Getting there involved the scenic, as opposed to the direct, route, but we debouched around five-fifteen after a journey through Glebe that had another suburb added to the list of districts we need to have a look at.
Madam was hungry by this stage, so once we'd checked in and accepted the offer of the midday checkout that comes with a Tuesday booking, it was across the road and along the other side down to Spice I Am, where a tod mun pla, a chicken pad Thai and the prawn dish I'd been looking at on the first leg of the Springsteen odyssey filled the yawning gaps.
Madam was straight back to base, but I diverted to The Oak Barrel, where what could have been a lengthy perusal of the shelves was interrupted by distress in the sinuses. I beat a hasty retreat with a bottle of Heathvale The Belief Sagrantino and an S.C. Pannell 2011 Tempranillo Touriga that can either serve as a nightcap after Elvis and the Aaron/Mac shows or can accompany us on the way back to the Deep North.
Madam had made her way back independently, and had curled herself up with one of those glossy What's On in Sydney-type magazines, and it was way too early to crash, so the Sagrantino and I had a lengthy conversation over the contents of the iPad until, eventually, the bottle was empty and it was late enough to hit the sack, reasonably safe in the knowledge that there wouldn't be too much chance of a three am start to Wednesday.
Which brings us up to where this piece started, doesn't it?