Moving In


	Moving In. 5th August, 2006 FINALLY we are out of that god forsaken shit-hole, pile of debris that we had previously called a home. Not only is our new place decidedly closer to where we want to be, namely smack bang in the middle of Fremantle, but it also seems to have at east some of it’s structural integrity intact. What a bonus!! You see the last place was quite literally falling apart. Velvet and I could lay in bed at night listening to the rats crawl around in the roof (Oh Yes, rats... Big fuckers...) and listen to bits of the roof caving in. The patio out the back COLLAPSED and all the carpets smelled wet. Yes, we lived in a clapped out old piss-shack. Our new address though, is FABULOUS. We now live a five minute walk away from Gino’s, ten to the Train station and a convenient three second walk across the road to the Fremantle Hospital Emergency Ward if either of us decides to chop a finger off while cooking dinner or lose an eye while doing the dishes (?)... However... We are living perilously close to a lot of pubs and even, God Bless, an actual NUT HOUSE, which makes for an interesting (for want of a better word) nocturnal soundtrack. Take this transcript of what Velvet & I heard as we lay in bed at about midnight, not long after moving into our gorgeous new place: LOUD MALE VOICE (LMV): Hey! Come back here you white ct!! OTHER LOUD MALE VOICE (OLMV): Fuck you ct!! I fuck you up you dog! LMV: You fucking ct! OLMV: Fuck you, you black ct! (Sound of smashing glass, the dull thud of fists on bodies, various other expletives...Tires screeching as car speeds away...) VELVET NEXT TO ME IN BED: Darling... I think some c**t may have got himself fucked up out there... ME: You think dear? After a careful survey no bodies or parts of bodies were apparent in the street or on the sidewalk. Ah, the wonder of an urban lifestyle... I can’t say the whole exercise of moving into the new place was entirely without it’s drawbacks. I’m afraid to report that dear David suffered a volley of injuries... Here goes: The poor love was smashed full on in the head with a very heavy dining table, crushed between a GIANT lounge sweet and the steel grating of the trailer we moved in, cut his head on an upholstery staple in an armchair (and promptly bled everywhere, how uncouth) and finally managed to tear open the flesh of his hand by running it through the strapping winch we used to hold the fridge onto the trolley... Better him than me I ‘spose...

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