Two Soft Chairs To Be Sat On.

Rose was writing to her new husband who was in jail. She was just 16 years old and was looking after a couple of his kids, as well as expecting one herself. She had a revelation during the writing and said as much. We are people, she declared, not two soft chairs to be sat on. Meanwhile, Julian was composing a letter of her own. She was writing to Mary Hitler about her doings. Mary, she said, life is still fast and furious. Where do I begin, and how do I tell you these things in a surreptitious, lovely, goodness sort of way, without insult or injury? There was too much to tell and to little time to tell it.
There was Ross from Melbourne, and Skirty from Eltona, and the Italian from Darwin, all who come to the meeting with her. There was yum cha and jungle curry and good wine. There was Roger, who had opened the automatic sliding imposing gates after a single buzz on the intercom and told her that he knew the answer to the question, 'Is God responsible for natural disasters', and no, he wasn't. He meekly looked at Deuteronomy 32:4 and took the magazines. Julian handed him over to Sunset, the sister she was working with at the time because it wasn't her territory. Everyone had stories. She listened and listened and finally holed up in room A and decided not even to come out for breakfast.
She had a raw chocolate recipe under her belt to die for. No one would know the difference. And the raw pie crust with banana ice cream was incredibly delicious. She was in for a three day fast and some things just couldn't be spoken.
Experiences in the big, wide world had been interesting, such as shopping for USB at Pacific Fair in Southport on the Gold Coast. Nearby was one of the best Vietnamese restaurants that she had ever come across. She had eaten there with Mary and Edgar in the not too distant past, but they hadn't been particularly impressed. Edgar had ordered a similiar sounding Chinese meal and there had been a bit of a mix up, but, overall, he didn't think that he would go back. Julian had been most appreciative of the meal and had been back twice since then, once with Misty Pink and once alone with her new USB. She had also been ripped off by a lovely, chatty girl at a ritzy hair dressers who had tried to pull the wool over her eyes. Julian came out of the shop feeling dirty and done over and vowing never to go back. She contemplated writing them a letter about return business that they weren't going to get but couldn't be bothered.
These were the last days, after all, and there was a work to be done. As soon as she had got Thailand and Europe out of the way, she was going to knuckle down, she swore it.