December 9th 1982

Wayne had asked me to clean the windows of the motel units today, + tho’ I wasn’t exactly keen, I could hardly refuse, since we are staying here for nothing.  I wish the situation was a little more clear-cut really, but then the world doesn’t seem to feel it owes it to us to sort things out for our benefit – one generally has to make the best of a bad job.  I’d intended, + indeed attempted, to start work at 8, but once again events conspired against me.  First of all the shed was locked, do I couldn’t get at any equipment, + then when I was able to be fixed up in that respect, some people who hadn’t left held me up.  You see, the way the job should be done is this – I work my way around all the top units with the brush + hose, washing down all the windows, then switch my gear to the bottom set, + do them, + then return to the top, + work my way along with the chamy leather.  This gives the glass enough tome to dry off so I can polish it up nicely.  But with these people still around, I couldn’t do their windows + didn’t want to lug the hose all the way down, since then I’d only have to lug it all back up again.  A right pain in the nipple.  Still, I eventually got going (tho’ I might as well have spent an extra hour in bed) + finished by 11.

I then trotted up to Twin Pines to get going there.  At first it seemed Gordon might send me home again, but he gave me a bit of work, helping Joe to clear out the cellar, + then I managed to find a few extra little jobs to keep me going, + managed to stay busy till 5, so in the end things worked out alright.

Val had spent the afternoon moving our gear into our tent.  We were able to use a shelf in the cleaner’s cupboard in the ablutions block to store some gear, but it was still very crowded in there.  A few of the girls working at TP were throwing a party in the evening, quite late, + we were so tired we tried to get a bit of a rest during the evening.  But lying down in our tiny overcrowded tent depressed + irritated me, + I was a bit ratty with Val.  I left to go to the pub – I was only just in time before they shut, + Val joined me 15 mins later.  We then went over to the party, held in a sort of courtyard some of the cleaners + bargirls have set up with their tents.  It wasn’t too bad really, but we had neither the energy nor the enthusiasm to enjoy it fully.  The best thing about it was that I got 2 puffs of a joint.  I quite miss the stuff, I must admit.  Val + Tim (the new assistant chef at the Cascade) both had their tongues hanging out, but weren’t lucky enough to get a puff.  Such is the luck of the draw.  Val + I left early + tottered into our tent.

Quite a full day, one way + the other. And a strange existence really, living in a tiny tent, holding down 2 or 3 jibs, all of them precarious, and trying to find some sort of a social life as well. And the inevitable frictions of living very closely with someone else. As this is written from my perspective, there is the danger of me white-washing my own behaviour, but in fact, I think the opposite is true, that you get to hear, first-hand, of my own admitted imperfections, while Val remains an almost saint-like figure. But maybe that’s just me being over-sensitive. Again.