Brighton

You will all no doubt be delighted to learn of my safe arrival in Brighton. The various flights were long and pleasant, although I shall admit to being less than sociable to the folk around me at times. I have reasons, the second of which being tired on the second leg of the journey so I didn't chat with the charming Scottish couple who'd lived in Perth for 38 years and not lost a trace of their Dundee accents.
The first reason was the worlds-colliding moment when noticing what the gentleman next to me on the first leg of the journey was reading. Ostensibly he was off to Penang to watch the horses (no horse-fancier, me, so it meant little) so quite why he was reading a book on female sexual biology with explicit diagrams and instructions on various positions was something that quite defeated my imagination when looking to initiate conversation. Headphones on, volume up, pretend I never saw a thing.

I received updates on the Phoenix' glorious victory over Juninho's Sydney (thank you, Lunk). Clearly the albatross has left the neck (or the country) and the juggernaut will roll through to the play-offs now.

Watching the rugby through a sleep-deprived haze last night was amusing and disappointing. I have been labeled a traitor before now for my lack of support of the England rugby team (I didn't follow rugby with any notable interest before I went to NZ so it would actually have been fairly hypocritical of me to revel in the World Cup last time around), but I did want them to do well last night. Just to worry the South Africans. But, 'twas not to be. A gulf in class previously only seen in top 4 v bottom 8 in the Premier League. Oh well.