Off the leash

The Sticker clan’s guard dog (Me) got let off the leash today and went lamp post sniffing in his own figuratively inimitable fashion, just ambling around Darling harbour, peoplewatching, doing the museums on a grey and humid Sydney day. Mrs S wanted to go shopping with daughters and friends, so I pleaded for a time out and slipped my collar shortly after breakfast. And I’ve had a throughly pleasant time. Totally failed to get up to any mischief, which might disappoint my last remaining reader, but this is real life. There’s a flight to catch in the morning and we’ll be back here in Sydney in just under three weeks, so anything left undone can be done then.

It’s definitely two shower a day weather, and I’m trying to keep sweet and relatively odour free after sweating buckets and failing to drink enough. Which is a matter I intend to remedy later on after putting on fresh clothes and ensconcing myself in the nearest pub. Let the rest max out their credit cards Christmas shopping, there’s beer to drink, even if the CAD to AUS exchange rate is not currently in my favour.

The downside is that I now have a working cell phone so Mrs S, Stepdaughters, uncle Tom Cobley and all can now find me. Not that I’ll be giving out my Australian number anywhere, but will be sloping down to the bar for a beer or two to replace all the fluid I lost in perspiration throughout the day.

Interesting question from last night; how does a devout, fully paid up member of the religion of blown to pieces get errant husband out of a bar when she’s all burka’d up and therefore not allowed in? Simple, she sends in her cute as a button little kiddy to go tug on daddy’s trouser leg. Aren’t workarounds wonderful?

To the bar. See you lot of mongrels later.

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