Back to the point

After an extremely lengthy interlude in Melbourne I have finally hit the road again, and as such, I figure I may as well start using this blog as it was originally intended; as a travel journal type thing. So here goes!

I jumped on my train from Sydney to Melbourne at 8pm last night, with high hopes of a nice lengthy sleep to help pass the 12 hours i was to spend in transit. No such luck! After a week of late nights, and even later mornings, I found myself unable to drift into slumberland, leaving me stranded in the land of the conscious. Strange though it may seem, the hour and a half sleep I managaged on the train has not left me feeling especially bright eyed not bushy tailed (although the latter is perhaps a relief. You have to wonder how a decent night's sleep can prompt one to sprout a tail, bushy or otherwise), and as a testament to my lack of preparation for this little jaunt to Sydney, I arrived at the train station only to realise I had not, in fact, written down the address of my hostel. So a quick call to my father, and one very confused cabbie (it turns out my hunch about where the hostel might be was entirely wrong), later I touched down on Victoria street. The weather was fresh, or to put it in a more British way, wetter than a badger in the mist. Nevertheless I had arrived and relief abounded, unfortunately my relief may have been premature, mcuh like myself, as I had arrived at the hostel an hour before it opened.

So here I sit, freshly squeezed orange juice in hand, recounting my tale to you while I await the recumbent staff off Chilli Blue backpackers. All hail Joe's Cafe for being open at 8am on Anzac Day. With any luck once i've booked in to my room and set the world to rights, in the common fashion of breakfasting and showering, I'll make my way in to town to watch the Anzac Day parade. Either that or my bad luck may continue and rain will prevent play.