My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

It's oh so quiet. Or it was. Just got overflown by a half dozen planes all at once. Which caused a sudden downpour and a hasty decamp indoors. Damn, I was enjoying myself, typing out in the quiet, with falling petals and brightly coloured parrots. It's still sprinkling, but from a clear blue sky. Harumph.

It's especially quiet as my ears are still blocked up. I do not know why my ears only block up when landing at Sydney, the only airport in the world where this happens, but there it is. Maybe I'm just miserable to be landing back in this hellhole, the only city on earth engineered to be soul-sucking misery and torment.

Anyways, painful, but at least I can sleep because as far as I'm concerned it's quiet. And there was no ten forty to Tokyo last night to rattle the windows and bookshelves.

Not that I was asleep, mind. I'd flicked around the channels in search of Fassy and found him. Hunger again, but it was still Fassy and it'd be churlish to refuse this gift of the ever capricious scheduling gods, so I watched. Besides, I like it. It's a bastard story but the film has an odd dreamy quality that sucks me in every time. I try to remember the news stories as I remember them, but mainly I'm just watching Fassy, being mesmerising.

Also watched Fish Tank again. Still mesmerising.
( more: zippers, honey prawns, bananas and silly hats )