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Published: January 24th 2012
Another picture of the Opera House from our balcony.
Ugh, don’t you just hate that going back to work feeling? Yup me to, no matter how much I love my job, I still hate going back to it after a break. At least it was only a half day. I spent the morning changing from one hotel to the other which was across the road. This day was really spent doing nothing. By the time they arrived it was lunch time, so we had a quick bite to eat in the hotel restaurant. The next stop on our trip was taking us to various places in Africa and later on to South America so HB needed to have her yellow fever jab, I think she was the only one at this point who had not had it. I can’t remember if the others did, I certainly did. Well Mr and Mrs G took HB off to get the jab while F and I stayed at the hotel, with the promise that they would be back in a few hours.
To pass the time F went for a walk around the waterfront to have a look at what was on offer that he liked the look at. He soon spotted these racing boats that take out lots of passengers, drive fast and get you very wet. Looked like rather good fun. He also decided that he wanted to the ghost tour of Sydney, hmmm not so sure on that one. Back at the hotel there was still no sign of the others, getting slightly concerned at this point as I had had no messages saying they were delayed. By 5pm and with no word from them F was starting to get worried that something had happened, so to take his mind of it we started to play a rather competitive game of Uno, I can’t remember who won. That isn’t me just saying that because I lost, I really don’t remember. 5:30 rolls around and they finally walk through the door. Turns out the health centre told them she didn’t need it, but offered to give her the rabies jab instead (which they turned down). Hmmm I thought you need to have proof of vaccination if you have travelled to certain places to get into some countries. Guess I was wrong.
Bed time took f-o-r-e-v-e-r. HB has at the age of 5 perfected the art form know as to pfaff. You may say Anita what is pfaff? Well it is like to faff, but the p makes it even more pfaffie. To pfaff takes the art of procrastination to a whole new level. My university friends and I were masters of this, I was known as Maximus Pfaffimus because of my gift. However that is a whole different story which you don’t really need to know about. On their walk back from the clinic they had stopped off in a book store and picked up a children’s painting set for HB, which she now decided that she wanted to explore (we had done a few paintings earlier while waiting for dinner; I painted a Mothering Sunday card for my mum to send her a picture of). Every time my back was turned the paint set came out again! This of course became a game, until I got bored of it and ended it by putting it out of reach, how mean of me 😉 . F did not make it any easier for me to put HB to bed, and became the typical brother whose art form is to annoy. I banished him from the room in the end (just to his parent’s room). Just as good nights were being passed around Mrs G comes in to say that Mr G and she are going out to dinner as it is their anniversary. Being a typical man Mr G had forgotten this date! If I had only known earlier I would have got the children to make something. Never mind, there is always tomorrow.
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