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Beyond the Pale - A 'pale' is a fencepost. The English Pale was a boundary in Ireland marking out the part of Ireland under direct English rule circa 1450 (which included Dublin and environs). Those that lived 'beyond the pale', outside of English rule, were considered out of control and uncivilised. You decide...

Tuesday, July 18, 2000

Fragments from the Australia Diaries 2000 (part 5) - Double Bay



DOYLES AND DOGS

Australia is all about the wanderings, the ambles, the walkabouts. With no map and just a vague idea of where we wanted to go, myself and Sharon strolled from Bondi off into the sunset. A few kilometers under our belt we ended up...
in the harbourside eastern suburb of (the nice and posh) Double Bay, which led us on to Rose Bay, which is truly beautiful. Full of very expensive houses and great views of Sydney Harbour, the bobbing boats were the biz baby. We then walked through the park, Neilsen Park, and saw the sun set over Sydney Harbour Bridge. Bbblliisss.

Enough gawping, we decided to head on to Watson’s Bay which was our final destination. Out of the blue the sky went black, mild panic set in as we didn’t really know where we were going, trapped in suburban hell, aagghh. I asked the way from this lady walking her dogs, and in true (could they be more helpful) Aussie fashion she told us she’d walk us there. 

However, her dogs turned out to be completely loopers and ended up savagely attacking this other dog. I was ten shades of terrified, Shaz was as calm as bedamned and was just concerned for the lady. Fear rooted me to the spot in silence but in my head I was screaming “get this Crazebag and her mutts away from me”. Tranquilizer gun later (for me) I decided the lady was in fact very nice and she did get us to Watson’s Bay in one piece (just about!).

Now, the whoooole reason we went to Watson Bay was for the view and everyone says you have to get Doyles fish and chips. We didn't realize that after a certain hour it turns into a ghost town and the 'take out' place closes. Being thundering eejits, with a devil-may-care 'sure, we're here now' attitude, we ended up in the swish-swoo restaurant part. Sun burnt faces, wearing shorts and t-shirts, smelling of savage canines, it was all very die-total-morto, especially when the waitress told us to swing our hooks when we asked for a plate of chips!

We walked the 10km home hungry as a wolf, where was your woman with the dog biscuits when you needed her, eh!

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