After surving our journey across the dry australian contry. You will need to wait until tomorrow. We're so tired now that we've stopped I cannot function.
Gee that's a good example of fatigue related error.
Here's the remainder of the post.
It didn’t take long, but we’re going to have to make our claim with the UN. It was the sandpit next to.
Marks’ friend’s Kylie and Mark and their family were in Paris holidaying as well and we’d met them where else but on the Champs – Elysses.A quick note about the Australian boy from Holbrook
Girl from Mooroopna had dialogue that morning with Australian boy from Holbrook. Where are we going to meet them? On the Champs. The where? The Champs (think long Australian drawl pronunciation Champs as in Champion)- where they finish the tour – oh the Champs – Elysse (add Australian attempt of a French accent”
Well we got there. Fancy meeting you here. Cliche. And so our group now with three delightful children, were there to be seen on the Champs – Citron and Peugot concept stores, Ice creams, aftershave stores, a queue outside of the Louis Vuitton store. To the L’Arc de Triomphe. To the Metro and Notre Dame. And while we took solitude in Notre Dame (mass was on). Our little travelling companions found the sand pit. And it wasn’t long until they had put the Australian Flag up. There’s not much space in Paris so you can see the children playing in a small area. Not our Australians – running from end to end, having time out for throwing sand, knocking down sand castles, catching them before they knock down sand castles, sharing the buckets and shovels from unassuming polite Parisians. It was magic to watch and innate sense of culture being played out in the sand pit. Bloody australians