Finish writing a couple of article for eRP on Margaret River. I pop into town to pay myself at Natwest and have to persuade their staff that no, I don’t want to use the automatic paying-in machine and I appreciate human contact, even if I have to queue for the privilege. I spend part of the afternoon speaking to DHL, who insist on invoicing me for importing amongst other things, rock samples and Turkish carpets and charging me import duty. However many times I telephone and plead with them to rectify their accounts faux pas and stop sending me threats of bailiffs for non-payment, I am sent yet another invoice the following morning. I feel like an actor of Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil”.
Tomorrow: the London Wine Trade Fair. Hoorah!
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But do you have to do the shaking as well? Swimming pool is good fun. It is the wave pools you have to watch out for, never mind the three ladies. There is nothing more patrifying and infuruating than watch a tsunami of screaming kids and oversized adults washing towards you, hands feet and all.