Plane travel

There's something more than a little odd about sitting in a very confined space with a bunch of strangers with some young bloke's leg pressed ever so gently against yours.

The trip down today was shared with celebrated out Blues fans who were very bleary eyed and more than a little pongy, and the usual holiday makers and business men and women and a bloke who was completely engrossed in his, 'How to Rear Chooks' manual... no he didn't look that boring so appearances can definitely be deceiving.

This is not the sort of group of folk who you'd casually invite to a pot luck dinner. There'd be no conversation and mostly people would just do that weird lean thing so that there is no contact at all between them and their neighbour, except of course for the young bloke and the too fat old gal's legs.

So in a little more than an hour I moved from the dozey old Goldie to fast wonderful urban Sydney.

I do love Sydney. I love the pace of the place and the smells and rudeness of the people and the different accents and colour and old meets new and the icons and the strangeness. There is nothing that I don't like about Sydney. I reckon I could live here except that it's too far from Belly and Zig and I would have to teach myself all the new roads and where to go to get food I like to eat.

So Carol and I are off one our Vivid adventure. Yippee!!