Thinking Out Loud- Ed Sheeran

It's been a long and tiring season, I'm ready for the summer break. It's been a season of disappointments. Early season optimism vanished by October, something wasn't clicking at Saracens. Work is physically, mentally and emotionally draining at the moment as well, so when my alarm woke me at 5.30am, I wondered why the hell I put my name forward to be a Rugby World Cup Volunteer- part of The Pack!

Number 1 son, ( I only have one), wanted to be out of the house by 7.30, otherwise, I'd have thrown a sickie. 2 bottles of caffeine later, I still wasn't reviving. I realised I forgot my coat and the weather was looking decidedly dark and cloudy to sit in a stand all day. Still, the journey down to Milton Keynes was a relatively smooth one, and I parked easily.

I walked into the ground to Ed Sheeran's song, Thinking Out Loud, and I began to perk up. I bumped into a Saracens Pioneer, and we discussed the woes of the season. I was handed a bottle of Coke, labelled with The Pack. Coca Cola is never one to miss an advertising opportunity, a sticker book, and a blue tee shirt. I voted last week, yep I'm that old, why would I want a sticker book? My son completed 2 Panini books as a boy, and I think I could have bought the company with the money it cost me to complete. At least these are free, and I would anticipate finding them on eBay in September.

After a free hot chocolate, I bumped into a couple from BRFC, who had come on the train, with a well functioning shuttle bus, (they must have listened to my email feedback from my visit to Stadium MK). Lawrence Dallaglio was interviewing people waiting, and rugby legends started to mill around. The morning felt good and my excitement grew, even when 20 minutes late, the morning finally started.

John Inverdale, the scourge of Celtic rugby, took ages to mention Jonny, as he introduced the timetable for the day, including the new RFU President, the youngest ever, Jason Leonard. Talk about poacher turned gamekeeper. Less than 20 years ago, he tried to nick the baths out of the changing rooms in his Transit van, now he will be attending committee meetings, meeting royalty and dignitaries. He will be very good at eating and drinking though.
He was greeted with a well deserved standing ovation, and talked about the legacy, the showpiece of the sport and on how The Pack are the face of the England 2015. He's a charmer, no wonder he's been appointed.

Laura Wright, opera singer, worked with us to get us to sing Jerusalem, not difficult for most of us, but with people coming from Germany for the day to be part of it, and a big Welsh contingent from the Cardiff venue, it may have proved a challenge. There are 74 different countries represented in The Pack, such is the power of sport and global events, to engage people, The Rugby World Cup being the third biggest, but in my world the best. By splitting the 4000 there into 3, we each sang two lines, or at least tried to, its not easy for tenors, baritones, and a failed alto (me) to get anywhere near Laura's soprano voice. Me, and the rest of the Villa contingent (Ugh how that sticks in the throat as a Baggies fan), wouldn't cease from mental fight, but we all joined together to build Jerusalem. Before lunch we all sung it together, it echoed off the other 3 empty stands, and made the hairs stand on the back of my neck stand up. (RIP Andy, you were right, it should be England's anthem. The last time I sang it was at his funeral).

On a lighter note, we were lucky enough to have three legends of the game telling stories, answering questions. Maggie Alphonsi, World Cup winner, and probably the greatest ever women's player, Serge Betsen, French flanker, and Ickle Shane Williams. All good sports. The question to poor Shane was by a Sarah Williams (a relative perhaps, but in Wales, they prefer not to vary surnames too much so probably not.) She asked him, as he wasn't very big, who worried him the most. Shane said that his size was a common complaint by women, but as a small player, he was scared before every game, as players were about 4 stone heavier than him. It didn't stop him though, as rugby is a game of all sizes and as Will Greenwood noted, they couldn't find the little bugger in the 2003 quarter final.

Will Greenwood was probably the highlight of the morning. For non rugby readers, Will is lanky, thin and blond. An excellent motivational speaker, he must charge a fortune on the after dinner circuit. He reminded us all that as a team, England 2003 really were World beaters, but nearly cocked up against Wales, and an inspired Shane Williams. As he left the pitch at half time, 4 lads from Ponty called out to him, 'Oy Rodney Trotter, you are F-----ing Useless'. Had the last laugh though.......

He talked about the time with the Marines, who talk about the strength of the wolf is the pack and the strength of the pack is the wolf. The team work better as one, and is only as strong as the weakest. Need to keep changing and adapting to stay in front. A lesson for all of us to work hard as The Pack, the face of the event.

Inspired we went for lunch, a chicken salad sandwich, crisps, Mars bar and a satsuma, with a bottle of water. Not sure all there had experienced water as a drink. Used to it being brown with hops and malted barley. Seeing them dance after lunch, the hops and barley were definitely needed. The rugby EXPO was a little disappointing, a chance for a photo with the World Cup, meet your venues, mingle with others, and some of the key sponsors, but it was difficult to get near anything - not enough people to speak to the enthusiastic people there. Still two more sessions to attend to find out more. I was e-mailed inviting me to meet the Freight and Logistics team, to talk about our roles on the balcony. I went to the balcony, but they weren't there. Maybe the logistics weren't right - oops!

The afternoon was a bit of an anticlimax. It started about 20 minutes late, we spent the afternoon singing and dancing to a made up song about being part of The Pack,  bit of fun perhaps, but as it was being filmed for the website, I hope I wasn't on there. (I have to find a new job later in the year - will this be career limiting?)
The directors spoke about the role of The Pack, the recruitment, the vision and all that corporate stuff,we've all been through to please our companies, whilst secretly wanting to hear more juicy stories, in this case rugby ones, like Will Greenwood calculating that Mike Tindall was a light airplane crash away from being King before Charlotte was born, now he's an A380 away.

Bill Beaumont came to speak. Top guy, respected and liked by all nations, well received by the crowd, but his knees are shot. He could hardly walk, and stumbled along like an old man. (He's probably 62-3?) I bet he'd still play the game again if he had his time over. Sport gets you like that. I felt it today. The camaraderie, the desire to sing better than the other choirs, wanting to be part of something bigger, being a success. Winning.

We were shown our uniform. Phew, thank goodness, it was pretty ordinary. The jacket was Royal Blue with Black trim, and pockets, black trousers, and blue trainers. It was just the hat. It was yellow with the pink, blue and green trim. Don't think I'll be wearing the hat. I'm sure that I will be inside (I hope so), carrying boxes, so it will be no use there (I hope). There was also a film with Jonny in. It broke down. Bit like his career really. Blighted by injury.

All in all, it was a professional set up and presentation. We will be unpaid. Free lunches, uniform, sticker book and being part of a global event, our reward. But a cautionary note about our sport. I was talking to a guy at lunch about his son who played for a Level 5 team. For winning their county cup, he got a £500 bonus. I played hockey at Level 5 for love and paid subs for the privilege, most sports clubs at that level survive on local sponsors and goodwill of the likes of the Pack. At some point I wonder if volunteers will start to say we are working hard doing this to give people sport and they expect payment? Not anymore.

The day finished with Laura Wright singing Jerusalem, so we go out on a high with such a rousing tune. In the words on Ed Sheeran, I'll love rugby 'til I'm 70.

PS and probably beyond.

Sex is on Fire - Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Wow, it's true what they say. The years fly by when you are getting old. Four years on from my Odyssey, the World Cup is less than 150 days away, the Festival of Rugby less than 50 days and the World Cup starts again. Yesterday I attended the Best of English, Northampton Saints v Saracens, at Stadium MK in Milton Keynes, (known locally as the Moo Camp), but I didn't spot the concrete cows this time, maybe it was milking time. The event was a trial one for the World Cup and I expected a similar experience to that in France and New Zealand.

I chose to go on the train, I did the sums and in an expensive rugby watching year, I decided to save money. The Saints website ( nominally it was their fixture, although Sarries have played as many games there), said free shuttle buses to the ground, so it sounded so easy. I chose a couple of books to read on the journey, estimated to be 3 hours each way, bought my lunch and parked at the train station.

On arrival at Milton Keynes, Central station, I looked for the stewards to direct me to the shuttle bus. No stewards were around so I asked a Saints supporter where the bus was leaving from. He pointed at a lime green sign 10 yards away saying Shuttle Bus this way. I walked for maybe 10 minutes, across the bus station next door, to get on the bus. The bus seemed to go round millions of roundabouts and pulled up on a bridge, the stadium not in sight. We were directed under and underpass, and told that the bus left from the same place. It was a 15 minute walk before the stadium appeared before us. I have been before, to see Richard Hill's last game (now famed for appearing on my debit card, my Facebook site, my mantlepiece etc.)

There were no clear signs to the gates, and no stewards about to ask. I looked for entrance 7, found 3, door 4 to the left, so my logic was to walk to the left to be met at door 5 by a fence. A steward directed me around the fence instead of around the ground, and entered into MK Forum, into a giant hall, to the sounds of 'Sex is on Fire' this is more like it I thought, big bar, lots of brown fried food, souvenirs, and away we go.

Rugby has always had a connection to the Armed Forces, and on the nearest weekend to St George's Day, the chosen charity was Help For Heroes. Both the forces and rugby share similar values, fighting for each other, comradeship, body on the line. Main difference is that rugby doesn't get sent into life threatening situations by their spineless leaders.....

Saints should be commended for their marketing, souvenir shirts, (more of that later), souvenir glasses, and at every seat, a card, which could be folded into a clapper. On one side printed Heart, Passion, Pride, values shared by our Forces I think.

Sat amongst the Sarries fans, the first thing most of them did was throw the card on the floor, but the noise was immense when all the Saints fans slapped them on their thighs. ( We were outnumbered, by about 27,000, to 400!) They pre-match entertainment was very traditional, the Band of the Parachute Regiment. Unfortunately they were the other side of the ground, so we could hear them properly, but they received a big welcome and applause at the end of their performance. I had to smile though. My ex was a Marine, and as the two elite regiments in the British forces, there was a rivalry and they did not like each other. In Rolleston, there was an ex Para, who had a 6 foot Pegasus on his house, (their mascot- a winged horse). After beer, this was a challenge that couldn't be resisted by my ex and his Bootie mate, who set off through the village with my step ladders to get it off the wall in a midnight Commando raid. Sniggering, they retrieved the horse, which now sits proudly in the Mess of 45 Commando, Arbroath.

I digress, to carry on the patriotic feel to the day, Saints wore a special red and white shirt, while Sarries ran out in their away kit of white. Ironically the Saints shirt looked like the Sarries away kit of 2003! The guy next to me said, ' why did we change from black?'

 The teams were presented to Princess Anne, patron of the other Saints charity of the day, Transaid. (Overseas aid). This made the day feel like a World Cup event, but no National Anthem for the two teams that have produced the most English players of recent times? Mistake I think, to maximise the emotion of the day. Obviously she would be routing for the two Scotsman on show, Brown and Hamilton!

Rugby, in England, is classed as a middle class sport, whatever that is. For those who are better off, it is important that we help those worse off than ourselves, and rugby leads the way in its links with charities and also its community programmes - watch School of Hard Knocks for a sobering view of life for the underclass, but also what sport can do in building self belief and discipline in young men.

The game started, and the shirts were so close in colour, that the Sarries kit man was sent off to collect the black kit. Wished we'd never changed as we were winning in white, the ref penalising Saints at the scrum, and in the loose, and at half time we were winning 17-6, the game hinged on two moments, a charge down that couldn't be grounded, and an injury both incidents involving  Billy Vunipola, although the challenge that led to his injury will probably be reviewed by the citing officer.

The second half saw carries come out in their back shirts, and Saints were revitalised. I think they may have been subjected to a little chat at half time. All of a sudden the referee decided teams that play in black are baddies, and every penalty bar one was awarded against them, whilst a variety of offences by the team in white and red committed a series of ignored misdemeanours, or is that my frustration at losing? The classic comment of the day was when our prop dropped a ball, and the guy behind shouted, "you wouldn't have dropped your bloody pie".

At the end of the game, the dejected Sarries team came over to thank us. I got the impression from their demeanour that could well be the end of the season, too many disappointments, no adventure for us at HQ! (Mind you after last season, when a very dubious decision at the end by the TMO led to us losing, I don't want to go through those emotions again.)

I trudged off towards the shuttle bus, asking a steward which way to go. He sent me the wrong way and I lost 5 minutes. Never mind I thought, I've got an hour and 15 minutes to the train. I joined the human train to the buses, an unsupervised crowd walking towards a crowded underpass. I stood there for 5 minutes, and the buses on top weren't moving, the steward on the side said 30 minutes walk to the train station. Decision made, I couldn't risk missing my train - 50 minutes before it left, plenty of time and off I set with mostly Saints supporters towards the station. We walked, and walked, and walked. 10 minutes later the sign posts were still saying 2 miles to Central MK. It was a very 'green' walk, along a cycle track, but not a concrete cow in site! 10 minutes later it was 1.75 miles away. I realised that I was now under pressure, so stepped up the walk. At 6.30 I was still half a mile away, and that was the time my train chugged out of the station. Bugger. Night out lost with friends.

Good points: nice arena for a sporting event, good atmosphere, two nice tries by Sarries, (we don't score tries don't ya know?).

Bad Points: bad placing of the shuttle buses, badly trained stewards, running out of Guinness and cider - 'this is not soccer' (Misquote Nigel Owen)

Next adventure: Training to be a RWC volunteer, in a fortnight at guess where? Stadium MK. Think I will be going in my car to that one.

PS to my workmates - can you guess my clever password?

7th July - Take me home, Country Roads - Olivia Newton John (of course - she's an Aussie!)

Jaded is the understatement. Why did i think it was a good idea, to see the blue Mountains on the day after the last test? 12 hours sleep in 72. At 5.50 the alarm woke me after about 3 and a half hours sleep I was glad I hadn't been drinking as this would have been hell. I'd paid to see the Blue Mountains, so I was going, but I was less than enthusiastic. The rest of the bus were similar. One guy went straight to the back seat to sleep, but was told to pu his seat belt on. A woman ad to sit in the front to calm her nausea.

The day was clear and the Blue Mountains were so beautiful, it would be mean to say that my bed was a more beautiful site, but sadly it was true. As clear as the air was, I couldn't wake up properly, until lunchtime, and several diet cokes and mints, I began to feel alive again.

As has happened on the last day of previous trips, I was ready to go home, so wanted the day over. I had achieved the Holy Grail of a winning tour. Even though I finished it on the Rocks, enjoying an ordinary Sunday night out, home was calling.

On the final morning I felt sad. I don't know if life will give me the money/opportunity to revisit Australia, so I walked round to Mrs Macquairie's  to say goodbye and thank you.

If Carlsberg made touring destinations, it would be Australia. Tomorrow the long grind home. My thoughts on the tour:

1. Nicest story I heard: An old man with a younger companion - yes I thought he was a rent boy but it was his son, told me that he had a lifelong dream to go on a Lions tour. His son had paid for both of them to go for his 70th birthday. Dreams do come true, and a winning tour was the cherry on the icing on the cake.
2. Melbourne is a nicer, more happening place than Sydney.
3. For the welcomes I've received in the other locations, Australians win heads down for friendliness matched with good natured competitiveness and a great sense of humour.
4. It is not a holiday. Expect to come home tired, broke and with an inevitable cold. Playing or not, drinking or not, everything has to be 100% all the time.
5. Sleeping's cheating.
6. Halfpenny player of the series, but game changer was Corbisero. He made me believe.
7. Hibberd's head is made of Welsh Coal.
8. Referees - manage scrums properly - as they make space, alter the psychology of the game. This is only done by northern hemisphere. Southern hemisphere's not the only ones who play the game properly.
9. Mix an Australian holiday with countryside/beach and city.
10. Contact with a head on the floor is unacceptable not accidental.

Thank you Australia. And thank you Lions. Maybe just maybe, you will see me again supporting you........

6 July The final match

The song title today, just has to be one from all four union's countries, played at full time, after all the ceremonies.
Chelsea Tractor - Fratellis
Beautiful Day - U2
Delilah - Tom Jones - couldn't they have chosen something by the Stereophonics?
Wonderwall - Oasis - the hairs went up on the back of my neck, as the Lions fans sang the team's tour song from 1997. This moment I will take to my dying day.

I got up at 3.50am this morning, having woken every 30 minutes at least to check the time. It was after midnight when I got into bed as the opera finished late and taxis seemed to be few and far between. I have never overslept when I've needed to get up early, my alarms have never let me down, yet I still live in fear of not waking up when I have something special going on. This morning I was climbing Sydney Harbour Bridge at dawn. This meant climbing the bridge at 5.30am to be at the top as the sun came over the horizon at Manly. The sun seemed to oversleep this morning, however and we had to wait on top of the Bridge for 30 minutes. Normally, once the photo is taken at the top, its down you go. A cruise ship docked in front of us at Circular Quay. Before the climb, we were all asked who would win the game. I hoped 2 points. No one went for a big score, with the exception of one woman who thought Wales would win by 15. (silly woman).

From then on, the rest of the day was spent kicking around waiting for the kick off. I didn't feel at all confident that a win was on the cards, but was really nervous. All routes to the ground were free, as they are when major events are on in Australia - whether sporting or Rihanna. One of the routes was a leisurely ferry up to Parramatta and the Olympic Park. On a tense day, this seemed the most relaxing way up there.

The stadium looms large at the ground, and around it are different stadia that are still in use, although the venues haven't quite got the aura and of Melbourne, although of course 22 November 2003 and 6 July 2013 are beginning to write that history.

Because catering is a bit limited at the Park, a variety of concessions set themselves up in tents on the walkway to the ground, there are sponsors tents, tented shops etc, and the two bars opposite the stadium extend out into he square in front - covering areas as big as the pitch itself. Aussie food is geared to protein, I asked for for chicken and chips and was given chicken chips - we'd call them nuggets, and no carbs!

The Brewery bar was taken over by Lions fans, which was attached to the Novotel, which was where the Lions players would be having a nap. In true Aussie fashion, (noise to create sleep depravation), and also to get things going,  there was a disco blaring out rock music, an Aussie Scottish bagpipes band. Everyone knew the plan - smash the Aussie scrum - no Plan B. Gatland had put everything on red, but did the Aussies have the answer?

I went to the final Lions Den in the badminton arena - it lacked a bit of atmosphere after last week. It could be because of the huge size, but I also think it was because of nervousness. One of the guests tonight was Donal Lenihan. He was negative saying that the Lions would lose (a dropped Irishman was the reason why). No wonder his team were known as Donal's Donuts', he could cause Tiger to want Prozac. Ickle Shane was nervous, and tried to be funny, but wasn't - it could have been tension rather than dumbness, although you never can be sure. Andy Nichol tried to break a superstition by wearing a different shirt to break a losing habit. The Manic Street Preachers came on again and pumped the crowd up. We could win. I left believing.

Yet again the stadium record was broken, (it had been remodelled since 2003). The Lions support had grown from last week, and this time we wee in bigger blocks, so could make more noise. Corbs' try set the tone and volume in the first minutes, and I began to believe. All 4 nations songs were sung willingly, even though the rest of the years it was the song for the opposition. The Aussie PA was so loud, there was feedback, but it didn't drown us out. This was Lions history in the making, and boy did the team deliver.

After the formalities, the crowd went wild, running down to the front to get closer to their heroes on their lap of honour. The four songs mentioned at the start were the party music with players and fans singing. We were all one big pride, singing and dancing late into the night. As for the rest of the night.... What goes on tour, stays on tour......

5 July Forza del Destino (Overture) - Verdi

With so little time in Sydney, I had to do it in a day. Beyond the shoreline, the city is very much like any other city - lots of shop signs, cars, buses, a grid system and just couldn't get my bearings. I am usually really good - find a few landmarks, yet I couldn't find them to get myself going, and this remained the case whilst I was there. Eventually I found Hyde Park, walked through the Domain and Botanic Gardens to the view of Sydney from Mrs Macquairie's Chair. this is the view that everyone has seen in travel brochures, and thinks of Australia. A jogger takes my photo. She asks me to return the favour and tells me that she can never get enough of the view and has loads of photos of it on her phone. Her friends think that she is mad.

As I round the corner of the Opera House, I see the tide coming in (Sea of Red). Everywhere is red on Circular Quay, the bars and cafes, the pavements, the ferries. The Opera House itself is a beautiful building - inside it is even more remarkable, as the angles and lines make what could be quite harsh exposed concrete, funky. Tonight I am going to my first opera. It will have sur-titles (titles above the stage), and I've researched the storylines, so I will know what is going on - I hope. All the main characters die in the end. It also has a reputation like Macbeth, the Scottish play - unlucky. Those involved have something horrible happen to them. I hope that the final twist of fate is not an Aussie win. The story tells us that whatever life throws at us, we all suffer the same fate in the end. I justify this as a reason to have gone on all my expensive mad rugby trips.

The Rocks is like a living museum. Famous for English sports fans, as the place to party after 2003 World Cup win, and Ashes wins - more frequent in recent times, it is also the first settlement of Sydney, with a range of Victorian buildings, including traditional pubs and restaurants, some converted from the warehouse, when Britain traded with the world. It bustled with a street market, and interesting street food. It was crowded with workers looking for lunch, and Lions tourists preparing for the big match with a beer or two outside.

4 July Leaving on a jet plane - Peter Paul and Mary

I just had to see the sunrise one last time. Thank goodness everything on view is free. Australia is a really expensive place. the poor exchange rate doesn't help, but even so, 2 dollars for a bottle of water 4.50 dollars for coke, is frightening, it doesn't matter where you drink it, supermarkets are no cheaper. refilling from the tap is part of the morning routine.

One last walk around and then off to the airport. 180 Lions tourists on one plane, all arriving at the same time, we had to queue outside. These numbers are unknown, and it was also the first time the equivalent of Ryan Air had flown the route. (Jetstar) The first passenger went through at 12.20 and the last at 2.20. The flight was delayed by half an hour. I didn't get my passport out the whole time - just like it used to be when you flew internally pre 2001. The bar and cafe sold out of refreshments - obviously drink, but also food -only crisps were left. With a four hour flight to follow, I thought that there would be a meal and a drink, but no, asper Ryanair - a captive audience leads to even more breathtaking prices - I remained thirsty and hungry.

I was summoned to meet my Welsh friends in Darling Harbour, Sydney. They had been drinking, so conversation was quite repetitive, as my short term memory remains good. We awaited another friend. She had managed to take and collect the right baggage this time, but unfortunately not the right passport. The gift of the gab, managed to get her to and from Cairns, and the other friend up from Melbourne. I got to Darling Harbour through a shopping centre, and the row of bars felt plastic and new, not my scene, but lively enough. It could have been anywhere by water. My initial thoughts were disappointing.

3 July River Deep Mountain High - Ike and Tina Turner

As I was awake before dawn, I wallked up to  a sand dune to watch the sun rise over Uluru. The colours of the sky changed over the hour that I was there, from dark blue tinged with orange at the skyline, through orangey pink and violet eventually blue, with the sun turning Uluru orange. It was easy to understand why the Aboriginals consider it such a spiritual place.

I went on a Bush Tucker Tour this morning to learn about Aboriginal food. Three miles away from the hotel, mand it fel like we were in the middle of the desert, flat and nothingness around. It is incorrect to think that deserts are barren, it was teeming with life and vegetation. I saw a bulldog ant that was an inch long. Women suck nectar ants' abdomens for the sweetness within. Me, I prefer a Worther.

The previous week's rain, had brought quite a bot of greenness to the landscape. With it come the flies, damn flies. They buzz around your head incessantly, and no amount of waving them away frightens them, Insect repellent doesn't work. How Aussies manage to stay sane I don't know.

In the afternoon I walked the Olgas. These are not one piece of rock like Uluru, but a conglomerate. Burton is built on Bunter conglomerate - small gravel held together by clay/sandstone, but this conglomerate contains huge boulders. Its less of a tourist attraction than Uluru. IT is a sacred place where Aboriginal men go for rights of passage, away from women, so there is a conflict with modern society, where women, who should be banned are allowed to walk them.

On the way back, remember I am here for the rugby, news broke that O Driscoll had been dropped for the final test. With Warburton out, I had expected him to captain the side, although, I thought his form had been poor pre-tour and he was lucky to be there. It would have been his last international game, but sport is about winning, and Gatland had gambled everything on the core of Welsh players he had taken, so he had to put his money where his mouth was. The side was possibly too Welsh, Youngs (hooker) unlucky, and I'd have had a back row of Croft, OBrien, Heaslip. Lydiate hasn't done a lot wrong, but there's no X Factor. He tackles players, that's it. Phillips owed the fans a big game so has to deliver. Gatlands Strategy is easy to see - smash 'em in the scrum and then smash em again. But all the same - Go Lions!!

I ate in the hotel restaurant - the best in town. Price £70ish (Kerching), and no wine.....
Starter: Smoked Kangaroo Wattleseed Crepe, ith Thyme scented mushrooms and Kolkadi Plums.
Mains: Fillet of Kingfish with Pak Choi, ginger and carrot emulsion and reduced orange glaze with rocket, pine nut and parmesan salad.
Dessert: Drambuie chocolate mousse with wild rosella flower dacquiose (biscuit), almond curd, and pistachio fondue.
Pepeermint tea to finish, made with actual leaves, and a diffuser.
Blimey what are Sydney prices going to be like - I'll find out tomorrow.