There’s simply no place like home
Nobody’s fault. Though according to my girl, the lady at the Airport newsagency looked guilty. She blamed everyone, even the X Ray machine. Flight delayed by two hours, no probs, but as we’re coming into Sydney, the pilot very sheepishly announced we had to fly in circles for an hour or so as the runway was closed.
Which it was. Well, it took me all my strength and bribery to stop her dragging the pilot out and landing the plane herself. So funny, poor pilot was lucky he didn’t have to go to the loo, she would have launched herself at him.
Actually no one on the plane seemed to mind, though I’m not sure what happens if anyone needed to connect to an international flight, other than the suggestion to hitch a ride with an adventurous seagull.
We were going down to #Sydney town for the radio awards, we were nominated for an amazing production for our Radio Stations 90th birthday, we didn’t win sadly, we were incredibly proud of it, local producer Allison Rassmussen did an outstanding job, as always. Everyone loved it, though I was somewhat hurt when we happily announced our 90th birthday, a bloke from Halifax called asking if I was at the turning of the sod.
Most unkind, I certainly was not, I was out fishing that day.
I’ve not been to Sydney forever, so it was quite exciting to wander the streets, more so shops, and more shops, fair dinkum the old master card had skid marks by lunchtime day one.
Apart from good times with dear friends, a wonderful highlight was the 9.30pm Manly Ferry. I had never been on it, we sat outside up the front, and apart from young blokes with caps on backwards, sunglasses, and swapping bags, it was a glorious romantic journey.
It was a little chilly, but we braved the elements, I’m sure the Sydneysiders thought it was a heat wave, all was rather special, especially when up ahead came the famous shape of dishes in a rack, the magnificent Opera House.
This marvel was alive with colour, all the vision projected on her fins or dinner plates, was truly wonderful, and when we took a selfie, it was the image of our dear Queen Liz. Unbelievable. Even moving pics! So naturally the question has to be asked, can we do the same with our Castle. So far we have zebra stripes and polka dots which are great, and the purple curtain with a white spotlight on the Saint, but how about others? Historical characters like Morrill, Melton Black, or one of my Wulgurukaba mates.
The possibilities are endless, what about a radio broadcasters meeting beamed up on the face of our hill, at least for the first time there would be a Saint among them.
Maybe cartoons of the Saint running all over the face of our glorious Hill, it would without a doubt become world famous like the Opera House, though indeed the Curlew Choralers, the Frogamonic Orchestra or the Baritone of Bats doesn’t quite make it to the Opera Houses International musical magic.
The weekends over, I’m now flying home on Alliance, which is truly a blessing, these Townsville staff are wonderful.
Maybe I’m a little sentimental, a little bias, and a lot in love with this NQ, but Nina and the crew were special, they are Townsville.
They are us, and we need at times to believe in us. We are pretty bloody good up here, we have our moments as everyone does, but we get over them quicker, speak our minds, help out mates, and move on to enjoy our great lifestyle.
Though it’s a Qantas flight, it had the North Queenslander family warmth to make it so familistic, if there’s such a word, if there’s not, there should be, let’s make one up….
Supercallitfamilyisticexcelentallyd oesit!
Happy days ooroo