I have included some pictures to show what Bunbury is all about. I read the wikipedia entry for Bunbury and its pretty good. It mentions Aristos Papandroulakis, but makes no mention of his fish and chip store and how much tourism and attention it receives. Maybe I should update the entry. As I sit here in my sarong, which I have only taken off to go into town or to sleep, I smile when reading the line: Bunbury’s climate can best be described as Mediterranean in this website. Ah joy!
I have tried not to say "coming home" as this is not my home. However, my dedication to the absence of 'home' seems silly when I called the backpacker in Hobart that I stayed at and hated, 'home'. This place, Bunbury, is where my mother lives, it is home for her, for me it is a free ride and a holiday.
As to where my actual home is, well that is something to be considered. Thinking about it now I realise that home is a place, an atmosphere, your surroundings. Not just a house. Right now I would say that Melbourne is pretty 'home-ish' for me, although I never lived anywhere longer than 18 months in the entire 6 years I lived there. I did frequent St Jerome's for longer. Even The Joint. Are these places my home? (Not including The Joint - I was just making a point - ew).
I have set up 'house' in a room in my mother's house. It is OK. I have my puter and my net and a fan and a sarong. I have recovered from my shock of leaving and am starting to adjust. Yesterday I called the pound to collect two hungry stray dogs roaming the streets and today I went for a early morning bike ride. I am fitting in.
The other thing of note that I anticipated, but had temporarily forgotten about, was seeing old school friends. I do not have any old school friends left. The last one I finally ditched for being a completely horrible bitch. She was to me through high school and although we were 'best friends' and I was maid of honour at her wedding, she is rude and tactless and I find that unneccessary. Enough explanation? Anyway, she was the last and now there was none in the bed. Two days ago I happened to glance in the direction of another member of the gang of chicas I hung out with in high school. I was walking into Target and it took me a good 10 minutes to remember her name. First name - the surname is still lurking in the depths.
Diane. I remember her as being overtly sensual and me being fascinated and intimidated by this. She wrote me a letter in the first year I went to uni in 1991 and once when I slept over her house, I saw her nose bleed profusely for hours for no reason. I remember there was something about her parents that was odd and that she had hair growing in a patch on her neck cos of her 'ethnicity', whatever that was. She looked the same the other day as she did in high school.
Diane also went out with a boy whom I had some semblance of a crush on. Back in high school I had not classified the crushes yet, so I did not know what they were in reference to. The boy she went out with was called Troy and all he ever wanted to do was join the army. He thought I was cool cos I liked the Beastie Boys. Troy had a flat top hair cut and was very much like Robert Duvall's Apoloypse Now character, Lt. Colonel Kilgore. So the reminiscing begins. I am interested in what will happen if I do bump into someone. You know that point where you cannot not say hello.
