June 13

First of all happy birthday to the queen if she happens to be reading my blog- I am now back from Melbourne spending this alleged holiday sitting in the library with the DG who has returned from the Bahamas refreshed and alert. The trip didn't improve my affairs as I had hoped- in fact now they are in a more advanced state of decomposition than ever. The fermenting sheets in the bucket in the laundry and the carpet of papers on the floor are still there and I have to force myself not to tell stories about how everything would be alright if only Marcinski wa s here. No wonder relationships fall apart with such monotonous regularity: the love object is supposed to play the roles of maid, personal assistant and gigolo as well as fairy godmother and purveyor of happiness.

About the wedding: the bride wore near- white, and the assembled guests drank themselves into a champagne stupour as expected. A religious service which only made me cringe once, when the priest said "I acknowledge you, Matt and Renee, to be in a really good place right now." Or actually twice, because he said it again. Kylie Daley was there, and Vassi, who turns out to be gay which is not appreciated by her mad Greek family. Imagine having to 'confess' to a consensual love as if you had been selling smack to schoolchildren or putting your hand down their nappies.

Saying goodbye to Marcelle which was heartbreaking- I don't know when we'll see each other again and I felt worse than I did last time I separated from marcin. She's off to Guatemala on a one way ticket and I feel like an abandoned wife. Or actually probably worse than that because the abandoned wife has a sauve qui peut attitude that holds real misery at bay for a while.