Episode 2: Harley Street Bazzar

Episode 2.
Harley street house. Just writing the name sets of a chain of images and stories. It was a career share house, guaranteed that every party a different person would remark that they had been here before. A four bedroom, one and a half bathroom den of inequity, hard wood floors, high ceilings, a living room that was an obvious renovation. Fireplaces in every room that were prohibited from use, a kitchen that you could have a conversation with, a fridge that I dared not enter. The living room was tiled, with large French doors opening out into the quaint back patio, completely different style to the otherwise very traditional heritage abode. Harley Street had its own personality, a collection of those who had come before, died, cried, drank and sang.

I had taken over the room from my ex-girlfriend who at the time of me taking it over was still my girlfriend and lived there with two others. Kerry, the matriarch of the house, was and still is a delight and Xavier, the hilarious man-child, was and still is a great inspiration and mentor in comedy. There was many a night spent up till the wee hours of the morn drinking red wine, smoking, laughing, talking trash, acting out. Till the day I die I shall thank this house for my development, both emotionally and socially. I was very much still a boy, barely out of my teens and had not yet had that great and valuable experience of having lived with likeminded people.
While I was living at Harley Street we had two other housemates join our ranks. First there was Renato, now Renato is a good friend of mine and had recently graduated from WAAPA at the time of his entry into our motley ranks. He slept in the spare room, the smallest of the four, which Xavier later was found out was once inhabited by old school Perth comedian Nick the Hippy. Actually I just remembered a funny little story involving Nick and my friend James, but I doubt James would appreciate me telling it. Just trust me when I tell you its funny, bloody funny, in fact ask James next time you see him. Anyway, I digress, to cut a long boring story short Renato decided to make the great pilgrimage to the east coast like all actors fresh out of WAAPA do and he left. To be fair, it was a pretty sweet deal for him, he was only paying fifty dollars a week and was there a little longer than he had first alluded too and I think that grated on us three as a unit. It’s hard to come into a house, especially when you’re coming into a group of friends like we three. We had done the time together, we had a rhythm, we understood each other’s patterns. I knew the when to give Xavier his space, I knew never that he was possibly the worst morning person in the history of morning people and never ever to wake him from his mighty Greek slumber unless absolutely necessary or suffer the consequences. Something I exploited once to the detriment of my dear ally Wyatt, who I once convinced it would be hilarious to jump into bed with Xavier one night, needless to say the hairy bald man did not see the comedy in it. I knew not to bother Kerry when she was reading, or watching the last episode of Six Feet Under. I knew better, at least I did my best to remember to try to know better.


For a period after Renato there was harmony, we all looked after each other, we had a few kick ass parties, got horrendously drunk and/or stoned, even had a delightful dinner party (Kerry destroys at making a roast dinner). Then came Nellie, Nellie had been recommended by Andrea, she was from Melbourne and was studying law while also being quite the competent Comedian. As with all things it started out fine, she fitted right in, the drinking, the movies, the late nights. I’m not exactly sure how it began to go downhill with the two so I won’t pretend to but she and Kerry seemed to get on each other’s nerves and I’ll be honest, she did get on mine as well. I don't even remember why anymore, it was a while ago, but some people just shouldn’t live together. I didn’t not like Nellie, I still wanted to be her friend, but whether I was unwilling to yield and compromise or whether she was just hard to live with isn’t important, cracks had started to show and no amount of poly filler or alcohol could fix it. One evening when Nellie was out we three had a meeting and agreed that we would ask Nellie to leave; I have to say I had never done this before and didn’t know how to deal with it, so naturally I think I dealt with it pretty damn poorly. Xavier was the one man enough to take on the job of asking her and he did it extremely sensitively and deftly, but of course Nellie did not, nor should she. I never really told Nellie my feelings on the subject, I just kind of shut up shop in that regard. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what I did at the time, I just didn’t know what to say, pretty soon it got to the stage where I didn’t talk to her about it for so long I felt that it was pretty much impossible too. I mean, what could I say “I’m sorry; I was too much of a coward to talk to you about why I can’t live with you. I don’t hate you I just can’t sleep in the same house as you.” Probably, yes, that’s exactly what I should have said. But I didn’t, I let the gap grow wider and wider and now its effects can still be felt, there is still an awkwardness between Nellie and I. I try for there not to be but at the same time I can’t blame her for being shitty at me. I was instrumental in getting her out of the house. I’m sorry about that Nellie, I think we as a group handled you very badly and while I still believe you were difficult to live with, I think the manner in which all the situation was addressed was done poorly. But I guess that’s life, sometimes you get it right, but most of the time you could have done it all better. I know, poignant right? I’m a regular fucking Hemmingway.

After Nellie left the house relaxed, Harley was coming to an end and so we all sat back and tried to live out the last days of Harley conflict free. We all tried to make time for each other, we all tried to make space for each other, and then we left. We filled two skip bins with years of junk the career share house had collected, Xavier went to Melbourne, Kerry went to Ireland to be with the love of her life. I went to another house. In the end I realized that in a four bedroom share house, always leave a spare room and never be the last to leave a share house. You will always be left with two filled up Skips and an empty, house, and there is nothing more depressing than an empty share house.

I’m sorry Nellie.