Alan got in the lift with me at the 3rd floor where Murdoch have their offices.
He had a fluorescent yellow vest on and was in charge of a trolley with a great load of parcels.
He seemed like just the sort of fellow who would know the way to York Street so I said "You look like just the sort of fellow who would know the way to York Street. Can you point me in the right direction?"
"York Street is a long way. You can't walk to York Street." he said. "I'll take you there" he said.
"You can't do that" I said. "It's not out of your way is it?" I said.
"No. I'm going that way. Where are you going to in York St?"
"The wool shop" I said.
"I know the wool shop" he said.
Well if I had any doubt at all about getting in a van with a strange man in the great metropolis that is Sydney, I didn't now. Any man that knew where the wool shop was had to be OK.
And he was much more than OK. He was lovely. Thanks Alan for driving me to the wool shop in York St. It probably was out of your way. And it would indeed have been a long way on foot. A simple but extraordinary gift very much appreciated. A gift remembered and recounted at every chance.
The chickens? Well. Three's a crowd.