Posing with Ute

Lucy finally arrived in Sydney on Thursday after  huge build up. For the first time, I was one of those people waiting in the arrival lounge nervously moving my head from one side to the other to cover both of the possible exits she could take. But when she got here, it was all worthwhile, I almost couldn't believe that she was finally here (and she brought duty free Tobelerone - the snack of the gods!). And she didn't complain too much about the apartment with no furniture (or a fridge) in (although she did try to introduce some floral patterning which didn't go down too well. 

 A trip to Swedish hell (otherwise known as Ikea) saw that we instantly fell back into our old ways. Its so good to have her here.

I was reading Jerry Chicken's blog recently who (in between spinning Christmas tunes) has been writing bout his upbringing in Burley in Leeds (co-incidentally where I used to live) and his thrifty Yorkshire Dad who refused to throw anything away and was a sucker for a bargain.

I was reminded of this on Friday night when, after returning from a nice dinner (Lucy in a beautiful dress), we struggled about a quarter of a mile down the road to my apartment with quite a large fridge freezer at round 10 o'clock at night. 

In Sydney, there are a lot of migrants and temporary workers, and as most of the apartments and flats remain unfurnished there is a lot of furniture moving around to be done. Many people, a they move out of their apartments, simply leave their items on the front lawn of the property for anyone who wants it to pick it up (although I was slightly unsure of this at the time).

So as we carried the fridge down the road (that we had tentatively abducted from outside a neighbours house), our forearms killing us and Lucy complaining of a near terminal full bladder, I was kind of unsure as to whether we were stealing it, and also praying to the lord that the damn thing would work. It took us quite a long time to manouvre the thing in the dark, up the two flights of stairs (without annoying the grumpy old man downstairs) to the apartment, but we succeeded (although n

ot without swearing).

Anyway. The fridge doesn't work. So now I am left with the moral dilemma of whether I should leave the stupid thing outside for someone else to make the same mistake. Or whether I should pay to dispose of it properly.

In other news, I drove a Ute for the second time. This left me feeling exceptionally Australian and manly. See below Lucy posing with Ute: