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Bec gets scared she’ll be raped by bikies at a Paul Simon concert at a hotel in Newcastle

They had driven from Toowoomba to the Hunter Valley for a Paul Simon concert and booked a lovely B&B for a romantic Easter long weekend. At the last minute the concert was moved to Newcastle. Luckily, Matt was able to find some accommodation close to the new venue. It wasn’t quite the Hilton.

Matt: Oh my god, this is so exciting Darling! Paul Simon tonight, and because we’re so close to the Entertainment Centre we can have a few drinks and walk home!

Bec: Yep.

Matt: What do you mean ‘yep’, aren’t you excited? It’s Paul Simon! You’ve always wanted to see Paul Simon, and now we’re here. You should be excited! I’m excited!

Bec: Yep.

Matt: The venue is just across the train lines there. You can just about see it.

Bec: My feet are sticking to the floor.

Matt: That’s the sign of a good hotel. If your feet stick to the carpet, you know it’s popular.

Bec: This isn’t a hotel. This is a pub.

Matt: A pub is technically a hotel. And besides, it’s a nice pub.

Bec: What’s the difference between a Hells Angel and a Commanchero?

Matt: I don’t know. Is that a joke?

Bec: No, a bunch of them just walked in. I want to know who I’m being raped by.

Matt: I think you’ve got your worst case scenario thinking pants on again Sweetheart. Nobody is going to rape you.

Bec: Well, you certainly won’t be going there tonight. I bet the bed has fleas. Have you seen Young Einstein? That’s what our room will look like. I’m not taking my jeans off.

Matt: Nope, it will be lovely. I’ll get the manager so he can show us the room.

Bar Chick: What are you drinking?

Matt: Yes, hello. We have a room booked under the name Granfield.

Bar Chick: A what?

Matt: A room. Granfield. I booked on the website?

Bar Chick: What website?

Matt: Your website.

Bar Chick: We have a website?

Matt: Yes.

Bar Chick: I’ll go and get the manager.

Bec: Stop looking at her boobs.

Matt: I wasn’t looking at her boobs.

Bec: You had to have been looking at her boobs. She was topless. I can’t believe we’re staying in a topless bar. I’m not staying here. I’ll drive home.

Matt: It will be fine.

Manager: Hello.

Matt: Yes, hello. We booked a room on the website. Under the name Granfield.

Manager: Oh yes.

Matt: I was wondering if we could have the key please.

Manager: Hmm.

Matt: Would that be OK?

Manager: Yes, I’ll just have to find the key.

Matt: OK.

Bec: That’s not a good sign.

Matt: It’s fine. He’s just going to find the key.

Manager: I can’t find the key.

Matt: I see.

Manager: It’s all good though. The door doesn’t lock anyway.

Matt: OK.

Manager: Follow me. The room’s upstairs.

Matt: OK.

Bec: Oh god. Don’t even think about checking into this ‘hotel’ on Facebook. If Dad sees it he’ll kill you.

Matt: It’s all good. I should warn you though, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but often in hotels like this…

Bec: You mean biker pubs like this.

Matt: Often in hotels like this, there won’t be a bathroom or toilet in the room. So we’ll have to share with the other guests.

Bec: I love how you choose to tell me that now. You’re like walking fine print.

Manager: So here’s the toilet. And if you follow me down the hall a bit… The shower is in this, well, cupboard here… And then the room is at the end of the hall there. Are you OK with a twin room? You’re not on your honeymoon or anything?

Bec: A twin room is fine. I can tell you right now, we won’t be having s…

Matt: Soap.

Manager: Yep, that’s on the pillows. Any other questions?

Bec: Whispering to Matt – If the soap is used, we’re leaving.

Matt: No, I think we’re all good. Thank you very much.

Manager: Righto then. Just, well, I’ll see you in the morning.

Matt: OK

Bec: How much did we pay for this place?

Matt: $120. It was the closest hotel to the Entertainment Centre. The website said it was located in an ‘entertainment hub’.

Bec:  Yes, if you like trainspotting and fist fights between rival motorcycle gangs.

Matt: C’mon, let’s just dump our stuff and get some food. There was a bistro downstairs.

Bec: We’re not eating here. I’m going to the bathroom. While I’m gone, get on Urban Spoon and find somewhere to have dinner.

Matt: OK.

Bec: I’m back.

Matt: That was quick.

Bec: There was blood on the hand basin. I couldn’t even wash my hands.

Matt: I’m sure it wasn’t blood.

Bec: OK. Maybe it was tomato sauce.

Matt: Let me check it out. I need to wee anyway.

Bec: You always need to wee.

Matt: It wasn’t blood.

Bec: What was it then?

Matt: It was just a chip in the vanity top. I think it was once painted red.

Bec: We’re not staying here. What if I have to go to the toilet in the middle of the night?

Matt: I thought you said you weren’t taking your jeans off?

Bec: Ha ha. I’m not going to the toilet in the middle of the night here. I’ll get raped.

Matt: There’s a servo over the road. I’ll go and buy you a bucket. You can wee in that.

Bec: Really?

Matt: Why not?

Bec: OK.

Matt: While I’m gone, you can check for cockroaches.

Matt: I’m back. I got you a yellow bucket.

Bec: Well, do you want the good news?

Matt: Sure!

Bec: There’s no cockroaches.

Matt: See! I told you.

Bec: The bed is full of ants though.

Matt: No it’s not.

Bec: Yes it is. See.

Matt: That’s not full of ants. There’s only like…. Ten of them. Eleven. Maybe fifteen.

Bec: They’re eating something with hair on it.

Matt: I’ll drive home tonight.

Bec: I thought you might.


Mosquito number 17.

Mosquito #17

It had been a pleasant drive. Five hours from Toowoomba to Armidale. The poplars of the New England Highway flickering in the Autumn sunset. Spotify had been on ‘folk’ for much of the time, except for when Bec wasn’t looking and Matt had created a Skrillex playlist. Matt had weed only 17 times, Bec had secured her pillows properly on the back seat, so they wouldn’t be (according to Matt) “decapitating missiles”. They were making great time, and nearing a guesthouse where they had arranged an overnight stay.

Bec: Let’s just call to confirm the booking.

Matt: I booked online last night, I’ve got the confirmation number. It’ll be fine.

Bec: OK … Do you have anything interesting to talk about?

Matt: No. Well actually, do you know much about Armidale? Could you please Google it and find out some of the history? I think it’s a very historic town. They had a bushranger there called Captain Moonshine. He made beer for all the men of the forest and stole money from the Sheriff to give to the brewery. He lived in a cave called ‘Captain Morgan’s Cave’.

Bec: Wow. How interesting. I’ll give the guesthouse a call.

Turns out the homestead hadn’t received the booking, due to an internet problem, but a room was available. Matt and Bec arrived, had three courses of wine with a side of dinner, then collapsed into bed.

Bec: Pssst. Darling, wake up! There’s a mosquito!

Matt: Huh? What? You want to have sex?

Bec: No, there’s a mosquito.

Matt: Maybe if we have sex you won’t notice it.

Bec: _____________.

Matt: Okay, where is it?

Bec: There! Up near the roof.

Matt: This ridiculously ornate ceiling is too high. I’ll never reach it. I thought in olden days people were supposed to be little. Like Paul Simon.

After fifteen minutes of chasing mosquitoes around the room with a rolled up sock (Matt attests 15 seconds), about three mosquitoes were killed.

Matt: There’s another one!  Oh god. They’re everywhere.

Bec: Arrrgh. Maybe we can turn the fan on high over the bed, so at least they won’t come near our faces and we can sleep?

Bec goes to turn the fan on, but it doesn’t work. She resumes scowling in bed / contributing significantly (depending on who you talk to).

Bec: Matt, one’s here!

Matt: Shhh!

Bec: But it’s here!

Matt: Shhh! I can’t hear it if you’re talking.

Bec: Where are they coming from?

Matt: Less yakking, more attacking.

Matt: I think I spotte…

Bec and Matt eventually get tired of yelling at each other swatting mosquitoes, and go to bed.

They wake at 8.00am. Or rather, Matt wakes at 8.00am…

Bec: Ugggggh. I’ve had zero sleep. I feel like shit. I look like shit.

Matt: I got some sleep. I feel pretty good.

Bec: When are you next lecturing on empathy? I feel it’s a strength of yours.

Matt: Don’t you care that I feel OK? I have to drive to the Hunter Valley today. I thought you’d be happy I was in good shape and high spirits.

Bec: Sorry darling. I’m glad you’re okay. I tried to pull the sheet over me to protect myself from the stupid things, but I couldn’t breathe. It was suffocating.

Matt: I did the same, but I made a breathing apparatus.

Bec: Of course you did.

At breakfast they agree to make a complaint to the manager, and head back to the room beforehand, to pack up.

Bec: There must be at least 17 mosquitoes squashed on the walls, and that’s just the ones on the walls. Make sure you videotape all the squash marks, so if we end up slamming them on Trip Advisor, we can’t be done for defamation.

Matt: That’s not going to happen.

Bec: We could end up in jail if there’s no evidence!

Matt: For writing a bad review? Don’t be silly.

Bec: You can make the video recording and do all the commentary and jokes?

Matt: Okay!

Two nights afterwards Matt takes Bec to a hotel room, in a pub, that prompts Bec to consider buying a bucket. To be continued.


Generosity with Matt

Is a bird in the pan worth a bite of ham?


Matt returns from a quick visit into Coles, opens the car door

Matt: I’ve got everything for dinner, AND, I got myself a little treat!

Bec: Yay! What’d you get darling?

Matt: I got some Rollo desserts. They were one for $2.55 or three for $5, so I got three – nom nom nom!

Bec: Nice! They’ll be delicious. Did you get me a little treat too?

Matt: Umm…

Bec: Umm?

Matt: Erm.

Bec: I’ll take that as a no then.

Matt: SURPRISE, of course I got you a treat!

Bec: Oh, you’re so sweet. Thank you darling, what did you get?

Matt: I got you, are you ready …. Nacho chips!

Bec: Aren’t we having nachos for dinner?

Matt: Yes

Bec: So nacho chips aren’t really a ‘treat’ then, are they.

Matt: Yes they are.

Bec: That’s like me saying the onion I bought for the spaghetti bolognaise last night is your treat.

Matt: I like onion.


Matt: I brought the washing in for you!

Bec: That’s very nice of you.

Matt: Yep, and it’s all folded and put away.

Bec: Oh darling, you didn’t have to do that.

Matt: I know you’re busy so I thought I’d help.

Bec: Thank you.

Bec goes into bedroom, notices all Matt’s clothes put away and hers still scattered on the bed.

Bec: So, when you said “It’s all folded and put away”, you actually meant all YOUR clothes were folded and put away, but mine are laying in a crumpled heap on the bed.

Matt: I guess so.

Bec: Well, thank you for at least bringing my clothes in. That was nice of you.

Matt: I know, right?


Matt: Darling I think we have a mouse problem again!

Bec: Oh no! Really? Did you see a mouse?

Matt: No, I didn’t see it, but we’ve got one. One of them has eaten a big chunk out of your pizza.

Bec: That does look an awful lot like you’ve taken a bite out of my pizza.

Matt: Nope.

Bec: I can actually see your teeth marks in it, and you’ve left the crust. Like you do.

Matt: It’s only a little bite. I just wanted to taste it.

Bec: It’s a ham and pineapple pizza.

Matt: I’ve never tasted ham and pineapple pizza before.

Bec: You take a bite of mine every time we get pizza.

Matt: Nope.

Bec: Even if that wasn’t true, which it is, you told me you worked at Dominos at uni, so I know you’ve tasted ham and pineapple pizza. In fact, I’m pretty sure your cooking blog has a ham and pineapple pizza recipe on it.

Matt: Maybe. Hey, look, I’ve replaced the piece I stole with a piece of chicken from my pizza. As you can see, it perfectly fits the gap, so there’s no net loss of pizza. In fact, you’ve come out ahead because you’ve effectively traded stupid dough for delicious chicken.

Bec: I didn’t want chicken, I wanted ham and pineapple, that’s why I ordered ham and pineapple.