The Adventures of the Anonymous Two in Australia
Our departure was at a time which meant our alarm wasn’t too dissimilar
from a usual work day. But this was the first trip for the best part of 10
years where we took a suitcase each. As a result of this vast amount of luggage
(and still recalling the debacle of bus transfer from our Naples and Rome trip)
we went for valet parking. We checked in – initially joining the wrong queue as
we hadn’t seen the online check in section. This adjoined the upper class check
in, where we saw Michael Burke.
There was enough time for breakfast at Jamie Oliver’s before going to
the gate and boarding. On the plane we had a vast selection of films and music
and – more excitingly – cameras on the plane so you could see the view ahead,
below and from the tail fin the whole way.
We had a sumptuous lunch on board and I attended to some work. Husband
was grateful for the noise cancelling headphones he had brought as there was a
persistently crying child a couple of rows in front. But they did give him
headphone hair.
We were fed repeatedly. After our good lunch we had an afternoon snack
of scones and clotted cream.
Whatever we watched or listened to though was rudely interrupted by the
inflight announcements. Arabic is a very guttural language and often sounds a
bit like the speaker has vomited while talking but just carries on, styling it
out. It also takes a lot longer to say anything in Arabic. This was not helpful
to Husband who was watching Moon. The run time left of the film was pretty
close to the remaining flight time – but the repeated, lengthy announcements
proved too much. And we landed with him still 5 minutes from the end.
We arrived in Dubai at 8.30 pm local time. Husband was a little
disappointed as there was still so much he wanted to do on the inflight
entertainment system. Dubai International is a vast airport with huge spaces
just for the sake of it, because they can. Vast empty halls had floodlit
waterfall walls. The onward flight was announcing itself as being delayed for
an hour and a bit to 2.15am. So we did the only thing sensible and found bar to
settle in for the evening. And as it had wi fi we were able to update Ryder
about the delay. It was at this moment that I realised my mobile phone had been
switched on for the entire flight, totally undiscovered and seemingly without
any negative effects on the pilot’s control of the aircraft. Husband suggested
having some food in the bar. I wasn’t too sure – we had had a good breakfast
and been well fed on the plane. Also, we would soon get dinner when we boarded
the next flight.
Then the flight delay was extended. So we lined up a snack which I
washed down with an Old Fashioned. Husband completed a survey of the bar which
would entitle us to a buy one get one free meal if we returned. One of the
questions was would we return for special events, such as happy hour and what
was the reason for today’s visit. Perhaps they should have an amended version
for the airport outlets.
It was a Jack Daniels bar – not necessarily our first choice but it was
the only bar so needs must and all that. Consequently it played a lot of
southern American music, which is quite Jesus laden. Jesus God explained Husband
as another bible belt song began – so his cursing was sort of in keeping.
When we arrived at the A gates area it was more or less deserted. Now
it was packed and probably the busiest place in Dubai at 12.30 pm. Where had
they all been?
We made use of the facilities. The ladies had a shower hose next to the
loo – even the western loos as well as the hole in the ground version. I asked Husband
whether this feature was also present in the gents. He said it wasn’t but that
it wasn’t needed for men whereas women were notoriously dirty.
Finally we got a Go to Gate command on the screen, and excitedly
scurried off to the gate waiting area, where we discovered they had lying down
seats. Husband decided that lying down was over rated in comparison with
sitting in a bar. We went through the gate check and into a downstairs waiting
area. Where we waited. And waited. With no information or update provided. We
ended up leaving about 2 hours late.
After consuming our snack dinner I settled down to sleep, and managed
to get a reasonable amount of shut eye but woke up cold and restless. The
passengers had been ordered to keep the blinds down as we would be in broad
daylight shortly after leaving. This kept the plane in an artificial night
time. Air hostesses kept a constant patrol, bringing drinks and random food to
anyone who was awake. It was snack surprise as I ate in the dark what turned
out to be an Indian spiced wrap.
I had kept on UK time to avoid getting too confused. For me, this was
now the morning so I made a determined effort to wake up, despite the darkness
of the cabin, and start watching some films. My headphones were rubbish – one
earphone didn’t work very well and would stop emitting any sound if the plug
was touched or moved or jiggled in any way.
I wasn’t hungry but what I wanted now was breakfast and was about to be
served dinner – after, we were approaching Australia where it was approaching the
evening. The blinds were now able to be lifted as we entered dusk. We had
basically lost Friday. On the flight back we would gain a Tuesday which seemed
like a poor exchange.
The immigration forms were handed round for completion. Husband said
that we should tick yes to the criminal convictions question as it was an entry
requirement. The time to arrival on my navigation screen was 10 minutes sooner
than on Husband’s. We weren’t totally sure how that was going work in practice.
Finally we landed (at the same time, which happened to be 11.30pm) and
made our way to baggage collection and the way out. I had admitted on my
immigration card to having wood with me so was sent through another line at
customs where I fessed up to having wooden toys which the customs man was
totally uninterested by, and didn’t even want to check. When we got out I
realised that Ryder and Skye were probably waiting at the other end (based on
the fact that was where the crowd seemed to be). However, they had also seen us
and Ryder chided me for admitting to the wood and checking that I hadn’t
mentioned about the live octopus.
We drove back to their house, past the city skyscrapers, whose lit
windows rose up into the sky. We had a brief tour of their house and a cuddle
with Everest followed by a cup of tea and much needed shower.
I slept well; Husband less so.I heard the cicadas. Husband was woken by
dogs barking. There was no point in unpacking as we would stay at the beach
house the next night. But in putting some clothes in a smaller travel bag I
discovered that one of our cats had sprayed on the luggage.
In the morning Tracker was brought round by his grandparents where he
had stayed the previous night. Initially he was a little shy, but warmed up a
little – particularly after we gave him the London sights train set. Before
long he came over and gave me big hug. He walked around with a bucket on his
head, and in the process of removing it managed to chip a lump of plastic out
of the bottom, meaning it no longer functioned effectively as a bucket. There
was a temptation to break into singing there’s a hole in my bucket.
After breakfast we drove to the beach house at Sorrento via Arthur’s
seat. Ryder was very good with Tracker, constant engagement and talking to him.
It was strange seeing my baby brother being a parent, and he was a very good
one. Tracker was clearly very fond of Everest but did keep referring to her as
his brother. Then we caused him much confusion about the family relationships.
He disputed that Ryder was my brother. But then later conceded that he was my brother
and also my father. It was around then that I named Uncle Tom.
At Sorrento we went to the beach and walked along the sandy shore as
the big waves came rolling in over our feet. There was a rock enclave which we
climbed into – but the rock was strange and spiky so not at all comfortable to
clamber over. There were masses of cuttlefish littered across the shore as well
as strings of green round seaweed that Ryder had learned to squeeze in a
certain way so that they pinged off at people – me, for instance. He tried to
teach Tracker how to do it.
Back at the beach house Ryder lounged in the hammock while Tracker
raced around the house on his toy bike, wanting Husband to chase after him.
Then he picked some leaves and gave them to Ryder to look after, with strict
instructions not to eat them because that would be ‘disgusting’.
That evening we had pizza and a bottle of Redman wine for dinner and I
read Tracker two bedtime stories. That night, with the window open we were
aware of the musical noise of strange animals. Tracker woke a couple of times,
crying out one time about a spider and another time about Everest. We didn’t go
to him, deciding to be led by his parents. If they wanted to leave him to
settle, then so would we.
Importantly, at around 4am England and Wales were due to play the final
6 nations game which would determine whether or not England would win the grand
slam. There was no satellite TV at Sorrento but Skye lent us her laptop and Husband
registered for an online sport website. Sorted. Except that when we plugged the
laptop in overnight we forgot to turn the power on and we couldn’t work out how
to get past the encryption password screen – even though we had the password.
When we heard Skye get up with the baby, Husband asked her to log in
and then watched the game on delay over breakfast. He didn’t mind too much as
he felt better for having had the sleep.
We had a spectacular breakfast of fresh fruit and thick local yogurt.
Unfortunately Tracker was being taught to say it wrong – yoga rather than yog.
We tried to correct him. Then we went out with Tracker for a walk to Fort
Nepean. It was a long walk which initially we did through parkland and sandy
tracks through the burned barks of tea trees. We looked at the remains of the
immigrant pier on the sea shore and graveyard which recorded the details of
those who left, were born and died on route to Australia before walking along
the road to the fort and Tracker insisted on walking and running along the road
with the inevitable frequent stumbles resulting in grazed knees and tears.
Frequently the road was told off for being naughty for giving him a hurty.
The fort was free to wander around, and quite expansive, including
various subterranean tunnels, barracks and gun emplacements. The fort fired the
first shots of WW2 and the first British Empire shots of WW1.
Tracker counted the steps we walked down from the fort to the shore,
but his counting didn’t link to the number of steps and he insisted on missing
out 14 and 15 in his count to 20 – which is as far as he could go. There were
more than 20 steps and his numbering got a bit random after that.
On the walk back down the road Tracker largely sat in his pushchair. It
had been a long way and he only had little legs. Ed dropped a pair of clean
pants out of Tracker’s rucksack which was hanging on the pushchair handles.
Another father, with children in pushchairs, noticed the drop and went to pick
it up – gingerly. Ed commented that it was pants – and clean ones – at which
point the other father mentioned that his rucksacks was also filled with spare
pants, including some for him, he said, pointing at his child. Tracker laughed
hilariously about snakes on the walk back, throwing himself forward in his
pushchair so alarmingly that Ryder titled it back to avoid Tracker from hurling
himself out. His vigorous guffaws were soon picked on by other children who
also started laughing hilariously about snakes.
Tracker fell asleep on the drive back to the beach house and we left
him sleeping in the car until we left to get the ferry from Sorrento. However,
while asleep, he had comprehensively wet himself so when we got him up after
parking on the ferry he waddled uncomfortably. Once on board, Ryder changed him
into dry clothes but managed to leave Tracker’s bit and pieces outside his
pants until Skye pointed this out. She was surprised the Ryder did this given
he must be familiar with packing the luggage.
As we left Sorrento, jet skiers followed the ferry, going either side of
the boat to play in the wake we left.
A 2 year old, that likes climbing and running about, on a ferry is
nothing short of terrifying. Quickly realising this, we all decided to sit
inside and Ryder took Tracker to the children’s play area.
Once across the narrow mouth to Melbourne bay we headed off to the
country house at Ballarat. On the dual carriageway en route a trailer dropped
its wheelbarrow which was full of stones. Fortunately this happened a few
minutes before Skye – who was in the lead car with both children – arrived on
the scene. There were miles and miles of emptiness and nothing. The landscape
was brown and dry as it was towards the end of a hot summer. There were
occasional buildings and Ryder talked about plans to get internet to everyone in
Australia, but what is the cost effectiveness of miles of internet cable to
single properties like this.
In the fields around the road were trees blackened from wild fires with
shoots of vivid, bright green sprouting from them as the force of life from
nature insists on its survival.
As we progressed north, the heat rises. At one point Skye pulls over to
the kerb. We also stop. Tracker had wet himself again, but they had no more
spare pants with them so she just took his bottom half off and put him half naked
in the car seat with a smile and shrug.
Skye commented that she could tell when Ryder was having one of his
rants based on how closely he was following her.
When we arrived at the farm Skye’s family were there – her parents and
her sister with his wife and three children. The washing machine was promptly
set to work. We looked at the surrounding land with Skye’s father and its
vegetables and fruit trees while Skye hosed down Tracker’s car seat. Her father
was building a pond and trying to grow crayfish in there. The first batch had
died as he had arranged for rain water from the tennis court to drain into it,
without realising that it contained bitumen.
Ryder mentioned that one time he had been playing music and the
neighbours came round to complain. In the Australian outback. We couldn’t even
see the neighbours.
Then we had a go on the train set that Ryder had built which ran round
the garden. It was electric rather than steam, but this meant that the children
could drive it relatively safely. He showed us the models for the next engine
he was constructing. Having gone round with Husband and Tracker, Ryder then
took me around on my own on the basis we could get a bit of pace up. I was
curious about Redman corner – namely the corner my father had taken at pace,
resulting in the train leaving the track and hurling him, Ryder and Tracker out
of the carriage and nearly wiping out 3 generations of Redman.
Ryder took us into the town before dusk. Ballarat had once been a rich
town, the centre of the Australian gold rush. As evening fell, the buildings
glowed in golden light. We visited the railway station and rusting steam trains
parked outside it, and then briefly looked at the town. It had the feel of a
southern American shanty town. The buildings consisted of the lace effect iron
work balustrades and with colonnades over the pavements to protect the
pedestrians from the heat of the sun. The train was put away and we settled in
for dinner of ham, cured and smoked by Skye’s father, followed by a variety of
flavoured vodkas made by Cap’n Turbot, Skye’s brother in law.
As night fell we went outside to look at the southern hemisphere stars,
with no light pollution. There are a lot of stars on the other side of the
world.
Tracker’s bed was an inflatable mattress in with Ed and Skye. It had
white edges and was blue in the middle, and Tracker immediately put up a fight,
saying he didn’t want to sleep in the swimming pool. It did look a bit like a
swimming pool.
Skye’s parents, poppy and patty, sensible slept in the flat that had
been built in the barn – and consequently not even in the same building as the
family and children.
When we got up in the morning there was a light drizzle, which had
clearly followed the English people.
Ryder had a bad night. He had put Tracker in bed with them, but got his
face poked. So he slept in the ‘pool’ instead. That day Skye was taking the
children with her.
We set off early to the vintage Maldon steam railway. On the way, Ryder
noticed that the vintage tram sheds were open which usually open later in the
day. So he screeched to a halt and we spent a few minutes looking around the
old trams. Ryder wanted to get one for the farm at Ballarat but probably as a
static fixture rather than a running tram.
As we drove north to Maldon we went again through miles of nothing, bar
the occasional dead kangaroo on the roadside and warning signs to alert drivers
to the presence of kangaroos – presumably alive ones. Ryder commented that he
wasn’t sure how differently he should drive having seen the warning sign.
The railway at Maldon felt largely unchanged from the 1950’s, as though
this was just how it operated now rather than being a vintage speciality. There
were hardly any visitors and we freely wandered around the tracks, among which
wild grasses were thriving. A steam train was already in the station, ready to
leave. We watched it leave, standing close to the edge of the line as it passed
by. Then we walked to the storage area, past a building amusingly labelled
Men’s Shed.
In a range of tracks around a turntable were several engines, gently
mouldering away, heavy with cobwebs and weeds. Looking at them, it seemed an
eternal task to bring them back into being serviceable, but seemed a shame for
them to be left to slowly decay.
From there we headed south, back towards Melbourne, but intending to
visit Hanging Rock on the way. It was unclear whether the place had always been
a tourist hot spot or whether it was more so since the book. There was blue sky
above and the day was warming up. Just what we needed for a climb. The path
initially meandered through the dappled shade provided by the eucalyptus trees
– the smell of which perfumed the air. The trees lose their rough outer bark at
a certain point in their life, and from then on it is a long, smooth silver
trunk that supports the canopy of leaves above us. The trees we were amongst
were part way through this ‘skin shedding’ process, but the ground beneath was
littered with discarded bark.
Various small children foraged among the leaves and bark debris for
sticks to aid their walk to the top. This seemed like an unplanned forest
clearing programme.
We walked up to the suspended rock after which the place is named and
then onward to the summit. The top was formed from a strange outcrop of tall,
smooth, tooth like rocks, forming a maze crown on the peak. We clambered
between and amongst and around these, admiring the views across the valley when
the gaps opened up to a panorama. There were narrow gaps and rock corridors
between the high boulders allowing you to get lost among them, before the
pathway then opened suddenly to these views of the surrounding countryside. Ryder
said that the valley looked brown and dry. But it was the end of a hot summer,
and autumn was coming.
As there were minimal food options available at the foot of the Rock,
we went into the nearby town of Woodend to forage for a bakery. The one we
found was packed, and used a deli counter ticket system. Ryder took this a sign
that it was good, and decided to go for an obligatory meat pie when our turn
came. We were number 92, and 71 was currently being served. However, the queue
was relatively speedy and before long it was our turn. We also got the
Australian traditional sponge cake, a lamington. Which was big, soft, sweet and
rolled in desiccated coconut. Or sawdust.
Back in Melbourne we went to the Victoria steam depot which had an open
day. Ryder didn’t know what was there as it wasn’t usually open. All he did
know was that they regularly had fires in the train sheds. So it was a surprise
to everyone to see how much was in steam. There were numerous trains tootling
up and down the lines of track. I wandered off to explore the inside of a long
and temptingly interesting set of carriages. I thought that they had seen me
go, but they hadn’t. And I soon realised that there wasn’t a way off along the
line. I either had to keep going to the end, or turn back. I decided to turn
back – and then found that they had also climbed aboard, realising this is
where I must have gone. Based on this experience, Ryder set an emergency meet
point and time. In my defence, the coaches were quite interesting – a sleeper,
with tiny cabins that only fitted a bed, and across the corridor, a smaller cabin
with a seat. Due to the different cabin sizes, the corridor was not straight
but instead zig zagged its way through.
A large engine was proudly turned around on a turntable, in a way which
made it look as though one man had managed, not only to move this enormous
locomotive, but also to bring the turntable to a timely halt which had by that
point built up its own, not insubstantial momentum.
Then we explored inside the engine sheds, filled with carriages in
various states of reconstruction.
All trained out, we returned to the house and met up again with Skye
and the children. Tracker now recognised me at Uncle Tom, Ryder’s brother. Over
a glass of wine that evening, Ryder pointed out that this was the longest we
had spent together for about 20 years. Which seemed strange and sad. After a
tasty Vietnamese dinner out we retired to bed. Tracker had a disturbed night,
crying out a number of times.
The following day we got up late and went to the zoo. Well, it wasn’t a
zoo as both Ryder and I have an ethical issue with the concept of zoos. Instead
this was a sanctuary where hurt wildlife was brought to recover with the
intention of being re-released into the wild. Some, however, were not able to
be returned to their natural habitat and were therefore housed in the sanctuary
on a permanent basis. I tried to teach Tracker the vital words ‘are we nearly
there yet’ which he picked up well despite his father’s protestations not to
listen to Uncle Tom.
On the drive there Tracker looked out of the window at the sky, pointing,
and said ‘what’s that?’I looked out – there was a single solitary cloud. But
what he was actually pointing at was a helicopter.
When we arrived, Tracker was put in charge of holding the squirty
bottle of sun cream. Naturally he pulled on the lever, spraying sun cream all
over the crotch of Ryder who was sitting on a bench in front of Tracker,
applying sun cream to himself.
As it was a sanctuary, rather than a zoo, there was no guarantee of
seeing all the animals. However, we did see kangaroos, dingos, emus, wombats
and possums as well as a lot of small, weird, bouncy, pouched down under
animals. Dilbys, apparently. And snakes. A lot of snakes. We also heard lyre
birds singing. Tracker was very good. He pushed his pram, and wanted to open
all the doors. Tracker was quite enthusiastic about the wallabies – as we left
the area they were in he waved, and shouted bye wallabies, by wallabies, and
seemingly wouldn’t stop until the wallabies acknowledged or responded in some
way. Which was unlikely. Some of the enclosure did not separate the animals
from the visitors, which proved amusing as Tracker was not fully au fait with
‘stick to the path’ rules.
After a while Tracker asked Ryder to carry him and ordered either me or
Husband to push his pram. He will certainly grow up to be a good manager.
In the aviary we held trays of liquid sugar for the birds to feed from,
provided we could keep still enough for them to hang around. Which we couldn’t,
of course.
For lunch we went to a nearby restaurant which had its own winery and
consequently smelled rather boozy. A huge glass wall separated the grape
pressing vats from the restaurant, so you could watch the wine being made. We
sat outside, where the wall was decoratively adorned with wood slats handily
spaced like a ladder – that Tracker promptly climbed. As he got to the point of
being out of reach Ryder decided to grab him and get him back down.
On the way back we ate beestings – another Australian sticky bun. They
were large cream or custard filled things, so named as they resembled a pus
filled bee sting. Nice! It was very tasty, and little sickly.
Tracker danced in his car seat before falling asleep, while wearing
both his and my sun hats.
That evening, a baby sitter was procured for Tracker and we went into town.
Ryder drove us around the old city and explained the lane ways – which had been
intended so that no delivery lorries needed to be in the main road. Now the
spaces were taken up by pop up shops, boutiques and other bohemian style food
and shopping. We also saw the old fashioned lace iron work on the buildings,
which was gradually, and sadly, being lost. The colonial influence was clear in
the older style buildings. Everest started crying, so I put my finger in her
mouth – which she sucked vigorously. But started crying again shortly
afterwards when she realised that it wasn’t going to provide milk. We visited Ryder’s
shop in Fitzroy and got a tea towel printed of Everest wearing the jumper
knitted by Husband’s mother, then went to a Japanese restaurant for dinner. I
was rather excited to try soft shell crab for the first time, and amused by the
idea that Tracker really liked it, enjoying eating the crispy legs.
After dinner we had a night time tour of Melbourne, including going up
to Skye’s office in the EY building, and having views over the city by night,
glittering under the lights of the skyscrapers.
The following day we headed back to Sorrento for a day out at the
beach. Signs warned of fire risks – and this was a country where that was a
serious risk. We went to the calmer waters of the front beach. As it was a
chilly, autumnal 29-30 degrees the beach was empty. We got out the buckets and
spades, and Tracker ordered us all to dig holes and not, under any
circumstances, build a sandcastle. There were shoals of small fish in the
shallows of the water. Tracker had a body board which he ran around, pulling
behind him. Although at one point he insisted on trying to pull Ryder on it,
which frankly wasn’t going to happen. While Tracker played, I quickly constructed
a substantial castle, along similar lines to Deal Castle in Kent. Once Tracker
saw it, he came over and rapidly crushed it.
We then went round to the back beach where Husband went for a swim. The
waves were bigger here, and the water deeper. Also the sand was coarser. All in
all it was a little wilder. But also the beach had a higher level reef filled
with deep rock pools, filled with sea life and shrubbery, and the surf breaking
along the edge of the reef so there was a strange mix of environments. We stayed
on the beach, playing with Tracker while Ryder went for a swim. Tracker wanted
to be with his father, but the water was too rough. So I carried him and walked
into the sea as far I felt able to, needing to stay standing upright against
the force of the not insignificant waves. Anyway, it was enough to settle him
before we returned to Husband on the beach. Tracker wanted to put on my
sunglasses and be wrapped in a towel as it was cold! On the way to the beach we
had popped into the bakery at Sorrento to pick up lunch and Ryder had got a
meat pie to warm himself up.
There were a couple of school parties on the beach – this seemed like a
wholly different concept to the nature walks that I used to do at school.
When we got back into the car afterwards Tracker said, totally
unprompted, are we nearly there yet? I was still struggling to get him to refer
to his father a ginger ninja. He liked ninja’s and had given us all colours,
but Dad was apparently definitely not an ‘inja ninja’.
We ate Golden Gay Times ice lollies on the way back. Ryder had first
had one of these on his first day in Melbourne 11 years earlier.
Tracker ate a lot of fruit, and Ryder gave him a punnet of blueberries
to eat on the drive back, which he promptly up ended on himself. I tried to
collect them all up from inside his car seat but – after we arrived back at the
house – it was clear that he had sat on a few. After eating what was left he
fell asleep – as did I.
Back at the house we watched paw patrol before having a barbie. Well,
we were in Australia and having a barbie is a rule. After the excitement of Paw
Patrol, Tracker wanted to do some painting so he was dressed in his painting T
shirt – which was black and huge, reach more or less down to the floor making
him look like a wizard.
The following day we were up early to get to the airport for our day
trip to Sydney. We saw the Melbourne skyscrapers from the motorway with the
sunrise starting behind them. On the radio in the taxi the morning news reports
started with an update of the time for the major cities in Australia. It seemed
odd to be in country which had different time zones within it. We heard that
there had been another arson attempt on the catholic church (in the wake of
recent Australian priest paedophile allegations). It wasn’t a good time to be a
catholic priest in Melbourne and we wondered how Father Bro’s trip would be in
a month’s time, and whether feelings would still be running high.
On the flight to Sydney we passed over a huge expanse of flat, brown,
dry country. Miles of emptiness. After going through the bizarre process where
you pay to get out of the airport to the train and armed with Opal (like an
Oyster card but worse), we boarded a double decker train into town. We got off
at St James’s rather than take the train right to the end as Ryder said that
the more impressive entrance was by boat under Sydney Harbour bridge, with the
Opera House ahead. So we wandered down to Darling Harbour quay. After crossing
a few roads Ryder let us know that it was illegal to jay walk, having
repeatedly made us do it. He told us that he had escaped a couple of fines by
pretending to be newly arrived in Australia and not aware of these rules. But
now his ID documents and his accent were starting to indicate his more
permanent presence so it was unclear how much longer he could get away with
that one.
We got on a boat to Circular Quays. There were various other boats
lined up on the quayside, and paddle steamers in the water. The equivalent of
the anti-littering ‘Keep Britain Tidy’ signs were a more robustly worded ‘Don’t
be a Tosser’ instead – as in don’t toss your litter.
From the water we were afforded with a good view of the city rising up
the gentle hillside from the water. It was a mixture of architecture, modern
glass skyscrapers and older, low rise art deco buildings with pressed tin
roofs which spread onto canopies over the pavement. These were the original
habitations and certainly had a colonial feel, also quite an American feel to
them.
Ryder noticed my handwriting in the book where these records are
initially made and commented on the backward slant to my writing. I suggested
that it meant something awesome. He simultaneously proposed that it meant
something seriously messed up and noted that we had gone in slightly different
directions there.
The boat ride was indeed an impressive entrance. Sydney Harbour Bridge
crept into view and as we swung around to approach it, the Opera House gleamed
resplendently behind it.
Husband’s Opal card wouldn’t let him out at the other end. A guard
opened the gate for him, and we went to the Opal information office. We were
informed that the chip was broken – so had to buy a new card. On enquiring if
we could get back the money that was on it, he said we could but this had to be
done by phone. Ryder called the number. You could only get the money refunded
into an Australian bank account. You could get it transferred to another Opal
card, but that would take 24 hours. So Ryder had fun explaining to the person
that he was an English tourist and would not be in Sydney in 24 hours’ time,
and had effectively been robbed. He gave them the new Opal card number anyway –
because he would of course be back in Sydney at some point, or could give the
cards to Bro for his visit. He in fact hoped that by the time he did come back,
the people who invented the system had been rounded up and shot, and that it
had been replaced by a better system.
We walked round to see the Opera House which was considerably more
interesting close up, and gave off a distinct whiff of the 1970’s. The
architectural interest of its shapes was more complex from nearer but more
exciting than that was the discovery that the surface is actually made up from
thousands of small tiles with varied surface colours which were used to create
subtle patterns. You see none of this from a distance.
From there we climbed up on the bridge and walked part way across, to
get a feel of what it looked like, and what the view was, then meandered off to
the Rocks to forage for lunch. This was the area where the first settlers came
and was made up from little old world buildings, dwarfed beneath the modern
city scape. The lunch menu was interesting and included a pizza made from part
emu and part kangaroo. It was St Patrick’s day so there were Irish flags and Guinness
galore. The beer doesn’t come in pints in Australia – it comes in pots in
Melbourne and schooners in Sydney. Both are small than a pint, to avoid the
risk of the beer warming up too quickly if it was a bigger drink.
Ryder talked about not having a particular political leaning or
religion. He was of the view that the 10 commandments were good, and proposed
values which should be followed. But he felt this could be condensed into one
single commandment – don’t be a cunt. He also disliked how people all do things
a follow a routine for no particular reason, rather than question it.
My father categorises more or less every city in the world by how long
you need to spend there on a visit. He would describe Sydney as ‘half a day’.
Having now seen everything worth seeing in Sydney, well within half a
day, we took a boat to Manly. It was that or Bondi beach but Ryder assured us
that the only point of Bondi was that it was famous and Manly was actually the
nicer beach to go to.
The beach was indeed stunning with large waves rolling onto the shore
to the delight of the local surf community. A small area was marked up as being
for swimming, under the watchful eye of lifeguards. Swimming was almost
impossible and largely comprised dealing with the force of the waves as they
crashed over you and sent you tumbling towards the shore, and trying to stay
within the swimming zone. The hidden force of the current quickly dragged you
away.
Tanned men on the beach wore speedos with the town name written on them
– Manly.
Ryder enjoyed getting into the water. Usually he was with Tracker so
not able to go swimming, nor able to take Tracker into such rough water. After
our swim, we had a few drinks, watching people pulling wetsuits on sprint down
to the beach, surf board under their arm. We wondered if these were people back
from work, wanting to get some surfing done before dusk.
We took a boat back as the sun was setting over Sydney. The red sky
formed a backdrop to the city skyline and familiar silhouettes of the Opera
House and Harbour Bridge. Everyone on the boat was taking photos. Ryder was
audibly laughing behind us, commenting about how many copies of the identical
photo were in the process of being uploaded onto Facebook, Instagram, snapchat
and the like. His giggles were further encouraged by another man on the boat
calling out ‘cheese’ and ‘please return to your seats and prepare for a crash
landing’. As we got off the other end he reminded us that none of us is a
unique snowflake – as we are all brought up to believe. ‘You are not a fucking
snowflake’ he exclaimed. The only thing we have in common with a snowflake is
that we will go away if pissed on. We’re all boringly identical. He wanted to
do a book with photos of people all taking photos of the same thing, I told him
that the Father always took photos of people taking photos.
We topped up the crazy Opal card as Ryder wasn’t sure if there was a
top up machine at the airport, and based on the pricing information given by
the women when we bought them, we needed additional funds to get out at the
airport. So an extra $10 was added to each. We only needed an additional $2, but
the minimum top up was $10.
Back at the airport, when I tapped to get out, it confirmed that the
remaining balance was $10. Ryder looked bewildered and commented that the
pricing information given by the woman when we bought them was totally wrong.
Ryder was able to get us into the Business Lounge to wait for the
flight where we consumed some free drinks and food. As I was eating a pudding Ryder
asked me what it was, before deciding whether or not he wanted one. I described
it, badly – sticky nuts, not treacle tart, not bakewell. Apparently it was an
Australian thing called jaffles.
We got back to Melbourne late and went straight to bed. We woke to the
sound of Skye and Tracker coming home. In the morning I saw Ed add yesterday’s
boarding pass to a large pile of other passes. Seemingly he collected them.
Definitely his father’s child. I asked him how he dealt with the print at home
boarding passes and he said that the deliberately never uses those. He wants
the proper oblong card.
It was raining, and we spent the morning playing with Tracker, during
which I got an involuntary hug from him. He was extremely knowledgeable about
dinosaurs, knowing all their names. But there was one he couldn’t recall and
asked me what it was called. He was not to be fooled. I can’t name a lot of
dinosaurs, but I reeled them off only to be promptly told that No, that one was
a stegosaurus. So I went off piste entirely and suggested it was a Trackersaurus.
Tracker was wearing a T shirt with a picture of a former Tracker Redman
on it, and Union Jack socks as he merrily bossed us around. He was a very
demanding boy – don’t do this, do that.
When the glazier came round to fit the glass screen in the en suite
shower that Ryder had built Tracker went out to help him, taking with him his
toy hammer and goggles in case these were needed.
It was still damp and cool, but this was the day for looking around
Melbourne. So Husband and I took a tram into town and picked up some town maps
from the red jacketed town guides dotted around town. The guide I spoke to said
she was going to London in August and was really looking forward to it. I said
to her that she would have a great time, and as it would be British summer
time, the weather would probably be as hot and sunny as it was today. She
looked at me quizzically, not sure how serious I was being.
We wandered around Collins Street and then into the laneways and
arcades. The laneways had been constructed so that deliveries could be made to
all the shops without delivery vans being seen in the main roads. Now they were
given over to bistros and cafes. We found a place for lunch while the latest
bout of rain passed.
Ryder had suggested going to the RAC building to see the old fashioned
traffic light. In the distance was the hum of Formula 1 cars in their practice
sessions in Albert Park, and loud planes overhead from the associated fly
pasts.
We had a quick pint in the subterranean Sherlock Holmes pub. They
hadn’t really understood real ale, and it was served far too cold.
The free, vintage city circle train wasn’t running during F1 weekend.
This seemed an odd decision. Surely this was the weekend when that service
would be most useful and beneficial. We didn’t necessarily need to travel
around the city, but had wanted to see the vintage tram.
We walked down to Finders Street station and across the bridge to look
at the river. We pondered walking down to the war memorial in the park, but the
skies darkened and some significant rain started to fall. So we decided to give
that a miss and instead walked to the Treasury, Parliament and Carlton
building. We couldn’t get up to the latter as the park was being used for a
flower show which required paid entry, so headed to the road where we would
meet Ryder and Skye for dinner, and whiled away the time in the Carlton Yacht
Club. I used the mobile Ryder had leant us to let him know. It was pretty old
fashioned, where you needed to push the button several times to get the letter
you wanted, then it sent without warning. It also seemed to be full of water.
Ed called – I could hear him but he couldn’t hear me. He decided this was an
excellent phone – one which only allowed him to give instructions to people who
couldn’t speak back.
We met them at an Italian restaurant which was able to fit us in for
dinner. Skye had recently heard that the baby of someone they recently met at a
wedding had died from cot death. Ryder said he was unable to express empathy
for a sudden infant death of someone they barely knew, and then went on into an
extensive rant about treatment of people in the world, and the west’s obsession
with fighting people who don’t look like us. His wrath also extended to Jeremy
Clarkson who Ryder considered to be a racist.
After dinner we went to Skye’s office to see the city from high up a
sky scraper – on the way having the chance to see Audrey, the skipping girl in
lights.
We went back to the house for drinks, and some more sermons about the
ills of modern society. The following morning Ryder showed us a video of some
Indian chaps who had done a series called ‘How to Speak Australian’ – which is
basically racist but seemed to be ok with Ryder.
We set off to see Ryder’s solar system, passing his Prahran shop on the
way and St Kilda, where he had lived when he first arrived in Melbourne. On his
first day it was hot, and he bought an ice cream at a local shop and was amused
by it being called Golden Gay. We saw the house that he had stayed at. It had
been called Florence when he was there. Now the name was removed, and
alteration work had changed the structure of the building.
There was a lunar park, currently largely empty, but it was autumn. The
temperature had plummeted to the low 20’s. It was constructed in the early
1900’s and had a wooden roller coaster.
And then to the solar system, which stretched across 8km of the
Melbourne sea front. All the planets were there, directly proportional in size
and distance to the real thing. The original, temporary version had included
planets which they had decorated. Now though, made permanent in metal, only the
larger ones were able to have distinctive carvings. The moon and earth featured
on the same plinth. The objective had been to show the frailty of earth, how
little distance we’ve gone in the context of the whole solar system. It was
very impressive. Apparently school parties came to see it to teach children
about the galaxy. It had needed $100,000 to make it permanent, of which $70,000
was provided by Tony Wheeler from Lonely Planet. Unfortunately he fell out with
the chap who he built it with during the 2 years that it took to make the
permanent structure happen so he wasn’t invited to the opening and is barely
credited on the plaque.
Ryder dropped us off more or less at the entrance to the grand prix. It
was a great venue, with the Albert Park lake in the middle, and the city rising
behind. There was a section where street art was displayed – and a dinosaur
wandered around, lunging at children.
We had good food – made to order, and tried to stay out of the sun.
This was made easier when the weather turned cooler, and wetter. We were in an
uncovered stand, so hoped that this was just a passing shower.
The powers that be had seen fit to introduce strange new qualifying
rules where the slowest driver was eliminated every 90 seconds. It was,
however, nice to see the new cars and liveries.
The display aircraft – including a rather loud F18 – flew right over
our heads, only a few hundred feet up. Which was pretty unique, as in the UK
aircraft don’t usually fly over the crowd line.
Bizarre, disappointing and disastrous new qualifying over, we got on
the tram for an extremely slick service back into town, discovering that there
was somewhere called Batman Park. We even managed to navigate to a tram back to
Ryder’s but nearly missed the stop as we didn’t recognise the residential
streets and it appeared more quickly than we had expected.
We told Tracker that we had seen a dinosaur in the park. He didn’t
believe us, so we showed him the photos. According to Ryder, Tracker had been
asking where we were today. It was nice that he was warming to us to the extent
that he sort of missed us when we weren’t around.
Ryder cooked us a fabulous dinner, accompanied by Anonymous Brothers
wine, which was extremely delicious. And finally we saw some bats. Ryder had
wanted us to see the bats every day, but we kept missing the appropriate moment
of dusk. But this day, he rushed outside at the appointed hour and hollered
that it was bat night. So we stood in the half-light while large, silent dark
shadows flitted around above our heads.
Later that evening he talked about how he had won over Skye. He had
made her an advent calendar with each window hiding a photo of something
meaningful. He had made a jigsaw of a photo of them, but given the separate
pieces to her friends to pass to her when they saw her. When he had come back
to the UK to renew his visa, he had left her a present to open every day. Just
a load of things that made sure she kept thinking about him.
He also took her to a White Stripes concert and had leant her some CD’s
beforehand so that she knew the music. When they played Hotel Yorba she loved
it and asked why he hadn’t given her that one to listen to. It became their
song, and when the vinyl press was being compiled, Ryder knew the company doing
it and asked if he could write a message in the spare wax. He had expected the
answer to be no, so was surprised when they said yes. So in the wax between the
hole and the label he scratched ‘the spaces between my fingers fit yours
perfectly’ and added Skye’s initials. As it is White Stripes policy to keep the
same press for all runs of their vinyl you can go into any record store and buy
that single, and that message will be there. Ryder liked the idea that in 15 years’
time his kid could buy the single and see a message to their mum on it. He had
a poster of that single with the first vinyl press on the back, and had written
on the poster ‘music always sounds better when it reminds me of you’.
He had also made a book called Always Wind On about his travels with Skye
with an old fashioned, plastic wind on camera. The frontispiece made clear that
this was the only copy and it was extremely unlikely that any more editions
would be published. And the inscription read ‘for Skye, without whom, nothing’.
It was clear to see how he had won her over, and the depth of his
feelings for her.
The following morning we watched England win the 6 nations grand slam
before Ryder took us on a quick tour around Collingwood and Fitzroy, a bohemian
feeling area of grunge and street art, colonnaded buildings and lace iron work.
It was wonderfully quiet and becoming extremely expensive.
Finally, we saw the old city circle tram. It still wasn’t running, but
was being used to transfer people to and from the flower show. So Ryder chased
it round the streets for a bit so that we could see it – in the process
pointing out the peculiar stay in left lane to turn right signposting.
We took the F1 shuttle tram from the city centre to the circuit, and
sheltered from the heat of the sun in the GP Advantage building which our
tickets gave us access to and watched the TV footage of the pedal car race. The
driver’s parade wasn’t on the back of a flatbed truck – instead they were
driven round in Austin Healey’s.
There was a T shirt printing place so we took some photos show Ryder
what the competition was up to. There were rows of classic cars which we looked
at and then lingered in the shade until the start of the race.
Ferrari got a good lead, but then Alonso had a significant crash
resulting in a red flag which then rather stuffed up all the strategies, so it
ended disappointingly with a Mercedes 1, 2 and Vettel in 3rd after
Kimi retired with a car on fire.
The transport back into town was considerably less slick than it had
been the previous day. Gate 1 was closed for emergency access vehicles, so the
crowds were all being directed to Gate 2 where there were no trams. So we ended
up rushing across the road at the site of a bus which we managed to squeeze on
to (a few hundred other people had had the same idea).
We found a roof top bar at the top of a slight of steps which were
spectacularly covered with bright and imaginative art. We had a couple of
drinks and wind down as the sun set before foraging for dinner. We made our
decision based on where we could into – but avoiding the one where the catcher
outside tried to suggest that we wouldn’t get in anywhere other than his place.
Despite his foretelling of doom, we found a Thai restaurant which was largely
empty and had a sumptuous dinner.
The following day, our last, we went out in the morning to see puffing
billy. There was a model railway at the station, claiming to be the biggest one
in the world. The station was wonderfully peaceful. Tall trees and parrots gave
it an exotic feel.
The train appeared. The carriages had a roof but were open sided where
you would usually expect windows to be, with a bar to prevent you falling out.
Children sat on the wooden edges, they legs dangling outside and the bar across
their middles to steady themselves and prevent them from falling. It had the
look of an Indian train, so covered in limbs was it.
On the way back Tracker fell asleep halfway through eating a lolly.
Back at the house we had a snack lunch and final family photos. Tracker
donned safety goggles to eat a digestive biscuit, and then had an iced bun
which he ate from the top – just the icing part which was littered with
hundreds and thousands, and then wanted to give us a good kiss on the lips.
Which was a sticky experience.
As the children had warmed to us so much and the whole experience had
been so good, we mentioned to Skye a plot to come back in September for Tracker’s
3rd birthday, but as a surprise visit from Ryder and Tracker. She
loved the idea.
We said our goodbyes and Ryder drove us to the airport. He explained
that Australians hadn’t yet understood the concept of giving way in traffic,
they didn’t realise this actually sped things up and generally found this a
confusing process. He had once been shouted at for letting someone in. given
what a kind and friendly nation they were, this seemed a peculiar situation.
Our flight back was via Singapore, where it was night time. Initially
this extra stop seemed annoying but as I had a very restless leg on the first
flight it was a welcome opportunity to walk around for an hour. It was handy
that I kept our boarding passes, as we needed these to get back on the same
plane we had just left – and no one had made that clear when we got off it. We
also needed to pass through security again. I’m not totally sure how I was
meant to have picked up contraband between getting off the plane, standing in a
holding lounge and then getting back on it, but the security people were not
the right people to pose that question to. Interestingly, the trays with your
worldly possessions in were numbered and you were given that number, so there
was a clear link to the owner and no opportunity to walk swiftly away if your
items attracted unwelcome attention.
The loos at Singapore were squatter style. Well, there were some
western ones but there was a massive queue for those. I wasn’t sure why no one
was willing to use the squatter one – which I happily made use of. There was a
shower hose in there. It was unclear if this was a primitive bidet or a flush
system. I asked Husband if there was a shower hose in the gents. He said no,
but pointed out that women were probably dirtier than men.
When we arrived in Dubai it was raining. Unfortunately the flight from
Dubai to the UK had a fair share of crying children who managed to keep setting
each other off. On the plus side, it was entering into what we could consider
to be daytime, and also my tolerance for crying children had increased after
spending a week with small children and seeing that they can be tired and
unpredictable.
We were served breakfast quite a lot, and finally landed back in
England in time for lunch.
My experiment to see how long you can wear a pair of knickers before
you feel manky was complete, although a re-test in September was now being
planned.
