Kings Cross

King's Cross has for a long time been known to most Australians as the drugs and red light capital of Australia. So, not surprisingly, it is another tourist hot spot. Most Australians who have visited Sydney have also wandered through the Cross, if only for a look at how the "other half" live and play. In recent years, however, this sleaze pocket of Sydney has changed into a richly vibrant part of the city. The strip clubs, topless waitresses, adult bookshops and tacky nightclubs are still there, but small, trendy cafes have sprung up on the fringes of the Cross that are attracting a different type of visitor.

Me for one. It's actually the occasion of Rachel's birthday celebrations. We have to turn up in masks and in cocktail dress. There's a big fuss to get the right clothes. Vivians decides she will drive and we split the parking fee. Wendy (the Mauritian lodger) and her new boy friend Jack also get a lift. They are a gorgeous couple. Both are psychiatric nurses, so I tell them about my famous friend Ian Wilson. They've never heard of him. 'He's written chapters in books and everything' I attempt to persuade them. They promise to look out for him, politely if unconvincingly.

When we arrive the dress code appears to be rather less strict than we had been lead to believe. Even the masks ($12 each) are discarded once entry to the 'Brasserie' has been achieved. Luckily there's lots of free wine and beer, and lots of very nice canapes. I also get to meet again Najia Sauer and David Benett. David asks if I'd like to go to watch Sydney FC tomorrow, Sunday. Yeah. He's a gooner (Arsenal), which gives me a chance to talk about Ian again. He hasn't heard of him either. Never mind. The evening progresses to a time when the over fifties need to make way for the under forties. Viv and I go home, leaving the young people to continue with the fun.

This is my last night at Viviane's. I shall miss her, and she says she'll miss me. There's an open invitation to visit again anytime. I will take her up on it.