Sheet by Sheet

  We had arranged to meet some strangers from Perth for dinner at Chloe's Bar, upstairs at Young & Jacksons. We had never met them only knowing them through a non-government organisation on email. As he was the Treasurer of our organisation, we really wanted to impress them with our style and sophistication. Another couple from the same NGO joined us. It was a wild success. We all got on extraordinarily well and felt we had known each other for years. The food and wine were superb, the repartee witty - a truly delightful evening. As Melburnians we felt we had won the West. The time came to leave and I thought it best (at my age) to visit the loo. The group waited at the top of the stairs at Chloe's while I hastily flung my coat over my arm and dashed to the Ladies. I was as quick as I could be and after lingering at the head of the stairs to admire the ambience, we strolled out into Swanston Street . We felt we were such beautiful people! Such style! So poised, so soignee! We lingered for a while on the corner of Flinders, fondly farewelling our new found friends and arranging to meet them when we visited Perth . The out-of-towners were staying in a city hotel and started to walk back to it. Our local friends had offered to drive us home. With a warm afterglow of achievement we strolled back to their car - a luxurious BMW 5 - hopped in the back and were swiftly and sumptuously driven home. We thanked our friends effusively and went inside. As a result of copious fluids consumed - it became necessary for me to visit the bathroom again, but as I put my coat down - disaster! A still-wrapped toilet roll fell out. In my haste not to keep the others waiting, I must have inadvertently scooped up the toilet roll from Chloe's Rest Room in the bundle of my coat. Shuddering at the thought of all the social implications, I sincerely thanked my Guardian Angel as several horrendous scenarios flashed through my mind. Imagine if it had fallen out on the first floor and unfurled from the top of the stairs to their full length, cheekily bouncing (like Jaffas in a matinee) as it went? Imagine if I had dropped it on the corner of Flinders and Swanston on a busy Saturday night. Imagine if I had left it in the posh people's BMW 5? How to explain, and with what aplomb, that I was not a serial toilet tissue kleptomaniac? I still shudder at the thought. •  'And it's not as if it was the sort I like.' I explained to a friend. 'I always buy the one with little blue dolphins on it! Worse, ' I added, 'I'll feel guilty now - everytime I go to Chloe's Bar. What'll I DO?' 'You could return it slowly,' she suggested ' - sheet by sheet.' _______________ Leonie Christopherson.