Bunny has been sitting on the green services box now for over 24 hours.
He was there when I went to train with Cleo yesterday morning. He was there when I got to the park to train tonight.
I feel a bit sorry for bunny. Or maybe I feel very sorry for the child or dog who has lost their beloved toy even more.
It brings back memories of my sister, who had a plush toy dog called Woe-Woe. Woe-Woe was well loved. When Woe-Woe was periodically put through the washing machine, my sister underneath the Hills Hoist, sobbing, and begging Mum to bring him him down.
Woe-Woe eventually was thrown from her pram and ended up down a storm drain. She cried for days.
I'm sure, somewhere out there, there is a child baying for Bunny.
But after a night's solid rain, I'm not sure he will be rehomed. Maybe some benevolent person will throw him in a nearby bin and put him to rest.
Maybe a local dog will find him and disembowel him, sending him off honorably, as only a dog can do.
It's a little bit sad, seeing bunny here, lying like a fetid corpse at a crime scene.
Somebody must be out there who loves him.
I'm sure he was once somebody's most cherished possession.
And I'm sure a lot of people can relate to this scene with a fond , yet resonating shudder.
Eleven years ago I was boarding a plane in Singapore, my ultimate destination being New York.
I'd won two tickets to anywhere in the world. As I had nobody to go anywhere with, I had this changed to a round the world ticket.
So on this day eleven years ago, I woke up in a lovely hotel on the Orchard Road. An old Uni friend and I had reconnected. She and her family live in Jahor Bahru in Malaysia. Just over the causeway. We'd had a great night the day before - we'd gone for egg and oysters and sugar cane juice in one of the markets in downtown JB. I love experience like this. From the qibla in the hotel room, pointing towards Mecca, to the man in the minaret waking you up at some ungodly hour, I love all the situations that get thrown your way. I wish I could have spent more time in Malaysia. I prefer it to Singapore - a city state which to me is just sterile. I need to be there with a local to see the best of it.
Anyway, eleven years ago today, day started off well enough. I woke in a very nice hotel down Singapore's Orchard Road. My friend and I came over to Singapore to have a good look around. I remember we had Nasi Lemak at Raffles and and had good wander around the city, visiting an amazing Hindu temple in one of the Indian areas of the city. I remember the escalators down to the subway ran faster than anything I had ever seen.
We had a good look around the Orchard Road - had some lunch. That's where things get a bit shonky. Whatever I had for lunch did not agree with me.
My flight to Frankfurt, then onto New York was at around midnight. I had twelve hours to deal with this funny tummy.
It was supposed to be a full day in Singapore. I ended up going to the airport early, checking my bags, taking a room at the airport hotel and puking my guts out for the next six hours. The bathroom was destroyed, and I felt wretched.
Boarding the plane later that night, I warned the crew of my predicament. Thankfully I was vomited out by then. Also, thankfully, the seat next to me was free, so I could stretch out a bit and rest.
Over the flight, I drank the plane dry of their supply of dry ginger ale - a must if you're trying to settle your stomach. I also remember one of the crew gently waking me up by stroking my head, making sure I was fine.
It wasn't the greatest of flights - there's nothing worse than flying when you have gastro / food poisoning / a stomach ailment. But it was good to get the crappy stuff out of the way, as it turned out t be the holiday of a lifetime. It was the last time I was in Europe. It was the last time I was in America. If I'm honest, it was the last time I really went exploring.
Work is ramping up and I've taken on a night course - a six week course on editing for creative writers.
It's something I want to do. It's something that will be good for my writing. It's something that might get me back on track with the novel.
On the great side of things, at the end of the course, 3000 words gets sent over to a senior editor at Allen and Unwin for a review and notes.
The class appear to be lovely. Lots of people who've done the Novel course I did last year. Some people are where I'm at, some are nearing the end of their first draft. Some are a few drafts in.
All of us struggle with editing in some ways. Which as writers, we all do. Editing sucks.
But our teacher, Angela Meyer, has been an editor for years, handing out good, practical advice while discussing what is a lengthy and arduous process, particularly if you're writing in a more literary way.
The 3000 words due in six weeks has me daunted. What do I send? Do I write something new. Is the the opportunity to work on the new start of the novel.
It's only for six weeks, but I see this tax deductible gem as something that will be of value.
These courses are always good for the soul.
But the long days at work, followed by another two hours on zoom on a Monday night will take their toll. I came out of the first class exhausted.
I know the day has been long. Mind you, I got a lot done at work today - have seven work instructions out for review (yay), organised for tomorrow's interview with the HR girl, only had two meetings and even managed to get out for a coffee at lunchtime. I've done no exercise, but there is always tomorrow.
After work, I had my editing class, which started this week. And that was awesome. But again, after a day of documents and people wrangling - a day where I left work at ten to six, only to go onto another zoom call at 6.30 - I'm just a little bit fried.
It still doesn't answer why I've watched half an episode of Love Island.
There are a lot of questions?
Was I that vapid in my early twenties? (Probably)
Are they really trying to get a more multi-cultural flavour? (Probably)
Why do none of the men have any body hair?
Why are these women wearning bikinis which are too small?
How much bo-bo (botox) have these women had?
Do any of the contestants have any personality?
Why are they all trying so hard?
I managed about 45 minutes of this rubbish before turning it off and going to have a shower.
Why was I really watching this utter drivel?
It was on after The Block (which I watch with half an eye on the screen). I'd collapsed on the couch. The remote was on my table six feet away. I didn't feel like getting up.
I now know better.
Stupid rubbish.
I'll talk about the editing course tomorrow when I'm less brain dead and my head is not full of cotton wool.
Another Sunday, another set of questions. And now the floors are mopped and theatre subscription has been sorted and I've been for a walk, and dinner is in the oven, it's time to do the Sunday questions, brought to you, as always, by Bev at Sunday Stealing.
Bev, you've set some hard ones this week.
1. Who is your favorite singer? What do you like about him or her?
I'm a lover of music, so I have so many favourite singers and performers. David Byrne, David Bowie, Black Francis, Tim Freedman (The Whitlams) Jason Mraz, Damien Rice, Amy Winehouse, Jewel... the list is long.
But a singer I keep going back to is Paul Simon. I love his range. I love his songs. I love his New York sensibilities. I love that he's timeless.
2. Write about your first memory of going to the doctor.
It's not so much the doctor, but the physiotherapist. As a kid I had my legs corrected as I used to walk on my tiptoes and I had knocked knees. I had to go see the physiotherapist regularly. Her name was Miss Creswell and she was very, very scary. I remember going to the Children's Hospital in Adelaide in my calipers, waiting for the lights, when somebody pointed me out, saying, "Look at that little crippled kid." It was sort of a defining moment. I just remember I didn't like Miss Creswell very much. I think most parents were scared of her too.
3. Write a poem about writing poems.
If writing a poem was easy,
And didn't turn your words to shit,
People would do it more often
And not make a laugh out of it.
4. Write a poem about vacations.
I remember holidays.
A faraway destination
To a week of difference and wonder.
Of monkeys stealing your dinner
And yoga mats, drowned
In the sweat of a thousand hippies.
Of being hassled for a taxi every ten steps
Of drinking bottled water
And going vegetarian, just because.
Ah, Bali, I miss you.
I hope to see you soon.
5. What is something interesting that no one knows about you?
I'm a boring open book and I can't think of anything really interesting about me.
Here's three things you may not know about me:
I generally don't eat lasagne, bananas or cauliflower. I'll eat them if put in front of me, but I don't like them
When I was a kid I grew up wanting to be an astronaut
I don't really like oriental cats. I much prefer moggies to Siamese / Burmese concoctions.
6. Why is it so important to help other people in need?
Isn't it one of the social contracts of being human to help those in need. It makes you feel good and it hopefully makes who you're helping feel good. It just needs to be done.
7. Would you rather finish a project early or do it at the last minute? Why?
I'd rather finish a bit early than leave things to the last minute. I've got a bit of OCD, so planning things out and getting them done is a very good thing. It means less stress.
8. If you had three months left to live, what would you do?
Travel the world. See friends. Eat and drink everything I want to. Love on ice cream. Maybe go skydiving. I'd try and make the most of it.
9. If you could be a flavor of ice cream, what flavor would you be? Why?
Rum and raisin. It's a little bit exotic, a little bit naughty and there are wonderful bits in there that you really don't expect.
10. What is the hardest thing about being a kid?
Not knowing things. I still hate not knowing things, knowing how to do things - but it seems it does all kick in after a while.
11. Would you rather be tall or short? Why?
Tall. I'd love to be an inch or two taller. My weight would fit my height better. And you can reach more things. Not that I'm complaining. I'm around 5'5" so I'm not short-short. I certainly wouldn't want to be any shorter than I am now.
12. What is the greatest challenge facing people in our world today?
Either climate change or extremism. Both things have huge repercussions for generations going forward.
13. What is the scariest experience you’ve ever had?
I've been lucky and haven't been in many scary situations. But I do remember getting followed home in England one time - that was terrifying. I also remember being really scared in Naples. it was just the vibe, but I was really pleased to leave.
Also anything to do with huntsman spiders scares the crap out of me, but I'm getting better with handling those.
14. Write a poem about music.
I have forgotten how the base line
Reverberates in your chest,
As you stand in the mosh pit,
Screaming with all your might.
I have forgotten how the bump and grind
Of the synchopated crowd,
Lets you disappear.
How you mimic the singer,
Knowing the words like a mantra,
Howling with the crowd.
I have forgotten
What it is to be part of a gig.
I wish it wasn't forgotten.
15. Write about a favorite memory of something you did with your best friend.
I have a number of best mates:
So some favourite time with these friends include :
I booked an appointment with my leg waxer. Yes, it's three weeks off. Yes. it may not happen, and after six lockdowns and numerous changes to the rules, and knowing they may change again, I ahve an appointment to get my legs waxed, so I won't feel like a tarantula any more.
They were last done in mid June. This is the longest I've gone without a legwax for 25 years.
And this is three weeks away.
I can't wait.
Next happy moment will be when Lee, my hairdresser gets her appointment book open.
And the girls at the brow bar in Myer - I can't wait for that either.
And tomorrow, Jay and will look at ordering our tickets for next year's season of the Melbourne Theatre Company.
I know I'm probably getting ahead of myself, but it feels good that a little bit of 'normality' may be soon in reach.
I'm thinking another round of novel writing is coming my way. Sure NaNoWriMo is a few weeks away. National Novel Writing Month gives you the 50000 words in a month challenge) but I reckon now is the time to get some prep done, ready for working on what I'm writing.
And yes, work is stupid and I'll have to work around this, but I'm all fired up after a meeting with the Faber crew the other night. One of our ranks has finished her first draft. The rest of us are struggling a bit.
She said something interesting the other night. In finishing her first draft, something she's been working on for many years, she said that this first draft was the shape she thought it would be when she first envisaged the novel.
And I think I've found one of my problems. I don't have the shape of my novel yet.
I know what I want to write about.
I've got my characters - and last year's Faber course put me onto these wonderful characters, who I love. And I want to write about Faith, Laz, Mo and Harry. I want to investigate their back story - and Faith's way forward.
But I need to get the shape of the novel out there.
What is it's flow? What is it's narrative drive? How do my characters get from Point A to Point B? And where does it need to go. I have to work out what happens and where, and when, and to whom.
So this is my job for the next three weeks. Working all this out, so when the first of November comes around, I know what I'm writing - writing to shape, rather than for investigation.
So this is where I've landed. Get out Scrivenor, and start working on the form, the shape of the novel.
And may this, along with Mercury coming out of retrogradeon the 18th of October, just in time for Jonella's birthday.
