Escaped - Again!

Drove to the north shore today to collect our new car. Illawong Jack almost died in the heat on the return journey. His future is now unclear because if he’s got major problems then it’s probably not worth the money to fix them. We need to investigate but as with many things, we don’t have the time.

The new car is manual so took a bit of getting used to again. We drove back over the harbour bridge because Darren missed his turning for the tunnel. It wasn’t until the car was screaming for a gear change that I remembered (the view being something of a distraction – I still can’t go over the bridge without whooping loudly, and shouted “how do you like them apples?” today for good measure).

This afternoon I made another dash for freedom in the direction of the train station at Bondi Junction while Darren took Ella to the park at Fox Studios. It's always a risk leaving men in charge of small childen. When I arrived back at the flat there was no answer to the doorbell or Darren's mobile. Eventually I got in, where I found Ella in a nappy soaked wet through to her trousers and the grillpan literally on fire as Darren was struggling to cook a sausage for her tea. I wasn't sure what to say, so just said "it's on fire", which at least alerted him to the situation while I got on with the nappy change.

Had a second shot at clothes shopping in downtown Sydney today , this time a little more savvy about the shops and loitering outside with the necessary facial expression rather than actually going in. Some of the fashion is a bit iffy. I have flashes of living at Porpoise Spit (in the manner of Muriel from Muriel’s wedding). Went into the Strand shopping arcade, a gorgeous building, to the jewellers who made my wedding ring. The same jeweller was sitting in the same chair as though he hadn’t moved in four years.

Later I sat in a café at Circular Quay watching the Manly Ferry arrive and depart and admiring the view of the harbour. Is there any better view?


This evening we booked a babysitter and headed downtown, where we joined the throngs in the Opera Bar before settling on the grass at Circular Quay to watch the England Australia day/night match on the big screen. It was a really tight finish – the Australian captain, Ricky Ponting, just doesn’t know what to do with himself when the ockers lose.

There’s an advert on the TV at the moment blaming the 2005 ashes defeat on the fact that none of the squad had a moustache (previous moustaches of David Boon and Merv Hughes held up as examples). Incidentally, Merv Hughes is now advertising breakfast cereal in much the same way as Ian Botham advertises Shredded Wheat and Steve Waugh is advertising the David Jones department store. These guys were legends when I was a teenager and this is making me feel old (even Shane Warne has retired).

England won the match, as I thought they would. We have a history of losing the ashes and rallying for the one-day series. The media out here are rude about the English team, openly referring to them as a bunch of losers and brushing aside our victories as pointless. Sport is such a huge part of Aussie culture, to beat them is to challenge their raison d’etre. They don’t like it a bit.

After the English victory, we headed to the Horizons bar on the 36th floor of the Shangri-La hotel to celebrate, but they wouldn’t let us in because I was wearing thongs (flip-flops). Presumably I was a terrorist threat. We were livid because the hotel is approached via three steep hills, which we had climbed in anticipation of a long cocktail. Being turned away makes you feel so small. We got a taxi home instead.