The story of Mega Monday

On Mega Monday I started a week’s work at a school 20 minutes walk away (and had to turn down a call in from another school –typical!), came home to accept delivery of one beloved Pusscat, and then saw Pavement play live.

I got the call with the offer of work while we were moving into the house on Saturday. I was watching the removalists carry the couch in when the phone rang. I got desperate late last week and contacted a few private schools in the area. I say ‘desperate’ because my heart is in the public system, but hey, the phone’s not ringing. Anyway, it turned out to be exceptional timing as it’s fantastic to get a whole week to start off with. The school is a Catholic boy’s college (in the Edmund Rice tradition, meaning that school literature explicitly discusses issues of social justice and poverty, which I dig). Despite having never taught at a Catholic school or participated in Catholicism in any way, this is proving less difficult to adjust to than expected. Every lesson starts with the boys saying a prayer and I’m managing now at the end of day three not to feel completely awkward about it. Quite awkward, but not completely.

I had a particularly surreal moment yesterday afternoon at work. It suddenly struck me – I am living in Western Australia and I am taking a bunch of Catholic school boys to the Basilica for reconciliation (not a right-on social justice issue as it turns out, but confession). How did this happen?!  I then spent the next hour silently keeping them silent while they waited their turn to see the priest. Luckily my secret weapon is an icy cold stare that can frighten a grown man, let alone a giggling 13 year old.

The Pavement gig was loads of fun, despite Steve Malkmus’ obvious vocal difficulties. They are essentially touring a ‘best of ‘album so the set list was incredible, and not a little like the ‘my heart is made of gravy’ mixed tape that my personal music guru made for me years and years ago. I did feel a little offended on their behalf that it didn’t sell out. We caught the train up to the city with loads of large men heading to the ACDC concert. The whole train stunk of booze and cigarettes and rousing Aussie-as accents filled the air. Suddenly the Fella’s checked shirt looked less alt-country, more flanno.

So, the house is just lovely. Actually just having a house is lovely. I caught myself gazing at our stuff with disproportionate affection as we unpacked. I didn’t realise how grounding it is to have familiar things around you. We are loving the fact that our lounge room is large enough that we cantake 7 or 8 steps and still be in the loungeroom. I love cooking with gas again (not a metaphor). I also love these gorgeous bathroom cabinets, and the stained glass windows in the kitchen. And the hallway that’s half the width of a Newtown bedroom.

As for the Pusscat, she was delivered from the airport on Monday afternoon, looking a bit plane-shocked and wary. She knew who I was straight away (phew) and I got a purr out of her within 15 minutes. What a trooper. She has been exploring thoroughly with lots of sniffing and squeezing under things. She loves standing up in the fireplaces and follows us up and down the hallway like a puppy. At this rate she’ll be back to normal in a few days I think. I am, predictably, delighted.