By chance my brother and his missus are holidaying in Sydney just now so we took some time off from slaving on the boat, under the relentless, scorching sun......but with a light cooling breeze, to meet them in town.

Later, heading for the bus stops I spotted the Westfield Tower, Sydney's largest spire and highest restaurant. Pretty much the same as the tower in Auckland. It was there, when we were in the lobby, dithering over whether it was worth $40 to get an aerial view of the city that we heard a, "Psssstt". After assuring ourselves this wasn't the kind of involuntary passing of wind older folks apparently suffer from, but instead was coming from the Concierge who was beckoning us over with his index finger.

"Take my advice" he says, "if you want to go up the tower, pay an extra $10 and not only do you get to see the views but you get a Fine Dining experience at the same time. And it really only costs $10!!!!"

Anne immediately thought about how much money we'd save. I immediately thought, "that's us up to a round hundred.....brilliant". End result was we did get a great view while having a leisurely Fine Dining experience. So, as we spotted the Westfield Tower, I passed on this tip to Eric, knowing he likes to treat Polly and that it was also their wedding anniversary.

The problem is it backfired as Eric asked us to join him. So, last night, we headed into town to enact our cunning plan. We'd arrive about an hour early, kid on we didn't know what time Eric had booked and enjoy an hour in the bar spinning around above Sydney.

Backfire #2 was when reception said, yes we could go up but our "dining time" would start the minute we got on the elevator. Plan blown we waited with the dossers on the shopping mall seats until the allotted hour. Our dining time arrived and we were ushered into the lift and whisked up to the 47th floor. Eric was in loud checked shorts and in cunning plan #1 we had only just been turfed out Sydney's other elevated revolving restaurant for not being smart / casual enough. "What!" Blusters Anne. This is the best gear we've got."

"I'm afraid no running shoes says she" pointing to my well worn trainers. You know, the Ines where the wee rubber bit at the front has come loose and looks like the lower lip of an Amazonian guppy. "They've never run an inch" says I but to no avail. Turfed out.

So, as the sliding doors opened I was a bit worried we'd face the embarrassment of being turned away again. You know, guys in dirty trainers and garish, checked shorts, last seen on a golf course in Florida don't really sit well with starched white linen, softly lit surrounds and Fine Dining.

It was therefore something of a shock to be ushered into an aerial version of a school dinner hall.....at lunch time.

For at least five minutes I walked around in a daze saying, "This isn't right, this isn't right". "There must be a mistake" And there was. Fine Dining was another floor up and another $10. (Although you always need to allow a further $10 for the fish supper you have to buy on the way home cause you're starving). Anyway, it was what we booked so we joined the hordes clattering about and, once over the shock, enjoyed the Sydney views, the company and the eat as much as you like buffet was very good.

And, bonus.........I could see my boat from there.

(PS: for followers patiently awaiting tales of derring-do on the high seas, sailing will recommence shortly.)