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I’m looking forward to being back; youngest son Tom has his 21st birthday party next week and the final preparations are needed.
Also, I’m really missing my spoilt cocker spaniel Tino, although I know he’s being beautifully cared for by our good friend Carolyn.
You know how it goes- you hear the alarm, then expect an announcement or call to say it’s a mistake.
Only that didn’t come so, stumbling around, we dressed and staggered down the concrete stairwell of the fire exit.
There was also a fair bit of pandemonium with the hotel management when they realised they may have poisoned the BBC’s cricket correspondent! As I sit here (wearing a green dress of course) tapping away and watching the Ireland game, I can report he must have a constitution of steel.
There’s also the small matter of my day job to return to. We had a last, lingering breakfast on the beach at Manly.
The moral of this story is that it’s important to actually check in the mirror before you respond to a fire alarm, as the risk of being burned alive is considerably preferable to the humiliation of meeting people you know when looking like a scarecrow.
Curiously a flock of cockatoos was patrolling the ground as we finished, with their eyes on some sort of nut that had fallen from the Norfolk Pines.
Brett lives in an exclusive nearby suburb and walks his dogs along the seafront.
Shortly after that embarrassing meeting, we heard a cheery “morning Aggers” from one of his local twitter followers, followed almost immediately by coming face to face with Michael Bevan.