994 – Left for work early today, had to be in at 7:30AM to load the recycling truck – got paid for it. Had a good chat with Anna about movies and bludged the rest of the day away.  Wrote two letters, one to S, one to myself, full of wordy self-pity and justifications for how I’ve treated and … Continue reading I have no great desire for human contact at this point in time.

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1994, Letters from J, Letters to S

If I don’t get my quota of salt in by sundown I’ll lose my clothing privileges and have to work naked again.

6 Jun 1994  Dear S et all (from the Latin “et alii”, everyone ought to know that.), How’s it goin’? I’m sorry to have been so lax in the letter writing department, but it’s actually been rather hectic lately.  I have to get through a certain amount each day, and so far it’s been taking me all day, which I am none-too-pleased about.  How dare … Continue reading If I don’t get my quota of salt in by sundown I’ll lose my clothing privileges and have to work naked again.

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1994, Letters from J, Not Sent/Received

I am sick of crappy books and crappy television and crappy people.

THIS IS ANOTHER OF THE LETTERS/WRITINGS MY BROTHER WROTE FOR ME (WHILST OUR MOTHER WAS VISITING ME IN THE UK), BUT I NEVER RECEIVED IT.  IT WAS AMONGST HIS DIARIES AND OTHER DOCUMENTS I FOUND AFTER HIS DEATH, HE HAD WRITTEN “NOT SENT” ON IT.  IT IS DATED 27 FEB 1994. Dear S (Jack and Mum) What is it with Melbourne that is so horrible … Continue reading I am sick of crappy books and crappy television and crappy people.

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1994, Letters from J, Letters to S

Tonya Harding skates like a lumberjack with undies full of sand.

Tuesday, 1 March 1994 Dear S, I know I wrote only yesterday, but I need a holiday from work and I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the tasks at hand, so I thought I’d just start another one.  Actually, I’ve got the pre-dentist jitters and I want to take my mind off it. I’m booked in tonight at 6.30, so I’ll be … Continue reading Tonya Harding skates like a lumberjack with undies full of sand.

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