Jared Diamond Books

House parties are so hard to clean up after, I swear. It’s like cooking a roast dinner: six hours of preparation, and then it’s gone in twenty minutes. Twenty great minutes, but even that’s offset by all the cleaning up you have to do.

Honestly, I blame Bear-Revel. I know the series is ridiculous, portraying the adventures of a man trying to set up a party planning business around the theme of bears, employing a number of actual bears, but I just felt inspired. I just HAD to go and have a massive party, inviting the entire neighbourhood. And look where it got me: a house in tatters, cups and plates and food all over the floor, the bathroom in a state I’d rather not describe and the laundry window is smashed in. How?? Why were people IN there??

One party and already I’m looking around Melbourne for aluminium window repair. You know what? Next time I’m just going to other people’s parties. I’ll save myself a load of heartbreak, maybe offer to clean up because I know how much of a pain it’ll be, but don’t expect any invites any time soon. Even a simple dinner party is off the table for now.

That smashed window, seriously…and of course, no one is owning up to the crime. I didn’t hear it happen, but it’s a clean break and there was a bottle on the other side. Did someone get startled and just fling it straight through the pane? I don’t think anyone here had any malicious intent, so it must have been some sort of bizarre accident.

Thanks a lot, Bear-Revel. I don’t care if you’re meeting up with Jessaby Bones, Spook Sage and the lady from Iron Missed in a massive team-up series where you form a Pretenders tribute band. When the Melbourne window replacement people get here, I’ve half a mind to send you the bill.

-Trayce

I had never really wanted a big wedding. Even when I was young I just didn’t really get the fuss, as long as my family and closest friends were present I didn’t need a massive party. When Charles and I got engaged we decided straight away we would keep it simple. I wasn’t even entirely sure I wanted to wear a wedding dress. I literally just wanted to marry him, the whole wedding element was non essential. My dad suggested we hold the ceremony and a small party type thing at his old farm. It was a pretty beautiful setting although it did need some work. Last time I visited was to help with window repairs, Melbourne weddings tend to be held in sprawling gardens or lovely event halls, not dilapidated farmhouses. So I actually thought it was perfect! As well as the window repairs, the timber frame needed some work and there was little if any electricity running into the building! We got to work repairing it ourselves with some help for the company. My dad had originally bought the timber windows in Melbourne and has managed to track down the same company to come and do the timber window repairs. Once we get the farmhouse up to just about habitable standards we’ll leave the rest up to decoration. I wanted to cover the curved ceiling in lights and have throws dotted around on various couches and chairs. I liked the idea of it all being a little mismatched and imperfect. The opposite of a big white wedding basically! The windows should all be fixed in a couple of weeks and then it’s just a case of choosing things to fill the barn with, my dad is going to brew a special batch of beer and my mum is going to cook up a storm! Catering and venue already taken care of!

I’m a watcher. I never thought I would become one, but I have. I sit here for about seven hours almost every day, staring out the aluminium windows at Melbourne, splayed out below me. At least, sitting here, I have a good view. It’s a good vantage point, to watch people from, and they can never watch back.

I guess this habit of watching people developed after the accident. When you suddenly lose the feelings from your hips down you tend to do a lot of sitting. It was such a stupid accident as well. I regret diving head first into that lake every minute of every day. It was an accident that could have been so easily avoided, but that doesn’t matter now. I didn’t avoid it. Now I am here. The doctors say I can’t leave home yet. They say I’m lucky I’m not a quadriplegic, that things could have gone much worse for me, that I survived and should be grateful.

I know we’re going to have to leave this place soon. Living in a high rise apartment when you’re in a wheelchair isn’t exactly the most convenient option. Still, it’s going to be harder to watch people if I’m down below. My parents are slowly removing our possessions, carting them down in boxes, leaving with them, two at a time. I can’t help, of course, even if they’d asked. There are too many hazards here for me, they said, just like they said getting aluminium window repairs in Melbourne up here wasn’t cheap.

That was when I was mad. That was when I didn’t want to watch, I wanted to live. I’ll have the scars on my fist for a while, they said. So many scars, said I. There are the ones you can see and the ones you can’t.