Revenge of the Heart

[todayiamadaisy]

The painter came round yesterday afternoon. He was chatty. In the way of the City by the Sea, he was not an unknown quantity. He was recommended by John's son, Simon, who is a builder, but it turned out that my mother used to visit his sick daughter during her district nursing days. She (the daughter, not my mother) was very short, and had to have hormone injections to make her grow. It turns out that she made it to about 140cm, and she now works in a women's refuge in Mount Isa, and is currently riding a bicycle for charity from Darwin to Port Augusta (that's right down the middle of Australia, through the hot, red bit on the map). So that's got us all up to date on someone we've never met.

After telling us about his daughter, the painter told us about his trip to Paris ('It's a lovely place, but, tell you what, Charles de Gaulle airport needs a coat of paint on it'), offered his opinion on the block of land for sale at the end of the street ('They're never going to get $115,000 for that,' which is true, and also almost exactly what my boss said when he picked me up for our board meeting road trip the other day), and reminisced about how he and the rest of his under-18 football team used to use fake ID to get drinks in my office (which used to be a slightly disreputable pub).

We haven't got his quote yet, but I hope it's a good one. He seemed fun.