When last we spoke, I left you in Sydney

I have so much to catch you all up on, and I’m getting further and further behind. So there may be a massive influx on posts this week, in order to get you all up to date so that I then have nothing left to tell you. How does that sound?

I’m a child of this big city and the inner west of Sydney, and when given the opportunity will gravitate back there.

It energises me in a way that in uniquely Sydney. I love the sense of humour.

We went on a wild expedition with a couple of ring-ins to the Rocks Markets. Mostly because it’s relaxed and has lots of fun things to look at.

While heading to the bus stop one morning I caw this lovely lady feeding her feral pets, the rainbow lorikeets. She was beating at those upstart pigeons with a stick so they couldn’t steal the food from her colourful babies.

She allowed me to take a picture of this, and we had a nice, brief, morning chat.

There were meet ups with friends and much time spent doing what we have always done when we gather together en masse, we pushed the tables together and slowly take over the room. I’m sure the pubs would care more, if we weren’t all drinking to the extent that we do!

Of course (for those that do) we went up King St one day. It was just a matter of stepping off the bus earlier than we expected, and then walking our way along.

I love how there always seems to be new art to see, or a part of old art that you hadn’t seen previously… Or perhaps that is what comes from not seeing something more than once every two years.

While there we made pilgrimage to the Duke of Edinburgh pub. A pub which is integral to the history of Himself and I. It has changed. More than we liked to see. Small changes over time accumulate and you realise that you can never go back. Not a bad thing. Just an observation.

Other sights in Sydney haven’t changed at all. Harry’s is still there, and still sells its meat pies with mushy peas. I will admit to us not indulging in this Sydney treat!

In this one last photos for this post, I have for you my golden bleeding tree.

No, it’s not “mine” per se, but I went past it twice a day while sitting on the bus going to and from work for years, and years, and years. It is one of my Sydney touch-stones, and I love it.