Sinister: falling down like...

[Ian Watson]

Amy,

You asked about the Spanish tomato festival. It's called the Tomatina and is
held in Bunol near Valencia sometime in August. I've never been but it looks
a lot safer than that business in Pamplona. I'm learning Spanish at the
moment at an evening class in London. If I ever find out what the Spanish is
for laundrette, I'll let you know.

There, my first post. Not that hard really, was it?

Ian

ps - to Sophie from St Kilda. I know you're feeling frustrated, like you're
stuck at the edge of the world and that there are so many many things to be
ashamed of...but really, it's the same up here too. We have an outrage to
match every one of yours and an out of sight out of mind policy to rival the
forgetting you talk about. All I know is: as much as you wish you were in
London or Manchester or Glasgow or wherever, I wish with every fibre of my
being that I was in St Kilda. I spent six days in Melbourne a month back on
holiday and loved it so much. 

Loved getting the tram to the Sodastream show in Richmond and having to
leave early in the pouring rain and the electric storm to get the last tram
back. Loved wandering down towards Luna Park and stumbling upon people
filming Secret Life Of Us (the business type guy who went out with the
blonde girl was with the new girlfriend and a pram - I was ridiculously
excited). Loved Flinders Street station, under the clocks, wondering if I
should know my Liberty Belle better and that there was a lyrical reference I
was missing. Loved Brunswick Street, with all of its faults and vanities.
Loved the four seasons, loved the city, loved it all. Which, as my
girlfriend so rightly points out, was just us having a holiday romance with
a place and a time. But it still doesn't mean that I don't feel physically
sick (homesick almost) typing these words. How can you feel homesick for a
place you spent six days in? It doesn't make sense.

About a week after coming home, after spending a further nine days in Sydney
and feeling utterly upside down at the first glance of the Opera House, we
went to the Warhol Exhibition at Tate Modern. I was surprised at how much I
was affected by some of Andy's works, but the real high point of the night
was sitting in a pub opposite St Pauls waiting for our friends to come out
of the exhibition. When we were in Sydney, Adrienne said about the Opera
House: "Look, people probably go jogging past that every day and don't give
it a second glance." And here we were killing time opposite one of the most
gorgeous parts of London, floodlit just for us. 

The Spanish for opposite is "enfrente". I remember this by thinking about
Frente, who did that cover of "Bizarre Love Triangle" and then extending it.


Not such a lonely world after all.











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