Biking up the wrong tree
There are 80 odd people doing my course.
By 80 odd, I mean 'aroundabout 80 persons', not so much '80 persons who are odd', but I guess either interpretation is applicable. Aside from the little name glitch I experienced yesterday, I'm relatively familiar with my peers (today I made mental notes of which girl was which and can now tell with ease which lady goes with which story) - and can sense when there's newbies to be met.
The beginning of new subjects has seen some new souls creeping into class. This includes a few people from regions other that 'Straya. I love foreign folk, I really do. I just want to hear that guy introduce himself as 'Aandee' multiple times, or listen to that nice girls German accent for hours. Like the loser I am, I had myself convinced Marc Bianchi was taking the Symbols and Signs subject. He's arty, he's got rad tattoos, of course he'd be there, right? The poor foreign lad sitting across the room was probably wondering why I was staring so intensely at him.
We've a lecturer named Sweetapple. And a tutor who wears mushroom brooches. We get told to look at pictures of borderline-inappropriate subject matter.
Should be good.
Neighbour Tristan and myself went to Fairyfield for bikes today. I tried not to get my hopes up this time, as since my last visit 4 of my friendly friends have ventured into the unknown and come back with bikes. 2 of those friends returning with the very bikes I was lusting after on my first visit.
This time however was more successful. Tristy found a silver road bike with some handlebar tape thrown in for free. The overall clad Doug found me a very stylin' Italian stunner, super pink with mudguards and all. I scored a complimentary helmet, and we both got drink bottles. All this for the handsome price of $25. Seriously, how can you go wrong? Check out Fairyfield for yourself ... right here.