A break from the show offs

Well my dears, no doubt you have been glued to the internet every minute of the day wondering when on earth you were going to hear from me again. And if not,  I would jolly well like to know why not!
The reason for the lack of any communication from yours truly was because I woke up one morning with the horrid stench of burnt pheasant once again refusing to leave the air of my tiny mansion. It was all too much to have to put up with such an incompetent butler, and I decided to throw caution to the wind and get on an aeroplane. It was time for a change of scenery and I decided that Melbourne might be a suitable change from hedonistic Sydney.
I have to say I had a wonderful few days enjoying pleasant conversation with the locals without a single mention of surfing, or who had clobbered who in the Rugby.  I was certainly glad I took my little lace fan with me as it was a tad hot. The only problem I had with the place was how many times I was asked if I liked living in Sydney.  The locals do seem rather insecure.  I didn't have the heart to tell them that if it wasn't for my hair brained eco-hippy of a husband, I would be happily gathering bluebells in the garden of our modest little castle back in England. And I wouldn't spare a thought for this dusty brown culture-less land.  But it was a refreshing change to meet people who actually prefer to throw a dinner party with a small group of close friends, instead of drinking themselves stupid with a bunch of associates,  in some ridiculously oversized vessel on Sydney harbour.
A very enjoyable stay.
Yours Lady O.