Public interest in the works of Victor Szabo never scaled the heights Fiona Lambert hoped and the planned retrospective exhibition was cancelled due to lack of funding. The content of future exhibitions at the Centre for Modern Art will be determined by its interim curator, Janelle. It was Janelle who phoned Fiona Lambert that night at the flat. She rang to say that Fiona had left her keys behind, yet again. Fiona popped over and picked them up as soon as she’d brushed me and Lloyd off. Then she had an early night.
Fiona is now Assistant Curator of Naive Pottery at the Warracknabeal Regional Gallery. It’s a bit of a come-down, I suppose, and a fair way from the bright lights. But that’s probably the way she prefers it, given that she looks like she’s had a zipper installed in her forehead. She probably still thinks the cops pinched her dough.
Salina Fleet, on the other hand, has gone from strength to strength. The commission she was charging on Marcus Taylor’s knock-offs was more than enough to cover the cost of her relocation to New York, where she is now performance art commentator for Flashy ’n’ Trashy, a theoretical journal financed by the Sony Corporation. The name Fleet, it transpired, was a legacy from an early and soon discarded husband. Her maiden name was Fletcher. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it.
Obelisk’s depositors were eventually paid out at forty-five cents in the dollar. So Agnelli’s brief foray into high finance just about broke even-if you count Fiona’s contribution. Even better than break-even if you add in the two trips to Bali, the three microwave ovens and the fourteen dinners-for-two we won in raffles and kicked back into the cause.
Red was a bit pissed off that I didn’t keep the trip to Bali and take him along. He’s been there twice now with Wendy and Richard. He reckons it’s cool although he did get embarrassed when his braces set off the metal detectors at the airport. My alarm bells certainly rang when I saw the bill. But I insisted on paying the whole lot, not just half. It’s my genes they’re designed to compensate for, after all.
Wendy and Richard got married. In a church. Wendy wore white. ‘More oyster, really,’ said Red. ‘Puke-a-rama.’
He’s coming down next month and I’ve got the use of the Water Supply houseboat on Lake Eildon. Tarquin is coming too, just for the first few days. Unfortunately there’s very little chance he’ll drown. The water level is too low.
The drought has been going on for nearly a year now. Quite a challenge, policy-response wise. Sometimes we pray. Sometimes we dance.
The election will be late next year. We’re hoping to dance it in. We definitely don’t have a prayer. Not even with Nea Hellas behind us, to the hilt.