A photo of my belly

Sally from the Green House across the road takes this gorgeous photo of my belly and she’s going to give it to me!

It’s finally the day of the PMT art exhibition. This is supposed to be (inside myself, no announcements, no fanfare) my goodbye to Newtown. Everyone’s going to be there tonight, including Jill Hickson. Out of all the people who will be in the room tonight, I’ll have known Jill the longest. Almost 20 years. Actually, maybe just over 20 years. I think she was at Tuam Street at the end of 1981, when Lou suddenly joined Resistance and moved into that house.

I remember her saying to Tony: “The spinach is fucked.” They were such hippies.

All the different strands of life. In the end you want the Golden Notebook that brings it all together.

Looked at a bit of Lucy yesterday yesterday, tossing up whether to take her to the art exhibition, the bit about Whitlam and menstruation. I didn’t like it.

10.35pm Apres PMT Art Exhibition launch
Anna, Lisa and I dress in red and black, looking magnificent, and drive to Newtown in A’s (M’s) car. I go into overdrive buzz, community arts officer mode, can’t help myself. Can’t calm down, have an ordinary conversation, just be. Still. It’s done. Jill and John were there. I chatted a little to Jill. I wore fabulously funky clothing.

The best bit of today: the best part of an hour in Corelli’s working on the video cover art work for Amanda Bitchcock (Sandra’s creation). Cross hatching. Drinking a soy chai. Perfect. Time at Mail Boxes Etc with photocopies, glue stick and scissors, recalling other times, other photocopies. Like the Resistance 60s Night all those years ago. The wonderful poster for that.

Anna is downstairs. Thank God for the gorgeous Anna. She’ll sleep on the couch tonight.

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