"Has anyone here lost their wallet?" asked a motorbike-helmeted guy.
My housemate certainly hadn't, I assumed I hadn't either. But I went in to check where my...
Yes, it was my wallet!
This guy saw it lying on the road (where I had parked like only 20 minutes before), and handed it straight into the Police Station! Isn't that amazing...?!?! I was gobsmacked! He'd come straight from the Police Station to tell me he'd found it and handed it in!
I had no idea I'd even lost it, which was the mind-number!
A quick trip to the Cop Shop and I collected it uneventfully.
Did I mention I happened to have a good collection of cash in there as well? Not a cent was missing!!!
Wow. There ARE still a few random good people out there, huh?
I knew I shouldn't have worn those shorts when I went uptown! I can only assume my wallet slipped out of those bloody horrid pockets of those pants when I sat down in my car, and fell out onto the street, much to my obliviousness (is that a word? lol).
Sat at home watching the cricket for a while, until Matt rang and suggested I come over for a little while, just to catch up. Yeah, we hadn't hung out for about a week... that's what happens when he's on night shift and all that. So we played a bit of guitar, but basically just chat-chat-chat for about 2 hours.
Back home to see the close-call-demolition of the Aussies by India in the Second One-Day Cricket Final. Oh well. It happens. Tis just a game.
But tis good to finally see the Aussie's up against some formidable opposition. Bout bloody time.
I spent a few brief minutes making an attempt to remix and remaster that "Helen" music thing I did the other week. I'm still working out exactly how it all works! heh heh I should re-record the vocals and add a bass part, but - why bother? It's just a doodle.
"Helen" - Robert Lowell
"Imitations"  after Valery: Helene
I am the blue! I come from the lower world
to hear the serene erosion of the surf;
once more I see the galleys bleed with dawn,
and shark with muffled rowlocks into Troy.
My solitary hands recall the kings;
I used to run my fingers through their beards;
I wept. They sang about their shady wars,
the great gulfs boiling sternwards from their keels.
I hear the military trumpets, all that brass,
blasting commands to the frantic oars;
the rowers' metronome enchains the sea,
and high on beaked and dragon prows, the gods -
their fixed, archaic smiles stung by salt -
reach out their carved, indulgent arms to me!
Peas be with ewe
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