GOOD TIMES

Just off the plane from deliciously warm Brisbane to cold miserable Sydney. It's still summer in Queensland whereas we're full throttle into a wet winter in Sydney town. I had a wonderful weekend. My brother and I attended Liv and Steve's wedding on Saturday at Gianni's at the new portside development on the Brisbane River. My my Brisbane is such a different city these days to the one I left almost 7 years ago; very cosmopolitan, full of alfresco restaurants and cafes everywhere......and so multicultural......my god, Brisbane's idea of multiculturalism used to be the corner Chinese Restaurant and packet pasta....how times have changed. I had a ball at the wedding. It was a big law school reunion; saw some people that I had not literally seen since I left uni ten years ago. And my life was so different back then; I came out (both figuratively and literally) on the roof top of the Kookaburra Queen (Brisbane River Boat) on new year's eve 98/99 after drinking way too much champagne and attempting to kiss a mate of mine (tragic!). Half the people at the wedding including the bride were on deck to witness it all that fateful and "thank god it's finally happened" evening. All the straights out of the crew are married and have mortgages rivalling that of the debt of a small african nation. As for the all the homoxials, we're still in the cab que and dancing like it's 1999. And I wouldn't have it any other way!

Rain Drops Keep Falling on my Head

It has rained for the last 11 days straight in Sydney and I think I'm starting to develop webbed feet. Apparently it is the wettest April in 77 years and I am totally over it! Weather like this reminds how I would find it very challenging to live in a place like London, Dublin or anywhere north of the Mediterranean. The constant grey wet damp is driving me nuts. My huge weekend has not assisted my mental state either. One of my closest friends, Christopher was up from Melbourne for the weekend. We hadn't seen each other for ten months and we certainly made up for lost time. We covered the whole gamut of Oxford Street Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I danced so much I dropped two dress sizes.

I simply can't party now the way I used to. It takes too much out of me. I have been absolutely exhausted all this week and am now coming down with the flu (super (not): just in time for Liv's wedding on the weekend in Brisvegas); not to mention I arrived at work on Monday with no voice. I sounded like a strangled Daffy Duck; such a great look. I spent all day communicating with people via email and post-it notes; so professional.

I had my theatresports graduation Friday night. It went very well with everyone performing exceptionally. I was extremely nervous though at the beginning and seemed to lose the power of speech and movement. When our teacher and MC Lyn had us all out on stage in front of the audience, she threw a red scarf in the middle of the stage and asked each of us to go out one at a time and do something with the red scarf. This completely threw me. ….. I wanted to exit the stage, call a cab and go home. I think it was because I knew I had so many friends in the audience. I don't mind performing in front of complete strangers but when it comes to people who know you, it's quite terrifying. I could tell every one of my friends was egging me on to do something but I just couldn't move. And I became more and more frozen as every other person on stage did something with the scarf. Every single action I thought to do, someone would do it just before me. It was a nightmare. In the end I remained frozen to the floor and did my best impersonation of marble. I was the only one not to move. EMBARASSMENT!

Thankfully I eventually warmed up and got into the groove participating in pulling out some hits such as the song "I’m in Love I'm in Love With A Recycle Bin" and "Grandma and her Homosexual Cat."

We received standing ovations at the end of the show and all these professional theatreporters who were in the audience approached us to join the official theatreports body Impro Australia so that we can perform on a regular basis. They claim we are the best group to graduate thus far. They probably tell every graduating class this ……still it was nice to receive so much encouragement. I definitely want to keep doing it.

The rest of the weekend is akin to a cross between The Thorn Birds and Weekend at Bernie's. I can't even begin to tell you. Hopefully I will have the abridged version out by Friday.

Tomorrow afternoon I fly off to Brisvegas for a few days of sunshine (fingers crossed), Dad's cooking, a wedding on Saturday and p and q (please god!).

No Facebook Please, We're TERRIFIED

It amuses me lately the number of moralistic responses I've received from colleagues and friends when I say that I love Facebook.

"Oh no I don't believe in that," said one girl at work firmly convinced that I was asking her to join the cyber equivalent of the Church of Scientology.

"It just doesn't sit well with me," said another as if I was proposing an orgy at the water cooler

"It has stopped people communicating; it's making the world a colder place," muttered a mate who spends most of his time talking into his schooner at Stonewall.

What bollocks! Facebook bloody rocks. It's like your daily press release to the world…..for some, a half hourly press release….some people do get a little carried away with their status updates. But look, I think it's fantastic particularly for friends who are on the other side of the world and not in your hood. I love the fact that I can log on and see what my friends in London, New York and anywhere else are up to. If I want, as I do often, I may drop them a line or write on their wall just to say hi. Pre-facebook, they would not have heard for me for months albeit years.

I've had a great experience this week where I've caught up with a heap of friends from school and my early uni years. It is wonderful to hear from these guys again. We somehow all lost contact in the 90s and now we are back in touch. Without facebook, the next time I would have been reading about them is a Class of '92 High School Reunion Invitation, which I would never attend. What was a fleeting moment in the past of "I wonder where they are these days" has now turned into through Facebook "How the hell are you?"

Yes there are some Friend Requests which come through who you 1) Don't know (I seem to get a lot from Brazil or Africa asking for money) 2) Don't want to know (the nerd you sat next to in that legal seminar and you had a shared interest in finding a pen) 3) Kinder know (the fateful '"oh my god he's so hot until u see him under the harsh brutality of fluorescence so u run off" disco pash' from Palms the night before) 4) Know but have absolutely nothing in common (the colleague u sat next to in your first job who attended their local Pentacostal church on Sundays and thought lesbian was a star sign). For all of these situations you of course have the IGNORE button which I have used from time to time.

Friends of mine have been in the difficult situation where they have had work colleagues send through friend requests (particularly ones they are having difficulties with in the workplace) and have been confronted with "Why haven't you accepted my friend request yet?" whilst discussing Britney and deadlines over the fax machine. Thankfully I haven't been faced with such a dilemma.

My mother raised the important topic of identity theft last night after I told her my news of catching up with these old school friends……

Mother: "Oh darling you're not into that are you?"

I felt like I was coming out all over again

Me: "What do you mean?"

Mother: "That facebook…..they might steal your identity"

Me: "Well they can have it!!"

Lights, Action…..Just Do Your Best Darling.

I had my final class of Theatresports last night. I will miss the classes very much. For the last 8 weeks every Wednesday night a group of nine of us have met for lessons at the Uniting Church at Glebe. This was the second stage of the Impro Australia Course. I took the first stage about this time last year and because of university and travel commitments couldn't take the second stage until this year. And thank god I did as I have met such a super bunch of people in this group.

We have our graduation performance Friday week at the Clarence Hotel in Sydney's Inner West. I hope we all keep in touch and keep doing theatresports. I enjoyed it immensely.

The group is made up of the following persons (goodness I feel like this is Big Brother)
· Lyn : Our ever fearless "what the fuck are you doing" teacher. She is brilliant and tears the best out of you kicking and screaming (and she's the one doing the kicking and screaming…ur the one limping).
· Emma: The gorgeous Emma: sultry, seductive and always slightly confused. Emma and I are always exchanging glances of "what the?" as Lyn is screaming at us.
· Jack: Just Jack! : Jack is a presenter with Saturday Disney and I always feel that he's about to present a cartoon. He's a fantastic at mime and has a great knack for making up songs. Jack does the best panicked laughter of any of us both onstage and offstage.
· Jess: TV Producer by day, "typewriter" by night….."typewrighter" being the name of a theatreports game whereby you have to tell a children's story while three actors on stage act out the "typewriter"'s story. Jess is very good at anything that involves narrating a story. Am always jealous of all her ideas.
· Jason: Greece's answer to Woody Allen. Jason has a fantastic radio voice and is wonderfully neurotic which of course is the perfect disposition to have for theatresports. His homebirth scene last night with Ivan was the best I've seen ever!
· Ivan: Project Manager by day, Project Manager by night. This guy knows how to organise….everything! From ideas to itineraries…..he always has a goal and achieves it. He consistently has so many good ideas for scenes whereas I'm left filing my nails wondering whether my grey and military print really works well with my figure.
· Emanda: Actress by day Actress by night. We are all still wondering whether the gorgeous Emanda was originally the gorgeous Amanda…..kind of like how the great Cate (Blanchett) was originally the plain Kate. Emanda is brilliant at mime and space jump and has a particular talent for playing erotic inanimate objects such as the Sexy Well and Erotic Letter Box.
· Matt: Accountant by day, director by night. Matt is wonderful with direction particularly his own ;). He's yet another ideas man….he always good at coming up with ideas.
· Luke: Hot by day Hot by night. Lucas is so hot he'd make cancer look good. Think Paul Newman in The Hustler. Apart from being a great improviser and a good singer, he can play the guitar and impersonate gorillas. And yes he's straighter than Jesus.
· Myself: Myself By day and myself by night. Well as everyone knows, I'm good at 'making a scene'.

The View From Bawley Point

Note to self: must remember to buy beach house for weekly escape for self and friends. Must remember to rob bank to buy said beach house.

We all had a delightful time down at Bawley Point (about 4 hours sth of Sydney). Trev and Paul had hired a beach house down there for the week and Judy, Bernice, Wanda and myself joined them for the weekend. Wanda drove down separately and Judy and I caught a ride with Bernice in her car Friday afternoon. It is a while since I've been south of Wollongong and I had forgotten how beautiful the drive is particularly past Kiama and through Berry onto Jervis Bay; the way the mountains fall into The Tasman like waterfalls and the lush flood plains gather like puddles. The countryside at the moment is so plump from the monsoonal rains, it is almost bursting at the seams; "Bewdiful country" as my father would say. As the sunset moved onto it's next horizon, the landscape was saturated with autumn gold and I felt like I was in Lexus Ad! All I needed was a Lexus, a mink and a square jaw.

As beautiful as the country side was, it did still take us four hours to get down there. We didn't quite beat the Sydney weekend rush traffic. I think it took us over two hours just to get from Potts Point in the middle of Sydney to Sutherland on the southern outskirts of the city. Bernice's latest disco sounds particularly the 26 min remix version of Leona Jackson's song and the 32 min version of Alanis Morrisette's old song "Uninvited" song forced us to make conversation or go mad. We had a toilet/cigarette stop at Nowra (about 3 hours south of Sydney) just outside an abandoned warehouse which must have been the local pick up for drugs by the number of cars which stopped, stared and drove off………that or they thought we were three very tired looking hookers.

We finally made it to Ulladulla which Judy informed us is Aboriginal for running water and kept doing so every time the town was mentioned throughout the entire weekend.

In the car
Me: "It looks like a big town Ulladulla"
Judy: " Yes it is. It's aboriginal for running water."

On the beach
Bernice: "Have we got beer?"
Trev: "We might have to go Ulladulla to get it."
Judy: "Ulladulla. That's aboriginal for running water."

At the beach house
Me : "So what are our house prices like here?"
Trev: "Pretty up there…about 700/800 thousand..Ulladulla is more reasonable."
Judy: " Ulladulla. That's aboriginal for running water."

After confusing intersections for T-sections (I never knew there was a difference) and attempting to enter service stations which were clearly closed (in the country open 24hrs means shut by 9pm), we made it to the Bawley Point beach house. Literally a house on stilts, draped in 70s kitsch with polished floors and tomato red ceramic tiles in the kitchen and bathroom. It was like stepping into my family photo album. I felt immediately at home.

Trev had cooked up a sumptuous Stephanie Alexander bolognas and we proceeded to consume that along with our entire stock of alcohol (for the weekend) in one night; this, together with a particularly aggressive game of scrabble. I don't know whether it was the 12 bottles of both red and white wine we had consumed or the intensity of the fire in the corner of the room, but for some reason the game of scrabble was played like we had declared war on each other. I'd forgotten how competitive my friends are. All except Bernice and I really and I think that was because we'd drunk too much to care. Apart from the fact that as well I had not played scrabble in 20 years and that was only a couple of times: my family was a monopoly and trivial pursuit family: we didn't like anything that involved a writing instrument in a board game. As a consequence I'd totally forgotten the rules for scrabble, which caused everyone quite frequently to scream blue murder at me as if I'd just eaten all their newborn. Feeling a migraine coming on, I retired and left the rest of them to scrabble over the scrabble.

The next morning Bernice and I cooked up what I like to call a Coronary Breakfast. Yes a good old fashioned Aussie Fry Up. Bacon, sausages (90% fat), scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and toast with slabs of butter (real 100% butter). I think each serve contained about 1200 calories and considering we each had a couple of servings, we were all well and truly bloated by the end of it. We all rolled to the beach (just a min away) and relaxed for the rest of the day swimming and reading our books. The beach was perfectly deserted except for a dog called Samson who took a liking to Trev's dog Max and appeared to be the only gay dog in the village. Max was having none of it. He may hang out with poofs all the time but he's certainly not one of them. Taking rejection on the chin, Samson still felt quite at home with us lot and hung out for the rest of the day. Max kept his distance.

The water was so invigorating that I thought I was going to see an iceberg float by when I first broke the waves. But as per usual one does become used to the ocean temperature after one's in the ocean for some time. The water was clear as crystal and you were able to see right to the bottom where the feeding fish were……which always kinder freaks me out. I like my oceans devoid of wildlife.

Wanda was perturbed by her star sign, which said that people are always tricking her into doing all the work by saying "thanks" to her all the time. The star sign advised that she had to avoid putting herself in situations where people would be saying "thanks". We then proceeded to say "thanks wanda" for the rest of the weekend.

Once we got back to the house in the late afternoon, I treated the boys to my copy of Some Like It Hot. It was great to watch it with them…..although am sure half the time they were watching Judy and I re-enacting the film instead of the actual film. Wanda cooked a beautiful dinner ("thanks Wanda") and we proceeded to drink our entire new supplies of alcohol. Bernice cranked up the stereo and we turned Bawley Point into a beachside Palms (kitsch gay bar). Tragedy struck at 2 in the morning when we discovered that we had no cigarettes and a quarter bottle of scotch left……and no 711 in sight. You can stretch scotch out but not tobacco. Trev joked we should drive to Canberra (only 2 hours away) and go to the gay disco (Cube). We all laughed then looked at each other….waiting for someone to go….I'll drive! Wanda instead brought out her foot bath and started bathing everyone's feet. It was all very biblical and going against the advice of her star sign. I asked her if she was being crucified tomorrow and this was her way of saying "thanks".

The footbath did the trick however and we all fell into slumber not long afterwards. It started raining about 3 in the morning and it pelted down onto the iron roof. The sound of a downpour outside during the night whilst snug in bed is always so soothing. It put me fast to sleep. The next morning was cold and drizzly so we all stayed in bed reading and snoozing, except for Wanda who was up tidying and cleaning for hours earning her lots of "thanks" from everyone.

With daylight saving over and an extra hour on the day, Sunday ironically seemed to disappear even more quickly with dusk invading the afternoon with speedy precision. The end of daylight saving is often like someone switching off the light….suddenly it's completely dark! Summer is over….thank you for coming!

We were soon back on the highway back to Ulladulla (Judy: "that's aboriginal for running water") where we had pleasant homemade scons and pretended to buy antiques with our imaginary boyfriends.

Once we had completed our imaginary purchases, we gave each other hugs, continental kisses and "we must do it again soons" and then returned flamboyantly to our cars……more gay than Christmas. I'm so lucky to have these guys. We power drove past all the seaside ports back to whence we came. I love to get away but like a bird returning to the nest, I always look forward to returning to the steel wool chaotic security of my nest, Sydneytown.

Hicksville

Well fancy….the people you bump into on the way to work. Runwalking through the Supreme Court forecourt on my way to work this morning, latte in hand, I ran into none other than the poster boy of the human rights/anti-war movement for the last five years: Mr David Hicks. I literally bumped right into him….latte went everywhere. I apologised and almost went to go "Gosh I know you…where do I know you from?" when it dawned on me who he was. I did the double take thing….which he must get all the time. He is quite little: probably about 168 cm in height and very unassuming. I looked at him and couldn't help but think, "Man there are 799,000.00 entries (I checked) about you on the internet including wikipedia, people have written plays about you, politicians have debated you in parliament, presidents and primeministers have discussed you, there are PHDs on you, lawyers have attended lectures about you, whole protests involving thousands of people have been organised in your honour"; the words David Hicks have been the personification of Australia's involvement in The War on Terror. And here he was in his sneakers and flanno jumper carrying a packet of Winnie Blues wearing my coffee. It was all very Aussie Aussie Oi! Oi!I gave him my serviette; he mopped his face and said "No worries mate...thanks," and took off. I watched him saunter across the forecourt, light his cigarette and wander up Macquarie Street. There went a man who allegedly was Australia's answer to Osama Bin Laden....it was kinder hard to believe.

Picture Perfect

Can Friday hurry up and get here? I cannot wait. Judy, Bernice and I are going down to a beach-house that Trev and Paul have hired at Bawley Point ….just south of Ulladulla. Trev and Paul have been down there for the week and have asked us down for the weekend. Apparently the place is right on the beach and the water is crystal clear. I have not been out of Sydney all year so am looking forward to getting away and chilling completely out. It is a four hour drive though….we're hoping to try and beat the Sydney Friday traffic and leave about 3 Friday arvo. Mind you Bernice is driving….we may not get there til Tuesday.

Due to my being away this weekend, I arranged my personal training session with Ray at 6.30 this morning instead of the 9am session I've been doing on a Saturday. I slept through my alarm at 5.45am. Woke at 6.12. Ran out of the house with keys, phone and wallet. Got half way threw the door and thought it might be an idea to put some clothes on. I was completely naked. I don't think am ready to take Ray's and my sessions to that level yet. Cursing myself as if I was a 2 year old ("When are you gonna grow up John?? When are u gonna get it together" : I have so many arguments with myself that I am sure our neighbours are convinced that three people live in number 8 instead of 2.) I threw on some shorts and a t and hotfooted it to my car. I managed to just beat the hideous Sydney inner west traffic and got into the Domain in 20 minutes….which is pretty good actually considering an average trip would be at least 45 mins. We started my session at 6.45am and it was still dark with a hint of sun breaking the eastern horizon. I can't wait til Daylight Saving stops and we get back to normal daylight hours. Almost 7am and complete darkness is ridiculous…..in Australia anyway.

I wish I could get up to do the morning training sessions as I really do miss seeing Sydney at its best. Jogging around the Domain as the Sun is kissing the harbour always confirms why I live in this city. She's an absolute knock out. I first met my trainer through doing Fitness First Bootcamp a couple of years ago. I used to do the morning sessions. I did them for three months and then just couldn't face the early mornings anymore. I'm about as morning as vodka. We just don't mix.

I do however remember those morning sessions fondly. Running around Lady Macquarie's Chair, the Rocks, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge at 6 in the morning, I saw a very fresh crisp side of Sydney; like it had just jumped out of the shower. Obviously it wasn't enough to keep me getting out of bed but it was pleasant to revisit it this morning. The colonial rustic browns of The Rocks, the water coloured pastels scattered across a cathedral sky, the royal blue of the harbour, the lushness of the botanical gardens and that feeling of great expectations which only comes with such a morning. It was picture perfect. A nice way to start the day.

THE LAST LUNCH

Jesus had the Last Supper. Easter Sunday I had the Last Lunch. Three weeks ago when I discovered that I would have to sell my left kidney to get a flight back to mum and dad's for Easter, I opted to stay in Sydney and have an Orphans' Easter Lunch. I did one a couple of years ago and it was quite enjoyable. I had six close friends (who had nowhere else to go for Easter Sunday) over for a roast meal. It was fun and I thought to myself it has been a while since I've had soiree at the Dulwich Hill Hilton, it was time for another one.

So invites were sent forthwith via electronic means to approximately 14 homosexuals and one straight couple. I should have heard disaster knocking on the door then. In fact it didn't knock, it walked straight through stained glass screaming, are you out of your mind? 12 invitees responded in the affirmative including 10 homosexuals. I asked disaster to sit down and fasten its seatbelt. Not even Margot Channing could prepare herself for a ride like this.

Preparing was the easy part. Easter is all about blood, guts and white linen. The culinary answer to that is to kill a young animal and throw it in the oven. I chose lamb. I had so many guests coming I would require a herd of them. I picked up three legs of lamb Thursday night. I'd rather have too much than too little, although in retrospect, two legs were more than enough for persons who generally baulk at anything involving a carbohydrate.

On the Saturday I drove down to Dulwich Village and fought my way through people who looked like they were preparing for some sort of invasion. Why do westerners in preparation for events involving the killing of Christ seem to shop as if they are about to be killed themselves? Wandering through my local IGA was akin to witnessing the Moscow food shortage crisis in the 90s. Empty shelves, people running around with trolleys grabbing anything that was left behind and cashiers with no coinage or facial expression. I was lucky to grab that last tub of ricotta for the potato bake.

After buying a paddock of vegetables from the hottest Sicilian Grocer in town (he's absolutely piping), arguing with Mrs Lopez about my parking in the guest carpark in my block (God I wish someone would crucify her), I made it back into my kitchen. It was time to start deboning the lambs. I forgot to get this done by the butcher on Thursday and thought I would do it myself. I asked Dad how to do it and he said it was quite simple……like cutting the core out of an apple. I agreed. It wasn't until I was a third of the way into deboning the first leg of lamb that I realised I have never cut the core out of an apple. I think I've eaten no more than three or four apples in my life! I hate apples and I certainly have not de-cored them. Add to the fact that the leg of a lamb is nothing like that of a core of an apple. Are you on drugs father? I looked at the open wound of meat lying in front of me….I could almost hear it begging me to stop….and decided that it was best to take it to a professional. I jumped back in the car and took the other two legs and what was left of the first leg, back down to my local butcher. He always speaks Greek to me and I nod back. It could be the perfect relationship. Lamb and removed bones in hand, I returned to my apartment where I commenced making stuffing, marinating, drinking, cutting vegetables, marinating, drinking…………and drinking. Did I mention drinking?

Guest 6 was the first to arrive on the Sunday closely followed by Guests 7 and 8. Guest 6 I had known for about 12 mths and was a recent arrival to Sydney. Gorgeous looking guy with matinee idol looks but unfortunately at times the social grace of a 13 year old boy. Still he had a good heart and no one else to spend Easter with; he was thus a perfect candidate for my lunch. Guests 7 and 8 both made grand entrances declaring the lunch a victory even before knife was put to fork. These two were always the perfect candidates for a lunch. Guest 6 waisted no time in getting chit chat under way when he launched into his story about an orgy he'd had with two Turkish men the night before. This was hardly the conversation one expects at a dinner celebrating Christ's ascension. As he described width, length, circumferences and miles per hour, Guests 7 and 8 looked on in a polite manner as if they were just hearing about the latest recipe for scons. I began peeling potatoes. Guest 6 continued describing apendages. Guest 8 requested his bottle of wine. I obliged. As I opened the bottle of merlot and Guest 6 described where the apendages were placed, I could feel Guest 7's cocked left eyebrow burning a question mark into my neck. I had to throw water on Guest 6 or get him fixed. I needed to find something for him to do.

" Now [Guest 6] we can't talk about group relations today, I'm wearing pastels. Come to the kitchen and help me cut carrots," of which I had four. I had totally forgotten to purchase a bag and would now have to ration them amongst the broccoli. I put Guest 6 off orgis and on to the chopping board. Guests 7 and 8 flooded with relief, filled their goblets to the brim and adjourned immediately to the balcony for a cigarette.
I joined them.

Guest 7 : So have you asked the Turkish couple?
Me: Not yet
Guest 8: Perhaps they could be the dessert.
Guest 7: I wonder if they can be re-heated
Me: Are they microwavable?

Guests 1 and 3 arrived with two boxes of alcohol. It appeared Guest 1 had already drunk one of the boxes. He was swaying like a sailor and as a result so were my wine glasses. He broke two by the time we sat down for lunch. Guests 11 and 12 (the only straight couple) arrived with a tart, Guests 2 and 4 with more alcohol and Guest 9 with a book....I still haven't worked out why.

All guests appeared a little stunned by the amount of food they were confronted with. I had five carrots but enough lamb to feed Israel. We all sat down around the table and one of the guests led the lord's prayer. It was a funny sight to see 10 homosexuals (+ straight couple : honorary homosexuals) reciting Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven. …….but it was nice, super to have 12 of my closest and dearest friends around the one table….even if the table could only technically seat six. We continued to eat but mainly drink and drink and drink. Two of the guests had prepared copies of the videocam of The Britney's doing the Mardi Gras parade. We all sat in the lounge room and watched that. It is such a good video and took me straight back to Mardi Gras night…….sigh……we had such a good time. Ok I promise not to mention Britney for the next month.

The Trifle After The Trifle

Guest 5 had made one his famous trifles…..famous because I think that's the only thing we've ever seen him make. We all tucked into that and I started to make G & Ts for Guest 10 and myself and vodka spritzers for everyone else. This is when things started to go slightly pair shaped. Up until then, proceedings had gone remarkably well. I was slightly worried about the gathering as I had five guests in particular where there was a "history" to say the least. Guest 1, Guest 2, Guest 3 and Guest 4 and Guest 5. Guest 1 went out with Guest 2 about four years ago. They went out for about two years.(and now changing to present tense….) During their two year relationship, Guest 1 has an affair with Guest 3 for 18 months. Guest 1 eventually ends the relationship with Guest 2 and starts going out with Guest 3. They are still together. Guest 2 is never aware of any affair between Guest 1 and Guest 3. Guest 1 and Guest 2 remain on good terms for about 12 months after the relationship. He has met Guest 3 and is on good terms with him. This is until Guest 2 and Guest 1 have a bender one Saturday night and after a few thousand Kardonays tells Guest 2 everything…..guilt is a terrible thing; it always sneaks up on you the least you expect it. Naturally Guest 1's confession does not go over that well with Guest 2 and they don't speak for just over a year. Meanwhile around that time I meet Guest 5 on a flight back from Christchurch. Guest 5 is living with Guest 2 at the time. They have been best friends since school days. In fact Guest 5 grudgingly had to assist in covering up Guest 1's affair with Guest 3. Guest 1 tried to end it a number of times with Guest 3 but Guest 3 refused to accept it. Guest 5 on occasion had to go down to Guest 3 sitting in his car crying outside Guest 3 & 5's house and ask him to leave. Guest 5 finds the whole cover up experience very upsetting as he has actually started to become quite good friends with Guest 2.

Guest 5 and myself hit it off on the plane trip back from Christchurch. There is certainly chemistry there that neither of us can deny but we're both in relationships at the time and not in a position to act on it (ok we had a couple of pashes). We do however keep in touch. In the dying days of my last relationship, my partner and I spend literally the entire 2006 Mardi Gras weekend at Manacle (RIP…will it ever be back?). During that weekend I bump into Guest 5 and Guest 2 who since the revelation of Guest 1's affair with Guest 3 have become good friends. I immediately hit it off with Guest 2. He is witty, hilarious ….as Judy always says….."one of us". As for Guest 5…….that chemistry doesn't seem to be going away. The three of us start hanging out together a lot. In fact Guest 2 and I become very close friends. Guest 5 and I are lost somewhere between friends and lovers. Both my and Guest 5's respective relationships end in the August of 2006 and we commence an affair which in all honesty had been occurring for the previous 5 months ….just unconsummated. During our affair it feels like a disaster. It is continually on and off. A typical rebound affair. I am an absolute yo yo..it is hell. In retrospect, it was some tough medicine we had to take…….it actually helped a great deal in getting us both over our respective relationships. During that time I meet and get to know both Guest 1 and Guest 3. I click quite well with Guest 1. He is louder and bigger than me and Guest 3 is a lot like my previous boyfriends…..polite, kind, intense..... and quiet.

After about three months, Guest 5 and myself finally end our fling and move on to friendship quite smoothly. We are still very close and I count him as one of my best friends. During that time as well Guest 2 admirably lets bygones be bygones and re-ignites his friendship with Guest 1. This is something I admire about Guest 2: he doesn't hold grudges. In the last year, Guests 2, 5 and myself have hang out a lot together and forge strong friendships……..resulting obviously in this Easter Lunch. There are no more walls between Guest 1 and Guest 2 and so we see more of Guest 1….not all the time because Guest 3 works a great deal running his own business ..and Guest 1 prefers not to go out without him.

Then in October of last year Guest 2 meets Guest 4; an amazingly eccentric uber intelligent guy. He is definitely "one of us" and fits in immediately with the group. Strangely then Guest 1's interest in Guest 2 seems to increase. He wants to hang out with Guest 2 all the time, continually calling him. Guest 2 kinder finds it strange that suddenly now that he is seeing someone that Guest 1 wants to see him all constantly……….but Guest 2 always says 'Bygones….'…..he doesn't think about it much and enjoys Guest 4; he's moved on.

Meanwhile post 2008 Mardi-gras party back at Guest 1's place, following Guest 2 and 4's departure, Guest 1 bursts into tears about how much guilt he feels regarding Guest 2. Guest 5 and myself are a little stunned …mainly because we've just been dancing for 9 hours and really don't feel like a Dr Phil moment. Guest 1 keeps balling telling the whole story (one I've never totally heard in full). He says it's all come to the fore because he can finally see that Guest 2 is happy (and has moved on). I suggest to Guest 1 that this is a good thing; he is finally letting go and getting over the guilt...and moving to the next level....I desperately try to find another bottle of wine....at ten in the morning!

Relations for obvious reasons between Guest 3 and Guests 2 and 5 are not exactly dandy either. When Guests 2 and 4 were over visiting Guest 1 at his house two weeks ago, Guest 2 jokes to Guest 3 that it is after 9pm shouldn't he have his pj's on……a reference to the fact that Guest 3 goes to bed with the chooks and gets up with them; which is the case; he runs a full on business; he has to. This joke doesn't go down well with Guest 3 and he storms off to bed. Guest 5 jokes to Guest 3 on another occasion that he needs to get out on more when Guest 1 confesses that Guest 3 doesn't want to go overseas with him. Guest 3 doesn't talk to Guest 5 for three weeks. As you can see, these are complicated people. Why not ask them all to an Easter Lunch?

In all honesty my biggest concern for Easter Lunch was probably Guest 3 being offended or him and Guest 2 having words. In hindsight, they were the best behaved. Guest 3 was fantastic, helping me serve lunch, dessert and generally just being in good form. It made me realise that I'd only ever heard bad things second hand about Guest 3, never witnessed them directly. We both get on pretty well………not to mention, he's quite handsome……not that I would ever ever go there. Are you mad?

So heading back to past tense.....

So it started going to pot after the trifle; we progressed out on to the balcony for chain smoking and vodka. Guest 1 well and truly making progress into his third bottle of wine swung around and turned to Guest 2.

"So it looks like John and [Guest 2] are good enough for the movies but I'm not hey?" On paper those words seem harmless enough but in reality the way Guest 1 spat them out, they were like bullets over Gaza. At first I didn't know what he was talking about. Guest 2 was of the same mind.
"What?" said Guest 2 appearing a little confused as to the nature of Guest 1's question.
" I was with [Guest 5] when you asked him to the movies….. I was waiting for my invitation." It was true Guest 2 had invited Guest 5 and myself to the movies the night before. I couldn't go as I was up to my elbows in lamb marrow. Guest 5 declined as well.
"I'm sorry ….to be honest I didn't think of you. I thought you would have had plans with [Guest 3]". Guest 2 kept himself very tidy and calm. Thank god he'd been the only one out of us who had not been drinking.
"Bullshit. You never include me. It's always John and [Guest 5]. You never include me!" This was unfair. Not only was Guest 1 ruining a perfectly pleasant afternoon, he was being very cruel to Guest 2. He had broken Guest 2's heart then dowsed him in humiliation…….now this! It was so juvenile. Guest 1 continued his tirade. Other guests looked at me awkwardly as if someone was throwing up in the parlour but were too scared to do anything about it for fear the press may take a photo.

Everyone continued to chain smoke whilst I fell into a valley of regret over the guest list. The trifle curdled in my pancreas. I should have just left Guests 1 and 3 at home and instead asked the two homosexuals who live across in the apartment opposite mine. I should be making more of an effort with them. Mind you after the performance they saw on my front balcony that Sunday afternoon, they will probably never want to come near a dinner party of mine. Guest 1 broke his third wine glass for the afternoon. Not only was he breaking friendships, he was breaking my entire wine glass collection.

"Sorry darl," he slurred.
"That's alright honey…..I'll just go get the dust pan"
"And another thing Trev…." Good god he was not drawing breath. Trev was standing there like a demented bird waiting for its head to be chopped off. I ran into the kitchen. It was a good chance to get off that raddy balcony. Everyone else followed suit. We all had to escape.
Guest 3 approached me in the kitchen, " Am so sorry John. Let me clean up."
"You need to go shut your boyfriend up"
"I think I would be better at the cleaning up."
"Thanks. Can we give him those plastic wine glasses? I'd like some glassware left in tact."
I stage exited out to the back balcony to have a wine and cigarette on my own.
"Hello dear," Guest Nine slurred still holding that book.
Me : Hi love it's all going pair shaped
Guest 9: don't be silly....ur doing a fabulous job. Each word rolled into the next like waves on a beach. He was completely oblivious.He could have been going down with the Titanic yet still remarking at what a wonderful evening it was.
Me : It's a complete disaster. Anyway am glad you're having a nice time
Guest 9 (grabbing me by the collar): Don't worry Johnny.....I'm here. Yes he really said that.Then he kissed me on the cheek. Not a funny mwa mwa fake fag kiss....a kinder "there is something else that's gonna follow" kiss. This was not helping my pancreas with the trifle. I lit my cigarette and moved precariously to the other side of the balcony. Guest 1's tirade inside was suddenly becoming more appealing.
Guest 9: You could have had me any time...you could still have me. This was worst than Dynasty. Bad scripts, bad hair and bad acting.What was in the wine? Was it the lamb stuffing?
Guest 2: Doll I'm going. Thank god....not Thank God he was leaving but thank god he stopped Crystal Carrington from having his way with me
Me: Doll I'm so sorry.....he (guest 1) shouldn't drink
Guest 2: Doll it's alright...he's demented. He' s started on [Guest 11] now. We heard another wine glass drop.
Me: I really need to find those plastic cups
Guest 2: Perhaps a straight jacket might be better

I walked Guest 2 and Guest 4 to their car, took a deep breath and headed back into the fire. It was completely ablaze . It appeared that Guest 1 was blaming the entire era of British Colonial rule on Guest 11 due to the fact that she was British. Made sense. I fixed myself a scotch and went to the bathroom. I had another party to go to. It was Matt's 36th at Redfern.Was it wrong to leave your own lunch? I heard another glass smash. I didn't care if it was wrong. This was my last lunch. And I had enough. I had a shower, shaved and moisturised. I then went to my room and got dressed . Guest 9 was passed out on my bed. I tucked him in, left him a note advising where he was and how to get out. I put on my shirt of choice....one I picked up in Bangkok in December....bright pink... with the words "LEAVE ME ALONE" emblazzened across its front. I walked back through the blaze, threw Guest 5 my keys, "Don't forget to lock up," and closed my front door behind me. You could have heard a pin drop......instead I heard another wine glass.

A BELATED HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE