The old home town

As the plane flew low over the water, heading into Sydney airport, it all felt very familiar. Similarly the trip from the airport to Dural traversed many of the streets and passed by many of the places, I knew for so many years. While a lot of it has changed, so much more has remained the same. It is strangely comforting. Clearly, I am a Sydney boy!

It was a promising start to the day. I managed to drag mum out for a walk to the cafe for our morning latte. She told me off when the rain started on the way back and, although I pleaded innocence in its creation, she still figured it had to be my fault.

In order to exact revenge, I put her through her paces, teaching her how to download podcasts and burn them for dad to listen to in the hospital. After a while mum complained that her head was hurting. That’ll teach her to blame me for the rain.

Col’s Shuttle was picking me up at 11:15 so we were downstairs waiting for him. Just before the rain started I managed to coax Audrey and mum to pose for a photo. ‘Coax’ is maybe not the correct word. I think mum insisted and Audrey was very keen to be on the Internet. Anyway, here’s the photo.

Audrey & mum outside the flats

I would just like to say how much I appreciate what a wonderful friend Audrey has been (and will keep being, I hope). It’s not an easy time for mum and Audrey has been there helping her in lots of ways. Thank you, Audrey.

ANYWAY…eventually Col turned up (though I’m not sure if it is Col because it wasn’t the same chap who picked me up when I arrived so one of them could be Col but then the other wouldn’t unless they were both called Col…I don’t know) and we left for the airport.

The rain fell like cannonballs for most of the way to the airport with odd pockets of dryness. When I say pockets, I mean the little one you can keep coins in rather than the big hand-sized pockets.

We reached the domestic terminal with about a week to spare so I joined the very long snakey queue to check my bag in. It looked horrendous but was actually quite fast. Then a quick strip for the security procedure. It’s not easy holding your jeans up with one hand because you’ve removed your belt while holding a blue plastic tray which contains your electronic equipment and your bag in the other!

The flight was just like a commute in that it took about an hour. The landing at Sydney was a bit bumpy though, as I explained to Bob on the way back to Dural, it was a small plane and I’m used to the big ones which don’t bounce down the runway with quite the same lack of elasticity.

And so to Dural (with a short detour for beer – mmm! Peroni) and a beer on the verandah while we waited for Mirinda to get back from the hospital.

And dinner cooked by my wife. What a red letter day it has been.

I feel unable to end this blog entry without some mention of the hospital. According to Mirinda, her mother is convinced she is being secretly operated on during the night by a stranger with a pair of scissors. She also thinks the nurses are in on the conspiracy so Mirinda cannot discuss it with them. Not being the UK, it’s not the cost cutting of the NHS so I’m utterly convinced it’s aliens.