Me and Rorn had decided to go on another holiday, probably all the way to Wellington. But we'd called it quits after only one night, and so we arrived back in Auckland about the middle of Thursday afternoon. Later that evening, we get a phone call from Sîan Sabotage and Sammy Vulture. They were in town to play a gig: just like a rumour I'd heard from my father a few weeks ago.
We didn't quite know what to do with them, but we soon fixed that. We picked them up from Necropolis, where they were staying and went to buy some beer. We were gonna go to k5k's, but then we decided to ring Funboy instead, and he suggested that we go and see him and Charles out in Panmure.
It was a plan, and we headed south on the motorway, soon coming to our destination. We were having trouble finding which number it was, and the girls needed to piss. So we just stopped the car, and Sammy pissed in someone's front yard behind a tree, and then we walked to the house. We weren't quite sure where to go, but then some homie coming down a driveway said "Are you looking for Charles?" and gave us directions.
We found ourselves in the little lounge of a little flat, with not enough seats, where Funboy, Charles, Charles' brother and some other homies were all chilling. We sat down. Funboy got the conversation rolling, as he always does, and he kept it going, as he always does. Marilyn Manson was playing on the stereo, and the rest of the boys sat along one wall, all silent. I got the feeling they were quite stoned.
I somehow managed to be allowed to put a CD on: I'd brought some with me. I chose Rebell Terract. I sat in my corner and listened to the music, tuning out the drunkeness. Eventually they heated up some knives and had some spots. I just sat. At about 23:30 we finally left. We dropped Funboy off at a notorious Panmure tinny house that has appearantly been going for years, and then headed back into the city to visit k5k.
This was the time that Rorn managed to break the sliding door on the van, meaning that it wouldn't open. We stayed at their house for a while. I couldn't take the cigerette smoke, and went and sat outside on the veranda.
We left soon enough, dropping them in the Grafton graveyard so that they could continue drinking. It was one or two in the morning before we were in bed, and we didn't get much sleep: for the second night in a row.
Friday passed uneventfully, but Rorn was sure that Sîan's prediction that everyone else was arriving from Wellington that evening would mean that at some stage my sister would arrive. I had an afternoon nap.
Sure enough, at about 20:00, up the path rolled Lenny, Kitty, Laura and Rubin. They'd seen Necropolis, seen the masses of drunken people wanting to stay there. And decided that here was a better option.
We sat in the lounge and listened to music: or rather they did as I set about fetching mattresses and covers for everyone so they'd be able to sleep in comfort. We somehow decided that we should get some beers: I'm not quite sure how, as it turned out that only Lenny and Rorn wanted to drink.
So I went to the supermarket with Kitty and Rubin, and we got 20 cans of Double Brown, and Rubin got us some chocolate. I got the beers back, and for some reason decided that I should have some. I'd been tired all day, I knew it was the last thing I needed. So I drank up quick. Raced the other two. Left them in the dust.
At about two in the morning, after about eight beers, and a whole lot of pot, I finally got to go to bed. I was too drunk to sleep properly. I woke up very early. I thought I heard voices out in the lounge where our visiters were sleeping. When I stumbled out there they weren't really awake. I spent the next hour or two in a daze.
Somehow it ended up that we had everyone in the van: Rorn, Funboy, Kitty, Laura, Rubin, Sammy, Sîan and Blair: all of them having to climb into the back over the front seat because of the broken door. It was really crazy. And we drove up Mount Eden. I'd never been to the top before, but it was quite a spectacular view. We ran to the bottom of the crater, and spelt out the word "Poo" in large letters out of stones. Then we climbed back to the top and admired our handiwork.
Eventually we dropped them all off at Necropolis, and ended up back home. And went to sleep.
At about 19:30 Lenny rang up, reminding us that we should be at the show at 21:00. I woke up again at about 20:45. Rorn still wasn't sure if we should go: she was still feeling really fucked, after three consecutive nights of not really sleeping. But eventually we're on our way, and we're there by 21:30.
The person on the door is asking for money. Lenny told me I could get in for free, and I tell her this. "Who's Lenny?" - "The one on the stage now, singing". The person is not sure what to make of this. I eventually give her $4, a third of the amount that would have covered me and Rorn, and walk in and start dancing, leaving Rorn trailing behind me wondering what's going on.
The Liva Queens are great, even better than when I saw them in Wellington. Except that the kick-peddle on the bass drum fucks up. And there's no fixing it, so they play on without it. When they've finished, Lenny spots me, and runs up and grabs me. She's really drunk, as she usually is when she plays. She's really happy that I'm there.
Rorn suggests that we go and get her some alcohol: the PA isn't too loud and she's warming to the idea of staying here. Toxic Shock Syndrome are getting on the stage and are preparing to play. As far as I know they've been disbanded for a year or two, but they've reformed for this gig. I never saw them then, and I missed them again as we headed out the door.
We walked the short distance to the nearest alcohol store, and got Rorn a couple of bottles of Canterbury Cream: a cheap Baileys rip-off. She decides that she hasn't brought enough pot with her if she going to be staying for the duration, so I drive her back home to get some more. We leave one of the bottles of alcohol at home, and head back to town.
I walk in the door to see all the punks jumping up and down to some strange Electro-Pop-Hip-Hop kind of music, that the girl on stage is MCing over. I surmise that this is The Sound Laydee. This leaves me in a state of confusion. It's not exactly Punk, but they're all digging it. I can't tell if I'm just jealous of her hardware and her thrall over these punks with non-punk music, or if it's really not that spectacular: I decide I am jealous, but that she's not that great. Still, all credit to her for breaking punks narrow vision.
She finishes. Me and Rorn go downstairs with Holly from Toxic Shock Syndrome and her new boyfriend, but I don't stay down there with them for long, because The Carnys are starting. I haven't managed to see these gals before either. I'm really excited. They are really tight, and they're great. [Yeah, I know, I'm giving my friends good write-ups. It stinks, doesn't it?] Sîan's screaming is great, and Kitty's drumming is amazing to watch: I mean, she's been drumming as long as I've know her, but I've never actually seen her doing it. Sammy's violin is a very interesting touch.
After a few songs Sammy stops playing violin and gets out into the crowd to dance. Everyone is dancing now. Lenny keeps falling over on the slippery floor, and everyone is helping her up. It's wild. The kick-peddle goes again, but Kitty soldiers on. And then it's over, and everyone starts to leave.
We hang around, not quite sure what to do now. There's another Punk gig at Tonic Bar, a couple of doors down from Necropolis. They've waited until the Necropolis gig finished before they start. So everyone floods down there.
Anna from Toxic Shock Syndrome, who lives at Necropolis, comes up and says that there are police down on the street, and so we should either stay up here or go down to Tonic: not keep swapping between them. Her and her flatmates are quite paranoid about getting raided, and are hoping that they'll avoid trouble now that their gig is over.
I go downstairs to look at the police, and see that they have a paddy-wagon double-parked in the street, and the officers are standing around near it, but are making no moves towards anyone. I'm thinking that perhaps they won't have any reason to cause any trouble. So I go back upstairs, and I'm just sitting around, wondering when and who I'm going to have to drive back to my place. I'm hoping that it won't be long until I'm in bed.
Suddenly Rorn and Lenny come upstairs, saying "Sam's been arrested". I can't believe this! I rush downstairs, and I can see the paddy-wagon is now outside Tonic bar, and there are cops all standing outside of it, and a crowd around the cops: someone with a video camera even: the crowd are looking angry. But the thing I notice most is that the paddy-wagon is shaking from side to side, like there's a real struggle going on inside. I watch it until it drives off, and the cops are all gone. I can't quite believe this.
I go back upstairs, and there everyone is angry, and they're making sure that Lenny doesn't go down there, because she's drunk enough to get arrested. Now I get to hear the story: the cops walked past Rorn and some other people who were sitting outside the bar with open bottles [illegal] and just ignored them, and, having decided on their easy target, grabbed a girl from behind. Sam had said "Hey, don't just fuckin' grab her like that," and the police had responded by saying "That's offensive language" and grabbed Sammy. When she'd realised that they were going to arrest her for saying "Fuck", she chose her usual tactics with the police and put up a nasty fight [she has a long and not-very-happy past of them arresting her in bad circumstances for trivial things, and really, really hates the police]: it eventually took five officers to wrestle her to the ground and handcuff her: and she's not a big girl.
People were of course pleading with the police to let Sammy go, but of course they have a quota to fill, and she was an easy arrest, or would have been if she hadn't fought them.
So we sat around up in Necropolis for a while, all trading stories about the pigs and venting our rage with our mouths. We were all very angry. It just doesn't seem right that these police have these powers to rather arbitrarily arrest people. Rorn summed it up best when she said "If you called me a rude name, and then I decided to beat you up with several of my mates, and then lock you in a small room for several hours, you'd think that I'd really over-reacted and was in fact quite psychotic".
A while later it looked like I should bring the van around to outside Necropolis from where it was parked around the other side of the block. But when I walked around the corner into St Benedicts Street, I suddenly see that there's a paddy-wagon down there, and the cops are massing around it, obviously being instructed for another raid. So I turn around and go back, and I tell the people that I won't be bringing the van around.
They send me on a mission for cigerettes, and I walk down Newton Road to the Shell, and by the time I come back there are now two paddy-wagons double-parked on the road, and the police are telling everyone that they have to move along, because the owner of Tonic doesn't have a license for people to be drinking in the street. It seems to me that they should be giving him grief rather than us. [I think in the end he got a $2000 fine for underage drinkers]
Sîan is standing on the street, and I go up to stand with her, because a police officer is starting to talk to her, and I don't want her arrested too. The police-woman is asking the usual questions: what's your name?, how old are you? She makes Sîan pull our ID to back this up, which I find a little odd: I usually find they're more than happy to take you at your word. The officer seems satisfied when Sîan says that she will be staying with me. We ask when we'll be able to collect Sammy from the police station. The officer says she doesn't know, that it'll probably be an hour or two. Sîan says something, just talking in her normal, kind of fast way. The police officer uses a very stern and serious voice, saying "Calm down Sîan! Just calm down". Sîan protests, quite rightly, that she is calm, but I'm getting worried because this officer seems to be a little aggitated and irrational: I think she is the one who needed to be calm. I decide to get Sîan upstairs before this officer does something rash.
I go downstairs a little bit later to find that the police have gone again. I see Holly, and ask her if they've arrested anyone else. She doesn't really know, she's been inside Tonic. It must be past two in the morning now, and someone finally tracks down Ross, to see if he can pick everyone up from our house instead of from Necropolis. It's all sorted. I bring the van around, and the people start to pile in, over the front seats in to the back, because the side-door is still broken: Kitty, Laura, Rubin, Blair, Lenny, Rorn, Lisa... Sîan is still out there, and some guy named Tyran: who says "I'll just come with you guys then", and Sîan says yes, and they're all in, and I'm wondering if that's really what I want.
We're on our way, but first we stop at the police station to find out when I can collect Sammy. I park a long way down the street to avoid trouble with the rowdy van. I run down to the police station, and walk in. There's no one at the desk, but there is a group of people there. They are all friends of the other girl who was arrested, Sheree. I introduce myself: "Do you know Lenny?" - "Yeah" - "I'm her brother". I tell them about how I want to get Sammy, but they've been told that she might not be released until the morning because she's only 16. With no police forthcoming, I leave my number with them, so that they can get Sammy to get in touch with me.
Then I run back to the van and drive the van-load of drunken punks back to my house. About one minute from the house Lenny starts vomiting on the bed we have in the back. It's all pretty crazy. I get them all inside the flat, and then go back down to get the mattress and all the other duvets and blankets and stuff we have in the van. Luckily we had a sheet on the bed when Lenny vomited on it, so the mattress is OK aside from a little wet patch.
I get all this stuff inside. The flat is full of people, playing music, and still drinking, because of the bottle of Canterbury Cream that Rorn had left back here earlier. I'm somehow not tired, somehow still running, even though I'm sober. After a while the phone rings, and I get it. It's a police officer, asking questions about how old I am and where I live and how I know Sammy. They eventually say they'll let her out into my custody after ringing her mother in Wellington to see that it's OK with her. This is a slight problem, because her mother doesn't know me, and has never even heard of me. So Sîan had the job of ringing Sam's mother at three in the morning and explaining everything. They talked for a long time, Sîan giving Sam's mother all the information that the police hadn't told her.
Eventually that was over, and people started going to bed: Lisa was first, and Lenny. We put them in our room, on a mattress on the floor. The police rang again: it must have been about four in the morning, and they said that I could go and get Sammy now. By this time the mattress on the floor and our bed were filling up with people, and it seemed that Rorn had secured us a single mattress on the floor in the kitchen. I wasn't too sure about this, but I understood that these people needed to sleep.
So I drive back into town, to the police station. I park outside, and walk in. There's no officer on the desk again. I wait maybe five minutes before one comes out. I tell him that I'm here to collect Sam. He looks at me kind of blankly and goes to find out what I'm talking about. He comes back, and asks me all those questions about how old I am and where I live again. Then he says that Sammy is very drunk, and that it's not safe to be in town in that kind of condition. Maybe because of the police!! I can't believe he's just said that. He tells me that she'll be about ten minutes.
I sit down. And wait. And wait. Presently three large Polynesians come in. Their friend has been arrested. They manage to get some attention. They're told it'll probably be an hour or so. They sit down and wait. We make a little small talk, but we don't have so much to say. I tell them they'll be pretty lucky if it's only an hour. It's Saturday night, and the quota means there's probably 40 people in the cells, at least, and they all have to be slowly processed. It must have been at least four hours since Sammy was arrested, and she still isn't out.
Eventually an officer comes back and says that Sammy will only be another 10 minutes: they just have to take her photo. I remember that they usually take your photo pretty soon after you get in: maybe they're just busy and are doing things in whatever sequence they can, or maybe they were waiting for the evidence of them beating her to wear off. Of course I didn't know if they'd beaten her at this point: it was just my mind working in paranoid overdrive.
A couple of blonde, white girls in typical tight clubbing clothing come in. One of them has had their brother arrested. They don't seem to have too many clues. They yell until an officer comes to give them attention. He can't tell them how long it will be until the guy is out. They ask how long we've been waiting, and we tell them. I ask them how long ago their brother was arrested, and they say it was about four hours, so I tell them that they might have some chance of him getting out in an hour or two, but that there are a lot of people in there that all need to be processed. I feel a little sorry for these very regular people: they don't quite have the same understanding.
Eventually they tell me that Sammy is ready to be released, and she comes out. She looks fairly dazed; her trousers are shredded. We walk to the van; she lights up a cigerette. She explains to me her version of events: basically they grabbed her, and then told her they were going to arrest her, so she started fighting as violently as possible, to try and hurt the police officers. The police officers of course punched and kicked her back. And once they got her in the van they pepper-sprayed her and started punching her, but of course she was drunk, and so it didn't hurt too badly, and she was fighting back the whole time. I guess that explains why the police van was shaking so much. And, funnily enough, they haven't charged her with offensive language like they said they were arresting her for, but have charged her with resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer and drunk and disorderly. I expected nothing less: they picked a fight with her and then charged her for it.
I get her back to my house at like five in the morning, and we sit for a while, the few of us that are still awake. Rorn wants to sleep, and lies down with the little dog. Sammy is kinda keen on sleeping too, so I pull out the couch for her, and then go and lie down with Rorn. It's uncomfortable, and I just lie there and let her hug me.
The lamp is still on, and the dawn is starting to come through the windows, and Blair and Tyran are sitting on the couch, drunkenly talking. I'm too polite to tell them to shut up, hoping that soon they'll work out that everyone is asleep. I'm really tired and burnt out, and they're bitching on about stuff... it really wasn't very pleasant.
They finally decide to sleep at about 07:00, and I get a little broken sleep, until it's about 08:30, when I have to start getting people up and ready for Ross to collect them at 09:00. The only person who manages to sleep through all this activity is Tyran, which kinda irks me.
Ross arrives on time, and Blair, Lenny, Lisa, Sîan and Kitty are gone, leaving me, Rorn, Sammy, Laura and Rubin sitting around in some kind of daze. Eventually Laura and Rubin decide that they're going to hitch to Rotorua to see their cousin, and so I drive them down the motorway to Mercer. It's a long trip, maybe an hour each way, but that's how far you have to go if you want to be able to hitch out of Auckland. The journey out is quiet. I drop them and turn around. It's midday.
I'm enjoying the drive back, just taking it easy. It's relaxing after the hectic night. As I get back over the Bombay Hills I decide to try the radio, and to my delight find the Zambesi Jazz show on bFM. It's a nice drive.
I get back about 13:00, and find that nothing much has changed. Tyran is awake. People are hungry. I make simple meal of pasta for everyone. Tyran is looking through all our records, and chooses to put on Bauhaus of all things. I sit with him for a while, but I haven't really got anything to say to him. Everyone is pretty much just staring in to space, too tired to do anything.
I go to check on Rorn, who is sitting in our room. It's about 15:00. When I get on the bed I find it so soft, so comfortable... Suddenly it is 18:00, dark... Everyone else has fallen asleep too, so I don't feel like I've neglected our guests.
We go out, and sit with them. I'm asking Tyran where he wants to go, offering to drive him to get him out of my hair. He hasn't done anything particularly offensive, but I just have this bad feeling about him, that maybe isn't even justified. But before I can get rid of him, Rorn needs dinner, and this means feeding him too, and so we spend pretty much the last of our money on fish'n'chips for everyone.
After dinner we sit around. Eventually it's about 21:00, and Rorn practically kicks us out, saying that I should take Sammy to k5k's house. So I take her and Tyran, and drop Tyran off somewhere down Dominion Road, and then head back up Dominion Road to k5k's house. It's really a long time before we go to do his radio show, and so we sit on the couch.
Sammy has been quiet all day, and nothing's really changed. We sit on the couch with k5k and play Tony Hawk's Skateboarding on the Playstation. Sammy doesn't spend her time playing Playstation, so she's not so good at it, but to her merit she doesn't get too frustrated. It helps that I can't figure out how to control it either. It's still a long time though, and we're a little bored. I feel sorry for Sammy that this is the best we have to offer her.
Funboy arrives as we start playing GTA London, which Sammy can't control at all (not surprisingly: it's got a pretty stupid control system in my opinion) and soon enough it's time to go. We hop in the van and drive to the university.
48 Sonic is cheerful as always, and today his pug dog Coco is running around. She jumps on Sammy a lot, and sprays her. It's pretty crazy. And then the Sonic is out, and it's time for the show. I'm really tired, but I soldier on. I'm feeling very sorry for Sammy though: I can't help but feel she doesn't really want to stay up this late just to sit on a couch and watch us DJ noise music. The phone rings and someone wants to listen to Jurassic 5, or something like that. I tell him to keep listening, and that we'll play it soon. It wasn't gonna happen.
The DJ following us is later than we expect, and as the clock rolls past 02:30, I'm really feeling burnt. Still, k5k knows the solution: "If you're feeling tired, play the music louder and faster". As a jazz record slinks around under k5k's broken beats and noise, the phone rings again! I'm very excited, because we hardly ever get phone calls, and now it's two in one night.
It's a guy with an English accent: "What are you doing? Oh please, make it stop! I've had the flu all week and you're giving me a headache!" - "Oh really? That's fantastic!" - "I mean, the jazz is great and all, but the noise... what are you doing? It's awful! Absolutely awful!" - "It's industrial-jazz. Do you really think it's awful?" - "Yes, it's awful. Please stop it. What are you doing? You're giving me a headache!"
At this point I decide to get all apologetic: "Oh, I'm so sorry. Boy, we'll stop it right away. Thank you for telling me the error of my ways. Oh boy, I'll never do it again". This guy isn't really listening to my sarcasm, he sounds kind of drunk and keeps talking to some other English sounding guy that's there with him. "What do you want us to play then? Do you want us to play some Spice Girls?" - "Oh, um, no, that would be better, but still awful. Do you have any Cliff Richard?" - "You want us to play some Cliff Richard?". Everyone is laughing at this, and k5k cues up a song that has a Spice Girls sample, which induces a groan from this guy.
I tell him that we'll look to see if we can find some. I'm getting bored of talking to him, so I hand him around. He seems to spend most of his time jabbering to the person he's with, not listening to anything we say. Occasionally he'll start singing "We're all going on a summer holiday..." Funboy ends up jabbering back to him in gibberish. I think we hung up on him in the end.
The next DJ arrives, and he's in the CD room picking out stuff he wants to play on his shift. I tell him that someone has rung up requesting Cliff Richard, and he says "Not on my fucking show. No fucking way". We get out of the station about 03:00, and then drop k5k off. I was thinking that Funboy would be coming back with us, but he'd made arrangements to stay at Sonny's, so I dropped him off there and headed home.
So, it's about 04:00 by the time I fall asleep. The alarm goes off at about 08:45, and I get up. It's Monday morning, time to take Sammy to court. I'm really tired, and I think Sammy is even more tired. Somehow we manage to get there on time, and find a carpark right by the court building. The meter is $3 for one hour, which is a lot of the money I have left. I'm not hopeful that we'll be out of there in an hour, but it might happen, depending on how easy it is to get it transferred to Wellington.
We find the Youth Court, and take the elevator up there. It's 09:30, just like it says on the summons the police gave Sammy. The lights are out and nobody's there. I can't quite believe this. When I'm this tired this seems like some kind of crazy dream. We catch the lift back down to the ground floor. It stops at the floor below the Youth Court, and a whole bunch of well-dressed, white, 30- or 40-something middle-class looking people get on. When I get to the bottom I look at the floor directory. It seems that these people have come from the Jury assembly area. It doesn't surprise me.
We walk back down to the other end of the building, and check the lists of when everyone is appearing. Sammy's name isn't even on it. I go to the information desk, and after waiting about twenty minutes, we get served, and the guy tells us that Sammy is scheduled for 11:30. I can't fucking believe this. They could have told us that we didn't have to get up so early.
We go back down to the Youth Court, and there's still no one there. A lawyer turns up, and seems as surprised as we were that no one is there. I suddenly think that maybe the guy at the information desk can get it transferred to Wellington for Sammy, and seeing as nothing is happening here, we go back down to ask the guy. We wait another 20 minutes or so to get served, but he can't help us with that. It was a long shot anyway.
When we go back this time there's a little more action. We sit for a while, wondering whether she'll be able to get a transfer without having to plead guilty first, as is standard practise. But the parking-meter has almost run out. I ask Sammy if she thinks that she'll be OK while I go and move the van somewhere else. I'm feeling bad about not being able to support her through this. She consents, and I go back to the van, and drive it down to Victoria Park Markets, where there is parking. Here it is only about $2 an hour, and so I'm able to buy about 90 minutes with my remaining money. This is gonna give me through to about 12:15. I'm hoping that we can be out of here in time.
I run back to the court buildings, uphill all the way, and when I get there this time I find it full of people. All of them look quite poor, most of them are Maori or Pacific Islanders. Sammy is nowhere to be seen, so I figure she's in one of the little rooms talking to the lawyers that are on duty. I see the one she's in and walk in to see what's up, but the lawyer yells at me to get out, and so I go and sit down.
In a little while Sammy comes out. She's just been discussing with the lawyer the bit of paper they give you that has the police's version of events on it. Sammy's saying "I can't believe this! It says I spat on the police, but really they'd given me a glass of water after they'd pepper-sprayed me, and I spat it out onto my face because my face was all burning from the pepper-spray. Fuckin' cunts."
Now there was nothing to do but wait until they called her into the court room in front of the judge. We waited and waited as they called in one person after another. Down the other end of the waiting room was a large Island family, with all their small children in tow. The children wanted to run around and have fun, but the adults would scoop them up and whack them and tell them to be quiet and sit still. You can tell that this violence in public is just a taste of what it's like at home for these children. Child abuse is a big issue here at the moment, and me and Sammy sit mutely, unsure at how to communicate to these people that they are wrong. Silence is complicity, and I'm tired, and angry already from being here having my time wasted by the judicial system. It's not going well today.
A homie girl who called a Sammy a freak goes downstairs for a cigerette and misses her name being called. We laugh. Finally it's Sammy's turn. She goes in, and comes out about five or ten minutes later. She's laughing. She managed to get a transfer down to Wellington without having to enter a plea. But her bail notice says that she isn't to drink any alcohol: it's like she said to the judge: how do you stop an alcoholic from drinking?
Now the court clerk takes her to the information desk down the other end of the building, and tells her they'll have the necessary forms for her in about ten minutes. So it's time for more sitting and waiting. But we're almost out, so I again ask Sammy if it's OK if I go get the van and bring it back here: I figure the timing should be nice. She consents, and so I run back down the hill to Victoria Park Markets again.
I drive the van to the courthouse, and slowly drive past, expecting to see her sitting outside by now. But she isn't. Luckily, just around the corner I manage to find a ten minute parking zone, which I'm hoping will suit my needs. I rush into the building, and find that Sammy is still sitting there, waiting. I sit down by her. We're tired. Presently they come, and make her sign her bail form, saying that she won't drink.
We go out to the van, and drive home. We're tired. We sit around all afternoon. In the evening we go to the supermarket and buy a six-pack of beers for Rorn and Sammy to drink. I think we were in bed by midnight.
At 05:30 the alarm goes off, and I go into the lounge and wake Sammy up. It's quite cold and still dark. I drive her into town and drop her off at the Grafton on-ramp, where she should easily be able to get a ride down the motorway. And then I go back home and go back to sleep. It's all finally over...
