There will be plenty of folk who think this trip Down Under is just a jolly for us hacks, writes Michael Gannon in Sydney . Mrs G is apparently one of them.
I keep telling her I’m still awake at three in the morning because of the jet lag and the fact there’s a cracking boozer in the Rocks part of town that’s open until the crack of dawn is purely a coincidence. No, this has been hard graft and there was another tough shift the other day when Everton arrived. The Premier League boys were willing to have a chat with us but we’d have to drag ourselves all the way to blooming Bondi Beach for the privilege. Ach, well okay then.
I guess there are worse places to dig out the dictaphone and this jaunt will certainly come to mind no doubt when we’re huddled together in the howling wind and rain on some Premiership touchline in a few weeks. Mind you, Bondi wasn’t quite what it said on the tin. It was more like Baltic Beach.
