We flew up Thursday night. Thanks to Qantas we left late and only just made it in time for Sydney's 11pm curfew. Then just made it the beautiful Camelot Motel (yep, it looked like it sounds) before they closed up the desk for the night. Then a quick run up to the Albury for a beer or ten. Then we crashed.
Friday. Dropped by Gowings for the compulsory underwear shopping. Saw Boy Pussy (it's a play you idiot) that night. Much more beer, yes a theme is emerging.
Saturday slept during the morning, went to the an exhibition in afternoon. We knew it was art because lots of the photos were in black and white. We did our bit to help clog up the Sydney water system by leaving no hair on our bodies untouched by scissors, rasors or clippers on returning. Dave and Ying came in for dinner with us them we all tried to see the Parade. Glad to see the Melbourne turnout...imagine, the shame of it all, that Sydney failed to put on a single troup of Marching Boys! We headed back to the second ugliest motel in the World and slipped into our frocks all ready for the Party. Hard to describe them. Imagine two boys in boots but wearing a couple of red (Dale) and blue (Grant) polkadot numbers - scoop neck, sleeveless, Princess cut bodice, half-thigh length A-lines. See, I told you that pattern making course and the Husqvarna would come in handy!
The Party is still a bit confused. We remember everything but in no particular order. Hardly surprising. Dale refused to wear the frock out to Recovery so we had to go home and shower and change. Now I ask you, what's a Recovery if you can't go looking like a tragic mess? At night visited a drippingly hot and wet pit in the ground who's name escapes me as I type. And that's how Sunday went.
Monday was spend sitting vaguely out at Watson's Bay eating fish and chips at Doyles and pondering the wonders of a nice sunny day and why we should go back to work or school.
Tuesday morning we felt very unpretty. But with an 8am flight we dragged ourselves out of bed and made it in time only to have Qantas do it to us again. This time they went one better. Powering down the runway and just getting lift they decided to throw on every brake they had. Fault. return to terminal. Sit there for 1 hour. Get off. No-one at Qantas tells passengers what to do. Very bad look indeed. We wander around. Get another flight at 9.40am. It's delayed. Delayed over Melbourne. Get home at 1pm. This is foul. Put me in the right mood to do an Business Strategy assgnment on Caterpillar Tractor Co and the Earth Moving Equipment industry I can tell you. After what we did to ourselves on the weekend I hope it's not too surreal. Actually that may help the grading???
Sydney has got a bit better at making coffee but still insist on making (in Melbourne terms) a lukewarm and rather tasteless mess. We can recommend the Japanese place in Victoria St - name escapes me but good food . Offer the waitress a kretek and she'll swap for a US-made menthol. Can also recommend ONCE in Liverpool St, Darlinghurst - medium rare steak was actually medium rare (as a rule, as you travel North in Australia you have to start compensating for a sick desire by cooks to prove how long a steak can remain on a grill).
Photos are coming....
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