Sydenyham

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Thursday 8th

Having integrated my Melbourne visit into sights in the last blog. Let me just say that I recommend it highly. Do go if you're in the area.

On the last night I went out with a couple of French sorts (as they used to say in 1980s hit sitcom 'Only Fools and Horses' ) to the pubs in Fitzrovia which on the one hand is not dissimilar from the name sake area of London, but on the other hand is well different. We "hit" a few bars until about 2 o'clock in the MORNING (I know, crazy) and exchanged drinking games, finally reconciling centuries of mutual hatred and conflict between our two bitter nations over a game of drink -knick-knack-paddy-whack-give-a-dog-a-bone. Not a word of thanks from either of our countries' leaders.

After sightseeing as outlined in the previous blog entry (what? did you think I'd done it all in one day? Who do you think I am? Dean Cain?*) I caught the night-train back to Sydney. NOW HOLD ON. I can tell what you're burning to ask:

Phil, Phil, you remember last time when the train was delayed by 3 hours? Did it run on time this time round?

Thanks for asking. Before I tell you the answer, let me just say that I arrived at the station in plenty of time, only to learn that there was an initial delay not because of signal failure, leaves on the track (or trees) or flooding or anything but that "the company which manages the line had put a speed restriction on the track because the track is very old and in need of repair". But it had been like this a week - so trains were 100%!d(MISSING)elayed every day! JUST CHANGE THE F*ING TIMETABLES YOU MORONS!

At the platform there was a guy who looked wise about trains (I'll let you fill in the visuals) and hovered, seeing me on my own, presumably eager to share his knowledge. I tried my best to look disinterested, I really did. But as with the cases of Robert Lewis and Chris from next door, my attempts at appearing disinterested were unnoticed. Or ignored.

"All those people queuing at coach E? They've nooo idea that the train'll move back 10 metres in about 2 minutes, and they'll be in completely the wrong area of the platform (he was somehow from Macclesfield without actually being from Macclesfield - he was Australian). Yeah, they normally fill up from D, then C, then E. So you're safe setting up here."

"Thanks"

"Yeah the old class 5 is reliable, but it's only got a 12 stroke slip-diff on the axle sprocket , but judging by the serial number I'd say this old hog's been in commission 20 years."

Just then the train moved back to refuel and this guy looked at me with the look of a Euromillions jackpot winner who's woken up next to Teri Hatcher**.

Please don't be sitting in the seat next to me all night... please... I prayed

Fortunately I wasn't placed next to him - he was the other side and a couple of seats down. I did sit next to a middle-aged Irish woman instead and was so pleased not to be sitting next to Dave the trainspotter that I started chatting away with her. Sadly, like many middle-aged ladies e.g. Mrs. Murray at primary school and Mrs. Sumner and Hepplestone in secondary school, her breath reaked, so I had to maintain eye contact peripherally, taking care to breath through a gap in the far side of my lips.

ALRIGHT CALM DOWN. The wait is over. The answer is that the train was delayed by 2 hours. Why? Well the reason was, and I quote with Aussie accent: "it can't be helped."

<span>Friday 9th

I think I already mentioned that the road names of Sydney seem to have come from someone writing down the names of London of playing cards, shuffling them, standing on a road in Sydney and then saying: pick a card, any card.

See if you can spot what's wrong...

Bayswater leads into King's Cross, which is due north of Paddington. Oxford St leads from Paddington then forks into Liverpool St. Chiswick is North, Lewisham is out west along with Dulwich.... and I'll stop the torture there (I can hear all you Londoners shouting "WHAT?!" incredulously with each passing Geographical shuffle. If you didn't go "WHAT?!" after each phrase in this paragraph, go back and read it again, saying "WHAT?!" after each phrase).

I got back home about 9am, had a shower then went out with Jim to the harbour. It was a lovely day and the sun was shining (sort of implied in the 'lovely day' bit, I suppose), so naturally after taking a tram into town we went to the pub, stopping only to go to Paddy's Market, which sold knocked-off clothes, pointless porcelain kangaroos and foodstuffs. Nice, but nothing like Queen Victoria market in Melbourne. This will not be the first time Sydney loses out to Melbourne. At the end of these blogs I'll reveal which city I preferred, but until then it'll have to remain a mystery...

We went to pick up the kids, but realised we were half and hour early, and since Jim is paying $6billion weekly fees, decided one should get one's monies' worth(s'?), so found a pub and got some Sushi.

Jimal very kindly arranged delivery of a floral gift for my mother's birthday on Saturday. I'm remaining a worthwhile son by the skin of Jim's teeth. Thank God for Jimal! Early night tonight, cos tomorrow Jim and I fly out to Brisbane - 4am get-up time. I can safely say that waking up at 4am is the worst thing to have ever happened to anyone ever, in the history of the universe.







*I am not, being more slender and not having copped off with Teri Hatcher. Although I do differentiate between glasses and contact lenses and - like Dean - I often put my contacts in after dressing, resulting in my underwear on the outside of my trousers.

**Teri Hatcher in the New Adventures of Superman days, not Desperate Housewives, by which time things had changed, youth-wise.

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