Walking around King’s Cross with Jen and Just John, we pass a woman outside the door of a place called ‘Dream Girls’. Dressed only in knickers and a slip, she looks more like a nightmare to me.
Back at Coogee, we go for dinner at one of the bar restaurants advertising A$5 steaks (though chips are an extra $2). Australia is really quite expensive nowadays, but not when it comes to red meat.
Afterwards, we walk to coastal path to Bondi Beach, which is plagued by post work joggers who assume right of way over us mere walkers. We are meeting with Joost, Shay, Caroline, Mary and Louise at an Irish bar in Bondi town called the Cock’n’Bull. Here, we can barely move, it being St Patrick’s night and Bondi being the modern day Liverpool or Manchester, the place where streams of Irish emigrate to.
After a few hours, we manage to land a table and seats, but in keeping with the relaxed good times nature of Australia I have experienced, I am forced to leave the pub by the doormen for looking threateningly tired, despite pleas for common sense from the rest of our party. I have to say a hasty farewell to Joost and Shay, who are moving on after tonight.
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