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Perth. The morning of the show. October 4th.

I wrote a long and verbose blog yesterday. Adding to it as the day progressed. Describing my arrival and first impressions of Perth, from leaving Sydney, to landing at the airport, and how I found my way to bed and sleep.
Then managed to delete it all as I attempted to copy and paste it into my diary.

Bollocks to that if I’m going to write it all again.
You can google the city and pretty much guess the content of my waffle.
#Wide #Flat #River #Swan #History #FlySwatterFloodLights #Assange

I bet the last one threw you.

I watched the documentary on the airplane telly.

I don’t know what I made of it.

I woke up in the middle of the night courtesy of the time difference and the 5 changes we have made this last four weeks.

I want to FaceTime home but have not been able to get internet since yesterday morning.
A month away and I miss them all very much.

The sky looks grey, but looks are deceiving.
I breakfast lightly then will try my legs outside.
The grass on the opposite bank of the river, from my window, shows signs of sunlight.
I will take some air.

It is brisk out. Not cold.
Light jumper weather.
English.
The air feels clean, but I am wobbly.
I bump into John who is the latest to succumb to the tour bug.
He looks in need of a sofa-bed day but it’s not in the itinerary.
I will look in my medicine Tupperware for some remedy or similar placebo.
He will be missing his wife and children.

I don’t get far.
I want to buy something to take home, but this is not the street.
I pick up a protein drink as something to do and turn back.
I will sit in the bath and listen to my Audible book.
I will straw blow and ease myself into show mode.
My body needs to wake up. It is tired.
I need to get my game on.

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