As 2010 continues apace for me, I “ find myself ” in Sydney. I was born in Sydney and it appears I am number 951 on the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital  records due to a hospitalisation long ago in maybe 1950. Thereabouts.

I later had plastic surgery there on a facial injury sustained in a car crash at the gates of Parramatta Park some Good Friday long ago. The specialist for that procedure was a doctor called “Doctor Officer Brown “, a name which afforded the entire family a good deal of amusement. Today, I went for an ultrasound of the Spleen and Liver and despite the years, I do believe it was the same building as those in which I once saw Dr. Officer Brown before he operated over in Gloucester House.

The Ultrasound was pain free. The bone marrow biopsy wasn’t actually too bad either despite my coming around under the sedation. Last week I read Ross Fitzgerald’s Story and that helped me yesterday. The strange chemistry of the alcoholic body doesn’t depend upon youth or when the last drink or drug was taken.


I have a brother who has taken good care of me during this week. Perhaps even pulled some very effective strings.

I like Sydney. It is my home city.

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