Zut alors

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11.5 hours after leaving Byron Bay, and we're in Sydney. The bus journey wasn't so bad - mainly due to my inability to stay awake. The girl next to me, clearly craving conversation, pounced at one of the two stops we made on the way and wanted to chat about life working in hotels and bars. She didn't really pause for breath but when she did, the coffee/pie/redeye bus journey halitosis was unbearable. I went back to sleep mid conversation just to escape it.

In Sydney my first objective is to find my hostel which, it transpires, is about a kilometre away. Dragging my case behind me, I made my way through Chinatown to reach the hostel, which is sandwiched in the perfect location between town and the harbour. I checked in and went to my room - a dingy 6 bed affair with what appears to be the living dead fast asleep in it. The view from the window is of a brick wall. There's no electric in the room. All would be OK if you were allowed booze in the place to numb the pain - sadly this is banned as well.

Not really that chuffed so I headed back downstairs to ask for them to fix the electrics. They won't. So they move me to another room on a different floor - this time strewn with post-booze decomposing bodies (it's now 10.30 am). Back downstairs I go again. Finally, they give me an 'upgrade' - to a room with ensuite bathroom for 6 people. I head there and there's not an inch of carpet space to be had - I'm in a room full of French guys who were either trying to replicate the greatest work of Tracey Emin, or were just the messiest of lazy little toads. Friendly though, and very helpful at carrying my bag over their mess to reach my bed - which still had the previous occupant's sheets on the bed (unsurprising - housekeeping didn't stand a chance in this room).

I headed out to do a bit of food shopping, to have a wander round and to give them time to tidy up. When I returned later, they were nowhere to be seen but my bed was still unmade. Back downstairs again (they're sick of the sight of me) to get them to fix it. Fortunately it's time to go to see Jesse so they've got a few hours to get it right.

I headed on the bus down to Bondi, and forgot how beautiful it is as you pull round the corner from Bondi Road to see the sweeping beach and stunning waves. Bondi on a sunny day is out of this world - and today is that day. Hadn't seen Jesse for years so we set about having a few thimblefuls of lager (literally - what kind of bar serves beer only in glasses fit for kids?!) overlooking North Bondi. A few hours later, I set off back towards my hostel, but not without taking a stop at the Lifeguard hut where they're filming Bondi Rescue. For Melissa, I'm determined to get on an episode - preferably not by being one of the rescuees, more by sidling past in the background. First effort today is poor, so I'll need to try harder tomorrow...

Shattered, it was time for bed at 8.30pm, with still no sign of the French guys. Fingers crossed there's no 3am post-pub alarm call for me...somehow though, I know that that won't be the case!

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