Anger grows in the bosom of fools

Photos are from Sydney Opera house
Is there really a St Anger? The title is from when I was in America, you see, I’m learning from myself.

So, more rants from the walk down memory road, now we are on Saturday night, in Sydney.

So I get myself in gear and head for the train station, and get on the train, and then I hear what seemed like an Irish accent, Cork? Wrong Tipperary, and a conversation envelops, Johnny was the fellows name, a butcher, is there any jobs in Melbourne, heaps I say, but I don’t know about your line of work, we do another kind of butchering where I work, maybe with all the people leaving, culling, would be the correct phrase?



I get to Edgecliff, and I walk, a woman pointed the way and off I walked, the walk resembled Rio in Brazil, the trees, the birds chirping away, but the place was way too clean, but I get there an din I went.

So, I meat the people I met in Brazil, I go for dinner with one of them, the highlight was on the back, one of the locals got out of a taxi, in leopard boots, i could have asked her if she was a ‘Cheater’, to which she undoubtedly was.


So in we walked, and the place is beginning to fill up with dickheads and the kind of people that would not make your day in any way.
So, I leave and I’m driven away from this place, so much for going to meet friends, so I rand Dean, from couch surfing and off I go to meet him.

So, I meet Dean, he’s a cool guy, a bit worse for wear, a big win on the horses, one of his mates, sister’s horse won, and they were celebrating in style in Woolloomooloo.


Russell Crowe owns an apartment there, there’s a famous burger joint, we go to Circular quay, I see the opera house and bridge, I’m back, it was good to see it again.

Then myself India, Drew go back to Drew’s $1000 a week apartment for a bit and then I make the journey back to Newtown, through Kings Cross, and that’s another story.