P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

Almost 24 years ago, I was born. In Sydney, as a matter of fact.
I have been back once since then, but as a snobby, shopping obsessed teenager – so I don’t like to count it.

This past long weekend, however, I got a proper visit back to my old home town. It was magical.

My boss (and also friend) and I flew in Friday afternoon, checked into our hotel and shortly afterwards were picked up by an old friend for dinner.


We met working at a hostel in London, and still have a lot of mutual friends from that world-wind trip, which meant that the night was spent catching up and reminiscing.
He took us to the sweetest seafood restaurant on the river in Balmain, with this breathtaking view.


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Sunny Side Up

I love Sundays.
I love breakfast.
I love sunshine.
I love coffee.
I love eggs.
As much as a try to deny it, I love bacon.

What I don’t love is riding my bike up steep hills after I demolished this plate of awesomeness.

We rode to a mate’s house for a late brunch to celebrate his birthday. I say late, because we didn’t eat until midday because of two very hungover “friends” struggling to get out of bed. I got hangry, they are lucky to be alive.

The ride there was quick and easy, the company was amazing and the food even better. The ride home, however,¬†was a huge shock to the system and a massive reminder that I am not as fit as I’d like to be.
Time to get back into gear!