Address || The 90’s
Thru the past four decades I have lived at many an address.
Reminiscing looking thru old photos I started googling my old addresses to see some of the places I have lived. I thought it would be fun to share with you a visual Address Book thanks to Google Maps & Street View.
It is funny looking back at the houses to see what has happened to them and how oddly they don’t fit my fond memories of the address anymore. Places either look way smaller, or super run-down or have simply been pulled down and rebuilt. This series starts with Part 3 – the 90’s. I will fill in with Part 1 – the 70’s and Part 2 – the 80’s as soon as I can get my parents to help fill in the gaps, but they are busy at the minute – of course MOVING. Yes they are the ones that have bred this gypsy lifestyle into my blood, having lived at over 40 addresses in 40 years and counting.
Here I lived with my parents, and my older brother. I was at Uni [University] at the time, and nothing of great significance happened while living here. Except that one night I was watching TV and on every channel there was a scene or something to do with motorcycles. The phone rang and it was the hospital, my middle brother had been in a motorcycle accident. The day before his 21st birthday. It is gross witnessing gravel being brushed out from someone’s skin with a wire brush.
When my parents owned this place – it was called the Citizens Park Hotel. Many an hour was spent cleaning this place cleaning up the after-math of drunken evenings and dirty old men wearing elbow marks into the bar. But those drunks and dirty old men paid for my private school education and helped pay for my University Degree so thank-you for being alcoholics, yes it is hard to believe that even from destruction comes good.
My first time renting and living outside the parental nest. What a blast it was! Thank-you Shirley Street, even if you were once a house filled with ladies of the night [no wonder all the cabbies knew our address]. We had many a laugh and gazillions of visitors to make living out of home so much fun. Such a shame that the beautiful garden that once hide the house from the street is no longer there.
The house of 100 roommates that was made from fibro-cement, lean too hard against the walls and you would go straight through to the garden. The location was unbelievable, you could hear the ocean at night. And Bronson [as in Charles Bronson] the Staffordshire bull terrier loved his pet blue tongue lizard he shared the backyard with until he accidentally bit his head off and then buried it in his bead to rot for weeks. I could have however done without having to rub zinc on his giant balls and balding nose that constantly got struck by sun.
The scene of a friend’s wedding hosted in the penthouse apartment, and the huge balcony that wrapped the entire unit allowing us to ride our bikes. I had two room-mates here – one that I moved out, changed the locks and called her parents to come collect their bulimic daughter with the drug dealer boyfriend who liked to weigh and cut up on my coffee table. YIKES!
Woodroffe Ave, shared with my roommate Michael who loved to do drag shows in my clothes, sadly he frequently looked better in my little black dresses than I did. This was the last address for me on the Gold Coast. I had become restless and I was seeking new experiences and challenges in life, fortunately a friend was seeking the same, so within weeks we had moved to New South Wales to see what new adventures life could provide us.
This house was a great deal and had awesome views, but sadly Adam and I when we moved in we were so broke, we had to use the toaster for heat, and lived off porridge and ramen noodles for a long time. Damn you Sydney for being so beautiful but so expensive. It was in this house that I would learn, waking with a hangover that Princess Diana had died. It was also the last address I lived at in Australia.
So still restless and unsure of what I wanted to do when I grew-up I decided that I would move to the UK via Canada just because I could and it sounded like a fun adventure. I moved by myself, packed all my belongings up and stored them with my parents [some of my stuff is still there], and headed to Vancouver for maybe 3-6 months. I borrowed cash from my brother and got on a plane with little to no plans. I have never looked back.
I had a great time living at the previous house, one of the guys I never saw, the other turned out to be a great friend. When Jerry went off traveling I decided to move out. I moved in with this hot-chick. She was a ‘Pharma Sales Rep / Aerobics Instructor’, going out with her meant I would never find a boy. We had fun with dinner parties and helping her renovate the house, including tiling the kitchen floor.
By now I had found a great job, and was even being sponsored for my permanent residence card. Oh-Vancouver how I miss you. I had such a rock-star life here, sailing and skiing took up all my spare time. Until I started traveling for work insane amounts. Then my apartment turned into an expensive storage locker and I hardly got to sleep in my own bed. When the offer to move with a transfer for work to the US came up – I said – why not, and moved to Chicago having never-ever been there.
Click here for Part 4 – the 00’s.