Money Magic

Having suffered defeat after defeat in trying to reach London, I arrived back in Sydney penniless, and no still closer to my goal of training to be a teacher of Alexander's Discovery.

I moved back home – having lived independently for the last four years. I cosied up in my all yellow bedroom, licking my wounds and determined that I was still on the right path. Soon I got a job delivering liquor in Mosman in an old Mazda Bongo van, and a night job as a cocktail waiter at a local Pancake house.

One incident stands out in my memory.

In my past life as an actor, I had shared a house in Fitzroy Street Surry Hills with Terry Camilleri and my sister Liz, both actors; and Phil - a tall guy from London with a cockney accent and an infectious smile.

"Let me look after the rent." Phil promised - and we did, innocents that we were.

Three months later a notice to vacate the premises arrived. Our rent had not been paid. Of course, we went to Phil:

"I've been paying it every week!" he claimed.

Oh yeah Phil, sure. I never condemned him or ended our friendship. I knew he was a rascal from the start; I just never imagined he would betray me. 

Of course he left, and I was clear with him: "You ripped us off mate."

Oddly, we stayed friends. I think that confused him. He didn't expect that. From my side it was simple – I still liked the guy. I laughed at his audacity – even his friends weren't safe!

But that was three years ago now, and since my enlightenment experience, we'd lost touch.

Then one day, guess who turns up at my cocktail bar?

Phil. 

He didn't say much, just:

"I believe I owe you some money."

I nodded. Phil then handed over a fat wad of cash that both covered my plane fare to London and left some besides. 

Whoopee! Money Magic.

Finally, I was on my way to London…