1. My friend, Running Accountant (he of the lovely Mother and Freud the Cat) took me to see Chris Rock on Friday night. I haven’t laughed so hard nor so long in aeons. Damn, that man is funny.
I wonder how he really felt, finding himself here in Sydney – the whitest city in the Southern Hemisphere. Of course, he joked about it: how easy it was as a black man to get laid here, but did he really think it was funny?
2. I have prided myself on my greenfingers ever since I first had my own garden back in Norfolk 8 years ago. And I assumed that ability would prove equally efficacious here in Australia. As it turns out, not so much. So far I have killed (I suspect by over-zealous watering) a Kangaroo Paw, and the possums have eaten the succulents on my balcony down to stalks. I’m now waging a distinctly unsuccessful war against some kind of mould on my Ixora chinensis and my potted palm is going brown at the edges. Still, I may have saved a friend’s fig by recommending that she re-pot the poor thing a few weeks ago – apparently it is now thriving once again, and sending out new growth.
I shall persevere. I shall not capitulate to the spores of a mere fungus.