Sydney Life

Ahh, never before have song lyrics so accurately described two people.

And thus, in the tradition of Laverne and Shirley, Butch and Sundance, and Will and Grace (he's going to shoot me for that one), our friendship was formed.

Well, you've decided to leave us and I can only say that it is our loss. Mine, in particular.

Who will I ring when I need directions to...anywhere?

Who else will scream at me for wearing cork-wedged heels?

Who will tell me to 'move that car seat right now!!' and then tell me every single safety reason for this..?

Who will stop me when I am being 'patronising'? (And then proceed to tell me that, it's ok, it's not something I can help...I should come to terms with the fact that whatever comes out of my mouth sounds insincere.)

And most importantly, who else will listen to me shoot off this kind of crap?

Oh, B, I'll miss you!

For those who don't know Brendon, let me tell you a story. Sit back, put your lavender eye patches on, take a deep breath and rewind to January, 2006. Ah, the good old days.

It was a stormy, miserable afternoon: the gods were angry that day.

To preface this, I have to tell you a bit about me. I am a little bit attached to my jewellery. And I adore my shoes. But I think I may have been born with a handbug slung over my shoulder. I lust after clutches and totes like Mary-Kate Olsen longs for a cheeseburger. I'm in love with handbags the way that Heath Ledger is in love with...himself.

But I digress - this is supposed to be about Brendon, not me.

At the post-Christmas sales, I purchased a gorgeous new tote. (I promise, this is all Brendon-related.) Nice and roomy, great colour, very snazzy. I adore it.

So on this dismal afternoon, some horrid lout took it upon themselves to rob me of my happiness. They stole my bloody bag!

Brendon caught wind of the theft and swiftly chased after the villain.

I expected fireworks, sound effects, punches to fly...mayhem and terror not to be witnessed by women and children!

But Brendon, being Brendon, actually NEGOTIATED with the bandit.

Don't get me wrong, I was thankful to have my bag safely returned, I was just surprised that it was through pleading and withering looks.

Recently, I received one of the highest honours life can bestow. Forget Nobels and Bookers; you can keep your Purple Hearts and even your knighthoods.

For I have been appointed best friend of Brendon. Aside from the fact that I can sleep at night, I now consider myself part of a very special team of consultants, ready to guide this hapless lad through the treachery and debauchery that is one's 22nd year of life.

(He, for the record, claims he only chose me because he wanted to tease me without reprimand, but I know better!)

So, Brendon, this is goodbye and good luck, from Sydney Uni at least.

I'll miss seeing you outside lectures (interestingly, I've never seen you inside...) and hearing your tales of 'campus identities' (for you know so many more than I do.)

Thanks for being yourself: you make me laugh, and you also laugh at me (which is great, as it makes me believe my jokes are somewhat amusing.)

I know I can always count on you (and I mean that more sincerely than I can ever sound!)

You're a truly tops bloke, and I love you like a rock.

Loz