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April 13, 2004

A Flat viewing

'Taxi! Take me back to Kings Cross Please'.

My bag was at her flat. I awoke that morning with my routine 3 point check. Wallet. Phone. Camera. It was the same routine I tried to operate when climbing into the bed after having a few half shandies in the drinking establishments of Kings Cross. It was a fairly straightforward exercise - normally just checking the bulges in my three jeans pocket. My complicated checking procedure had alerted me that morning that important item number three was unaccounted for, my phone. I was residing on the top bunk and as standard procedure slept with my phone as confirmation of the ungodly hour when the sun rose. Normally I would end up with severe spinal discomfort as the phone finds it's way under my torso and acts as a most uncomfortable sleeping mat. This time however the common pains and red mark were absent. The conclusion - I had dropped my blue Nokia onto the broken legged German below.

Apart from the worry that I had hit this stricken lady on the head and knocked her into a deep sleep there was a more worrying factor. The time bomb was set to go off full pelt at nine thirty. I knew from bitter experience that my model unlike others was incredibly effective at waking the whole hostel when triggered. To my dismay I had left it in the room whilst showering in Lamrock on Bondi. Despite the showers being down the corridor I heard the annoying beeping - being cloth less I had been unable to run back quick enough to save the fate of the three jet lagged sleepers in my room.

I was unsure just how much time I had to save a small disaster. I asked ‘haven't said a word for two weeks and been sleep all the time Japanese man’ “Do you know what the time is”. Despite having a rather expensive looking gadget watch on his arm he replied “Sorry, me no understand”. At least I had heard him talk but he was proving to be as much use as a T.V guide in Australia. Maybe I could just look around her to discover the bomb before she awoke? But then again if I was to wake with a half naked man looking over my body I think I would be a bit restless. So I decided to do the normal dorm thing. Just make as much noise humanly possible to wake the other poor bastards happily sleeping around you.

I did a good job, I turned the taps on full pelt, pushed the top bunk up and down and bumped into any thing I could to create that extra noise. Then I thought why didn't I just rustle five plastic bags aimlessly for thirty minutes like all off the other people had done for the past three months - it worked on me. Bingo. With just nine minutes remaining till blastoff she got up and went to the toilet. The alarm clock went off and guided by the screeching siren I located it between two pairs of socks on the bottom bunk. I have never played Keanu Reeves in Speed but I guessed that was what it was like.

Right jobs and accommodation. Maybe I can be useful today. Well the job hunting included 5 minutes looking on the internet and sending out some token emails to random agencies (the other 135 were spent looking at Skysports and hotmail). The flat hunting included buying a copy of the Sydney Morning Herald in which I surprisingly read the sport and headlines and scanned the flats for all of two seconds. The big issue is the Beckhams and the problems with Aboriginal tension cursing this country. Whilst at a visit to the Australian museum I found out that the Aborigines were not allowed to drink in pubs or go to Swimming baths until 1968 (when a student movement kicked up a fuss). Racism still occurs in all parts of the world but I didn't expect it that much over here.

Ok job and flat hunting temporarily finished for today. Time to invest yet more of my dollar into the McDonalds corporation. Despite the fact that I had completed the promotional Pictionary board three times over due to my numerous Big Mac Meal purchases, I had found out that I was losing weight. I was very scientific. My last belt hole was used. Jesus. For the first time since my drinking abused University days I was actually smaller than at 34" waist and could squeeze into a 32 and a half. Time for celebration. Big Mac meal with apple pie and Strawberry Sundae. I deserved it.

After chewing on the greasy Big Mac I walked along
George Streetonly to hear a pin drop. Well actually it was my ball that had fallen from my uneven barbell. This was the eighth time it had come out but this was a little more worrying in that I had two hours to purchase a new one before the hole would heal. Precisely two hours later it I realised just how quickly wounds could heal. I popped into the tattoo parlour on Bondi (The one I had seen on Australia Uncovered on Sky One four months previously) and purchased a new yellow ball. The hole had closed. There was no hole no more. The kind piercing man checked and confirmed it was nearly gone. Not another session with Jaws surely? After a clamping it in place he managed to force the blunt screw through my tongue after fifteen minutes of poking. The blood came but at least I would not need my mouth punctured brutally again.

Seven o'clock. After a quick and enjoyable pizza (made more so by the Romanian looking waitress) I headed down to Bondi to check out a flat. The door was answered by this tanned Irish sounding girl. 'Take a look around'. After exchanging the common pleasantries and flat questions she added 'take a seat, fancy a glass of wine?'. The brand new box of wine was finished in four hours. Her friends had not worked and she was desperate to go out in Bondi as apparently Wednesday is the night to go out. Ok. She's drunk. Ok she is drinking wine from a bottle in front of the bouncers. “Is that water?” he asked. I said no, she said yes. I don't think we could collaborate in a murder trial somehow. “You have to be a hundred meters from this club to drink” he added. “Ok how many I am I at the moment?” she slurred. “Two”. Amazing he let us in.

I looked as apologetically English as possible, it seemed to do the trick. Ok she's really drunk. Take a queue with thirty people waiting patiently to go upstairs to the main club. No, not our friend the Irish girl. Don't sneak around pretending to be coming back from the toilet. No just barge your way through the parting stunned observers. I did'nt follow. She was really really drunk. “Mate, are you with her? You better take her home”. I found out that apart from crashing into innocent bystanders she was walking up to blokes and drinking their drinks. After managing to convince her to leave and pushing her in a straight line towards the direction of home she turned around and headed for the Bondi Beach Hotel. This place was open till four. It was twelve. Quite how she got in past the bemused bouncers is a miracle. After two hours of mental burden that was enough. Seven o'clock was meant to be home time, I was only meant to be looking at a flat for paddy's sake.
A ferry trip to Manly

I broke up my day by taking the ferry across to Manly. After purchasing a more expensive 'Green' weekly travel ticket I thought I would use it for the included boat ride. This runs every half an hour and is a pleasant way to commute into the city. I managed to get on the ferry first and found myself a nice quiet spot on the outer upper deck. Perfect. Ten minutes of peace, ten minutes of just observing the wonders of Sydney Harbour. “You must be Australian, do you know where this is?” a voice appeared from an overweight lady of around sixty years. She was a Yank. No just why she thought I was an Aussie was beyond me, I had no surfboard and I wasn't dark haired. It was just a wild assumption I guess. If I wasn't Asian I must be a local.

She was this sort who would drone on and her husband would completely ignore her. 'Sorry, I'm not from around here' I replied. Peace and quiet. “So where ya from” she added. Oh dear. She wanted to engage in conversation with me. “England” I replied in my poshest English accent. “Oh, Ingland, do ya come from London?” she enquired. I spent the next twenty minutes of the ferry ride listening to how coffee was cheaper in the States (do you know they actually give you FREE refills as well!!), how their hotel did not live up to their standards and how they could not cope with the cuisine. The best one for me was when she said at the top of her voice “Yeah, this place is full of Asians so we are moving on”. Ok you are just saying what I am thinking but don't say it when we are surrounded by Japanese people on the top deck. “What is I.T?” she asked. “Computing” I replied. “What is computing?” she looked rather quizzical. I made the universal typing finger movements and she understood. This was hard work. I was intending to stay on the ferry and go back.

They stayed on the ferry. So I got off. I looked around the pretty place of Manly and returned on the next ferry.

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