In the morning as we approach perth, we are met by the fruit police. I am tempted to tell them I have swallowed two pineapples in a condom, but decide that sort of silliness can get you into trouble.
The English are asking where I am staying, but I decide that one is a bit of a loose cannon, (I heard the guard threaten to throw him off the train for some reason last night), so I am evasive and give them the slip at the station. The Britannia Hostel is good enough for me and after a shower I find I can't stay awake and sleep for about 4 hours. The area seems quite pleasant and I stroll up the road to get some fresh food, then return for a massive internet session, which turns out to be frustatingly slow, so I pack it in and go for a walk instead. Everything is very close by and I form a plan for the morning. Another go on the internet leads to more frustration, as my site fails to save an entire page of writing. I curse the tragedy that the world has lost a masterpiece into the ether.
The book said this hostel is favoured by an 'older crowd' and this certainly proves to be the case as I overhear a conversation about pensions. There are a few kiddies, with their typically boring tales of where they're from, where they've been and what A-levels they're doing/did, but their behaviour seems moderated by the presence of their grey haired peers and I find the atmosphere quite relaxed.
Once more I sleep soundly, after a night curled up in my slippers with a nice cup of horlicks.