Everything is getting pretty busy for us all.
Louisa is preparing to leave, the boys are in the grand final for their cricket and there’s a strange atmosphere in the flat as we all slowly come to terms with the fact that for some of us our time in Australia is coming to an end.
Lydia has a brief adventure up the east coast planned, I’m looking for jobs, the boys are, well…the boys and Louisa isn’t too sentimental: she’s coming back in July.
Louisa’s birthday served to mark the end of our time together in Australia, with a good old fashioned piss up.
We’ll start with my awesome of the week.
It was Louisa’s birthday on St. Patrick’s day, which to everyone else is 17th March. Unfortunately for her, we were all busy with work during the day – we had a brief interlude in the afternoon to fill the flat with balloons and Lucy had left her a rather delicious looking chocolate cake (which was devoured in no time, I alas, didn’t get any, stupid lent and deciding to give up chocolate).
The plan was to meet her in town after work for drinks at a bar opposite her job in the market.
After post work trucker chips and showers we finally made it in around 9 to find Louisa already well in to celebrating St. Patricks/birthdayness.
It was a great night…at least I’m told it was, I didn’t see much of everyone after getting distracted at the bar talking to the boy who was serving.
We’ll see about that one, but there’s always a thrill getting a number.
Without being too graphic, contraception wise, my pill is fantastic – it completely puts Mother Nature on hold. Her visits are few and far between, so it means I’m never prepared for her. It’s been so long since I’ve had to deal with that part of being a girl I’ve completely forgotten how much hassle it can be.
As is her want, M.N. decided to call as I was leaving for work. At a swimming pool. Battle stations go: I ran to Woolies on my way to the pool, in my haste manage to pull an entire shelf of tampons onto myself.
Now, the shelf housing the female products are in view of the self-scan machines, so the lady working on the till, had – I presumed – a good chuckle at my clutsy-ness and carried on her way.
I head to the self scan, pay and shove the tampons in my bag.
As I’m wandering out of the shop, headphones in, trying to stuff my change into my back pocket, I’m stopped by the lady who proceeds to search my bag and look for the extra boxes of tampons she’s assuming that I’ve stolen.
I was 15 minutes late for work.