SASSY TOWN FOLLIES by Felicity Appleton no.11, March 18

The Morning After

I woke up slowly, and although my eyes were open I couldn’t see anything. It was bright, so it had to be morning, and all I could see was the light. It hurt my eyes, and so I hid them under the doona with the rest of my face. But they still hurt. My whole head hurt. And my body ached. It hurt everywhere.

You won’t be surprised to read that it had been quite a big night the night before, and I was just a little bit hung over. Yes, that’s right. It happens to all of us every now and then, doesn’t it? Nothing to get too concerned about.

I took another peep outside the covers and found that I could see, so I took a big drink of water from my Hello Kitty glass, which sits on my bedside table, and lay back down. I was relaxed. Tired, sure – but relaxed. I felt OK. It was good to be in my pink stripey grandma pyjamas and to be in bed and enjoying myself. Quietly enjoying myself. Not enjoying myself like last night. Not playing cocktail menu roulette with Kikki and Heather and Adriano and the creative director of Ideas Incorporated, Justin Meckiff: a man who I met for the first time this week and can’t stop thinking about, and who I happen to know has caught Adriano’s attention in a similar way. Which was why all of us were socialising with him, sipping and then skulling colourful drinks with umbrellas and pieces of fruit sticking out of them. We had a great time. It was a bar under the ground, called Bar Underground, and they don’t have poker machines, and play only very cool music there. Last night there was Duran Duran and Pet Shop Boys and Banarama. We all got up and danced, on a few occasions, but it wasn’t a dancing kind of bar so mostly we danced in our seats in our booth and tried not to knock our drinks over.

Justin Meckiff is tall and dark and undoes two buttons below his shirt collar. He is super polite but quick to tell you a filthy joke too, when he gets to know you. Adriano and I agree that we must try to get Jonesy to lure him to Sparky People. Justin’s uncle taught Heather and I to play tennis – we realised after talking to him for a bit, asking questions. His uncle Keith was from the chest hair generation and was similarly tall and he had a 1970s moustache a little bit too late, but Keith Meckiff’s looked so good it really didn’t matter if it was dated. All the ladies who came to play at the court in our backyard had clearly fallen for him. I know I had, although I was ten years old. Keith also offered financial advice and most of the ladies signed documents of some kind, I remember, and one Saturday morning Keith didn’t arrive and nobody ever saw him again. Justin said his uncle was living in Queensland now, or Bali, or somewhere, but no-one in the family kept in touch with him any more.

I rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen, careful not to wake Heather, who was sleeping on my lounge room floor (it was that kind of night). I knew the best morning after food and so set to work preparing the holy trinity of toasts: Melba toast (with pate), cinnamon toast, and French toast. These revived Heather and she said, “Doesn’t Justin remind you of his uncle?”

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Published in: on March 18, 2013 at 7:31 pm  Leave a Comment  

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