Sydney Bimble 2

Beez Neez now Chy Whella
Big Bear and Pepe Millard
Sun 2 Nov 2014 23:57
Sydney Bimble – Part Two
Once settled on the ferry across to Watsons Bay we saw our friend – Carnival Princess dwarfed by the Sydney skyline, our first proper look at the city.
We watched as a yacht sailed by a Royal Naval lady who was parked beside another lady.
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A little yacht had to smartly get out of the path of the now speeding along ferry. Looking back we could just see the Opera House. Guess who covered his face in what should have been a nice picture with Sue. It was about now that himself began ‘ticking’ or in these parts “ticking like a jumbo” as in jet – as he had no singlet on, vest to us. He ticked like a clock at all points beyond here and demanded an indoor seat on the return ferry as this was far too windy and “chappy” – cold. He did also state that he would wear said singlet in bed this very night as not to forget the same on the morrow. “It will be worn for the rest of the road trip.” Thank heavens for small mercies......
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We passed another suburb and a tiny island complete with private residence.
A small person was out under the watchful eye of the follower.
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We left the ferry, the female skipper rather pleased with her tidy entry. The jetty with Doyle’s Fish ‘n Chip Bar.
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The Information Board featured a map of Watsons Bay saying it is Australia’s oldest fishing village – founded in 1788. Doyle’s Restaurant was our first target as Sue wanted to eat there, no problem with that as everyone highly recommends the eating experience, soon seated and own blog.
After our delicious meal we followed the yellow shirted tour guide to the Gap and stood looking straight out – south east.
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The Gap looking left, directly east and to the right, directly south. The sea look kindly and if we ever sail into Sydney, this is the ‘way in’.
Looking down at the gap.
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Time called by the Colonel’ and off we went heading for the National Park and back to the ferry. From here we could just make out the Sydney Harbour Bridge and after we crossed the road could see it very clearly sticking up above the tree line.
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 Number plates to the collection, at least here the challenge will not be as steep as it was in America. Already half way I think.
Back on the ferry, inside as not to let the tick juice flow, we saw our first Australian pelican, not as handsome as previous chaps but nice to get him on the list. That is one mighty bill.......
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We left the ferry terminal and bimbled up toward King’s Cross as a “must do” according to the Colonel is to visit the ‘real’ sweet shop. OK we fall in. Opposite I can see the Australian humour outside a liquor’ll have to look closely, don’t look if likely to be offended. There were some lovely buildings along the way. A first for us was to walk by a School of Floristry.
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We crossed the road for a sherbet in the Brighton Bar. Why are we the only folks in here I asked. “Later this well known gay bar will be packed to the doors with several bouncers on the door.” Clearly we are just here too early. Apparently King’s Cross used to be a well known red light district but that has moved to Darlinghurst. Along the way we passed a few ladies of the night and then there was a very different water feature.
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We crossed over once more and headed up a side street, we walked past this Girls School that was established in 1880. The blue Cross just visible up on the right belongs to large St. Vincent's Hospital. At a cross roads we saw the Sydney Jewish Museum. These are all marked on the list to visit when we sail back and have time next year.
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We walked by a classic townhouse, opposite we saw a Fire Station, then a rather handsomely shaped building.
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A visit to a traditional English sweet shop where Bear bought himself some pineapple cubes and some fudge, as a treat I had liquorice torpedoes, then a look at the pretty fountain at King’s Cross. Next was a quick sherbet followed by a take away from the Curry House, established for some forty years. We ate on some benches before finding the bus stop for ‘home’. A tired looking Bear waiting for the bus.
                     MY FEET SAY ‘TIME FOR BED’