Mom and Dad took off at ten in the morning for Hyde Park. While they had breakfast croissants and explored the museum and lunched at the Orient Hotel, I played catch-up at home: read and wrote back to thousands of emails, made several important calls, bought potting soil, bought Mom a USB charger for her DS, cleaned the house, boiled some eggs for breakfast for the next three days, tried and failed to pick up our tickets for Cairns next week (not ready for another 24 hours) and got home at 2. Is this what it’s like to be a housewife? As I was scarfing lunch, Mom called from a pay phone. They were at the Rocks near the two famous old hotels, the Hero of Waterloo and the Duke of Wellington, which are half a block apart from each other. One of these is the oldest pub in Sydney. I can never remember which. According to legend, it has a secret tunnel underneath that leads out to the harbour, a few hundred metres away. In harsher days, the British would get drunken Aussies to kiss the shilling and then shove them staggering down the tunnel and out to the water, into a waiting ship. Expedient, eh? I fought rush hour, got to the Rocks at 4, had a quick drink (thanks Mom), turned around and we made it home just in time for my 6:15 Pilates class. Early bed.
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