Take Me Down To The Infirmary

While wandering around downtown in an hours-long mission to be denied health coverage, I found myself in the middle of a giant parade of shirtless men painted red and white. A Sydney football team has apparently just won something or other for the first time in a while, and was being presented with the keys to the city. I am now in an ideal position to become a bandwagon fan. Go Swans, with your spectacularly un-macho name.

Speaking of healthcare, I've now been given three completely different and mutually contradictory reasons why the healthcare reciprocation treaty between Australia and the UK doesn't apply to me, two of which I know for a fact are bogus. I suspect they're making this shit up, and I'm going to keep calling the Melbourne office back until I get someone - perhaps a janitor - who won't say absolutely anything in order to get off the phone in under thirty seconds.

Oh, and I'm buying a digital camera as soon as I start getting paid, if only so I can post the view from my office window. It is, as Flog would say, a pisser.