Firstly, extreme apologies for the massive gap in communication. I have no excuse other than I’ve been busy having a lovely time and not writing my blog. But I’m back in the game. Watch this.

So, Sydney- the land of opportunity, great coffee, great beaches, beautiful people, fabulous wine and my lovely brother Peter and his lovelier wife Mairead. The last time I had landed in Sydney was earlier in the year when the aforementioned tied the knot. It was great to be back.

So, rather inconveniently the happy couple were off on a 3 month jaunt themselves just after a week of my arrival. I’d arrived just in time to box up their entire lives and put them into storage before their trip.
The first week I didn’t do very much. I got more antibiotics from Peter’s dentist, went to the beach quite a lot and drank ALOT of vino. Peter and Mairead were off work so we spent lots of time together which was really lovely. Although it’s meant to be the most stressful times in your life, moving day at the Mortimore’s was hilarious. At 6.30am Peter turned into Hitler and got everyone up and at em’. 8.30am 2 little Chinese men arrive and load the van. 10.30am we were on the way to the storage place. 12 midday we were pushing eachother on trolleys and playing games involving gaffer tape that were ridiculously funny but you really had to be there. Job done.





Having your brother (and one of your best friends) live on the other side of the world means that your communications are restricted to that of news reports via emails, Skype and short phone calls- what you’ve been doing, where you’ve been, etc. You miss out on just hanging out with someone and ‘being’. We swam in the sea, wave surfed, ate kangaroo, breakfasted, lunched, suppered, shopped, quaffed wine, ruled at floorball, laughed a lot and generally had a lovely bloody time. It was so much fun, they were both very generous to me and and I will really cherish it forever.

After they were packed up and off on their travels, I moved to stay with Miss 5* Fowler, Hayley.
Hayley lives in the most fabulous wedding-cake house in Bondi. Bondi- the land of the beautiful people. And Jules.

Running on limited cash due to dentist fees, for the next 10 days I pretended I lived in Bondi and just ‘beached’. I sussed out the good coffee joints, spoke with an Aussie accent and got to know the politics of the sand. It goes like this: there are definite regions to Australia’s biggest man made bathing spot. Every day I went to a different bit. The North Bondi part of the beach is for the true Bondi locals only. Groups of friends that are tooooo brown hi-5 each other quite a lot and bitch about eachother. There is a grassy knowle there and that seems to be the most exclusive place to be. I felt really out of place there.
Then next down the beach is the ‘gay’ area. I liked this area. I’ve never seen so many buff bodies in my life. Pecs, abs and biceps like disney heroes in Speedos surrounded me. They were in groups, bitching and lowering ray-bans as another tight-bunned homo swaggered past. It was fabulous. No one took the blindest bit of notice of me sucking on my Calipo.
Next was the family area where the life guards and safe swimming zones were. Very busy and usually involved the filming of an episode of Bondi Rescue or Bondi Vet or Bondi’s Biggest Loser.
Along a bit was the ‘Backpackers’ area. I was just too old.
Right at the south of the beach, tucked away by some rocks was where I fitted in best. It was the leftovers part of the beach. Gnarly riptide there tho bro…..

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