With bullets in their belts

Desperation was descending as I roamed the hallway, sat on the bed and stared at the empty inbox then roamed the hallway again. That's when I said NO! Not bloody likely. I will not become desperate or morose or despondent or frightened. I sent Madam Squeeze a message and behold the response "Spencer and I approaching Newtown. What are your coordinates". Blessed are the accordion players. We convened at the fig sorbet shop at 8.

Spencer was wearing a suit jacket over his clothes and some kind of fancy shoes. Turns out he's been double evicted. The landlord failed to pay the mortgage and the house has been repossessed so the bank is kicking him out. Since the bank owns the house Spencer stopped paying rent so the real estate agent is kicking him out. I am very proud of him. He is the first person I know to get double evicted. House hunting explains the jacket and the fancy shoes but I'm not sure it explains why he had one dry pancake and a glass of water for breakfast.

Madam Squeeze was lamenting her hungry day. She claims to have eaten more junkfood than would seem possible. Spencer recounted the food he had seen her eat that day. He paused to declare the heart attack virtues of twice fried chips from the yeros shop in Marrickville. Twice fried chips? Astonishing. He assures me they are delicious. This is when he divulged his breakfasty secret. What kind of a man has one pancake and a glass of water for breakfast?

Was it a cold pancake? Did he make enough batter just for one then stand over the pan with a spatula in his hand making a sad face and staring at a full glass of water? Once when Spencer was in high school he got ten out of ten in food tech for his pikelet.

After sorbet and much needed connecting with like minds we removed to the pub. All was well enough except we had to share a table with two strangers. The woman had a kind of careless beauty and the man had an interesting scar on his face. Slowly we integrated conversations until we were all chatting happily enough though not with depth or intimacy.

The pub started to fill with a new crowd, the likes of which I don't see in Newtown. They were all differently dressed but in such a way that they went together like artfully mismatched table settings or cushions in a shop window. All the women wore block colours in black and red. Their haircuts were sharp and coloured black or red. Some of them had shaved bits at the back. They all wore dresses, heels and red lipstick. The men were in black, rolled up sleeves, bryll cream sort of hair and had bullets in their belts.

Spencer said "Its Two Tone night" and I thought ah, that explains the limited colour palette. But why there was a there a Two Tone night at Kelly's? I like that pub is because there is not usually anyone on the upstairs terrace, there is no music and it is generally excellent for sitting and chatting. I quite object to tribes. Either that or I am jealous that I am not in one. I am too lazy to be bothered making all my clothes match everybody else's clothes. Besides I am too much of a giant when I stand next to other women to blend with a crowd. What a lot of effort they must all go to. What happens if they decide they suddenly want to own a pink shirt? Do they get voted off the island?

Walking home with my dress and my red lipstick I plugged into my mp3 player and realised its not all that bad. I might have lost a bit of confidence but I'm still walking around looking at things.

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