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Here's a picture of Sydney that ResQgeek might recognise. I wish I'd taken it, but even my new camera on a tripod wouldn't do anything like this, I suspect!
Yesterday was a day of delight. Pure pleasure from start to finish, though when the alarm rang at 0430 in the middle of a dream, I can't say that I greeted the pre-dawn with affection.
I checked my email, sorted out a few support issues, had a dark breakfast, a shower, packed my bag and got into the car, turning up outside my mate Kerry's house at six on the dot, as arranged.
Kerry is a chap about my age and size, but he was already a member of the Gunroom when I stowed away in 1999. This online discussion group, dedicated to two topics - A) the works of Patrick O'Brian and B) everything else - has been one of the joys of my Internet life. I briefly met Gloria on the Sunshine Coast last year, and when she announced that she was making a short trip down to Sydney for a few days with her airline pilot husband Doug, we put together a gathering. Kerry got a day off work, as did Sydney lissun Angela, and we planned to meet outside the National Maritime Museum in Darling Harbour.
Kerry and I are old hands and we chatted the whole trip down. The freeway just flew past, until we began to encounter rush hour traffic around Liverpool. Kerry seized the street directory and guided me flawlessly through Redfern to a carpark. Actually, there was one flaw - me. At one stage I found myself in the wrong lane and we made a quick loop through the International Terminal. My subconscious at work, I suspect!
We found Gloria and Doug having breakfast at a sunny cafe looking out on the harbour. A champagne breakfast, but Kerry and I settled for coffee, though I must say that the savoury smells all around certainly wet the appetite, setting the juices flowing.
Gloria was dressed in a bright and bubbly outfit, as suits her personality, and we were all moths to her butterfly. Husband Doug I hadn't met before, but after a few excruciating puns, I knew I'd found a friend. Doug is a movable feast, piloting airliners around the world, and he keeps his camera handy for the sort of shots that I can only dream about. He spotted the Airbus Beluga the other day.
I took the opportunity to release a book at the entrance hall of the museum, one I'd selected to mirror the destroyer moored alongside. "Relentless Pursuit", a tale of the war at sea. Once Doug realised what it was, he snapped it up.
( Click here for destroyer )
None of us had ever seen Angela, but she'd described herself as vertically-challenged and blonde, so I gave friendly embraces to everyone fitting that description. Our party complete, we began browsing through the museum, beginning with the modelmaker-in-residence.
( Kerry and Doug discuss details )
There was a travelling exhibition of French naval sculpture, which was mainly prints, figureheads and "gingerbread" from the 18th century. Our period. We were fascinated and there were some amazing pieces. Hard to photograph in the dim light, but here's Gloria looking up at King Henri IV:
( The Lady and the King )
We looked through threst of the museum. An incredible array of material. i seized the opportunity to leave First Class in an exhibit resembling a sailing ship passenger saloon.
I was staunchly steadfast in the bookshop. I could easily see myself going beresk and wiping all off the numbers off my credit card. But we all bought something.
And outside there were a couple of sailing ships:
( The Bounty )
But we couldn't go aboard the Bounty. Our tickets paid for a tour of the James Craig, an iron-hulled sailing ship that had been around the Horn a great many times, had spent forty years rotting in Tasmania (as one does) and been restored by loving volunteers. I remembered one of my mates, an international drug courier, who had served some time aboard her and had been injured by a rivet dropping on his toes. Big rivets, these!
It was fascinating to see the old lady in her glory, though it was a a very spartan glory. Even the captain's cabin was less than what you'd get in a second-hand youth hostel. But we loved it and the guide fed off our enthusiasm.
( A )
And then it was off to lunch. We'd discussed a harbour cruise to Manly, but it was well after one by now, a trip up the harbour would take an hour at least, and we'd be faint from hunger by the time we arrived. So we found a Moroccan restaurant with a harbour view and spent a jolly two or three hours indulging in great food, wine and company. It was a delicious meal in every sense of the word.
( Here )
A long drive back to Canberra, enlivened by an episode or two of "I'm Sorry, I Haven't a Clue".
And then i tumbled wearily into bed. It was a grand and exhausting day, and I am so lucky to have such friends!
Yesterday was a day of delight. Pure pleasure from start to finish, though when the alarm rang at 0430 in the middle of a dream, I can't say that I greeted the pre-dawn with affection.
I checked my email, sorted out a few support issues, had a dark breakfast, a shower, packed my bag and got into the car, turning up outside my mate Kerry's house at six on the dot, as arranged.
Kerry is a chap about my age and size, but he was already a member of the Gunroom when I stowed away in 1999. This online discussion group, dedicated to two topics - A) the works of Patrick O'Brian and B) everything else - has been one of the joys of my Internet life. I briefly met Gloria on the Sunshine Coast last year, and when she announced that she was making a short trip down to Sydney for a few days with her airline pilot husband Doug, we put together a gathering. Kerry got a day off work, as did Sydney lissun Angela, and we planned to meet outside the National Maritime Museum in Darling Harbour.
Kerry and I are old hands and we chatted the whole trip down. The freeway just flew past, until we began to encounter rush hour traffic around Liverpool. Kerry seized the street directory and guided me flawlessly through Redfern to a carpark. Actually, there was one flaw - me. At one stage I found myself in the wrong lane and we made a quick loop through the International Terminal. My subconscious at work, I suspect!
We found Gloria and Doug having breakfast at a sunny cafe looking out on the harbour. A champagne breakfast, but Kerry and I settled for coffee, though I must say that the savoury smells all around certainly wet the appetite, setting the juices flowing.
Gloria was dressed in a bright and bubbly outfit, as suits her personality, and we were all moths to her butterfly. Husband Doug I hadn't met before, but after a few excruciating puns, I knew I'd found a friend. Doug is a movable feast, piloting airliners around the world, and he keeps his camera handy for the sort of shots that I can only dream about. He spotted the Airbus Beluga the other day.
I took the opportunity to release a book at the entrance hall of the museum, one I'd selected to mirror the destroyer moored alongside. "Relentless Pursuit", a tale of the war at sea. Once Doug realised what it was, he snapped it up.
( Click here for destroyer )
None of us had ever seen Angela, but she'd described herself as vertically-challenged and blonde, so I gave friendly embraces to everyone fitting that description. Our party complete, we began browsing through the museum, beginning with the modelmaker-in-residence.
( Kerry and Doug discuss details )
There was a travelling exhibition of French naval sculpture, which was mainly prints, figureheads and "gingerbread" from the 18th century. Our period. We were fascinated and there were some amazing pieces. Hard to photograph in the dim light, but here's Gloria looking up at King Henri IV:
( The Lady and the King )
We looked through threst of the museum. An incredible array of material. i seized the opportunity to leave First Class in an exhibit resembling a sailing ship passenger saloon.
I was staunchly steadfast in the bookshop. I could easily see myself going beresk and wiping all off the numbers off my credit card. But we all bought something.
And outside there were a couple of sailing ships:
( The Bounty )
But we couldn't go aboard the Bounty. Our tickets paid for a tour of the James Craig, an iron-hulled sailing ship that had been around the Horn a great many times, had spent forty years rotting in Tasmania (as one does) and been restored by loving volunteers. I remembered one of my mates, an international drug courier, who had served some time aboard her and had been injured by a rivet dropping on his toes. Big rivets, these!
It was fascinating to see the old lady in her glory, though it was a a very spartan glory. Even the captain's cabin was less than what you'd get in a second-hand youth hostel. But we loved it and the guide fed off our enthusiasm.
( A )
And then it was off to lunch. We'd discussed a harbour cruise to Manly, but it was well after one by now, a trip up the harbour would take an hour at least, and we'd be faint from hunger by the time we arrived. So we found a Moroccan restaurant with a harbour view and spent a jolly two or three hours indulging in great food, wine and company. It was a delicious meal in every sense of the word.
( Here )
A long drive back to Canberra, enlivened by an episode or two of "I'm Sorry, I Haven't a Clue".
And then i tumbled wearily into bed. It was a grand and exhausting day, and I am so lucky to have such friends!
