Bob Hawke was Prime Minister and no-one gave Paul Keating a chance (everyone, except Jeanette, thought that John Howard was dead and buried). The only Gulf War we'd heard of was between Iran and Iraq. You could still buy leaded petrol, and that was only about 35c per litre. A gym was found at a school.After the closing night party I found myself in the Good Sigma with Felicity and JC, who'd offered to drive us each home. The question was asked: where to chaps? The answer: Marseille.
Clearly this was impossible given our resources (one Sigma, three hours until dawn). We pledged, however, to each visit Marseille and send one another postcards as proof that the pledge had been upheld.
Felicity tells us she did it - but her card wasn't postmarked in Marseille. Likely, yes. Proven, no. Apparently she was going to return this year, but plans fell through. JC is expected in August. (BTW - there's space to superimpose your own photo; the cafe is Cafe Samaritaine at the Vieux Port. As you'll see, your pastis has been poured and awaits you....)
We were there on Tuesday. The postcards are on their way. I look forward to recieving more.
The question, however, is begged: where to next, chaps?
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