Something about Ted...

This post has been, without a doubt, as prompt as The Royal Mail at Christmas. It's been a long time coming and there are a number of things i would love to serve up as an excuse but the truth remains as clear as the definition on all those expensive / fancy TV's I can't afford.

I've been procrastinating.

I hate writing as much as I love it. I hate that it takes focus and concentration. It is (by default) not an easy task for me. However, it gets to a point where there are too many thoughts swimming around in my head and there is no other option but to dispose of them. Quite literally. Welcome to my wheely bin. If only some of it could be recycled.

{Pause}

When the hell did they change the name of Who wants to be a Millionaire to 'Hot Seat'?

{continue}

So where was I?....oh yes. Bondi.

Bondi Beach Australia.

3 years into my life as a Sydneyite, i found my pocket. My Cove. My Nest. My Burb.

The inner west.

Balmain / Rozelle to be more exact. It fit like an old pair of jeans that looked all the more better after dodging the wash cycle for a month. The high street (Darling Street) would have been something I developed in an ideal alternate reality. The fact that it has more pubs per square meter than any other suburb in Sydney had absolutely nothing to do with the admiration.

I was 1 of 3 in a fundamentally fabulous flat share that spanned from Curtis Road in Balmain and moved onto Percy Street in Rozelle. Just around the corner from the 3 Weeds. Astoundingly i was able to stay put in the same place for almost 2 years. A near first for me.

When my relationship of 12 months fell apart (read: rapidly dissolved into a fiery molten of lava screaming down the descent of Mount Vesuvius) and my best friend and her partner oh so responsibly and should i add.....so selfishly, decided they wanted to climb onto the ever elusive sydney property ladder and purchase a house, i was left with a rather daunting decision.

Where do i go?

The choice was between another flat share, which, ran the risk of cohabiting with an incompatible random or try and defy the gods of property management and lease my own place. At a point where i wasn't prepared to make a huge commitment to anyone let alone anything including a rental agreement and craving life by the water, i chose the random flat share. After registering on a website that 'matches' potential roomies and fighting off my persistently annoying mate who kept trying to complete my profile for me...I was ready to see what the Big Brother lifestyle had in store.

Inbox (1 Unread message)

"Hi Liz,

I have a great sun filled room in a top floor flat in North Bondi. I work in design and like to eat out, have friends around...

......long walks by the beach ......etc'

Cheers

Ted

Bondi?...the thought of it was subconsciously making me twitch. But there was something about the ad.

Something about Ted.

Something about living in the furthest nautical point away from my ex in all of Sydney. Nobody in their right mind ventures from West Sydney to the Eastern Suburbs without packing provisions I thought.

So i made the call...visited the flat and..... as fate would have it, moved my stuff in 3 weeks later. I was the proud occupant of 3.5 x 4 square meters in Blair Street North Bondi. Right across from the golf course and whatever this thing is.

This started out as a post about living beside the world's most famous beach but apparently there was more context required than i first thought.

Which now begs a post part#2. I promise it will be up before next Christmas. Although i can't say the same for The Royal Mail.