Cousin Tim Visits...

I haven’t updated for a while and I have my excuses. Chances are updates are going to be less frequent as tomorrow I move into a hostel and will be busy not worrying about my blog, then Tuesday I’m going to see a man about a job and then... well I’m not the kind of person who thinks that far ahead, because if you’re too busy thinking about the destination you forget to enjoy the journey (I am aware that line fits ‘enjoying life’ more than ‘plans are for squares, maaaan’ but it is a nice line that I might put on a t-shirt one day)

So Friday my uncle, Mike, and I, Ryan, rolled down to Sydney Airport to pick up my cousin, Tim. I was tasked with meeting Tim whilst Mike waited with the car (to avoid the rip off car park fees). Bearing in mind that I haven’t seen Tim since... Well.... I think we met about 10 years ago when he was in the UK, so you can imagine my surprise when I actually recognised him (I think my beard was a helpful beacon shining amongst the crowd, a crowd of 5 people). Tim was over for a series of 40^th birthdays with his old school mates, which made me realise I’m 25 and I have lost touch with most of my old school mates. Anyway, that night Tim, me and a bunch of 40 year olds met at the nearby golf club for a beer up. I know what you are thinking, ‘But Ryan! Golf sucks, you are awesome, surely they wouldn’t let you in seeing as you don’t even own a Pringle branded pair of £70 socks!’ Well they did...

...And don't call me Shirley.

Long story short we all drank beer and joked about women, drinking, people we don’t like and women. I felt relieved that although we drank a lot, we were not kicked out like the RSA test forced me to think we would be. But to be fair, the only people there were drunk so they’d lose all their business.

The next day (Saturday) I was hungover.

Sunday, Tim and I went down to a birthday BBQ near Scarborough (I went for this place name rather than the actual place name because ‘Wombarra’ looks like a made up place). 2 weeks over here and only 1 BBQ! Nice place, only a rugby pitch away from the sea and not as windy as up the hill. Not much to report, met a few of the guys from the golf club, had a couple of beers and got the train back. Nice day out but now I’m thinking about tomorrow, I’ll try to post something at some point but I should research ‘Oxfam’ as I was corrected when I said ‘Oxfam is the name for a family of oxen, and they need your money’.

Give an Ox a fish, and he'll look at you like you're some kind of idiot.