An old mate Ray arrived from the Gold Coast on Sunday. He's staying with me for a week and plans to attend a number of papal shenanigans as part of World Youth Day. A former journo, he'll be taking photos for a religious paper, sleeping overnight at Randwick Racecourse and generally wandering about town in his Official Pilgrim T-shirt and Passport.
I think he's insane myself, but hey.
I went with him to the uniform and accreditation centre off Broadway while he picked up his $300 backpack full of tat and was amazed by the number of nuns and priests in casual wear (read: full habit and Reeboks). Everyone seems genuinely excited and I'm finding it difficult to muster my usual level of sarcasm. Ray himself doesn't take it all too seriously and I'm happy to be swept up in the moment.
It's only another week after all.
Problem is, Ray snores like one of those car alarms that has half a dozen different tones. Last night it was relentless and deafening, to the point where I ended up sleeping in the bathtub.
I shit you not. I think I'll load up on beer and Valium tonight.
Honestly, the things I do for the Catholic Church...
1 comment:
Those (few) people who have slept with me tell me I'm a loud snorer but noone yet has resorted to the bathtub to escape me!
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