Gave up on the Datsun from hell – but feel better about it as RACV man couldn’t fix the indicators either. Have ceased to be waif and stray latch-key child and spent last night at my mothers new pad. After walking the streets of Preston on Tuesday night, and pounding the streets of Balaclava yesterday evening with all my luggage, I was very relieved to get to my mums place (the dinner, salad and three kinds of cake were another positive feature).
Got the train from Hampton this morning and sat next to psycho woman (why is it always me that gets the public transport freakies?) Anyway, this woman laughed hysterically as she read her book from Brighton Beach to Flinders Street. I sat there, taking on the persona of ‘person sitting next to freak’ and feeling early morning it’s-still-not-Friday grumpy. Then I started to muse to myself about the only times I’ve cacked myself over a book while sitting on a train. It was when I was reading Bridget Jones – Edge of Reason. So, then I was desperate to discover what the hell this book is that has transformed this chick from boring co-traveller to hyena-girl. We hit Flinders Street and both start gathering our bits and pieces for the escalator stampede, and I delay just long enough to glimpse the title of the novel: Bridget Jones – Edge of Reason. Sometimes being so right is just weird.