Washed up on the shores of Sydney Harbour. No marmite, no music and no mercy from the locals.
The whispers in the dark of night, the cries of drunken joy in the early hours of the morning and the slow burning madness of a mixed up, shook up, muddled up, upside down world.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
And there is supposed to be a drought...
Touchdown and it's raining. Proper rain, sheets of the stuff, plummeting down on my tired old head. After 28 hours of travel, here I am (all) washed up on the shores of Sydney harbour and all with less than £30 in my pocket (still that should see me through till Christmas 08).