Remember this?
You don’t?
You mean you’re not committing the details of my life to memory so that you’ve got all the backstory in case you’re asked to come in one day when one of the other writers is sick*?
Well, whether you remember it or not, I’m going to tell you that last night, I plugged it in using the replacement charger which was a little flimsy, and there was an enormous BANG followed by a swear word or two, a jump off the couch by the mister, a silence as all of the electrical appliances in the house went off, and a thank you to the universe for the invention of circuit breakers. Now, the powerpoint is looking quite black. The mister says it’s fine, but I’m calling an electrician in before I use it again.
I love that phone, I really do. But it’s not been working so great lately. And I can’t justify spending the enormous amounts of money required to replace the phone. Plus, like, I find having it switched on enormously stressful. Like I’d better answer it. And now. So I think it’s back to whatever it is they’ll give me with the cheapest plan I can find.
Oh, for independent wealth.
*I always hoped that one day I’d be asked to fill in for a writer on Home and Away or EastEnders or anything really, and that when I did I’d wow them with my intricate knowledge of those programmes. And they say that people don’t value a free university education. I’d still do it. Just in case you’re some television executive looking to take a risk on an ageing, but potentially excellent television writer.
In a very weird kind of synchronicity, I just this moment opened a parcel containing my phone charger. I lost it in melbourne in January and some nice soul posted it back. Eight weeks later.
In an even more bizarre and synchronistic event, my home phone just blew up as a result of a passing storm. second time in two weeks. Just after I opened the parcel.
I have a friend who is remaking the TV series”The Banana Splits”.
I will put in a good word….
you would of course be really excellent on that one.
A friend of mine is a writer on Homers — she says it’s hell. She used to be a book editor. I don’t think she knew anything about Summer Bay beforehand. (I think it’s a matter of who you know, as with many things.)
Ageing?
AGEING?
C’mon, I’m the same age as you.
Well maybe six months younger or something.
*I* am not ageing.
The ageing thing works in your favour, Mikhela. For example, your babies are ageing beyond the point that they need to be fed three times each night.
(yes, yes, and towards the point where they will be getting head lice, but go with my glass half full version for now).