Chroming with the relos

As it does, Bruce spies a particularly colourful inhabitant lurching hurriedly down the pavement, eyes darting maniacally, cheeks sunken like he’s permanently sucking on lemons, clothes flaunting their stains on the wind, trainers begging to be allowed to rest in peace. All of which is fine. It’s the blue plastic bag / aerosol combo in his hand that’s of most concern.

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How dare you! We’re bloody lovely here

Great food, loopy bar staff, stunning winter sunsets at the beach, drunken Sunday evening covers bands, the “G”, Buddy Franklin’s pitch invasion, suburbs that look like the Wild West minus only the horse and carriage, a brush with a mass murderer and the worst Ghost Train ride in the known universe did the trick.

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Returning to the UK (take some cards)

“Not really. The only time I’ve missed the UK was during Glastonbury. Bastards had sunshine this year.”

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Nice one Qantas. Perfect timing

If the smells, noises and sights on the ward weren’t enough, the day her legs started swelling up to a size that would have had Nora Batty and Bella Emberg turning green with envy certainly pushed her over the edge.

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Sublime and ridiculous: St Kilda’s split personality

It wasn’t much of a conversation, admittedly, more a series of clicks, coos and gurgles usually associated with very small children and blind drunks

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