innocent fruit
I resort to a terse and unsatisfying summary of the notable events. Julia, completely recovered, is having to be re-weaned, and this has sparked impressive temper tantrums. Claire rode Bellboy and trotted. Last night she woke up crying.
R: What’s wrong my honey?
C: I want to live with Thussy on the farm.
Sarcastor’s apartment is completely amazing! The balcony looks out on the Bat Superhighway, the Harbour Bridge and the end of the Mardi Gras parade. We went out for tapas. Bats flew from fig to fig.
C: What do bats eat?
R: The blood of the innocent.
Rach Honnery: Don’t listen to your mother! They’re fruit bats. They eat fruit.
R: Innocent fruit.
This morning I slept horrifically late. We had twenty minutes to get to Summer Hill, which used to take almost an hour, but which now, thanks to the reviled Cross-City Tunnel, takes… twenty minutes. Sydneysiders have been wondering what the expensive and under-utilized tunnel was even built for. Now we know. It’s for Claire to have playdates with Patrick.
