Sydney Day 2

Tuesday we were meant to meet our Sydney friend and his mate, along with a couple of women who were staying with our friend, who both hailed from northern areas. Our Sydney friend's mate was someone he went to school with, the women he worked with overseas.

Lunch would be at the Sydney Rowing Club in Abbotsford on the Paramatta River so it made perfect sense to catch a a ferry to the nearby wharf. 

We decided to go to the ferry wharf early and have a cup of coffee and so did the others, so we had coffee together at the Circular Quay before setting off on the half hour ferry journey.

Our Sydney friend, his mate and his two friends were great company. Apparently our friend's friend had told the story many times of a 'sad story' before of how her boss of twenty years after she left the public service offered her an overseas trip or something equivalent of $5000 as a reward for her excellent service as I think a medical specialist receptionist. He died shortly after making the offer and she got nothing.

Sad stories came forth. R began to tell the story of how he and Mother had celebrated their birthdays together for just on as long as R and I have been together, forty years plus. Lordy, how he complained about my mother but he cracked as he was telling his sad story. She loved him as a son and he loved her back. We all grieve in our own ways. I felt impotent and just rested my arm over his shoulder with a couple of pats. It was the first time I've seen him visibly upset about Mother's death. You can really now understand why he did not want to be home for what would have been his and Mother's birthday. I called Sister on the 23rd for a chat, as I knew it would not be a good idea to call on Mother's birth date, the 24th. 

No matter, it was a really lovely outing with such nice people. 

Having had a decent sized lunch, we had a nice small meal at a Tuesday night empty Portuguese place in Oxford Street, Ogalo. The food was terrific, with good service, and it deserves to be busier. 

Ah, you are begging for photos...here they come.

R took this photo. You know what it is.

The tallest building is colloquially known as Packer's Penis, Packer being James Packer, a former media mogul who inherited the business from his father Kerry, who inherited the business from his father Sir Frank. James went on to casino involvement and I don't know his ownership status of Crown Resorts now, but the tall building is known as his.

Do you want a close up of Packer's Penis? Too bad if you don't.

It was a pleasant sail up the Parramatta River. I am not sure if we were on a ferry like this one or a River Cat. 

To the left of photo is the new development of an old goods wharf area now called Barangaroo where the aforesaid tall building is located. The wharf was once known as the Hungry Mile, where during the 1930s depression many men would line up, hoping to be selected for a day's work for poor pay. It was both exploitative and demeaning. Thanks to unionism, waterside workers now have very good working conditions and pay. 

My, how quickly these trees have grown in less than two years. It looks lovely and is on my less than ambitious bucket list. 

Our ferry stopped at various wharves to let off and pick up passengers. The stops were so efficiently handled by the ferry staff. 

Most of the wharves are newly built but on the site where there was an old wharf.

The views from the rowing club looking upriver were terrific. 

Parramatta in the distance. 

Our friend's friend was not going to allow R's birthday to be uncelebrated and this appeared at the table after we lunched. Thanks you so much L. That was quite a lovely thing to do. 

Definitely a River Cat is arriving to take us back to Circular Quay.

I thought the Gladesville Bridge was something special. I was underwhelmed. Maybe the bridge this one replaced was nicer? Nope.

Another of R's photos. Sorry, I've forgotten the name of this bridge.