Round 2. I'm now in Sydney for something like the sixth time in my life. We've spent a happy morning wandering around, followed by a weary afternoon in a cafe garden brought on by beer, heat, not having slept too much and too much wandering around. We took a photo of a German man, and then refused to engage him in the conversation he so clearly desired (due to history...); we watched a fire juggler apologise repeatedly for the fact that he couldn't really juggle fire; we became connoisseurs of the best shade, in art galleries and museums across the Rocks district.
Meanwhile, Kilv lies asleep in his bed dreaming of earning £28,000 per annum.
Our second flight of the expedition, the one which brought me from the last blog post to this one, was struck by disaster. Between Heathrow and Seoul, the lack of Kilv meant our three seats became one sofa, with the central area transformed into a bin. We even had his screen permanently tuned to the SkyMap so we didn't have to pause our films or nothing.
However, as we arranged ourselves into the familiar set up on our flight out of Seoul, The Annoying Russian approached. But what? This wasn't Kilv! We, being the ones spurned by his sudden and still hard to understand change of heart, surely had the right to repurpose his reserved space how we saw fit. And we saw it fit for empty peanut wrappers, the Evening Standard, and a tea-stained Brideshead Revisited. But as she lumbered over, announcing herself as our new flight companion, these dreams of an airborne living room crumbled to dust.
Throughout the ten hour flight, her questions and comments included "what time is it in England?", "do you find it weird to see a white woman with a not white man?" and "I have a dream to speak to some people with good British, Queen's English. Now my dream has come true!". She also slept with her hand on Jack's side... She really was a menace.
Oh, and Jack correctly identified her (female) friend as looking like the fat guy from Borat.
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