Ink Marks on a Blank Page Wed Nov 5th

There I was jetting up to Sydney town like the old rock-n-roller I once was, all frocked up in my Adelaide over the hill finery and stepped off the plane to 35c and muggy.Nothing brings one down to earth with a thump than looking like a full blown twerp. Everyone else is swanning around the terminal in board shorts and loose tops and I'm dressed up like the turkey on for dinner. I always say though if you want to be noticed then you have to stand out, and I did.Enough of that at least when I embarked it was cool to be dressed like a colonial refugee.

The car was climate controlled anyway and by the time we got onto the Pacific Highway I was settling into cool mode.Sydney is really such a beautiful town, just a pity that it is full of Sydney-siders, folk who are basically nice people, just awfully rich and like nothing better to ask where one is from then when you mutter Adelaide they look at their shoes as though there remains the leftovers of some old droppings. I never know what to say either as the car sort of slinks past all these huge piles of brick where even the gate post must cost a months salary.
Oh don't get me wrong I live comfortable, and well within the sort of standard of run down genteel that I favour. Not through design y'know, I have just slid down the slippery slope of fading out quite easily, poverty is well within my grasp now. I should really cut to the chase a little quicker though as the flight sort of gave me that squiggy ear thing again and I feel a trifle off colour. My travel book/ pics went down with the professionals well though, I was well pleased and chuffed too,good stroke of the ego that was. The food at the dinner they put on was just out of this world and at every seat there was a personalised menu with your name on top, snazzy eh? Could I get used to being treated like a member of the human race, dunno about that, bit hard on the nerves trying to be pleasant for hours on end.


See I was right about those elections Hortense, and why didn't I win huge on the outcome? you know me Horty, I never back the favourite. The woman in the red leather jacket looked a little green around the gills though, she might just have to give it all back now don' you think. My guess is that she could just stick her hand up in four years, and then whattya think would happen? yeah, she'd lose it up to her armpits Horty old thing. What would I know anyway, but I do know this Hortense, that old man who can't raise his arms up higher than this gave a mighty gracious speech in defeat. Well he might too, he got thumped, but not his fault, you do have to sheet it home to Dubya. Got to tell you Hortnese that Gelato never tasted so good as it did today ,YUMMO








Well life moves and grooves always to the beat, and 'lo, the drum beat for the MAN.