It’s our last day in Sydney. Time to say goodbye. We take the last opportunity to put our clothes through the wash. On one of our treks back to Newtown we spot a charity clothing bin. It’s like a sign. We empty out our rucksacks and start building a reject pile from the contents. Once we start, we have to make ourselves stop as we’re in danger of discarding everything in an effort to end up with a much lighter load to carry. Armed with a couple of bags containing coats and warmer clothing we return to the bin to make a good offering to the charity gods. The remaining piles of clothing scattered all over the apartment make their way into the washing machine and then go through various stages of drying out before we can stow them away in our rucksacks.
Brodie, being prone to shoulder/back injuries, clocks up his second injury of the trip without even looking at a gym by sleeping on his shoulder badly. He suffers through lunch in a Newtown Cafe, then raids the medicine cabinet back at the apartment in search of anything that will either numb the pain or knock him out. Ultimately, he stretches out prone on the floor for a while like an animal crawling off to wait for the inevitable. Having administered as much care as is possible, I step over him as I clean up heaps of clothing making more room for him to roll around in agony. He dies, gets reborn, and finds the pain has eased up in time for us to head into the city to meet the others at Hyde Park to check out the noodle market and say our goodbyes. They’ll return later in the evening to a quieter apartment. They won’t have overflowing rucksacks stowed around the walls with clothes threatening to spill out at any moment anymore, or Brodie ensconced in the bathroom where the lighting is apparently at its best for web conferences with his folks.
With the park full of people queuing for food and our flight due to depart in a couple of hours, we end up going for a chinese instead. As it gets closer to the time when we have to leave for our bus, Brodie makes a super-human effort to stuff the last of his food into his face rather than miss out on a single bite. All too soon it’s time to say our goodbyes and return to pick up our bags from the apartment. We’re flying with Virgin Blue (that would be the airline with wheels falling off their planes). After a few delays they get us boarded. I spot an employee walking around another plane with a flashlight. Presumably checking it still has wheels before it takes off. In true Ryanair style, there’s a visa card swipe on the back of every seat. We refrain from touching anything in case it involves an extra charge during the short flight, and soon find ourselves making a very bumpy touchdown in Brisbane (someone check the wheels!). We’re on our own again.