Leicester Larks

I've spent the last four nights staying with group B questacon science circus compadre Regan and her partner Rick. Apart from an afternoon in Manly Reg and I have not had a good catch up since the end of circus in 99. It was nice to spend time finding where eachother was at and remeniscing.

I spent much of the few days recovering from my travels, casual lunches, Leicester Indian Meals, updating the blog, email etc and of course having a BBQ english style.

I landed at Reg and Rick's a day before they were off to a Ball for the local association of anesthetists. I don't usually pack black tie when travelling so I had to stretch the definition of Black Tie assisted by Rick's wardrobe and some shopping at Marks and Spencers. I'm glad I went though as it was a great night and I liked comparing UK balls with those back home. Sadly I did not win the tickets to next year's ball in the raffle.

Leicester is home to the National Space Centre, which Regan helped with the development of many of the displays. They have a brilliant collection with some great interactives and I even picked up some ideas for the centre in Parkes.

When travelling I try to find unusual or unique places for lunch and I think sitting below the funnel of a rocket has to be near the top of "exotic" places to eat! Two large rockets are housed in a very distinctive tower near the entry of the centre.

The space centre is also home to the only Challenger Learning Centre outside the United States. The centre runs simulated space shuttle missions for groups. It sounds like a lot of fun but now I have to figure out how to convince the powers that be that some teambuilding here for the visitor centre staff would be worthwhile...

Bigger than the Dish

I left the CD of photos that match this entry behind. However thanks to Beck all is not lost and they are sailing their way to Australia. I'll add them at the end of the trip.

Thursday would be the last day that Shelley and I would do any decent drive. We headed south for about three hours to Jodrell Bank Observatory near Manchester.

The big dish at Jodrell, the Lovel telescope, is 80m, a bit bigger than Parkes and also a bit older. Like Parkes it has had many upgrades over the years so it looks a bit different. One of my Jodrell counterparts Ian showed me around the observatory explaining some of the history, both of the observatory and the visitor and communication services. It was interesting to see the similarities and differences

Over lunch I met Tim and Teresa who are also involved in the present and future of the visitors centre. It was interesting to share stories of success and frustration with those who have similiar roles.

The centre was recently demolished to make way for a new centre so it didn't take me long t have a look at the displays but I did have a great chat with the staff in the shop. I spent a good part of an hour wandering the path around the telescope and through the aboretum.

My long stay was rewarded when the telescope slewed to a new position just before departing. It was kind of funny to be the tourist hoping that the telescope would move.

Now all that was left to do was to get lost on Cheshire country roads trying to find the motorway to Regan's.

Detective Work Pt 3

I left the CD of photos that match this entry behind. However thanks to Beck all is not lost and they are sailing their way to Australia. I'll add them at the end of the trip.

I figured I'd have to have a pint or two where my Great Grandfather used to drink but it was still early in the day so I went looking for some local information. After perusing the local history section at the Library at Stanley and some internet time I went for a drive further afield to have a look at some other significant locations.

Just to the north of Newcastle city is Gosforth where Grandad was baptised. After checking out a few churches at the base of spires and towers I found the Gosforth Catholic church. Further to the north is Wideopen, where he was born. I held next to no hope of finding the cottage in question but instead went for a drive around the town before heading back to Flint Hill.

It was about 6.30pm and I figured a pint at the Prince of Wales was in order. The pub was almost empty but very smoky. I sat down with a pint to carefully examine the insides and wonder how it might have looked eighty years ago.

It came time for a second pint so I wandered around to the bar, ordered another and asked the bar maid about the history of the pub and the local area. The pub had been around for a couple of hundred years. I mentioned Grandad, Derwent View and that my great Grandfather
used to drink there. This solicited the interest of a couple of locals and we got chatting about the local area, what I liked about it and who might know what about who.

A regular had been brining in a copy of a local book "Dipton remembered" that had many photos of the area back to the 1800s. A quick phone call had him down to the pub and I had a good look through the book with many photos making me wonder whether they had people Grandad might recognise a long time on.

After a good chat and a couple of pints it was well and truly time for food so I wandered down to the Chippy in Dipton for a pizza and a further look around. I felt greatly vindicated to find tuna pizza on the menu, after many years being derided for such creations.

My detective work and exploration had come to a very good conclusion and I was ready to head on the next day.

Detective Work Pt 2

I left the CD of photos that match this entry behind so thanks to Beck they are sailing their way to Australia. I'll add them at the end of the trip.

Wednesday morning I woke with a renewed sense of hope. After breakfast I headed back up to Flint Hill. After all I had found the pub wheere my Great Grandfather darnk and that was something to be pleased with. The marketing office fore Derwent View estate opened at 9am so I bided my time getting some photos of the pub and surrounding area.

Just after 9 I wandered into the office. "I have an unusual request. I'm wondering wether you had any information about what was here before the development. My Grandfather lived in a house here called Derwent View."

She said the area was vacant for a few years but gave the number for the local council who would probably be able to help. It was then that one of the other staff piped up saying that there was a house over in the next street called Derwent View. Things were suddenly looking up so after some rough directions I jumped back in the car and went around the block.

It was still a reasonable hour in Australia so if I found the house I wanted to call Grandma and Grandad so I stopped in a store to top up my UK telephone credit and get further directions. I wandered up the street carefully checking the names of the houses as I went... "Flint Hill House"... "Derwent View".

I looked carefully at the house. It had the name plate above the door and as Granddad described it a chimney at either end. It looked about the right age too. It would have had a good view of the valley except for the newer house across the road.

Once I was fairly sure this was indeed the house I wandered up to the front door and knocked. A woman opened the door. "Hi. Sorry to bother you but I believe my Grandfather lived in this house about eighty years ago."

The house had indeed been around for around a hundred years. Her husband was born in the house in the 1950s and had lived there all his life and his mother lived there for many years before. It had since been divided into two single bedroom flats with an extra entry on the down hill side. I had found it. I asked out of courtesy if I could photograph it and thanked her.

I took some photos and called Grandma and Grandad but they weren't in so left a message hoping they would get it. Feeling a great sense of satisfaction I wandered back to the car.

Detective work pt 1

Firstly a warning that this will be a series of long entries and if you have not already figured out I am often writing for my self even if I do hope some out there find the entries interesting and maybe inspire a visit somewhere one day.

My main mission for Tuesday was, after visiting 'David' and stopping in somewhere at Hadrians Wall was to make my way to and orientate myself in my maternal Grandfather's old stomping ground. The first photos are of Shelley (the car) and I leaving Scotland, arriving in England and the border that separates the two. Then there are a couple of the Fort I visited on Hadrians Wall.

Grandad, George Arthur Smith but known as Arthur, is 94 and doing well for his age. I think much of my own personality comes from his direction including unusual sense of humour via Mum. I had the chance to get a good briefing on the places he hung out before leaving Australia and I was armed with a page of notes and some audio recordings to seek out where he lived before emigrating to Australia about 80 years ago at age 14.

I stopped in Hexham to get some local maps, information and organise a place to stay. As has been the case on several occasions Shelley and I chose to 'follow our nose' rather than consult a map and consequently
we found the scenic route through the Geordie countryside to my hotel at Harperley just outside of Anfield Plains (SW of Newcastle upon Tyne, NW of Durham) and a couple of miles from Dipton where my Grandfather lived.

After checking in I decided to make use of the twi light and have a look around Dipton. I knew Grandad lived in a house called Derwent View that looked over the valley to the river Derwent. Of course eighty years on there was little guarantee that it would still be around. I didn't really know what I was looking for, what I expected to find and at a deeper level why I was looking. Maybe it was to better understand that environment that shaped my Grandfather in his early years.

I quickly orientated myself in Dipton and from my scant notes and memory of conversation I reckoned on where the house might be. I cruised the streets checking the house names as I went checking both the old and new buildings in case it had been replaced by a similarly named new house.

Imagine the sense of fulfillment as I caught glimpse of a name plate above the door "Derwent View". Was that it? I stopped and had a look and yes it was. With a sense of fulfillment I wandered a few hundred yards down to a local pub, the Bute Arms, for a celebratory pint and to meet some of the locals. I met Brian a 69yo retired lorry driver who did not consider himself a local as he was from three miles down the road. How perspectives on scale change! I enjoyed our chat and learnt a little about the area. As I was driving I stopped at one pint and thought I'd have another look around.

I pulled out my MP3 player and recorder to have a listen to Grandad talk about the place lived. It was nice to hear his voice as I saw the streets where he spent his youth but the sense of achievement soon turned south when I realised that the house I had found did not match his description of location or nature.

The "Derwent View" of Grandad's early years was in Flint Hill, an adjacent village, at the opposite end of Dipton to the house I found. He referred to the pub my Great Grandfather drank at, the Prince of Wales, just a hundred yards up the hill from the house so I figured while many pubs had closed that was my best bet. Following the signs to Flint Hill I quickly found the Prince of Wales still operating and intact about 200 years after it first opened. A short way down the roads I saw signs large and small proclaiming "Derwent View". Things were looking up.

I followed them to an area behind and below the pub. There I found a housing development, perhaps named after the house Grandad once lived in. But there was no sign of "Derwent View" only a few new houses, some display homes and a large construction site. I had gone from finding the house to finding bare earth with little idea of where it stood.

I returned to my hotel for dinner dejected. The mixed grill was hearty but too greasy for my liking, but as the Northeners like it. I spent the rest of the night driving up to and around Newcastle getting a feel for the area. It was all interesting but I felt so low. While I never knew whether the house or other landmarks would still be around the false discovery and subsequent realisation was demoralising. I went to bed and for the first time this trip I felt very homesick.

Livingstone I presume

So there is this explorer type, from Scotland, who I'm a distant relative of (that is where it comes from) who was nearly eaten by a lion once. I just had to visit his place of birth and find out about him.

robbin' banks wacked out on scoobie snacks

Glasgow is a happening town-even on a monday night.

I was kicked out of the cafe at ten and still feeling the urge to hang out in my one night here I stopped by a pub for a pint or two. It was "Indie Disco" night and the DJ, while not the best, he was playing choice tunes that reminded me of circus year at the liquid lounge in canberra.

A couple of pints and letter pages later I decided to head for home. It was midnight and a chilly 8 degrees but that hadn't stopped the crowds. Walking down the street I passed club after club with line ups and groups hanging around. The sun doesn't go down for long here setting and I reckon there will be many who see it rise, or at least see the grey sky glow bright.

Caravan kitchens, much like those I first expereinced on my nights out in Canberra, were feeding the crowds and as I left the centre of the city wandering into the suburbs one last van tempted me despite really needing a toilet. I ordered a chile burger £2.40. As I waited I noticed the sign "try our famous scoobie snacks". As I was handed my burger I asked "was the scoobie snacks from the song?" He replied, "Dunno, I don't know why we call them that."

There won't be any photos of Glasgow. I've decided not to take any. Not sure why. Either way I'll be back to try some scoobie snacks...

the monsters

I've discovered why no one has found the loch ness monster-they weren't looking up. Sorry about the quality of the photo. The two monsters flew by without warning and very quickly and I had to pull the camera out of the bag and had no chance to change exposure or focus.

Still I got a good look at the famous loch and Urquhart Castle when staying overnight at YHA in quite a nice spot by the loch before heading down through some more amazing mountain scenery to Glasgow (photos reserved for showing on my return-promise).

hmmm Scotch

Scotch whiskey has only three ingredients- barley, water and yeast. So for a good scotch having good water is important. I dropped by the Glenlivet distillery for a sticky beak. I chose Glenlivet because my cupboard almost always has a bottle or two to enjoy and it is the world's biggest selling single malt scotch.

The law in Scotland is very prescriptive about what scthc is and interestingly it must be aged at least three years. The two photos show the distillery and the spring well that is the source of Glenlivet! All of it comes from there.

Earlier in the day i visited the Queen at her holiday home, Balmoral Castle, but she wasn't in. I still had a look around the gardens though.

feet first

Sometimes when travelling you just land on your feet...

I'm on a fairly fluid leg of my trip with little planned except to get to Glasgow by Monday. After the bunker and Discovery I made my way up towards the central highlands. I stopped in at an information centre at a local town to arrange accomodation for that night at a remote tourist village, Braemen. Two B&Bs apparently had rooms but I decided to chance a booking at one of the hostels and as my call went to voice mail I hit the road with nothing booked.

Some 30 odd miles, an hour and a bit later, and after some of the most awesome mountain scenery I have seen in my life, I arrived only to find there was "no room at the Inn" and they weren't even offering me a barn. I resorted to calling a lodge 25 minutes back down the road at the Spittal of Glenshee, a church, hotel, lodge and three houses. They where happy to oblige me a bed and breakfast so I back tracked past the snow topped mountains, ski lifts, mountain streams and red deer. A warm welcome awaited me at the lodge, which is surrounded by beautiful scenery.

Keen to get a pint and some food I made my way down to the local hotel. Did I strike it lucky or what? While normally this time of year the hotel would cater to a "busload of the blue rinse set" tonight was a reunion for ex-SAS and a birthday bash from Edinburgh so they'd bought their own band and bagpipes. I met Travis and Emma, who have been staff at the hotel for about two years and are about to head back to Australia, and some of the other staff, mostly from Eastern Europe. The pipe music, band, conversation and many pints made for a wonderful evening.

And then to wake up, albeit a little later and sorer than expected, to some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. There will be photos when I can upload them but they won't do the place justice.

Had I turned up on another night; had I organised a place to stay beforehand; had Braemen not been chockers full of walkers; I would never have met these people, had such a wondeful experience and not woken up to such amazing countryside. I'm philisophically opposed to the idea of luck, but sometimes one just strikes it lucky.

Underground

Here I am, in a relic of the cold war-a nuclear proof bunker 40m below the East Scottish Countryside. The internet was free. This I think is the most unusal spot I've accessed the internet from! http://www.secretbunker.co.uk/

hitting the road and movie stars

So today I picked up Shelley the Ford Fiesta for a drive around Scotland (shout out to the one who leaves me speechless for the name). So I have to adjust to a few differences in the road rules least of which are roundabouts runied by adding not one or two sets of lights but eight! I think I may have run a red light and picked the wrong lane but all is well and we survived.

I've found myself spending the evening in St Andrews, home of Golf. While at a local for some bangers and mash I noticed a couple looking at me. I was thinking maybe I had picket St Andrews' equivalent of the swingers table at the Coachie (sorry, Parkes in-joke). They were coy about looking at me but could not resist...

So the mystery was solved when a little later walking by the harbour I passed them to hear "I told you it was Paul Bettany, he's just grown a beard so we don't recognise him." Now I have been told before that I look a little like him but normally people don't expect to see him hanging around a telescope in Australia. But here he is a local. Now if only I could perfect the accent...

A little alter that night I returned to same pub to enjoy a couple of pints and some live jaz.

Keeping up with the Stewarts

I spent most of the last two days visiting castles- Edinburgh (the famous one), Craigmillar(abandoned by its owner), Linlithgow (birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots), Stirling ("whoever holds Stirling holds Scotland") and a look from the outside of St Andrews (religous capital of middle ages Scotland).

My overall impression-castles were more about appearances than somewhere to live. Sure they need to be defensible fortresses and homly but much of their design was to appear impenetrable or to show status.

Craigmillar, just south of Edinburgh, was abandoned when, in the words of a staff member, "castles went out of fashion." Many of the buildings in several of the castles where rendered in a bright and light colour so they could be seen many miles around. The great hall at Stirling castle was the biggest hall in medieval scotland and had status written all over it.

One of the Kings (maybe James IV) at Stirling built a massive chapel just for the christening of his son to show of to other VIPs!

All the showing off aside I wish I was a kid with free reign of these places to run around and play games. They are amazing feats of architecture and construction and would be so much fun to play around. Hmmm, I wonder if I could build a castle in Parkes... and I could be theri lord and protector... until someone else built a bigger castle...

(Incidentally the Stewarts were the clan who held Stirling castle and the kingdom of Scotland for many years)

Go the gunners

This evening I went to a local Pub to watch the UEFA cup final between my team Arsenal and Barcelona. Once again the atmosphere was great but this time I was a little more with it. I shared a table with Brian the accountant from Aberdeen who was hoping that Barcelona would shred Arsenal.

We disucssed the World Cup and football generally though I contributed little to the discussion. I asked where Scottish loyalties might lie seeing they are not in the finals, jokingly suggesting that they might support England. The response was both understandable and predeictable.

I won't go into the details of the game as there is plenty of that out there except to say that Arsenal went down after a gallant effort being one man down for most of the game. Dissapointed but not dejected.

Scottish pride

If a man where permitted to make all the Ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation. Andrew Fletcher, one of many quotations on an outside wall of the Scottish Parlaiament

The locals for the most part seem to ignore the rain. Maybe because it is so common and comes and goes so often. For me this is my real taste of rain this year so while I'm not ready to ignore it, it was not going to deter me! I paid a visit to the Queen's local shack, the Holyrood Palace, but there were guests expected so the place was crawling with Police and the Palace was closed.

Across the road was the impressive new Scottish Parliament. I get a real sense of Scottish pride and I'm sure that it is very infectious to the tourists, with no shortage of Scottish regalia including all the tartan products under the sun. I'm even fighting the urge not to buy up only being saved by the relative absence of the Livingstone tartan in the souvenir range (note to Lyn et al-Parkes telescope kilts!).

I had warning of the cows via Tim's sister but I was not prepared for the vareity of bovine art around Edinburgh that will be auctioned off in September for charity. I'd bid for one if I could find a spot at home (note the patriotic cow out the front of the parliment).

I climbed in the rain to the top of Authur's seat, another volcano remannat, and was rewarded with a beautiful view of Edinburgh. The photos won't do it justice.

Edinburgh first impressions

Most of central Edinburgh, including the location of my hostel, is World Heritage Listed and I can understand why. I spent the afternoon getting my bearings walking the streets, despite the excellent bus system. Very close to 100% of the buildings here look genuinely historic, built of stone. People go about their day to day business surrounded by history.

The Castle on a long extinct volcano overlooks the city with the 'old city' built on the sides of the hill working its way up the 'Royal Mile' to the castle gates. Just off the Royal Mile I stopped in to a pub for a very late lunch and a Pint and had my first taste of Haggis, neeps and tatties. Good stuff!

I picked up a copy of the local gig guide and discovered that both Edinburgh and Glasgow are happening towns 7 nights a week. I hoped to see a few bands but unfortunatly the gig was cancelled at the last minute. Interestingly despite the beautiful scenery around the city I didn't take a single photo prefering to soak it in instead.

toot toot

In less than ten minutes from London's Kings Cross station we were in the country side. I don't know where London went but it dissapeared fast as we cruised along at around 200km/h. The English and Scottish countryside is every bit as beautiful as the cliched photos and movie scenes. There appears to be a lot of canola about, or at least it looked like Canola. It was interesting to see it in such an incredibly different environment to the Central West.

On the trip I had my first glimpses of Newcastle and the river Tyne, where my maternal Grandfather grew up before emmigrating to Australia. I'll be back there in about a week to find some of his old haunts.

I also saw the North Sea for the first time. Something which I will no doubt see more of over the next few weeks. Damn, didn't think to pack the swimmers...

Sun glorious sun

So the sun does shine in London! My last morning here and there where beautiful blue skies. Before breakfast I couldn't resist the opportunity to wander around the local area and retake a few photos with brighter backdrops and many happy Londoners taking advantage of the weather.

Footloose in London

Footloose the Musical- A reveiw by John of the London West End production, Novello Theatre ;)

The West End Production of Footloose-the musical based on the 1984 movie-is a well designed and executed production that is a heap of fun for both cast, crew and audience but could do with a few pointers from a small amatuer musical and drama association in the Central West of New South Wales.

This version leaves out a few lines, characters and songs from the original broadway production. I don't know wether Coach Dunbar was sick that night but his absence left a gaping whole, especially after Al G's performance in the Parkes production showed how integral the character was. The audience warmed to West End Williard but lacked the suprising spontaneity of Greg B's portrayal.

It is clear that the West End cast are very good dancers but they look much to old to be in school. That is true of the lead character Ren, Jock will be a better actor when he gets to West End Ren's age.

I found West End Rev Moore a bit of a wimp compared to Neil's performance. Actually this was a continuing theme with Chuck, Lyle and Travis no where near as rough as the Parkes trio, they can sing though and it looked like they found the dances much easier. Similarly West End Jim the Cop poses no threat to Beaumont's troublmakers, lacking the authoritative manner of Parkes Jim.

Technical production was good except that the microphones were often muted at the beggining of dialouge, which is something you must never do.

A strong point of the West End Production is that choreographed pelvic thrusts abound in the Girl gets around-something that was sadly lacking in the Parkes production. I now feel vindicated in my advice to Nixson not being noted. If Pelvic thrusts are good enough for London, why not Parkes?

The biggest failing of the West End Production was the absence of the town hall rap with Ren and the kid's appeal to the town council being watered down to a solo speech.

In fairness, while the West End could take a few notes from the Central West, the production was a lot of fun to watch and I found myself having to be careful not to sing the words and dialouge out loud. I think we can be very proud of what we achieved given our time and resources but I strongly reccomend that you check out the professionals at work if the opportunity comes your way.

Written with tounge firmly in cheek.

Small world

So after a nice long lunch at an Italian Restaraunt catching up on the last few years with Phillipa I headed to the Science Museum. I didn't have long before closing so I had a look at the Space section, which sadly but not unusually, had very little astronomy and almost all space craft stuff.

I then headed down to have a look at their interactive section to steal a few ideas. I noticed one of the staff take a look at me a few times, she seemed familiar as well. I said hi and then she asked me wether I was an Circus Scholar. Now too a complete stranger ignorant of the Institution that is the Questacon Science Circus that might seem a trully bizzare question, but as there is no secret handshake for ex-circus people (or at least none that I was told about...) it remains the only wak to find out. Prue was a circus scholar in 2004 and was among that year's contingent that visited Parkes on their first tour. I gave them special treatment when they visited. She's doing the UK Science Communication thing that many scholars try. After spending a few days here I could be tempted myself.

Prue introduced me to Tamsyn, who interestingly did a months work experience at the Compact Array a few years back, with the likes of Robyn and Naomi. The people you meet! Maybe I should stop hanging around in Science Communication Ghettos like museums?

Buried heros

While I had difficulty with the Monarchy I have less of a problem with grand places of worship. I'm not a Christian and admit to wavering between being an agnostic or atheist. Still when I walk into a 'church' I often feel a sense of spirtual awe. I had a good look through the massive St Paul's Cathedral and it is an astonishing piece of architecture. I can see how it is a symbol of hope to so many- as it was during the blitz. Maybe that is one useful role of the monarchy-hope?

There are many deserving and significant individuals buried in St Paul's crypt, Alexander Flemming, among them. It was amzing to be walking past and over the remains of so many significant figures. Out of respect I didn't take any photos of the inside, mind you that did not stop many of the other toursists from clicking and flashing away.

As I am inclined to do I had to climb the many steps to the top of the Cathedral, by the whispering gallery and up to near the top of the dome. The view was awesome. I do have some photos of the outside-day and night but the camera battery is flat so will add those a little later.

We should be changing the guard

I still don't understand why I've had to fly 22 hours across the world to see where my own head of state hangs out. It just doesn't make sense. After seeing the crown jewels Sunday and wandering by Buckingham Palace Monday morning I was feeling very uncomfortable with this whole monarchy thing. I'm sure it had its place in less enlightened times but today I cannot fathom its purpose. Maybe it has its place for Great Britain (or maybe just England) but Australia? I want to know why there isn't a seperate Australian, Commonwealth et al Passport line when I arrived at Heathrow. After all as an Australian Citizen aren't I a subject of the Queen and hence deserving of special treatment from Her Majestey's Immigration Service?

A tour of the Thames

Wow that was a good sleep-despite being in a dorm. I'm still not in the right time zone and was out of bed at 5.30 ready to face London. The hostel is almost on top of St Paul's Cathedral so I spent a little while wandering the outside of the Cathedral taking photos and meeting my first British Wildlife-squirells (not Chipmunks, way too many hitpitched songs of my childhood).

After breakfast at the hostel I went for a walk down the Thames along Victoria embankment to Westminister Abbey and Big Ben. This city is like a museum with so many older buildings and memorials.

I can reccomend a ride on the London Eye early in a first trip to London. It was a great way to orientate oneslf and get a birds-eye view of the city. I can also reccomend fish, chips and mushy peas with a pint of Young's Bitter at the Dogget Coat and Badge Pub for lunch. I continued a walking tour of significant buildings on the south side of the river to Liverpool Station to visit the London Dungeon.

I can reccomend skipping the London Dungeon. The Dungeon is like a ghost train on steroids and with out the train (though normally there is a boat ride but that is under maintenance). It was okay but it with so much real stuff around I could have better spent that hour and a half.

There are some weird buildings here (photos to come) such as the town hall but modern sits very well beside the more historice scuh as the Tower Bridge and the Tower of London where I rounded out my day.

I have to say the crown jewels are like a good crockery sets that was a wedding gift that always stay in the cupboard. They're useless unless you actually use them. But I guess they are nice to look at.

lag in London

The ride from the airport to my hostel was a itself a tour of London. I was the last stop of seven and in the meantime we covered most of central London. I felt as though I had been around the Monopoly board twice, Kings Cross, Euston Rd, Leicester Square, Park Lane, Mayfair and Fleet Street. I didn't get my £200. The driver had started three months earlier and he said he didn't know London at the time but he seemed to know it now- talk about jumping in the deep end.

After all of delays I was running late to catch the FA Cup final at a pub. I had lined up to meet some friends after the game at the Elusive Camel Pub near Victoria Station so after a shower to wash away the last 25 odd hours of travel I braved London busses for the first time-a mere formality as it turned out. Public transport in London is great.

Of course my first big decision in the Uk was which beer to ask for. Well there seemed little doubt after running my eyes over the taps-a pint of John Smiths it was. Apparently this namesake of mine has provided some friends of mine mild amusement over the years they have been here.

The atmosphere at the pub was great as there was a mix of Liverpool and Westham United fans so each goal or near miss was matched with cheers or groans. Normally I would find a game that was tied 3-3, by a goal in injury time, very engaging however by this stage (4.30pm local time, 1.30am aest) the effects of jet lag and little more than three hours sleep on the 22 hour flight was taking hold. I was thankful for the arrival of some friends who I had known from my screen production days at Uni.

I hadn't seen Pippa for six years and Cathy nigh on ten years so some engaging conversation and meeting others including Pippa's husband Darren a good distraction to the extra time and then penalty shoot out in the football. After a change of venue to another Pub for some dinner some headed off for the night.

I was keen to stay up longer hoping to meet jet lag head on and at least stay awake till 10ish. Pippa, Darren and Paul were happy to oblige as tour guides and we went off on an evening tour of the Thames from Westminister Abbey, Big Ben, The London Eye past much of South bank to the Tate Modern.

Now I am a fan of modern art, it often being so different and often confronting, but I have to say I have found a new and exciting way to really appreciate modern art. If I was behind the wheel I would have been dangerous and to see works by Pollock, Monet, Rothken et al in my current Jet lagged state was something else again. When I started to go dizzy I knew it was time for bed.

A feature of the Tate Modern, which is housed in an old Powerstation, is the huge space of the turbine room. This space is often used for atmospheric instillations and as we where leaving large booming noises echoed through the space. Thinking that these were art we looked for their source trying to determine wether it was art or otherwise. It turned out to be fireworks further down the river, which was a fitting end to my first day in London.

Early mornings in Singapore and the travellers usual fare`

So it is 3am local time, 5am AEST, in Singapore. Trip starts well with a 4 1/2 hour delay but all is well. Impressions of the only bit of Singapore that I have ever seen (ie the departure and arrival gate): Efficient and quiet at 2.30. I was excited to finally see March of the Penguins, there was also some Jarhead, rounded out with Kath and Kim. More interesting stuff to report soon.

Sydney town

I admit it: I'm a terrible packer. I always leave it to the last minute. Less than an hour before my flight I was still packing and in hind sight I was skating on thin ice to be ready in time and for bag's contents to survive the short trip to Sydney. It would have been a great start to my trip to open it this evening to find jars of Dish Cafe jam (insert plug here, shout out to Cafe Craig for the lift to the airport) throughout my travelling wardrobe because of poor packing. However the patron saint of bad packers smiled upon me and all is intact.

This evening I have added further hazardous material to my luggage with over a kilogram of Cherry Ripes and Tim Tams. I wonder if Customs consider Tim Tams a "Defensive or Strategic" export? Should I declare it? Look out UK people-Australian Chocolatey treats coming your way.

Music of the moment: Love this city, The Whitlams

-1 day

So tomorrow I fly to Sydney and then in a little over a day I'll be jetting out of Sydney. The bag is not yet packed but there is a pile of stuff lying around it in the spare room. I think I'm finally at the point where work stuff is sorted. It has been one hell of a week and weekend with much to do and organise, some good times to be had and new reasons to come back in seven weeks.

-1 week...

So here I am, one week out from flying out of Sydney. There is so much to do at work and I'm feeling relatively unorganised both in my life here and planning the trip. I don't have accomodation booked but i figure i'll have that done in a day or so... hopefully. At least i have an itinerary, sort of...England, Scotland, England, France, Belguim, Luxemburg and Germany.