A Sunday roast consisting of roast beef, roast potatoes, vegetables, and yorkshire pudding (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Out last night for dinner then a late foot massage. Got back a little after midnight. Still wide awake and alert so flicked on the TV and over the next hour-plus flicked between a movie I’d seen before and a delayed telecast of an AFL game from earlier in the night.

It was nearly 2 when I got to bed. I lay there thinking. I went over things in my head trying to work them out, imagining things I might say and wondering if there was any point to it. I guess I felt a little sad. Then I fell asleep.

I woke and didn’t get out of bed until 12. I had a coffee and surfed the net and finished a book. The things that had troubled me the night before were gone. I hadn’t thought them again. Somewhere in the night, they had sorted themselves out and I woke with the decision made. That was good enough for me.

I showered, dressed, and went across the road. I stopped at the Press Room to have their Sunday roast – beef with dumplings, roast vegies, black pepper sauce. A glass of Cotes du Rhone rouge and a Creme Brulee topped it off.

I sat there enjoying the lunch looking about me. Perhaps it was the meal that had drawn them, but it seemed most there were British. I tuned out. I thought ahead. I’m in that mode now: the about to leave the country and return home soon mode. My mind has clicked over.

This time it’s a very pragmatic mode. I want to get home for all the pretty reasons I wrote about yesterday, but bottom line is that there is business to be done. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but know things must – and that I must have my hands on the wheel.

So I’m back now in air-conditioned comfort full from a big lunch. I’m due to go to the Sky Bar tonight, but I’d just as soon as not. I’ve moved past it for now. All eyes ahead, ready to go.