Trying to pass myself off as an Australian means living as close to the edge of the continent as possible and spending as much time as I can splashing around just off the edge so I got up earlyish again and headed for another ball shrinking swim at Clovelly Pool. Only this time it seemed nowhere near as cold the water was clear and had plenty of fish in evidence and it was a lovely way to start the day doing a few laps from the flat beach end to the very gently rolling but rolling none the less ocean end. Apetite built I headed up to the hill for breakfast and newspaper and upon entering The Green Mango cafe that I'd been in only twice before I was recognised and my order already known. They have me down as a predictable breakfaster and that's fine.
The rest of the morning passes with trawling through job ads and playing with this blog until I decide to send out a couple of CVs and promptly get a call from an agent in North Sydney who wants to see me as soon as possible because they have a good suitable role and can I get there soon as. So I do and we chat and then call JCJ to catch up for a cup of tea and a chat before heading home. Another couple of agents call and they all love my CV so will one of you please just get me a job? Sheesh.
Actually I have missed something and that is an email from Martyn Ford telling us that their champion Irish Water Spaniel Woods has sired a litter and do we want one. The tempation is huge and I do look into importation of dogs from the UK but the truth is we are not yet ready to get our whip-tail bog-dog and we will have to say no thanks. Bugger. Woods is a handsome beast and it pains me to pass this opportunity but we'll not be cruel (with a very, very small c) to a dog and if we're not ready we're not ready.
Back to Jonathan and he is on good form and we gossip about our mates and talk bikes, diving and photography all subject that JGJ can whip my arse on but would never admit that. Plans are made and I get a train and he a bike back to our respective homes.
More plans are made back at home for a trip to see Derek, Jo, Abigail and William at their place on the south coast this weekend. Slow trains and track repairs and our lack of a car push what can be a 90minute drive to a 4hour public transport hell so it looks like we'll not be seeing them this weekend. School holidays are on and the south coast is massively popular. What better time to rip the tracks up eh? So Derek and I decide this weekend is no good and the Sal speaks to Jo and it becomes a maybe and we may hire a car or something and do you know what I think I will just do as I am told.
I read my brother Darren's blog and feel obliged to write here on Mexican food pronunciation. Nachos. According to dictionary-dot-com n. pl. na·chos and that is not "nachoes" as Darren says and writes in his blog. I therefore claim victory and say to Darren back it up bro, back it the hell up. I think this one may run a bit and forsee two old men arguining over tequilas in years to come. Especially when he finds this. I hate a score draw. So I found this. Sod it, you decide.
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