Chicago Cows and the 3Arts Club

Sunday Breakfast- Three Arts Club

“Too much of life goes to waist in middle age.”
(anon)

Mitzie shows up for breakfast ready for church. She enjoys the social life, and she is looking for confirmation from us that her latest purchase is indeed a bargain .
Its a fun fur which has clearly seen a lot of fun. She gives us a twirl.
“ Only 20 bucks.” We nod and make approving noises more for her sheer enthusiasm, her zest for life, for a woman in their mid 60s, rather than her choice of clothing which is always at the best of times a little suspect.
I make a mental note to ask her sometime where she finds all these second hand shops, certainly not in the Gold Coast area.
“You’ve heard the news?’
“Nope”
Mitzie is always the first to hear of gossip within the Three Arts.
“Phillipa has lodged an official complaint against the Club on grounds of sexual discrimination!”
We nearly choke, collectively, on our breakfast.

Greta, the young German lawyer studying internet law in the States is the first to regain her composure. She leans forward:
“Tell us more.”
“Well, you know Phillipa ....(everybody knows blonde dizzy Phillipa with her string of boyfriends)well, she claims the Club is discriminating against heterosexuals cause she is not allowed to have any of her boyfriends stay the night whereas the gay women can have their lovers.”
“She has a point”, says Greta. “ It will be interesting to see how the officials here deal with it.”
“I can tell you,”says Jodie, ever the pragmatist. ”She will be told to get lost.”
This prompts Greta to tell us of a new crime in America.

“Girls are blackmailing their fathers over alleged incest. It goes like this:” Give me money for a new pair of shoes/dress/car/holiday or I will say you abused me when I was six years old.”
“Fathers,” says Greta” are paying up rather
“Fathers,” says Greta” are paying up rather than risk the bad publicity.”
“Neat,” says Jodie.
“It’s a new crime. Nobody knows how to deal with it.”
Rita drifts in, tousled, unwashed in a tracksuit which she has slept in.
“Looks like you had quite a night,” says Jodie raising her eyebrows.
Rita nods.
“Suzanne.”
Ah...a collective intake of breath around the breakfast table.
“She’s down from New York for a few days.”

Her appearance is extraordinary even by New York standards, the result of two unsuccessful face lifts and blonde hair that has been experimented on by eager young New York stylists aiming to make a name for themselves with adventurous colours, not that Suzanne cared for, what the heck!, it’s all done free.

“Have you told them the news? I’ve been sacked!”
Rita shrugs.
She is still on her first shot of caffeine.
“I haven’t told them.”

It would be difficult to put an age on Suzanne or to think what kind of job she could still be doing.

“You tell them!”
“I have been sacked from my job as a Life Saver at my local pool.’

We exchange glances around the table, clearly we all had the same thought: if we were drowning did we really want Suzanne saving our life?

”They found out I’m 79 years of age”, said Suzanne helping herself to some of my spare pancakes and syrup.

“Oh my God!” shrieks Maddy “what kind of woman wants to save lives at 79 years of age?”

Suzanne gets huffy:
“I can swim.”

Greta leans forward and asks in her quiet earnest Germanic way: ”How
many times have you been called upon to jump in and save a life?”
“Never!.. that’s my point all these New York kids can swim so its no big deal that I sit there for a couple of hours a day.”


Suddenly I see the time. Ten o’ clock. I am due in Maxwell St to start making my video.

“Sorry gotta go.”
A rumour has reached me that over the Millennium celebrations there was a big fire in the area.
So how much of the Wood Lot remains?