Farewell to Wellington

March 31st

Iain is staying with me for my last two nights at 74 Wellington. He's coming to Melbourne to work at The Comedy Festival and he's broke after nearly a month in Adelaide for the Fringe. Besides, it's Grand Prix weekend, so even if he could find a place at a hostel, the rates are at least double the usual.

I have given him fair warning about the state and conditions of Wellington. He assures me it doesn't matter.

"Dude, saying it's dodgy is being generous. It's dirty and haunted and possibly possum-infested."
"Fine."
"I'm serious. There's not even a back door."
"You mean, like, only one exit?"
"No, there's a doorway. Just no door."
"It'll be fine, fantastic."
"As long as you know what you're walking into..."

Iain's getting in early evening, but I won't be home until after 10pm. I give him directions and instructions on where to leave his stuff:

In front of my door -- yes, it'll be fine. If on the off chance the front door is locked, just knock. Yes, someone will let you in. Yes, there are always people there. Well, you can get through the gate at the back. Trust me, I'd be surprised if the front door is even closed... I dunno, I think the ghosts get pissed when it's shut or something... No no, only the front part of the house is haunted; my room's in the back. See you soon!

Later, I get a call.
"There are five couches on the front yard. Five! Did you know that?!"
"Um, yeah."
"The front door was wide open and I passed maybe 6 people, no one looked at me twice! How many people live in this place?"
"26, give or take. Hey man, I told you."
"I know, I know... The cab driver wouldn't even stop out front. When I told him the street number, he said, 'No,' and dropped me off a few houses down."
"Yeah, I'm not really surprised."

***

Oh Wellington! I love you, I hate you, I love to hate you and I probably won't miss you that much, but maybe a little bit.
Definitely maybe a little.

***

Our slumlord Shane takes a key deposit. The amount varies -- I got one of the cheapest rates after talking him down to $40. No one has heard of anyone getting it back. This bothers me, mostly because he's so slimy.
And because $40 goes pretty far these days.

The solution: the two duvets and pillows from room 9 are now mine.
Ill-begotten bedding to keep me toasty through the Melbourne winter.