Souv’s parents gave us a hotel visit for my birthday. We showed up looking like little psychedelic hobos and had a marginally lovely time being in a 8th storey room with a fantastic view of Sydney Harbour from the Northside.

The magical moment wasn’t being in a hotel, or eating heaps at the buffet breaky, or chucking all our clothes on the floor as soon as we arrived (yay chaos!), it was when 2 rosellas landed on our windowsill looking for food. They were friendly, and stuck their heads inside the window. They bobbed about on the sill talking to me for a few minutes before flying off into the air.

Why do only rich people, and lucky giftees get such moments of magic?

Maybe its time for more camping on my part?