My boss called today from Melbourne. It was 1.30AM and he was just back from the rugby. He sounded disgustingly happy, what with his attending of sporting events, his bicycle ride down by the Yarra, his catching of trams. Then he dashed off because he needed to be up early for the start of the triathlon. Hmmmph. The boss is at the Games as part of the Glasgow 2014 bid team. I'd pleaded most pathetically for months to be allowed to tag along. Because not only am I a tops secretary, I'm a tops Australian secretary. I can speak the language, dammit! And what if he needed a REALLY IMPORTANT LETTER typed in the middle of the night? What if he couldn't figure out how to use Australian photocopiers? But my begging was all for nothing. Well if he finds himself in a 7-Eleven in the middle of the night, totally starving and not knowing which chocolate bar to buy, he'll be sorry I wasn't there with my native expertise. Tonight the BBC took a few English athletes for a hot air balloon ride over Melbourne. The sunrise, the gum trees, the lovely skyscrapers; it all made me feel funny inside. I went from thinking, "Aww, nice fluff piece" to big fat homesick tears in about two minutes. On a lighter note, can someone tell me what the bloody hell Condoleeza Rice is doing at the Commonwealth Games? Why is she chatting to Ian Thorpe? And what is she pointing at?
My theory is America is about to annexe the Commonwealth. Look at the guy sitting behind Thorpie, he's just figured out her plans.