There has been very positive progress regarding a job for me, but updates will come later.
Christmas Day was celebrated under a sunny sky, as it is the usual in the southern hemisphere. To commemorate our first Xmas, a celebratory BBQ was organized by yours truly. Originally planned for five, it ended up for three. Note that no trees, real or otherwise were harmed in the making of this celebration, and this included a mutually-assured no Christmas Cards policy.
The BBQ menu included yummy Chicken tenders that were marinated all night in a Piri-Piri based solution using a recipe which I’ve pulled out of the air, as well as savory Scotch Fillet (that’s OzSpeak for Entrecote or as Americans call it - Rib Eye) steaks. There was no salad due to the no-shows! They will be duly reprimanded.
Shelly unfortunately had to have her steak Well-Done due to her pregnancy, thus coining the phrase: “Bad Steak Better Than No Steak”, however Damien (new friend) and I enjoyed ours Rare and it was quite delicious.
Now that I have your mouths watering, I’ll admit that I can now post frivolous news such as this due to the fact that Damien generously allows me to tap into his Internet connection via a wireless network card I installed in his PC. While we can’t get the signal in our room, we can from the accommodations’ terrace. It is slow, but it is there!
No longer will I have to collect a couple of days news to post, and instead can just allow you to read every time I go to the Gentlemen’s.
Shelly finally had a good non-tired, non-sick evening the other night and I took her to the Townie (Town Hall Hotel) which is a pub in Newtown where there’s good music (British Indie) and good beer (Toohey’s Old Black Ale). We met very cool people there which we hope to meet again later this week or next.
One thing I’ve got to explain about Sydney. Pubs here are called Hotels — this is for a really stupid reason which I’ll now explain. See, gambling is VERY big here in Australia, and every pub will have a room with gambling machines and sometimes even a horse-racing betting station. Now, because of a regulation that allowed only hotels to have gambling machines, every pub declared itself a hotel by putting up a couple of crummy rooms in the higher floors and having unfortunate boarders move in.
Now you’ll understand that when I say that I’m staying at the Lewisham Hotel (aka Live House) we’re actually living above a pub with gambling machines, friendly staff and bad music…
More to come!
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