Gordon White

It’s been six months since I have had anything resembling a stable domestic situation and it’s weird.

Coming out of prison weird.

Wiping down benches and having enough food in the fridge seem alien…Like they are something you have to recall from your long term memory rather than your short term.

The most interesting/hilarious aspect of the return to domestic stability is the uncontrollable narcolepsy it brings on… Which I suppose is understandable given the amount of sleep I have lost due to hardship, stress and other viola-related issus.

It’s like I am beginning to fall asleep from the second I walk through the door. (Admittedly this is because it was far too hot on the first day we got the heating done and we may have inadvertently cooked ourselves to the point of dehydration.)

Last night I genuinely wasn’t sure if I would be able to make it down the stairs before collapsing straight into an uninterrupted delta wave state. I was holding onto the railing like I was in a submarine under attack from a giant squid.

Clifton

This is the tickets (definition for non-Australians: see point 14) part of town up on the hill looking down on us ghetto folk. Below is a photo taken in Clifton with my delightful new phone.

You can see a higher res version at my posterous blog.

Everyone with a web-enabled phone should get a posterous blog. You can post to it via email and it can send a notification that you have new images/text/video up to twitter, facebook, other blogs.

It’s neat, basically.

Back to Clifton: This is the part of town I am going to show first to my many (ha!) visitors.

We were up there doing Christmas shopping and eating a disappointing lunch. Because of the hills and exclusivity of the suburb and the high percentage of young people (the university is up there) it sorta reminds me of Vaucluse-meets-Kelburn.

(Hmm… There aren’t too many people who know both those places. Possibly just me. Well suck it because I’m not changing it. That’s what Clifton’s like.)

Oh!

And we have a new local!

It’s run by a couple of gays (Not surprising. Here is a map of Bristol’s ‘gay scene’. We live between 2 and 7)… I can see it from my window… and it serves giant paninis (with chips) for 3 quid!

It’s not as fancy as the crown but for the cost of a serve of bangers and mash at the crown I can get three giant paninis and a half pint of ale.

I only mention this because I’m thirsty so I’m off.

Peace.

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