Cor blimey it's cold!

Right then, autumn is here. And it's colder than a Perth winter. Not all that surprising really, but still a bit of a shock to the system. I am conscious of keeping warm whilst not being too ridiculously rugged up in comparison to everyone else. I don't think I'm embarrassing myself too much. I haven't had to bring out the big guns, my thermal pants, I'm trying to keep them in reserve for when the actual real proper winter comes.

As someone who for the past few years has consistently gotten sick multiple times every autumn I am super happy to have two autumns and no spring this year! Of course being aware of this phenomenon I have stocked up on vitamins and minerals and echinacea and all the good stuff but keep forgetting to take them. Actually, excuse me while I go squirt some echinacea under my tongue...

Things seem to be on the up now though, and today I finally felt well enough to go join a gym. There is one just around the corner from my apartment, so I went and signed up and had my first proper training session for MONTHS. It is going to take a bit of work to get myself back to where I was before I left Perth! The machines are a little bit confusing because I am used to working with kilometres, not miles, so I fired up the treadmill to what I would normally run in km/hr but I quickly realised that it was miles/hr.

So yes, my new apartment, I'm finally here! I moved last Wednesday, and was lucky enough to scam a lift so I didn't have to traverse the plateau with my suitcases in the rain. The guy whose room I am in actually left me all his bedding and manchester stuff so I don't have to borrow/buy any of that stuff which is great. Also left all his books in his bookcase and CDs on his shelf, but while he has a decent taste in music he is also well and truly a francophone so the books aren't all that useful. Other strange things in the room include an old typewriter, a light table (good if I need to bring some plankton home for counting?), an old school sewing machine, a scary mask and some precision electronic scales. So it seems I am living in the bedroom of an author with a penchant for photography who moonlights as a masked drug dealer (complete with home made costume).

So far I am really enjoying living here, and getting on really well with my new housemate. He even made me soup the other night in my sickened state, so that has to be a good sign. The place is a bit cold and old but with all the busted arse rental houses I've lived in over the years I will certainly manage. The area is just so good. In less than a minute I can be at my local dépanneur (like a corner store/deli, but it sells alcohol too), and in five minutes walk I can pretty much buy anything, including very famous smoked meat.

I fought through my manky cold the other night and went to see Hot Chip at Metropolis, which is a pretty cool venue in a slighty dodgy part of town. Even in the slightly dodgy parts of town though you still feel safe as there always seems to be enough not-so-dodgy looking people around to counteract the dodgy vibe. It was actually my very first time at going to a gig solo, as a miscommunication between myself and the friend I was meant to be going with meant she ended up in Quebec City that night (just to clarify, the miscommunication didn't involve me telling her to meet me in Quebec City). I had already bought my ticket and really wanted to see them so I went on my lonesome and it was actually still a good night. Going to a gig alone means that you don't have to worry about where anyone else wants to stand, and it's much easier to find room to dance down the front amongst the crowds when you only have to find enough room for one person.


The following night my friend who ended up in Quebec City took me out for tapas and flamenco (watching, not doing) at a really nice little tapas place. This place has flamenco on Thursday nights, unlike the Spanish Club down the road which has it on Wednesdays, so they don't compete against each other. We dined on rich chorizo, huge baked sardines, and fried goats cheese balls served with honey and caramelised onions, yummm. The flamenco and band were great, and by the end of the night I had convinced myself I was going to take up flamenco dancing. It seems like something I could do, or at least have fun getting dressed up for. When we got back to my friend's car there was a smallish rubbish bag sitting on the windscreen. We gingerly picked it off and threw it on the footpath, but curiosity got the better of us and we spent the next five minutes trying to open it without really touching it, and giggling. Could it be cash? A human hand? After finally busting through the bag, we could spy the contents.... another rubbish bag. After playing this rubbish pass the parcel for another layer we were very disappointed to discover the next bag held some old newspaper.

Walking home from the gym tonight I realised that I am now living very close to a big sports bar (the one I was going to watch the footy GF if I didn't end up going to Kingston) so I will have to go suss out the cricket watching possibilities at some stage. Ah yes, Kingston, I have yet to discuss this weekend of boozing and cops and thousands of drunk hooligans and Greek food and snoring and chilifest and stupid girls on trains and of course the footy. Perhaps I will elaborate next time..