Some somber news to share.

Last year, I met Chris whilst holidaying in Melbourne. He was such a sweet soul it was hard not to like him. Gentle, generous and with a slight sense of humour, he was easy to get along with and the few days we hung out with Jean and bobo, to Mount Dandenong, Mrs Marples to his favourite breakfast place, to bortsch, vodka and tears were enjoyable in a peaceful relaxing way.

Last year, Chris' cancer metastasized and he passed away peacefully in his sleep last Saturday.

which then makes me wonder about mortality. I know it's so cliche but isn't it always the case? and then when you think about death when you're not reminded by it, people think you are morbid and avoid talking to you.

One thing I've realised, most people unconsciously avoid talking about death. It's the epitome of a taboo subject. How morbid, to go around thinking of the hundred and one ways one could leave this world.

But then again, if there are scientists out there who invest their time studying wasps to the extent that we now know how a wasp can hijack a cockroach by injecting a chemical into its nervous system which then allows it to manipulate the cockroach feelers much like a joystick, allowing it to ride the cockroach like a horsey (and this is true or the internet is lying), then surely the contemplation of death should not be frowned upon because it sure as hell (no pun intended) appears to be more important.

I don't mean to sound like I'm poking fun at the topic of death.

I do feel sad.

Just that random thoughts in my head got the better of me I guess.

On a lighter note, it's great that Gene is here now. Haven't hung out really in two years almost? At first it seemed that perhaps this arrangement was a potential recipe for disaster (jolene suggested we would be tearing each others throats out or maybe she suggested I would be the one tearing?) but after the first few hiccups which were ironed out quickly, things seemed to have settled into a nice routine. I hope I haven't jinxed it by writing it out.

Marty poo (yes it's his new name) has a new playmate and so have I.

We found another housemate over the weekend. He's Gareth. English. Very stiff upper lip. To the point. Little sense of humour or at least our brand of humour. Very into sports I must say because he mentioned that if we were getting foxsports, he'd spend all his days at home glued to the telly. Gene suggested tweaking his upper lip when we get to know him better.

Interesting times ahead.