My last day in Sydney forced me to visit Bondi Beach, as I couldn't bear the comments of those who said I should have gone. I parked myself on a train at Central Station after seeing what looked like a respectable lady come out of the toilet I proceeded into and finding a despicable mess. I'll say nothing more. Just urgh. Had a joint bus and train ticket, which meant hopping off at Bondi Junction to get the bus down to the beach. I got off the bus, surveyed the beach, took a few pictures, sat in the cold, then got back on the bus and the following train. Job done. Everybody has said it's not a great beach, it's just for the name that you visit, and that's what I've done.

When we were on the bus to the train station some old man was coughing and sneezing everywhere, I didn't have a tissue to offer so just tried to do the whole breathing through the mouth malarkey. A woman in the back of the bus was not so tolerant: I heard utterances about swine flu, then about immigrants getting into the country and killing us all with colds or murdering us... she needs to look at Britain, then she'll appreciate home! She walked up to the front of the bus where the sneezing man and I were sitting, and ranted at him about not putting his hands on the rails as her children used public buses and they didn't deserve to get his germs just because he didn't cover his mouth. This was a completely fair point and made me ashamed not to have said something, but it seems a common practise everywhere I go so I have to grin and bear the bad manners people have and just use lots of alcohol gel. The funny part of this never ending anecdote is that the woman thought fit to defend her tirade by the utterance 'I can say this because I'm an Aboriginal, my family have always been here, except I have got some Irish, English... and Welsh in me' - she was a white blonde woman! It amused me, simple things do.

I met Michael, the lad I'd met from Sydney up in Brisbane, as he'd offered to copy my photos for me. I'd mistakenly chosen to wear a short-sleeved top, so as I sat in Hyde Park because I wasn't allowed in the office 'due to security reasons', I was a wee bit frozen! The copying took nearly an hour, so I eventually went to the coffee shop and bought a hot chocolate, which cost an extra 50cents because I wanted to drink it in rather than waste a paper cup! Unfortunately I have too many photos so they couldn't all fit, but I was so grateful to just have some form of copy!

I did plan to go to the Botanic Gardens, but my compass took me back to The Rocks for one final dalliance where the markets were on again. After perusing the stalls I decided to try the Turkish Gozleme on offer for $8: a pancake sandwich with feta, cheese, and beef that I hadn't ordered but got for free, result! It was so delicious, but half the portion would have been far more than adequate! The sun was out as I eat it so I was a little happier with my choice of attire at that point! The walk back to my hostel was rather more lethargic than it had been on previous days, I blame the Gozleme!

As I was walking down the street I was treated to a lovely piece of fatherly advice from a crusty-heeled obese man walking along with his wife and daughter: 'next time somebody hits you over the head, you tell 'em to f*** off'. Lovely way to end my time in Sydney, with some forever helpful words of wisdom.