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Thursday, June 27, 2013

27 June Volare - Dean Martin

This morning I received a text from two friends who landed today, and I knew things were about to change. It went along the lines of 'G'Day Oz here we come'. From my organised tour, not just the one I'm on, but my own organisation, I entered the realm of disorganisation. I tried to arrange coffee with them in Federation Square and got a text back saying 'L picked up the wrong bag at the airport and has gone back to the airport to sort it out and I'm going to bed'. OK I thought, back to plan A to walk around the Royal Botanic Gardens- it was a lovely bright sunny, but cold, morning.

It turns out that my mate had lent her boyfriend's bag and had picked up a bag that looked like one she used to have. Chaos was back! We were all going to meet up with an old College friend, who I'd not seen for 30 years at 2. That took most of the morning to get the message, then that changed to Fed  Square at 1.30, and I was in charge of finding a bar- but what one? How we all met up, I will never know and it was good to see l2 again. Even though we had not spoken for 30 years, it was as though we hadn't spoken for 30 minutes, and the four of us had a lovely afternoon, even though the two whirlwinds left the bar in the wrong direction.

I left to go for a meal on a tram, and left the three of them to say their goodbyes, before going back to clean up in their rooms, only somehow they got diverted to the bar that they had been recommended to go to. Apparently it was called Ernst and Young, and it was actually the bar that hosted Chloe - Young and Jackson. How they ever found me I will never know.

I returned after the meal to meet up with them in a bar, to find them eating fish and chips and worrying about the vinegar, which wasn't brown, but clear. They returned to Young and Jackson, for ease of meeting me. In there, we found a Lions supporter who was suffering from repetitive story syndrome, caused by jet lag and alcohol, and two couples from their home village that they didn't know we're going there.

Somehow my organised tour is about to become disorganised, but I've laughed more in the three hours I was with them than I did on the whole of the holiday so far.

The Colonial Tram Restaurant was a lovely experience. I booked it on 23 March, and knew what I was going to be eating, I knew that it was like the Orient Express and the music was thirties, and Rat Pack classics.. Safe or OCD?

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