absence makes the heart grow something

More fragments from my brief blogging hiatus this month.

The same guy who wheeled me through the "Walk" of Shame at the Bali airport was assigned to escort me through Customs on my second visit. We eyed each other uncertainly when we met again. Him not sure if he recognised me merely from the top of my head, since that was what he spent a good 15 minutes staring at while pushing the wheelchair. Me equally unsure, as I only remember his cheery voice. Finally, after casting surretitious glances at each other for a good five minutes at the conveyor belt, he asked apologetically, "This is not your first trip to Bali, is it?"

Finally, I can stop moonlighting as a property agent. I have a new housemate at last. Her name is Claire, she's a teacher from south London -- not far from where I used to live! -- who now teaches at a private school. We're still at the super-polite stage, still sussing each other out, not unlike the way scaredy cat Memphis is going about it. So far, she seems easy-going and friendly and clean.

It's terribly disconcerting to walk around a resort and have every bellboy, chambermaid and butler you run into greet you as "Miss Suzanne" in a singsong voice. How do they even know my name? And amazingly, no one calls me "Susan", even though my seamstress -- who has known me for more than a year -- still calls me that. Mousey constantly says my name to her in an attempt to subliminally correct her, but it hasn't worked. Oh, and my theme song should be Whitney Houston's My Name Is Not Susan.

We have two more mannequins to name. There is already Jaime -- sexually ambiguous name for a sexually ambiguous doll -- and Aubrey, our first girl mannequin. What to name the other two girls?

I got Skype and my webcam working, so talk to me! You can also watch me pottering around my room. So far, the only person I've used it with is my sissy who's in China.