Friday 13th April

Today was another sunny day, which we decided to make the most of by jumping on a cruise down the Yarra under low bridges and across the bay to historic Williamstown, where we mooched around the period buildings, browsed the gift shops and treated ourselves to fish and chips and later, lemon sorbet.

It was really interesting looking at all the original houses that would have belonged to men who worked in the harbour and we made a beaky friend down by the pier (pictured below). Despite receiving some interesting hairstyling from the blustery winds, the return journey was equally pleasant and gave us an amazing view of the Melbourne skyline.

We got back ready for a frivolous evening of eating in, munching chocolate fingers and an early bedtime. We settled down with a cup of tea and ended up watching Wind In The Willows (would you believe both of us are under the age of 80) only to find Ratty, Mole and Toad underscored by screaming and indie pop hits- elements I’m unsure that Kenneth Grahame requested in the original script but correct me if I’m wrong. We had found ourselves victims of a party of tweens next door, probably hyperactive on neat squash or drunk on their first cider, and I quickly ascertained that they must be disciples of Shoesan and her antisocial behaviour given their penchant for door slamming and blaring music. At first we gave them the benefit of the doubt and let them be on the assumption they would pack it in by 10 but the noise persisted. I took it upon myself, Sheriff Richardson, to lay down the law and show them how a mature young adult should behave by calling the duty manager, peeking round the door and hastily retreating, waiting gleefully to hear what she had to say to them.

“But Lucie, you’re only 18 yourself, why not let them live a little?” Well Dear Reader, I had no sympathy as any noise from the corridor carries straight through to my room. They may as well have been sat at the end of my bed sipping their Kopparberg and playing James Bay. I managed to drift off, not easy due to the oh so soothing sounds of the underage party but they struck again at 3AM and woke me up berating their poor parents over the phone and shouting ‘WHEEERE’S HEIDI?!!!’. I was tempted to reply that Heidi was in fact my hostage and would be dangled from the balcony until they granted me a decent night’s sleep but instead, I sat stewing, peeling open my eyes and glaring at them through the door – as if it would make a difference, and once again got my adrenaline fix ratting them out to lobby staff before retreating to my lair.The next day was overcast and rainy so we went out for a shopping trip, spending the day sneering at bamboozled Aussies running through the rain as if it was acid and perusing the South Melbourne market as well as the numerous boutiques and Victorian arcades.

Mid-morning we sought refuge from the downpour in a wonderful patisserie (life is so hard sometimes) and watched the world run by in shorts and hastily purchased raincoats.When we later returned to the apartment it appeared the aforementioned tweenagers had checked out, the only remnant being a camp bed in the corridor and my shattered sleep pattern. Where they went and whether Heidi ever showed up remains a mystery, I like to think they were evicted and she and her compatriots are sat with Shoesan in a café, bare feet interlinked on the table swapping tips on how best to be a public menace .