Well here we are again. I’m about to embark on another adventure and where as on previous voyages I’ve not really been nervous, I am a bit this time round as it’s a different sort of travelling, i.e. the static kind where you don’t actually go anywhere. After nearly a year as a Prince of Bumdom (that could be construed in an entirely different way than I intend) it’s time to get a job which is crucial to how long I last in Sydney. I’m confident something will turn up though, after all I’ve got a mint new Fred Pez pinstripe shirt to swing the balance in interviews.
My sister Boacher Bowen (who lives in London) came with me part of the way to Heathrow to see me off. It would be an eventful outing. First off with the taxi from Hornchurch to Romford station, after I’d put my bag in the boot the driver brought down the lid a bit too early and gave me an almighty wallop right on the top of my bonce. No concussion, mercifully as London’s biggest airport might have been a tad difficult to navigate with blurred vision.
Next up we got a National Express train (I thought they only did buses, smelly ones at that) for the 15 minute trip to Liverpool Street station. The train was pretty busy and although there were seats available there weren’t two together and there wasn’t much room for my luggage. So we went right down to the bottom of the train and in a 4 seater little cubicle which was still part of another carriage we plonked ourselves down. We then noticed a sign on the window after a minute saying first class, but didn’t think much of it as there was no difference between that and the other seats, this would prove to be a mistake. A short while later and a very official looking official was informing that we “Have committed an offence on the railways”. Sitting in a different colour seat from the one you’re supposed to isn’t exactly murder on the Leyton Orient Express is it.
Anyway, when the train came to it’s destination we were escorted to another miserable jobsworth who wanted to fine us 20 sherbets each. Jog on. Big Sis Bowen started to get a bit angry at this point where as I adopted the sarcastic approach, neither were very effective. After lots of tooing and throwing we had to give our address details or face the old bill’s top men. I informed numpty number 1 that I didn’t have an address as I was a few short hours away from moving to Australia and looking for one. He said that I needed to provide one. 10 Ramsay Street I said. He didn’t appreciate this. Eventually they let us go when Boach had given her address, though not before a solid proclamation to numpty 1 and 2 that the fine would not be getting paid.
After this little ordeal we met up with my brother-in-law (well pretty much) for some grub at O’Neill’s and what would happen to be the first background tune we hear? Only bloody this one.
Then it was goodbyes and the Piccadilly line from Kings Cross straight into the airport, nice and easy.
I’m now just spending the last bit of Blighty dosh on my person on a pint of Guinness while watching the Ireland vs Brazil game and waiting for my departure gate to be announced.
This Cathay Pacific plane I’m on is massive, I’ve never been on one of these bad boys before. It has 10 seats to a row with 2 corridors separating them. Thankfully it’s a Bowen* 747, much better than one of them iffy Airbus jobbies I reckon, ahem.
It’s 11 hours to get to Hong Kong and then I think about the same again from there to Sydney, a film marathon might well be on the cards.
One of the flight hostesses just spilt beer all over my lap, though she is very sorry as she has now assured me several dozen times and brought me enough napkins to host and impromptu origami tournament. I’m starting to think all these little slices of bad luck I’m having today are leading up to a biggy!
Over the 2 flights I wangled 4 films in in-between stuffing myself with every complimentary bit of grub and drink available and poor misguided efforts at sleeping. Un Prophète and The Damned United were both good and A Serious Man and The Invention Of Lying were not so good. As usual all my thoughts are available here.
My entrance through customs in Sydney went smoothly so here I am, made it.
I got the train down to Simon’s in Bondi Junction and now it’s time to get on with all the malarkey to make this a home for a while; Australian sim card, bank account, tax registration, flat hunt, job hunt. Blimey. Though after being up for about 50 hours, a kip might be in order.
If by a big stroke of luck I can get a well paid job here, I think I may have to get myself an old cheap Vespa if I can to get about on. This sort of weather is what scooters are made for. This is the point I meant to end this post but I never got round to it, so I may as well continue.
I’ve not really seen or done anything interesting or touristy yet (not even seen the Harbour Bridge or Opera House!) as I’ve just been trying to get the initial bobbins I mentioned sorted so I can relax and know I’ve got spondulicks coming in.
After being here the best part of a week however, I have now sorted a bank account, phone number (this lot appear to offer the best deals), applied for tax and medical registrations and rather importantly, sorted somewhere to live. I’m moving into a house-share later today in central Bondi Junction. The place seems nice and I’ll be living with an Australian, a Belgian, a Spaniard and a Frenchy. Hopefully it will work out well.
A big thank you to Mr Logan for putting me up for the last week and for taking regular beatings from me on Pro Evolution Soccer 3 on the PS2 with somewhat humility.
The last few days I’ve also been hitting the job hunt trail hard by mithering agencies and getting my CV out. The market seems pretty good, if I don’t manage to secure a preferred (and better paid) server admin role, desktop support should be easy enough to get.
I’ve not seen any snakes or spiders (of any note) yet but I did see a wee lizard running round the house the other day and when I went for a run in Centennial Park just before sunset I saw loads of massive bats (wingspans like birds of prey!) which will make for some amazing photos when I get to grips with the features on my new camera.
The pic is of a lovely old Vespa 150 that is wasted as an ornament in a restaurant just down the road from my new place. Having now had a quick look at scooters on the market over here, relieving them of this somehow may be my best option as prices are extortionate.
By the way, I thought I’d got away with it but I’ve awoke with 4 mosquito bites this morning. Damn them blighters, damn them to mosquito hell.
Lastly (honest), I’m doing a spot of scootering related blogging for my mate Dave who in involved with Armadillo Scooterwear. Not all the articles are mine but there’s a fair few which are, have a butchers here if you like. TTFN.
*Okay, I know it’s not spelt like that
