Mountains to fiords, penguins and dolphins

Queenstown is a stunningly located town. Nestled between ridges of snow-capped mountains, next to a huge weaving, winding lake.

In winter you can ski; in summer, you can bungy, white water raft, skydive, paraglide... the list is endless.

We pootled in our little Spaceship to a DOC conservation campsite next to the lake. It was beautiful - a large stony, wild patch of land about a 15 minute drive from the town. Campers dotted themselves at respectable distances apart - some away from the stream gushing down from the snowy mountain behind us, a few edging the lake like us.




But they all had one advantage over our Spaceship - they could get in and close the doors, use the lights and play cards, drink wine and cook dinner. We had our cooker swung out of the door, sat hunched inside or stood outside batting away the sandflies. We were bitten. A lot. So much so that even a pretty sunset was pretty pointless.

There was plenty to do and see in town - drinking, eating Fergburgers (they really are good), and climbing 1,500 ft up a mountain (in a cable car), to look at the view.

Alex and Kath took to the waters in a jet boat to do 360 degree turns and such like but money prevented me. I was so tempted to do another sjydive, a paraglide or bungy though...

The money was being saved, however, for a trip to Fiordland. A massive national park full of inlets with towering mountains, huge cascading waterfalls and SEVEN METRES OF RAIN A YEAR.

They simply don't bother with millimetres or centimetres. Well, would you if you received the UK's annual rainfall in ONE DAY?!


We decided to visit the less well-known Doubtful Sound rather than the hugely popular Milford Sound (they are, in fact, fiords not sounds - a sound is a flooded valley: a fiord has been carved by glaciers).

ANd so we opted for an overnight cruise along with some blue rinses and binoculared, raincoat-clad weirdos - who all turned out to be rather nice. Apart from the ones who pushed their way to the front of the buffet...

It was the most amazing trip.

It had been raining for five days but, as we approached the fiord, the sun made an attempt to pierce the heavy, burdened grey skies. And succeeded. And so, we were treated to, if not a sun-baked then a sun-warmed, afternoon skirting the edges of the fiord, exploring inlets and peering up at huge cascades of waterfalls - all impermanent. Gallons of water poured from way up high - some as tall as any waterfall you will see around the world. One was said to be falling from 900 metres above us.

We ventured into one arm in kayaks - dipping our paddles into the still water and losening the scarves bundled around our necks as we forged along the walls of the fiord. The sun was hot and we were content to stream along at a lesuirely pace looking up at waterfalls running from the sheer cliffs above us.

All too soon, we had to file back to the boat where we dried off in time for hot soup.

That afternoon we powered out to the place the firod met the roaring Abel Tasman sea - characterised by huge waves bashing the rocks. Here, we saw dozens of seals lazing on stony outcrops.

And then, somehow, the nature guide spotted a Fiordland crested penguin - the rarestt penguin in the world. There are just 2,000 left and they are about 40cm high. We edged close to the tree-covered rocks and eventually made out a tiny blue spot - which was our penguin. He was very tiny and very hard to spot. Well, we could check penguin off our list but we felt a little disappointed not to have seen it closer or more clearly. You could hardly see it was a penguin at all.

But we made our way into a different part of the fiord and into a sheltered arm for dinner. As night drew in, we were commanded out onto the deck where we sat or stood in silence - motors off, lights down - we looked into the twighlight and heard - nothing.

Later that night, Kath, Alex and I went up onto deck again and listened to the birds calling - eventually nature guide Dan joined us and we heard a Kiwi and Wekas.

Night was pecaeful - the three of us had been upgraded to an ensuite cabin - but I woke early to shower and ran upstairs to see the cold first light of the new day. It was breathtakingly beautiful...



The day was misty, cold and wet but it just gave Fiordland a slightly different character.

We saw bottlenost dolphins swimnming into the fiord arm we had just left and later, some came to grab a free ride - surfing on the waves cresting at the bow.

And then we saw some more penguins. Not one or two, but nine. And this time we were able to see them fully - down to the yellow cresting over their eyes. We watched a pair waddling over rocks towards the water and then turned a corner around the island to see another seven. It was just incredible to watch them and I felt really priviledged to see these birds in the wild. Infact, there are none in capitivity.





And then, too soon, it was time to return. But not before we saw a rainbow arced low over the fiord. All rushing to take photos, we suddenly saw a pair of dophins and watched in wonder as they swam right underneath the rainbow - pure magic.

And so, as we returned to Cosmo the spaceship, we didn't want the journey to end. We clambered back in and decided to take the picturessque drive to Milford Sound - through snowy peaks, seeing the huge, green and rather vicious Keas (parrots) and across plains.

And then it was back along the road, camping at Te Anu and then heading towards Christchurch. We wound past Mt Cook, skirting lakes of a vivid blue hue, over mountain passes and past nasty policeman who fined me for driving a little fast...

Christchurch was our last stop and we made the most of our time here by souvenir shopping, riding the tram (a lot), going to craft shops and having dinner by the beach.

And before we knew it, it was Friday, November 30th and I had a 31-hour journey back to Birmingham. A tiring journey that involved a refuelling at Sydney (but flying in at night with the Opera House and harbour bridge made it somewhat worthwhile), a three hour stop at Dubai where I could use the business class lounge, and a seven hour stint back to the UK in business class. I'm never ever travelling another way...

fiery sun and cold, cold ice

Busy, busy times in our last two weeks in New Zealand - and indeed, of my travels. This time.

Last weekend, we ventured to Abel Tasman national park; NZ's smallest, but one of its most beautiful in my opinion. Unlike the rugged beauty of the many mountain ranges, the rains, snows and high winds, Abel Tasman has beautiful curves of beach, washes of azure ocean with golden sands and thick forestland just metres from the coastline.

We lucked out and managed to sweet-talk a local landowner into letting us camp on his land down a rough track next to a river, a kiwi plantation and forest. Mountains in the distance, the small town just a minute or two's drive.

The following morning, I took an early water taxi up to Tonga, past a few huge, fat seals lounging on the rocks, and walked along the coastline back towards the town, through beautiful beaches at Bark Bay and eventually ending at Anchorage beach after wading across a tidal estury whose waters were rising rapidly.

I walked alone - Alex's foot was still giving him trouble so he and Kath had taken a boat trip - but there were plenty of trampers going my way or the other.

The sun was hot, the wind low. I believe I even got a little bit of colour... Every now and then the winding, uphill, downhill track would crest and I would peak the ocean before descending into dark forest again. Or edge along rocky tracks with thick bush masking the drop away to the sea.

We drove on south, through the Buller gorge and down to the west coast of the south island.

Here, we skirted the land on winding roads with dramatic storm-laden skies and the wind-swept Tasman ravaging the rocky outcrops which here and there rose up monstrously from the shallower waters.

We pulled up at Pancake Rocks - layered formations of weather-beaten, time-condenced stone with huge blowholes which spout furiously at high tide (we missed it by quite a way but it was still very impressive - the roaring seas still making a splash in the caverns).

And then it was down towards the glaciers. We stopped for the night at a small town close to the beach north of Franz Joseph and camped at a community-run campsite. After watching sunset on the large, pebbly beach with a tin mug of goon, we met a Kiwi girl and her English boyfriend and they indugled us by enjoying in a few rounds of 'I'm a chocolate bar, this is my dance', which soon led to confectionary and ice creams. A great, very random evening.

We ummed and aahed over which glacier to climb and how long Alex's foot would hold out before deciding to climb Fox the following afternoon.

It was a long trek up the side of the mountainous glacier - taking us along boulder-strewn paths with signs such as 'No stopping for the next 30 metres due to rockfall risk, up metal ladders and along a sheer cliff face.

And then we attached crampons to our sturdy borrowed leather boots, picked up a snow pole and climbed onto the glacier - stomping our feet like teenagers to grip the ice.

We climbed ready-hewn steps for about twenty minutes and then turned back. It was a little disappointing - I expected huge ice caverns and caves to wander through instead of pretty much up and over the great ridges.

But the glacier itself was pretty impressive, despite the cloudy afternoon obscuring the top half (at least) and the mountains behind. Such power, such weight and pressure. Interestingly, it is advancing (up to a metre a day) but you can see how much larger the glacier once was 30 years ago, and in the preceeding years as well, from the varying lines of vegetation and rock formation.

The following morning we checked out Franz Joseph glacier from the ground and then headed down to Queenstown.

full circle

So, back in Sydney. Back in Manly. The sun is shining and everything is familiar and comnforting and beautiful.

Back at Manly backpackers - a new lick of paint, a few things moved around but still the same old place. Music cranked up on weekend days. Lively, lovely people. Full of Poms and some of the old crew - Paul and Michelle, Jimbo and Ash, Russ, Lindon and Tall Guy...

The bus journey was hell - 14 hours long overnight and very little sleep but good company in the form of a Scotsman I met on the Nimbin trip and an Irish girl. We drove in from the north, down the freeway until there it was - the harbour stretching out infront of us. Small boats bobbing along, ferries chugging back and forth, Tthe Opera House winking away in the sunshine. The bridge stood proudly over it all and I felt full of emotion and fondness and awe. It felt like a triumphant return.

Back on the ferry to Manly - that trip I did everyday with Danielle and we took together last February as we headed south for a new adventure. How much had happened since. How many things I have seen and how much distance I have covered, these were turning over in my mind as I came 'home'.

Because Manly is just a beautiful place - a stunning beach, lovely wharf, great shops and trendy cafes, average but fun nightlife and a real community feel. There was the Honolulu Grill where Steven took me for lunch on the day I arrived and there were the volleyball nets where we used to sit and sunbathe at the weekends. In the distance is Shelley Beach - host to many, many barbecues - not least that on Christmas Day with Danielle and her family and our close friends.

If this post is self-indulgent - screw it. I've had an amazing time in New Zealand. I've seen penguins and dugongs, watched whales breach in two different oceans, swam with whalesharks and seen countless kangeroos, emus, kookaburras, snakes, spiders and lorikeets.

I've eaten bushtucker and learned about aboriginal art, life, culture. I've climbed to the top of an amazing waterfall (Jim Jim) and slept in a swag in the outback.

I've flown over the desert and barrier reef, and helicoptered over the amazing Bungle Bungles. I've flown a plane and ridden a chopper in 1770. I've dived one of the world's best wreck dives (SS Yongala) and scuba-ed on the Great Barrier Reef.

I've tasted amazing wines at Margaret River and average ones at Hunter Valley. I've cooked snags on a stone in a campfire in the Blue Mountains and worked in the rat race at Darling Harbour.

I've waited tables, poured pints, made beds, worked in a strip club, pandered to doctors and production managed magazines for a massive company.

I've made lifelong friends and met people from all over.

And now it is over.

Almost.

This weekend I've met up with Steve again, drank red wine with him,smoked a shisha with him and joined him and John for a 4.5km run at 7am along the soft sands at Manly followed by breakfast at the Honolulu grill.

I don't ever want to leave. But I really do. I have four weeks in New Zealand to come and then home to see all my family and friends for Christmas. It's not such a bad life...

city living to the hippy life...

Ok ok, a long time between posts I know. Settle down - it's because my life has been fairly routine of late.

Well, if you can call strip clubs, trashing hotel bedrooms, visiting the marjuana capital of Australia, dressing up in army gear and spending an inordinate amount of time sleeping routine...

I arrived in Brisbane full of the joys of the coast and it was a shock to be back in a big city again. Not since Melbourne, or Perth at a push, have I had such a choice of shops, bars, restaurants and felt the vibe of city living.

It was repelling in its dirty busy-ness, its distance from the beach and cost of living there. BUt I was drawn in by the compulsion to return to that kind of 'real' life where people go to work and spend more than $3 on dinner.

But Brisbane was a stranger experience than I imagined. I was delighted to find old Manly friends Wolsy, Frenchie and Sheep at Brisbane City Backpackers. The big orange building was a great place to meet people and I met a wicked crowd of people. I decided to stay and wait until my friend Fiona (Perth and Darwin) arrived.

I liked it. I got a job cleaning hostel bedrooms. Not too taxing you might think - bit of hoovering, making beds in private rooms and dusting. Ha. My first day I realised I was alone doing this and spent the next eight hours biting my tongue. It was a long, long day and the pay? abysmal. A week's accommodation ($145) plus about $220 cash for long days, six days a week. Oh and half price drinks at the bar. I gave it up after that first day...

Fiona arrived and was installed by a rich friend in a plush appartment in the city centre. The two-bed place had a pool, spa, gym, lovely lounge and kitchen - we were in our element for the week we had it. Going back to a backpackers has never been so hard.

I went for a job working in the bar at an upmarket strip club and took it. Pretty good pay and tips and a few weeks later, a clearer understanding of men (or should that be pigs?) and more easily able to distinguish a fake boob from the real McCoy.

On my last weekend, Fiona and I were taken to Surfers Paradise by a friend. It was Indy weekend and the place had a huge buzz. Thousands had descended on the Gold Coast town for the race weekend and we were lucky enough to be there.

Our friend, lets call him Eric, had vouchers for a couple of rooms in Jupiters Conrad Casino at Broadbeach - one had views over to the towers of the city and the other had ocean views. It was pretty nice. We ordered room service, drank vintage Moet and dressed up for an evening at the Team Australia party (they had plenty to celebrate as they were in pole position for the big race).

The three of us set off in a stretch limo to meet Eric's friends at the Marriott. There, a small gathering of girls and boys were drinking Moet and having it constantly brought up by room service. They ordered pizza, we ordered Dom Perignon and drank it on the balcony overlooking the city and later watched them do lines of coke in the bathroom - it seemed rather rock and roll.

A few hours later we dragged Eric and two of his friends out. We jumped in another limo (a larger one this time) and headed to find the party. It all seemed a bit much effort - we couldn't see it - and so we ended up heading to Hollywood Showgirls - a very nice Gentleman's club.

The boys ordered more Dom Perignon at the request of Fiona (a lady with fine taste in champagne) and I settled back to watch the very "interesting" stageshows on the catwalk.

Lets just say when we left the club it was daylight. We walked to the beach and then headed back to the casino.

However, here drama and chaos ensused. Eric was annoyed I had not spent time with him and had come back annoyed and worried where I was. Fiona was calming him when I was out of the room when he apparently gave her a slap round the face. He denied it when I walked in - she was screaming at him and overturned some tables, smashed a few things, called him a lot of names, laughed at him and stormed out. I ran after her and we legged it out with a few bottles from the minibar to a cab to the station and a very giggly trainride home.

After a dodgy breakfast, we slept alot that day.

And so, on Tuesday, I headed for Byron Bay. What a contrast - the beach on the doorstep, surfy shops and cool boutiques and everything rather expensive but all rather fun.

There is a terrible backpackers nightclub here - very like the Woolshed in Cairns and Downunder Bar in Brisbane - called Cheeky Monkeys. So I have obviously been there a few times and danced on the tables.

Swedish Jenny arrived on Tuesday evening and so we have caught up on two months worth of gossip.

Yesterday, we went to Nimbim. Around 20 years ago, police in NSW town of Newcastle drove all the hardcore druggies out of the city and they came to Nimbin - an inland town.

Police were beside themselves in Nimbin and came down hard even on the people selling their weed and hash cookies. Eventually, the locals told the police they would drive the druggies out - but only if they were allowed leeway to sell and consume their marjuana. The police agreed, the heroin users were pushed out and a hippy vibe prevails.

Walk around the musuem and be offered cookies, cake, weed, pipes etc etc. Walk down the street and be confronted by old women selling their wares. Walk into souvenir shops for your bongs, pipes, rizzlas of every shape, size, flavour...

Smoke a joint at the bar of the hotel, sign up to legalise cannabis for medical reasons at any number of shops and browse the selection of herbal remedies at Happy High Herbs... that's Nimbin. It's all highly illegal of course and an interesting social experiment. I wonder how long it will last...

And so this evening I complete my circle and arrive back in Sydney (well, ok techincally tomorrow I get there). A 13.5 hr busride. can't wait...

1770

It is pretty much impossible not to have a good time on the East Coast of Australia. Well that is my experience of the past few weeks anyway. I am truly having a ball.

Since writing about my Whitsunday sailing trip I have flown a plane, driven a chopper (the bike not the whirly kind), sunbathed on stunning beaches, swam in pristine lakes and driven along miles of beach in a 4x4 with some mad Irish people.

1770 is a tiny town where Captain Cook first set foot on Australian soil (in 1770, natch). He may have anchored in Sydney first - but he personally never went ashore. So this stunning spot was named after that historic landing.

The town itself has a permanent population of less than 100, and most tourists stay in the nearby (also very small) town of Agnes Waters.

I arrived with my Chilean friends JP and Claudio, who I met diving, and headed for Cool Bananas hostel. Here, the atmosphere was laid-back and friendly. You could lay in the hammocks all day if you wished, or take part in the plentiful activities. Here, for example, you can learn to surf for $16.50 or take a trip to pristine parts of the barrier reef for very reasonable prices.

I chose to take a 'walk on the wild side' - a jaunt through the bush talking about tucker, snakes and spiders with Scott or the Clay King, as he is self-named. We visited stunning, untouched coves near Agnes Water and learned about the celebrity residents living nearby along with his conspiracy theories of differing degrees of ridiculousness. He painted us with a clay mask which we washed off by jumping from lava rocks into the surf below.

A strange but very nice man, he brought a carpet python he had found the previous week to the hostel that evening for us to see.

Chilean lads JP, Claudio and some Irish lads I met at the hostel all went in for a scooteroo tour of the landscape around 1770. This involved learning how to ride a chopper (motorbike) and chugging around the hills looking for roos. We then hotfooted along a fast road (just 70km an hour mum) to 1770 where we watched sunset with a basket of potato wedges.



The fun didn't end there. The following day, JP, Claudio and I went up in a tiny Cessna plane. Just the three of us and our pilot, Bruce, fit inside. The runway was a stretch of grass...




Bruce was great fun - nose diving the plane and allowing me to take the controls and actually fly the plane. I learned how to bank and go up and down... all the time we were flying over the stunning 1770 estuary - as beautiful as Whitehaven beach at the Whitsundays, watching for whales, sharks and mantas in the seas and looking at the surf below us.

After a while we landed on a pristine and deserted beach on Middle Island. The only was to it is by plane or boat.



After tasting fresh oysters from the rocks, we swapped positions and Claudio took the front seat. My fun wasn't over yet.

I was instructed to unclip my safety belt, put my knees to my chest and wrap my arms about them. Bruce then sent the plane hurtling towards the ground - I was weightless, floating up to the roof of the plane like a spaceman...




My adventures don't stop there. It was off to Hervey Bay next for my Fraser Island adventure but I will post pictures and tales tomorrow...

Diving the SS Yongala

I left Cairns on Wednesday - a little worse for wear due to the previous day being my birthday. 26. I'm now closer to 30 than 20. Oh god.

But I managed to haul my granny arse onto the Greyhound bus and make the seven hour trip to Ayr, a tiny town south of Townsville.

After an interesting taxi ride (I had $29.60 on me but the cab driver took me the whole way - despite it being about a $35 ride - oops!) to the dive lodge, I discovered the owners hadn't left me the key to the accommodation...

But after searching spider-webbed boxes, ashtrays, under plants and over ledges, I banged on the door and was let in. The accommodation for divers at Yongala dive is great - polished wooden floors, soft cream sofas, fluffy blankets and character-laden features. Already staying there were hostie Paulina, Chilean guys JP and Claudio, fellow Brit Laura and Israeli Dotti - all young and fun.

The dive day began early with a bit of breakfast and heading downstairs to the dive shop to choose our gear. We met the rest of the passengers - some older aussies - and after a bit of a briefing ("don't go inside the wreck", "don't get eaten by sharks", "do have fun"), we made our way to the beach in an old, bumpy landcruiser.

After a bit of dune bashing in the truck, we saw the boat levered off the trailer into the water on this deserted and totally unspoilt beach.

The boat is tiny - a little turquoise speedboat - which took us off the beach at between 25-30 knots.

The weather was perfect. Low winds of about 10 knots, and virtually pancake-flat seas. The sun was hot but not blisteringly so.

As we hurtled out to sea, we saw whales playing in the distance. The were throwing themselves out of the water and thumping down into the water on their backs. Flicking their tails out as a final flourish.

When we reached the dive site, we geared up in the tiny space and rolled backwards off the sides into the water. We had to haul ourselves along the mooring line because the current was so strong.




And then we were descending into the blue, pulling ourselves downwards on the line as we faced into the strong current. Deeper and deeper until we could see the top of the wreck looming below us. And there it was - the stern of the ship as she lay on her side. She is absolutely covered in corals.

It was hard to take it all in on the first dive. The current was strong and we battled against it while trying to comprehend the amount of fish, the colours of the corals, the size of everything.

Huge Maori wrasse swam inches from our faces, large shovel-nosed rays skimmed the sand below us. Bat fish darted around us and huge parrotfish nibbled at the corals. A two metre shark rested inside the hull. We swam through schools of smaller fish like yellow-tailed fusiliers as they swam around the mighty wreck.

As we approached the bow of the ship, the current was ridiculously strong but we battled it to get to the mooring line at the front of the boat - hard work but worth it. When we turned around we saw a huge grouper looming over the bow. He was enormous - at least 5ft long.




After an interval with tea, cakes and plenty of fruit, we descended for the second time. This time the current was not so strong but the visibility had worsened slightly. This time we could get up close to the corals, look inside at the toilets and bath and explore over and around more thoroughly.




And then it was over and it was back up to the boat and to whisk us back to the beach in the hot sunshine.

After dropping off and washing off the gear, we had a lovely barbecue in the sunshine. The older divers left and us younger ones were left to chill out in the sun and enjoy the accommodation before having a few drinks to celebrate an awesome day.




So thanks to all my family who contributed to my birthday present - you're the best

Rainforests and reef

The landscape around Cairns is truly beautiful. While the city focuses on partying and thrills and spills of rafting, bungy jumps, skydives and diving the barrier reef, there are more peaceful ways to spend the days.

And so, last week, I hopped aboard a Jungle Tours bus to Cape Tribulation. There were just five of us and our guide Shane, a true Aussie bloke - mad on his beer, the outdoors, going crazy.

We stopped off at Mossman Gorge and walked a short way through the rainforest on a warm but wet day, looking at strangler fig trees and the weird and wonderful canopy before jumping up and down across an unsteady rope bridge and taking a dip in the freezing, fast-flowing river - much to the surprise and amusement of the tourists walking past.

After passing sugarcane fields being cut and the mountains covered in forests, we stopped at the Daintree river for a croc-spotting cruise. We floated past exotic birds in the rainforest, salties sunning themselves on the banks and spotted a small tree snake before meeting our driver by the river ferry.

Then it was onwards towards Cape Trib with a quick stop for lunch at Cape Kimberley. I stayed at Cape Tribulation Beach House - dozens of huts nestled into the rainforest - about as far as you can stay into the wilderness.

The beach was right next to the accommodation - a long stretch of sand fringed by the rainforest and with mountains plunging into the trees in the background. Cape Trib - the tree-covered outcrop was to the right, behind mangroves and a short walk away.




Jedd, Yanika and I explored the beach and walked through the forest to another beach. The skies were stormy but it was still warm.

There was very little to do at Cape Trib but relax. The following day, the three of us set out on a walk to a swimming hole but ended up hitching a lift in the back of a ute up to the creek - it was a hilly 5km walk otherwise and even my games couldn't encourage Yanika and Jedd to enjoy the walk.

We were pretty much alone at the swimming hole - which was in a secluded part of the creek a few minutes walk through the forests.

Downstream from the road were plenty of crocs, but upstream, the cold, clear waters were safe to swim in with the sun glinting through the trees. We clambered upstream for a bit, me getting freaked out by a weird dead spider that I needed about 15m space to get around.

We hitched a lift back in a camper driven by a couple from Adelaide - just in time as the heavens opened and it poured down.

Jedd and Yanika left and I spent an evening reading, relaxing and eating followed by a similar thread the next day - sunbathing when the sun shone on the beach, and running to the virtually open-air restaurant when it poured down.


The cassowary bird

In my last few minutes at Cape Trib I saw the famed but endangered cassowary bird - an ancient emu-like bird which is my height, quite fierce and which can rip you guts out if it feels threatened. It was just sauntering along the path through the huts at the beach house.

Returning back to Cairns saw a celebratory return to civilisation with a big night out...

On Sunday (Sept 2), I woke up feeling shocking - a bad throat and sore ears - not a good day to start hostie-ing on a dive boat. I rocked up to Deep Sea Divers Den nonetheless and kept my fingers crossed they would let me join the trip and dive.

The next few days were tough - I was ill, tired constantly and not myself but I still managed to have a ball on the boat. The crew were just awesome and I discovered that diving actually helped my tonsilitis - must have been the salt water.

We stuck mainly to Norman Reef as the winds were too high to move to Saxon or Hastings reef. Ocean Quest is their large liveaboard boat which stays out at the reef while Reef Quest ferries passengers from Cairns to the outer reef.



The first dive was pretty awful - I was shattered - the winds were high and we had to swim on the surface quite far to the mooring line. My fins were loose, my mask leaked and I wasn't weighted properly. My buddy was panicking and the vis was bad.

But I righted the situation with a guided night dive - a calming swim through the blackness which ended perfectly - looking up the mooring lines and seeing white tip sharks circling under the boat's spotlight and, as we ascended, watching them swim past just a metre or two away.

Other dives were just as awesome with some spectacular corals and wonderful fish. Not all were great visibility but those that were, were stunning dives. We saw huge potato cod, huge pufferfish, dozens of triggerfish, clown fish, sharks, lionfish, rays etc. There wasn't the diversity of Phi Phi in Thailand, but the corals were often so so beautiful.

The last dive, I went in early with the chef Lurch and he guided me around the twin Peaks site at Saxon reef - a wonderful wonderful dive where we saw so much becuause no one else had disturbed the site and we were able to see sharks lying on the sandy ocean floor - quite unbothered by us.

Sadly, after 12 great dives, it was over and back to land. I had done some great diving, eaten delicious food and slept in the crew cabin under the water for three nights in return for a bit of washing up, making beds and cleaning a few bathrooms.

It took me about two days to stop feeling like I was constantly on the boat and to get back to normal and feel better.

But now it's time for the next adventure - on down the East Coat - to Ayr for a a dive at the SS Yongala wreck...

Kakadu and busy days in Darwin...

I've been trekking. Not that you'd know from my waistline - which is roughly growing from a muffin-top into a mushroom...

Yes, I braved the wilds and went to Kakadu national park for three days. Sleeping in the bush, hunting for spiders, seeing snakes - I've done it all.

I joined a tour - an expensive but easy option for getting to see and do everything and learn all about the nature and history and so on. And so, in Indiana Jones get up, I took to the road with Kakadu 4wd safaris accompanied by Andy, our tour guide, Young Oli (who came to be known by me as Princess), a Danish couple Louisa and Thomas and a family of five from Somerset.

The tour began with a jumping croc cruise on the Adelaide River. We were huddled intoa 'boat' which was basically a tin can with a few rails around the outside and a small engine on the back...

Almost immediately afer we had left the jetty, we began to see crocs. Crocodiles are much more dangerous than alligators, we were told, and the saltwater variery are particularly deadly. And hungry. And we were literally surrounded by the beasts.

Curious reptiles, at the sound of a splash, they will immediately be over to investigate their next meal. Large ones will happily drag a horse or a buffalo into the murky depths of the river. They would have happily got their mouth around my leg, or arm.

As we dangled small pieces of meat over the edge on a pole, we could hear the massive power of their jaws as they chomped at it - lifting themselves high out of the water to feed.

The largest we saw was Hannibal - a massive croc well over the length of our boat - and around 8m long. He is estimated to be about 80 years old and is as gnarled and fearsome looking as a dragon.

We were so close to them as they swam around us and it was just terrifying. They would tear you apart in seconds.

Then it was off to Kakadu. We stopped at Maguk (Barramundi Gorge), a place where a pretty waterfall ran between stone cliffs and surrounded by jungle. Very beautiful. Andy showed us plants like the milkwood tree which is an antiseptic and which he treated my work-related cuts with and stopped them becoming tropical ulcers.

We swam in the gorge (only freshwater crocs here!) and then headed for Jim Jim billabong where we set up our tents, built a campfire and cooked roast chook and veggies on the fire. Then it was time to go looking for bugs - shining our torches on the ground to see wolf spiders, cane toads and even look for crocs down at the billabong edge before listening to Andy play the didge and hearing a dreamtime Aboriginal story around the fire.

Sleep saw me thrashing around in my sleeping bag escaping the crocs and spiders...

We rose just before sunrise and prepared for a long walk - we had to climb to the top of Jim Jim falls on the Arnhem plateau.




The falls crash over 150m of cliff face into deep plunge pool. It is only accessible during the dry winter season and by the time we arrived, there was not even a trickle fallling down the cliff. However, the 16km walk up steep cliffs, through savannah woodlands, over the rocky plateau and swimming in billabongs and across (what during the wet season is) river beds was well worth the amazing view. We looked down at the top of Jim Jim from above and then climbed down to the top of the falls where we could swim in the freezing and deep pool.






We lay on the rocks where the water pounds in summer and peeked over the edge to the people swimming in the pool far, far below.

Unfortunately, Louisa had sprained her ankle at the start of the walk but soldiered on slowly. By the end of the day she was half-walking, half being carried by Thomas and so it was dark by the time we crossed the riverbed at the base of the falls and made our way back to the car. It was a tough day's walk anyway.

Driving back along the rocky 4x4 track back to camp, we saw an olive python. Througout the day, Andy had shown us bushtucker and how to eat it including large ants with green bums - the green being a citrusy-flavoured acid.

Our third day was spent visiting Yellow water billabong (more crocs), visiting some rock art sites and learning about Aboriginal history and swimming in a billabong - one of the view guarenteed not to have salties in it.

The whole trip was great but Kakadu is massive and we only saw a small part of it. Jim Jim aside, I felt it lacked the grandeur of Karinjini or Kalberri or the grace of Katherine gorge. Most of the drives, we just saw woodlands stretching for miles and the billabongs, while teeming with things for twitchers and even croc-spotters, did sort of look like large ponds.

Kakadu aside, I've been working all the hours I can in Monty's cafe in Darwin centre and at Discovery nightclub and Lost Ark bar. I loved this bar job - chatting to customers, having a laugh with the staff and bands that play, hearin great music and being bought drinks... but it has killed me and meant I've spent little time with the girls.

Sad, because I have now left Darwin. I spent 24 hours on a bus to Alice Springs after a final farewell party on Mindil Beach with Jemma, Jen, Jen, Timmy, Dave, Gary, Tom and so on before partying at the Lost Arc.

Now, I'm off on my own again - and ready for my next adventure. Uluru....

Broometime to Darwin

Broome passed by in a bit of a blur. There is a saying up here that you slip into Broometime - and things just float along at their own pace. It's a bit like Thai-time.

Broome was packed full of holidaying families and backpackers but in a good way. We spent our days lying on Cable Beach - a wonderful curve of golden sand where you can watch the sun dip into the water and turn the sky every shade of the rainbow - catching up on sleep and meeting new people.

The four of us - me, Swedish Jenny, Jenny and Dan - headed to the races on Saturday. It was hardly Ascot or Cheltenham. More like Stroud races - which basically means hillbilly and local. But amusing.

Dan and I gambled our life savings (well, we put down $2 bets on each race which amounts to the same thing) and lost and won enough to come out vaguely on top, and we watched the locals parade their attire, perform belly dancing and line dancing and even a fashion show.

That night, we partied at Oasis, a nightclub open to the stars and with the worst DJ I have ever, ever heard in my life.

I met up with a friend from Perth, Lisa, and we saw dozens of people we'd met on our trip up the coast and eventually moved to a part of the caravan park (Robeuck park) where backpackers were hidden away from the general public. Here, we could play our guitars, drink, sing and not cause tooooo much offence.

It was lively, fun and too easy to get caught up in.

But we had to hit the road again to make it to Darwin. We picked up Belgian Joran to help with costs (and weigh us down more) and left hot, sunny Broome. So far we have travelled a great distance, covering the rest of northern WA in this time.


More than 1,000km from Broome now in two days, we have passed through dull flat terrain and great rugged red mountains. We've seen Boab trees - relatives of African trees which have huge barrel-like trunks and funny, sticky out branches, crossed dozens of dry creeks and passed through Aboriginal communities. Many of these are actually closed off to visitors unless you have a pass.

We spent a night at Halls Creek, the nearest town to Wolfe Creek, and managed to avoid a riot from the boys who wanted to take our hire car offroad to get a picture at said town - just for the horror film kudos.

Instead, we diverted them to Turkey Creek (Warun) where all except Joran took a 45-minute helicopter ride over the amazing Bungle Bungles (Purnululu National Park). The experience of flying over the plains below was worth every penny - but to skim over the craggy mountains and see the plate-like ridges below, soar over the dome-shaped huge mountains as they stretched below like a carpet, and delve into deep gorges, was just breath-taking.



The road to the huge red and black-striped domes is very bumpy and hardly suitbale for even a 4x4 so our Ford Falcon was just not going to make that trip. It's hard to believe that such a world treasure (it has been UNESCO listed along with sites such as the Grand Canyon, Great Barrier Reef etc) is so remote and so little visited.

In the distance we could see the distant mountains raped for the rich diamonds deep inside, and which have just two years left of mining in them. We saw remote Aboriginal settlements and the cattle ranches around the national park. It was such an experience.

Our next stop was Wyndham - a historic town at the end of the famous Gibb River Road (the remote 4x4 track through the Kimberley) where five rivers meet. We climbed to the top of a mountain (well we drove 3/4 of the way up...) to a wonderful viewpoint over the peaceful wide rivers. Remarkable to see so much water even in the dry season.

Later, we drove to Kununurra and stopped at a posh campsite for the night where we were clearly not welcome - being young and backpackers, and because there were five of us and we only paid for four...

But the attitude of the staff and even the other guests there was just appalling. Being young and travelling quite often gets you crap customer service in Oz.

So we moved to a smaller, friendlier, rougher campsite in Kununurra the next night and then explored. We visited Lake Argyle, a huge man-made lake, where the government flooded acres and acres of cattle ranches. There are still the tops of mountains above the lake which make it a peaceful spot.

On Sunday we crossed the border into the Northern Territory and made it to Katherine. The drive was wonderful this last few days with such changing scenery - from rugged outcrops in the Kimberley to the dry, flat lands in the Northen Territory.

In Katherine, we hiked a loooong way through the national park to stunning gorges where we could swim safely - despite the presence of freshies (crocodiles). We had to keep away from their nests but were told they were otherwise relatively (!) harmless.

After an 8km hike down to the gorge, we spent a few hours jumping off a high rock into the waters below surrounded by the cliffs of the gorges. Another hike took us to a different swimming area in the river - this time clambering over massive boulders and past dry waterfalls. We were shattered when we arrived. So, after a dip to cool down, we "bribed" a boat trip to take us back with them!

Now we are in Darwin - which seems like a really lovely place even if the "clubs" are shocking. It's now time to get a job or ship out for me. Time is running out for me in Australia when there is money to be earned and the rest of the east coast to see...

Whales and wine...

A humpback whale plays around our boat



Sniffing the bouquet, savouring the flavour, inspecting the colour - three odd wine experts - or should that be winos?





So a fair amount has happened in the past few weeks.

My brother has been to vist and gone, I've seen some fantastic wildlife, got lost twice, worked hard and played hard. All in all - quite a lot of fun.

I finished up work - both the bar and reception/admin jobs - last week when my brother Jonathan arrived on Wednesdat. After a long flight from the UK to Perth via Singapore, we decided the best course of action was food and drink - of the alcholic variety of course.

After snacking on bread and dips with Danielle, we moseyed to the lovely Moon Cafe on William Street to share a pizza, tales of everything and anything and to induct Jon into Aussie beer and wine.




After, we headed to Mustang bar with the Britannia backpacker bunch for some more alcofrol, dancing, a band and to introudce Jonny to another of the great backpacker joys - Jaegermeister.

The lightweights (Jon and Danielle) went home while I headed to Black Betty's for another dance, only to return home after an hour and find my sozzled younger brother, who had bailed due to jetlag, had been boozing in the courtyard with some other retirees.

The next day, Jon and I set out to see the (limited) sights of Perth. I took him through town (via a few shops to buy a coat - poor lad) down London Court and to Barrack Street Jetty where we sat and had a coke in the sunshine overlooking Swan River.

We then meandered up the steep hill to King's Park and ate wedges and looked at the stunning view, did the treetop walk and up the DNA tower (a big spiral staircase). At the top, a post in the middle pointed out the scenic parts of Perth - a tower block masquerading as a hospital, the Kwinana freeway, another hospital, rottnest island (too far to be seen)... and so on. Gotta love their enthusiasm for the drab.

We then headed to Subiaco in the rain to find some food. After a long walk throught he 'burbs we found a pub still serving ridiculously expensive food and shared some bruschetta and fries before heading around the pretty funky area to see what we could see.

A train home, picking up some Hare Krishna $2.50 veggie wonderfood on the way, snuggling on the sofa with Danielle and early bed...

On Friday, Jon and I headed to Fremantle - or Freo as the locals love to call it.




We had coffee on 'cappucino strip' - a road of mid-western style buildings with overpriced coffee shops, Italian eateries and self-satisified rich people dining out. Although the previous day and been miserably cold and wet, the sun was shining brightly in Freo and we were able to wander around happily in the sunshine to the weekend markets, the parks, the anchors embedded near the waterfront and around the harbour.

We popped into the odd Shipwreck Galleries which were far more dull than they sound, and then headed to a famous fish and chip place for some nosh.




The weather turned stormy as we headed to the E-shed markets and the Maritime museum for brother to check out the architecture, so we caught the free CAT bus around town, had a coffee and then headed to Freo prison to meet my friend Tanu for the torchlight tour.

We were given small souvenir torches and led out into the floodlit courtyards of the prison. It was built by convicts in the 1850s and was used right up until 1991. It was a place of hanging, flogging as well as hard labour.


An orb of light or a trick of the light?

So our guide Julie told us it had a spooky past and encouraged us to take photos and look for orbs of light. I don't know if there were any ghosts, but it certainly had a horrible atmosphere as we walked through the kitchens, courtyards, Junvenile and various other blocks and to solitary confinement, the gallows and flogging post.

Tanu, Jonny and I then went for pasta on cappucino strip - with the hugest portions ever beheld by man or beast...

On Saturday, we hired a car for our adventuring trip down to Margaret River wine region. Jon, Danielle, Oirish Laura, Caroline and I piled into our Toyota Corolla and I drove south to take us to colder climes and wine.




We attempted to find Australia's best pie shop (and failed) in Mandura and had a break at Busselton where we walked the 2km jetty to the end and back and then headed for Cape Natualiste where whales are often sighted and there are lovely walks around the cape and lighthouse.




The sun was beginning to sink in the sky so we took a short walk and saw the orange sunset highlighting the purple and pink hues of the landscape while Danielle hunted for wildlife.

Then we hopped back in the car to make for Margaret River town and to find Inne Town backpackers. It's slogan is 'the only backpackers in town', which may go some way to explaining why it was pretty scummy.

Margaret River is pretty goddam cold at this time of year and when the sun disappears, it's postively antartic. After a slap-up dinner at the Settlers Tavern (a pre-taste of the wine) we tried to sleep in the feckin cold hostel.

Sunday was our wine day. Cleverly, we had booked onto a Bushtucker tour which ensured that none of us had to drive and we could taste away to our hearts content. Luckily. After five wineries,a brewery, a cheese shop and a chocolate factory, I was rather merry. Maybe it was the witchety grub which I ate for lunch.

It was a perfect day, the sun shone, it was warm and we had a fine lunch of locally produced foods like humous, chilli pesto, homebaked breads and so on.

The wine was mostly excellent - far better than the Hunter Valley - and Danielle and I were delighted that one of those we visited had posh wine in goon bags. Perfect.

Monday, we left the backpackers bright and early in the crisp and frosty morning light. We layered up and popped down to Augusta - where the Southern and Indian oceans meet with great crashing force.

After a warm-up coffee and supplies for the rest of the day, we embarked on a whale watching tour around Flinders Bay.




Humpback and Southern Right whales congregate here at this time of year on their winter journey north to warmer waters. It is right at the start of the season and we had been warned we may not see much.

But after about 20 minutes, the skipper spotted some spouts of water several miles away and it was full speed ahead. Our hearts were beating fast, and we were all excited, when suddenly I glanced over to the other side of the ship and to my atonishment, saw a huge whale rearing out of the water.





i wasn't sure if it was the eye infection or not, I sort of yelped - ah - over there! While Jonny translated with a precise clock position. There were two humpback whales and they played around the boat for a while, becoming curious of this weird object in the waters.




Soon after we spotted a large group of humpbacks and went to join them... we would circle around after them and then lose them, only for them to surface just metres from the boat. It was an awesome sight and made perfect by the appearance of a school of common dolphins who sped alongside the boat and lept playfully over the whales...

And then back to Perth. Jon has just left for an adventure in Sydney and I am now preparing to leave this city adn travel up the west coast on another adventure.

dubai to sunny perth...

The spice souk

So Dubai is now a distant memory and I am back to backpacker life - this time on the west coast of Oz - in Perth.

But first a brief(ish) recap of my final days in Dubai if I can manage to write anything properly with a stinker of a hangover...



Creekside

I met up with a a chap called Andrew on Monday evening - he's a friend of a guy I worked with in Sydney, Noah, and he now lives in Dubai. I met him at a shopping mall and we drove out towards the Burj Al Arab hotel and to a bar called Batista (or something) at Dubai Marina.

Dubai stretches along the coastline for some miles and the marina is some way from the heart of the city. It's in the area where there are nice, plush hotels, malls and the complex world of the expats.

We sat and indulged in few G&T's and actually found out who the hell each other was before his lady, her mother and friend joined us. Like most of the expats I met, the seemed pretty disillusioned with life in Dubai - feeling the city to be a fake place built on lavish lifestyles, false friendships and greed.

The Emiratis, they said, did very little work because they get paid to live and accommodation free from the government and that most of the 50,000 population chose not to work.

Mostly, the people who wait on you, serve you in the malls and do the labouring are Indian, Pakistani, or African.

I then got a taxi back to my 2* hotel in Deira - a place the taxi driver labelled as full of prostitutes. Ah that would explain a lot.

On Tuesday, I decided to take a wander around and walked down to the creek. I took an abra (small boat) across the waters to Bur Dubai for 1 AED and wandered around in the hot sun. Andrew had told me about a nice cafe so I wandered around the textile souk (market) and then started looking for it and asked at a general store.

The chap in the shop actually rang directory inquiries, got the number, rang the cafe and asked directions before painstakingly making sure I knew the way. Like so many people I met in Dubai - he was immensely friendly.

It took me a while to locate XVA but it turned out to be in the historical building area - and very pretty it was too. The buildings look anciently arabic and have the wind towers perched atop walls to catch any breeze.

XVA was also an art gallery so I took some time to look at the modern art before settling down to a newspaper, mint lemonade and a wonderful lunch of some kind of rice, vegetable and yoghurt concoction.

Then the President of Uganda turned up. Which was odd. He took a look around while men in their white robes (the Emiratis) stood around wearing shades and talking urgently into mobile phones. And then, as suddenly as they arrived, they were gone...

That afternoon I embarked upon a desert safari - a kind of obligatory tourist occasion.

A 4x4 picked me up along with a Japanese chap from my hotel and a Malaysian lady and her sister and then we acquired a very nice French couple along the way.

We drove out of the city and to the edge of the desert, where we saw dozens of 4x4s ready to do the same adventure. And then we were all off, laughing smugly at those vehicles that hit the sand dunes and promptly got a puncture.

30 seconds later, we were not laughing so hard. We had a puncture too. Two minutes later, we were really not laughing. The engine would not turn over. The battery was dead. The air con was not working...

We tried to laugh. We asked what this might mean. Another vehicle? Death in the desert? A night under the stars?

We watched lucky bastards in their working 4x4s disappear bumping their way over the sand dunes and into the desert...

After about 10 minutes, another 4x4 appeared and they decided to attached a tow rope to the back of it and pull us down a steep dune to get the engine working. We scrambled out and watched...




...luckily it worked.

And so there followed about half an hour of bumping up and over the dunes, rushing sideways down the sand banks and headfirst down steep tracks. After the trauma of the breakdown, I was glad to see we were in convoy of 4 trucks - no way I want to break down in the middle of the desert - where mobile phones do not work.

And then it was to camp. Too soon sadly. We had to sit there for a good while contemplating sand boarding (I watched the French chap try it - it really wasn't worth the effort), taking full use of the free soft drinks, listening to loud loud loud music, fending off the attentions of the driver (me), sleeping (most people) and smoking shisa pipes.

I got a free henna tattoo and then paid to have it extended and everyone seems rather impressed by it.




Sometime later, a large barbecue was prepared with lovely humus, salad, chicken, lamb kebabs, lentil curry and all kinds of things.

And then it was time for the belly dancing - a trim, long-haired lovely came out and bent and shook her body in all kinds of weird and wonderful ways. It was fantastic and mesmirising and brilliant. Until the humilation of several as she got them to stand up and copy her moves. I was dragged up with my French friends...

Then later we all had to get up and dance in a circle before she whirled me into the centre and we spun around and around. And then it was back home and to bed and to fend off the attentions of a Nigerian guest in the hotel. There must be something in the water here...



Wednesday was my last day. I took myself off to the gold and spice souks in the morning - just a short walk from my hotel. Basically, they consist of a lot of shops selling gold. Or spices. I just wandered along the gold souk and in the spice souk - an older more interesting market - I smelled the wonderful spices and asked all about them. And ended up buying cashew nuts.

I was then accosted by an Emirati chap to go and look at the Dubai Muncipality Museum - a free video basically on the growth of Dubai and a look at some documents and the old Sheik's desk. Unfortunately, I then had to endure the attentions of this older man and his offers to show me the Emirates in his car... oh dear Lord. After explaining that I was leaving that day he eventually stopped trying to hug me and let me leave, but not before I had had a cup of Arabic tea. Hmmmm...

So then it was back to the hotel to check out before 12pm - and then just 14 hours til my flight. So I did what I do best. And went shopping. I decided to go back to Deira City Centre mall which I was told would be about a 25AED ride (three quid). So I decided to take the bus (1.5 AED).

The bus station wasn't far and after asking which buses I could take (6 or 27), I sat and patiently waited. And waited. The buses were not arriving for those routes. I waited some more at number 6 stop. Then I saw a 27 pull up and raced across the station. It parked. The driver got out and disappeared. I had been waiting 40 minutes by this time.

There then ensued a dance between the two bus stops for about another half an hour. Or maybe more who knows. I missed the 6 and ended up on the 27. But at least I was on the bus - and sat in the ladies section - which I highly approved of.

I then spent a very pleasurable however many hours shopping, watching a terrible French comedy at the cinema, drinking hot chocolate and then waiting for 40 minutes for a taxi back (which ended up costing me just 10 AED).

Then to the airport and to fly to Perth. I had a full three seats to myself on the plane. I arrived. I was met by Tanu, a lovely Perthian lady who was a coordinator for Travel to Teach in Thailand, who brought me to my hostel - Britannia in Northbridge.

I was reunited with Danielle and we all went for pasta and then a few drinks.

Since then, I have explored a little, bought a few essentials, slept a lot, eaten a lot and drunk a fair amount. We hit a club called Black Betty's on Friday night and then rolled in some leaves in the nearby park (I'm not joking) and last night, we had a few drinks in the hostel courtyard after a day shopping for clothes (for Danielle), listening to our iPods in the park and sitting by Swan River.

People are very friendly here - it's not Melbourne, or Sydney and the vibe is very different. Shops don't open on a Sunday. Weird. But it seems very nice and I'll daresay I'll have something proper to write about it very, very soon.

Below is Danielle and me doing our 'deer caught in headlights' pose. In the leaves. In the park.

Sunny England??!!

Would you believe it? It is actually warm, sunny and wonderful right now in England.

With temperatures pushing 25C on some days, there has barely been a dull moment in the sky for me to escape to update the blog.

Coming home for my dad's 70th birthday has been a wonderful treat. Fantastic to see my nieces, sisters, parents and brothers and sisters as well as all my friends.

It has been one of the few occasions when all six of my siblings, plus parents and kids, have been together in a very, very long time - and I think possibly the first time we have all been pissed together since Duncan's wedding in 1998.

There have been walks on the Malverns with my good friend Fur, numerous barbecues, gossiping over tea with my sisters, wine drinking with friends, lazy luncheons and reunions which have been both very pleasant and very painful.

And while I am muchly looking forward to the Return to Oz, and to see my darling Danielle, I haven't been quite ready to leave yet.

England is truly beautiful in the sunshine and, while Gloucester itself remains an ugly (though regenerating - they say) city, the Cotswolds make me proud to come home.

Painswick, the Queen of the Cotswolds, is just two miles from my parents home and is a quaint village of ancient Cotswold stone houses, windy lanes and a spired church which commands a stunning view over the vales below - not far from a place called Paradise.

When there are homes here which still have lead-lined windows, old wooden doors with huge knockers (boom boom) and even the old stocks by the churchyard - it is no wonder I find the modernity of Australian cities so strange and alien. In England, there is history around every corner - and an 800 year old tree in our field.

But I have postponed my flight almost a week, not because of an 800 year old tree, but to give me more time with my loved ones.

I have also shortened my trip to Dubai from six days to three - money concerns have dictated this rather than love affairs, fears of kidnap (worries held by my mother) or need to get back to Danielle.

So Perth is next on the Oz agenda - and for England, it is London. A weekend of catching up with uni friends for a superhero costume party, seeing my brother for his birthday and catching up with other various people.

It is also, so my parents believe, extra time to do the grocery run, cook up a bit of dinner, tidy my room, and not-go-out-in-a-skirt-that-short, and what-are-you-doing-seeing-that-boy-again and are-you-really-going-out-again-tonight? time.

Perhaps before I go, the weather will turn horrid and I look forward to the windy city with increasing joy. But right now, there is nothing prettier than England, and the Cotswolds, in Spring.

The surprise, the wedding, the ex

SO I am back in England - for two weeks only.

It has been a carefully planned surprise for my dad's 70th birthday and has involved much secrecy, mild deception and nerves - particularly on the part of my mother.

Still after 25 hours of flight from Melbourne via Dubai to London Heathrow, my dad was suitably surprised as I walked through the exit gates.

Mum had told him that my cousin would be returning early from Toyko and my aunt had telephoned to ask him to pick her up - as they were flying to Spain that very day. Being a generous soul, he agreed. But he admits cursing Miranda's name as he waited for the delayed flight in the arrivals hall.

Only for it to be me causing all the bother and arriving the day before the long Easter weekend.

His face completely dropped from the arranged smile to absolute shock. His mouth was open, he looked around him as if thinking, "Er why am I here? who am I? What's going on? Have I gone mad?"

Naturally, I talked ten to the dozen the whole way home and was greated my two shrieking banshees (my sisters) and four very shocked nieces - who had also been in the dark about my arrival.

A boozy dinner of spag bol and meringue on the patio followed. It was almost as if I had never been away.

Luckily for me, the weather is beautiful here - warm (for April), sunny and spring-like. There are a neighbouring farmer's lambs in our fields, primroses on the banks off our wood and the last of the daffofils. The Magnolia tree outside my bedroom window is still in (browning) blossom and the trees are beginning to bud.

I sank into my lovely lovely double bed with its soft soft mattress which I cunningly wrestled from the 'divorce' last year.

Ah and onto that, I know at least several people are keen to hear the gory details of meeting up with Craig. Emboldened by Steven's recent podcast mentionning Fleur, I can't be bothered to encode this.

He picked me up on Friday around noon, after chatting to my family and being scrutinised and criticsed (in 'bantering' form - oh dear) by them. But he coped very well (he has had to put up with my sisters' rather cruel sense of humour on many previous occasions).

I was being taken for lunch but we didn't know where - we drove around the stunning Cotswolds for a time before ending up at The Bell at Sapperton - a gastro pub popular with second homers in the area. After a drink there, we proceeded to the more homely Daneway pub down the road (where we used to walk when I was a child) and attempted to order a bite to eat before the 2pm cut off.




As is usually the way with us, we missed it and had to make do with a drink in the sunshine, surrouned by the stunning countryside. It was friendly, easy, comfortable, lovely and a little emotional. But, he has a girlfriend and doesn't really need me coming back for two weeks and going off again and messing him aorund. I haven't seen him since but I am sure I shall soon.

On a more serious note, I have rediscovered many of England's most pleasing pleasures such as Marmite (oh, how I've missed you - Vegemite sucks in comparison) and sherbert lemon. The latter I had never forgotten that I like a lot but I realised I liked it more than I remembered. I know I should eat lots of it while I'm back (it is it's purpose after all and wants me to eat it) but, rather like my Easter choclate, I fear it will become a nasty habit that I can't kick and that I will have withdrawal symptoms when I go back to Australia without vast supplies. So I am eshweing it for a more healthy lifestyle... Oh my waistline how you have grown already...

My friend Laura was married on Saturday to her childhood sweetheart Shane. I have known Laura since our days fetching and carrying as slaves at Bowden Hall Hotel and from a few weeks dating her brother when I was 16.

The wedding was held at Tortworth Court in South Gloucestershire - a stately manor home. Laura looked stunning in a ruffled, princess -style dress. She looked like a bridal model with her tiny waist, long dark hair, tanned skin and good looks. I would upload some pictures but somewhere in transit I have lost the USB cable which connects my camera to computers. Which is bloody annoying.




Sally, one of my oldest friends, and fellow Bowden Hall ex-employee joined me at the wedding and we a good giggle catching up, running barefoot through the gardens and dancing on the Cotswold stone wall at the bottom of a hill while we waited for the evening do to start. This was much to the amusement of the groom who caught us being very silly.

Mind you, most people at the wedding saw us dancing in the evening - why be serious on the dancefloor?!

Anyway it was a beautiful wedding with the breakfast in the Orangery - a glasshouse building - an effective chocolate and cream theme and yummy cake. It as funny to see all the elements Laura has been emailing me about for months come together - the cake, the dress, the shoes, the tiara, the invitations and so on.

Mr and Mrs Forsythe are now in the Maldives - the lucky pair.

Anyway I have rambled on enough... again soon.