Signs of the times

I have always loved my neighbourhood for its diversity of residents, workers and visitors. Originally a poor working-class inner city suburb, and largely industrial, it has over time given way to migrant families with front gardens full of vegetables rather than flowers, artists looking for affordable space in which to work, and young urban professionals who fancy the cool edginess of it all. Cafes, bookshops and uber cool restaurants have moved in and our neighbourhood is slowly changing.

When I first moved in heroin was cheap, readily available and it’s users highly visible on the street. Needles were often left on our doorstep, and frequently littered the gutters. The users were a part of our community, and for the most part either walked the streets, or sat nodding off on street benches. They in no way ever threatened us or our sense of safety. I have always felt that witnessing that part of our community put my daughter in good stead, and it has. She is street-wise, safe and smart. At nineteen she is often offered an array of drugs at parties and clubs, and any parent that thinks this does not happen is deluding themselves. Unlike some of her friends who have lead more sheltered lives, she has no desire to take part in it.

For whatever reason, the last ten years or so the users, along with the needles, have for the large part, disappeared from our neighbourhood. Possibly the methadone programs available have provided an alternate solution, rent and housing prices have gone up, or it’s just been too expensive or hard to get. I don’t know. What I do know is that this week I have noticed a return of the spaced-out wandering our streets, and the occasional needle in the laneways. Is there a parallel to the slow recovery from the GFC? Is heroin plentiful and cheap again? Is it the thought of the holiday season looming, or is life just getting too hard?

Today I saw one of our regular homeless men wandering in the street, rake-thin, dishevelled and out of it. I was saddened to see him in this state as he’s always been a bit of a curious hero to me. He is handsome, cheeky, smart, and has a devilish smile. If there were a film made of his life, Johnny Depp would play his role. For years he has taken it upon himself to collect rubbish in our streets, bagging it and binning it like a man possessed, his only reward the occasional bit of spare change from a passer-by. If you stopped and talked to him, it was always a treat, listening to his views on politics, philosophy and music. Once I saw him drive past in a convertible sports car with the top down, and grinning from ear to ear. As I said, he is a curious man. Seeing him today so thin, so out of it prompted me to write this post. As I watched him barely managing to walk a straight line, he stopped to pick up a stray leaf from the road, and put it in his pocket. Bless him.

And for the record, yes I remain smitten with the lodger.

On being smitten

I admit it. I am completely smitten. It's ridiculous, but I have a schoolgirl crush on the Paying Guest. I blush, trip over my words, squeak, and generally fumble about. I'm sure that he thinks I'm completely mad. Fortunately he is away for a few days, so I will try to collect myself and regain some composure.

But it has made me rethink men. More specifically what is it that attracts us? I know we compiled a fantastic list of the things that we DON'T fancy in men (see the lovely notSupermum for the complete Harry High-Pants No-No List), but what are the things that DO attract us?

Clearly in my case I have thrown all, or most, of my tick-list out the window on this one. The PG is not George Clooney, or Johnny Depp. He is dishevelled, bumbling, pudgy and should seriously rethink his sideburns. But he is kind, funny, intelligent and interesting. He is passionate about food and the cooking, eating and ethics of it, and has chosen to abandon a 'sensible' career in order to follow his passion. I think I fell whilst watching him cook, mixing the salad with his hands. Talk about sexy.

So, what really turns us on? For starters I propose the following:

• Good personal hygiene. Not obsessive, just clean and nice-smelling
• Kindness
• Humour
• A passion for something
  
• A good smile
• A good mind
• (a new personal favourite) the ability to cook
  

I could go on with the more superficial items such as crumpled linen shirts NOT tucked in, and dark jeans, but I am more curious at my own abandonment of the things I thought usually matter. It's certainly been food for thought.

Tales of the lodger

I suspect this blog may turn to regular tales of the lodger, and I wonder how long he will last. So far he shows remarkable patience and good humour, bless. On his first night the cat peed on his clothes. On the second, in his shoes. He now knows to put them away.

Last night at dinner I failed to notice that one of the candles had burnt down to stumps, and the table was on fire! And the cat threw up next to us, for good measure. Fawlty Towers? I can't wait to see what happens next!

A new housemate!

The past six weeks or so, since my return from a wonderful and decadent university-funded month in Italy, (along with a few extra kilos!), has been somewhat of a blur. Re-entry to life without The Teenager (still travelling) has been mixed, it was so good to see her but just when I am really missing her she sends me an urgent text message or email requiring immediate action on my part, reminding me of the aspects I enjoy about her temporary absence.

• A tidy(ish) house.
• Privacy in my love-life (if only I had one!)
• Cooking what I want to eat, when I want to, and the time to work late if I wish.
• The time to attempt to get to grips with my thesis, and to focus on my career.
• The time to go out with friends and skip dinner altogether, which is probably not such a great idea, given the tumbles I have taken navigating my way home on my bicycle!

On other matters:

Along with many others, the GFC has not been kind to artists, although the dealers are saying that the market is slowly recovering. Many friends, excellent artists, have had dismal sales of late, me included. As a result I have taken on a bit of teaching, and more interestingly, a Paying Guest. Yes, I have let out The Teenager’s room. It took a massive amount of effort to pack up all her belongings, and find somewhere to store them (my bedroom, great!), and there were some interesting finds under the bed. Perhaps David Attenborough could do a series on Life under Teenagers Beds. However, now the room is pristine, the PG is ensconced, and we are slowly familiarising ourselves with each other’s idiosyncrasies. We’ve broken the ice with breakfast in our pyjamas, and a little too much wine after dinner (dangerous as I tend to get ‘beer goggles’ after a few drinks!). The cat took it upon himself to test out our new housemate by peeing on his clothes. Fortunately he took it in his stride, and handled it with good grace. And he now knows not to leave his clothes on the floor.

Despite the lack of sales, I have had a very good year critically, been short-listed for several prizes, and had very positive feedback from my university supervisor and my dealers about my work. I also have a very supportive counsellor who helps me steer my way with both The Teenager, The Ex and life in general. To reinforce her support she has recently purchased a large work of mine. Although things have been difficult I am fortunate and appreciative to have these people around me. And I am confident it will be better soon.

X Sunday