Sydney, Premonitions, Light peeks through at Old Trafford

We had a weekend away to Sydney a couple of weekends ago. A cousin got married and a whole bunch of relos descended on the harbour city. We got in to Canberra on a Thursday, stayed with Kiddo and Mic for a night, and pushed on to Sydney the next day.

We checked in to our air b&b home when we got in early in the arvo, and no sooner had we unpacked and tried to sort out a couple of bugs with that place, when my brother rang to say they’re ready for us to pick them up. They had arrived from KL the day before and had stayed in a motel near the bride’s family home and were to stay with us for the rest of their time in Sydney.

We battled our way through Sydney roads and traffic and got to the motel somehow, picked them up and went back to the air b&b home in Willoughby, before going to a pub for dinner with my brother and Jean.

After dinner, we waited at home for Kiddo and Mic who arrived from Canberra late that Friday night. It was good for all 6 of us to be in that same house for the next few days.

The next day, we drove across a couple of suburbs and the wedding saw many relos catching up and it was really nice.

The dinner reception later that night was further across town and we had to go in 2 separate cars. The vino didn’t flow too well that night – it had dried out by the first course (of a Chinese 12 course banquet). We all laughed about it, savaging (in a good humoured way) the well known tight arse nature of the father of the bride… It was just as well anyway, as it meant I could drive home instead of letting Tress take the wheel through the narrow and winding road (riddle with pot holes) of Sydney.

The next day, the relos congregated at Wynyard Station in the city for a bit of a tour around the city, lunching at Chinatown and finishing with a ferry ride to Manly beach.

On Monday, we drove Jean to the home of my uncle (father of the bride), from whence the road trip to Melbourne and back was to embark. We then dropped my brother at the home of another uncle, before he flew back to KL later that night. We then drove back to Canberra to spend another night there before heading home.

We got home late in the arvo on Tuesday, and I then burrowed myself in a busy 3 days of work. We again caught up with the road warriors who had made their way on a 12 seater van/bus from Sydney through to Melbourne. Tress and I shouted them to a Peking Duck dinner at Box Hill South, after which they dropped in to our home for drinks and chats. That was lovely.

Early the next morning, I looked at my phone and saw a mini SOS message. My uncle, the driver and father of the bride, had come down with the Teh family ailment, the debilitating gout. I said I had some meds for that and drove across town to Albert Lake park where they were staying, and delivered the drugs. By the time we got back, it was nearly noon.

Tress had her ethereal stuff later that arvo and I was left in a disorientated state, with my weekend/Sat twirled in a state of incognito. I ended up in a Bunnings warehouse, wandering around before heading home to watch something on Netflix. We were supposed to go over to Alex and Lil Har’s for dinner that night but before Tress went out, she said there was to be a 60th birthday party at Alex and Li Har’s. That put me off as we had been unprepared. I didn’t want to rock up with nothing to contribute to such an occasion so I decided we’d just take our time at St Alf’s that night and skip the dinner.

At St Alf’s we were treated to a wonderful presentation by Greg Sheridan, a veteran journalist at The Oz. He was terrific value, so witty, erudite and knowledgeable as well as extremely well connected. For him to attend St Alf’s on a Saturday night to speak at a “Men’s” event, either spoke highly of St Alf’s or showed what a man he was. Maybe both.

Sunday saw a bit more normality. After St Alf’s we went to lunch, did some shopping, and went home for some cooking and pottering around the garden. It was well past 6 by the time we walked the little guy. Just as we were preparing for bed, I looked at my phone and saw that Mahathir has been to his old styled machination.

I woke up this morning, to mixed news. United had beaten Watford 3-0 at home, with new signing Bruno Fernandez scoring his first goal. Countervailing that is the news of Mahathir ditching his coalition partners to shack up with those twerps of critters at UMNO. Disgraceful but entirely unsurprising. I am too weak a person not to be a touch smug but the more overwhelming emotion is sadness. Malaysia deserves better. The temptation to trumpet my “I told you so” is too great. I wished Malaysians had been stronger than they were, running up to the May 2018 elections. Mahathir should never have been allowed his return.

I said to Tress, over the weekend, that there has been events in recent days, that tend to suggest my premonitions are often right. I feel like a Cassandra and I hope I become more positive in the days ahead. I want to be and I guess only God can change that. Until then…