i went to the potluck. it was fun. good food, nice wine, interesting people. lots of expats at these things, from all over the world, and lots of hippy alternative types. turns out it was a *with* electricity party, which was good cos it's cold, but had become a seed-swap instead. (i like these parties. i went to a birthday party come potluck come clothes swap a couple of weeks ago). i had to admit to a range of hardcore vegan organic vegie-garden owners that my gardening involves tending a spider plant and a cylcamen. *blushes*
still soggy and miserable outside. i'm going to stay inside today and have a bath.
i have rediscovered the joys of narrative. it's taken me this long to realise that i wasn't taking a course that requires reading a novel a week and this means i'm story starved. so in the last week i have read:
children of england - alison weir
city of glass (not strictly a narrative, but like one) - douglas coupland
diary of a provincial lady - e.m. delafield
anasi's boys - neil gaiman
dracula - bram stoker
it's allll goood.
the time seems to have changed again (what is with daylight savings?) so i'm an hour ahead. has australia changed too? i am so confused.