One of the things that happens when you go through the process of leaving home and moving elsewhere is that you do lose people along the way. Especially when you’ve done what I’ve done.
You see, I’ve moved from St Kilda West to St Kilda. Melburnians will understand the implications, but I’ll explain for others. St Kilda West these days is a privileged, over-priced little pocket of real estate, populated by IT professionals who like their neighbourhood clean. They fancy the idea of being near St Kilda, but they never actually go there. I don’t think I’d been to St Kilda myself for about 10 years and I’d consider myself less scrupulous than some.
St Kilda is hookers, druggies, mad people, English backpackers, people who think they are writers though they’ve never written anything. If a St Kilda West person were to contemplate a trip to Acland St, he’d first discuss the possibility of shots with his doctor.
Clarissa’s just not having it. She’s a St Kilda West girl through and through. She will step onto the city side of Fitzroy St but no further. So, well, she’s staying with a friend in West St Kilda who used to put her up years ago. She won’t even come up here for a g&t – ‘do you have a garden?’ she asked dubiously. Well, no, I have pot plants. That’s what happens when you live in an apartment.
So my relationship with Clarissa is strained to say the least at the moment; I haven’t seen her since I moved, and I can’t see things getting better. We’ll see. I’m going to meet her for coffee on the right side of Fitzroy St tomorrow and I will report.