23 May 2025
Friday. The man on the intercom has opened a second practice, on George Street, and he is insufferable about it.
It means Sydney now has three of my works under one roof: the coffins, the cell and the Butcher’s dining room. A dedicated guest could be buried, treated and invited to dinner in the same evening, provided they book each one separately and eat a sensible lunch.
Then the news from Perth. The padded cell at Northbridge has won an award, chosen from tens of thousands of escape games around the world. The cell. Not the coffins. Not me. The cheerful voice is now internationally recognised and has started signing the patient notes with a flourish.
I congratulated him through gritted teeth, which is difficult when the other man is also you.
I have moved the shovel to a more prominent position on the desk. It knows what it did for this family.
— U.


