It wouldn’t happen in Hobart
Returning to our hotel last evening, we found a puddle in the bathroom, beginning a little saga which ended in a different bedroom shortly before midnight. Disappointing service from which we’ll move swiftly along, merely noting that it wouldn’t have happened in our Hobart home!
So, sadly, we no longer had the view of the Opera House and of the wharf where our ship would arrive. Still, we were out there first thing to check all was well and sure enough, there she was – moored right there where we’d hoped.
After breakfast, we enjoyed a stroll around The Rocks, marvelling at this little cottage which survives right there in the middle of the modern city.
We walked under the bridge and took a different route back, looking up just in time to see
a group of people just starting their bridge climb. By the time we’d made our way back to Circular Quay and found ourselves a bench on which to sit and people watch, they were right up there at the top.
Meanwhile, it was time for us to go, collect our bags and gather with our shipmates to be herded on to a coach, to travel all the way across the road again. Silly really, but we supposed it was necessary for everyone to identify bags and suchlike, and be there as a group rather than as 20-odd individuals.
By just gone 1pm, we were enjoying lunch on the Pool deck, watching people come and go and generally feeling relaxed. Around 2, we made our way to our suite and unpacked.
I sit here at the desk with this view. How lucky am I?
The champagne is on ice, lifeboat drill is in ten minutes time and we sail away just after sunset at 8pm.