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Cries of passion
Jun. 24th, 2005 07:13 amMy room at the Palace Backpackers is about the size of a cube. Just long enough for a bed, and all dimensions to match. I've had prison cells that were bigger and better appointed.
I could do with a bit more warmth, too. It's a lot warmer than Canberra's winter, but still...
Futurecat and Servalan had to change their room last night because their window was wedged open, unable to be closed and the first snows of winter showed every sign of drifting in during the night. It was a massive job to transfer all the books but we eventually made it. They had to call in the fire brigade to get Futurecat down from the top bunk in the new room this morning, but she made it down and Servalan is now wandering around looking for her, making mewing sounds with a saucer of chocolate.
Me, I woke about three to increasingly louder and unmistakable rhythmic sounds of female passion coming from further down the corridor. I lay awake in fascination until they reached a climax and then subsided. And rose again.
After a while I struggled back to sleep, every hair on the back of my neck needing to be soothed down individually.
And a few moments later there came the sounds of a massive argument. Screaming, yelling, thumping down the corridor along to the heritage-listed elevator. You should see this thing. It's straight out of the 1880s and it's operated manually. At first I though that meant once a year, but no, it's actually quite speedy, once you pull aside the two doors to get in. Faster and more reliable than the lifts in Fort Worth!
I woke early (again) got up, had a shower and encountered a Mystery. Stuck to the wall of the mens' shower stall was a hand-scrawled Post-It note saying "I'm Free!". And a web address very familiar to anybody reading this journal. So, is there another male BookCrosser in residence? Or did Futurecat and Servalan get confused during the night, possibly when they discovered that the third occupant of their room was a hunky Brazilian male.
I don't think for a second that this had anything at all to do with my nocturnal disturbances, but if I can arouse that suspicion in the minds of my readers, that's OK.
More reports to come.
I could do with a bit more warmth, too. It's a lot warmer than Canberra's winter, but still...
Futurecat and Servalan had to change their room last night because their window was wedged open, unable to be closed and the first snows of winter showed every sign of drifting in during the night. It was a massive job to transfer all the books but we eventually made it. They had to call in the fire brigade to get Futurecat down from the top bunk in the new room this morning, but she made it down and Servalan is now wandering around looking for her, making mewing sounds with a saucer of chocolate.
Me, I woke about three to increasingly louder and unmistakable rhythmic sounds of female passion coming from further down the corridor. I lay awake in fascination until they reached a climax and then subsided. And rose again.
After a while I struggled back to sleep, every hair on the back of my neck needing to be soothed down individually.
And a few moments later there came the sounds of a massive argument. Screaming, yelling, thumping down the corridor along to the heritage-listed elevator. You should see this thing. It's straight out of the 1880s and it's operated manually. At first I though that meant once a year, but no, it's actually quite speedy, once you pull aside the two doors to get in. Faster and more reliable than the lifts in Fort Worth!
I woke early (again) got up, had a shower and encountered a Mystery. Stuck to the wall of the mens' shower stall was a hand-scrawled Post-It note saying "I'm Free!". And a web address very familiar to anybody reading this journal. So, is there another male BookCrosser in residence? Or did Futurecat and Servalan get confused during the night, possibly when they discovered that the third occupant of their room was a hunky Brazilian male.
I don't think for a second that this had anything at all to do with my nocturnal disturbances, but if I can arouse that suspicion in the minds of my readers, that's OK.
More reports to come.
