2012. What a year.

So, here it is. New Years Eve 2012. What a year.

I’ve not blogged for what seems like months, actually, it is months, but I thought I’d finish 2012 with a blog so sum up the past 12 months. So here goes.

January.

Truth be told, I totally had no idea about anything that happened in January until I rolled back on my FaceBook timeline to see what I did. January saw me coming out of a relationship that ended on Boxing day the previous year. January was a bit rubbish from what I remember but the NTAs were in January, which was good. I had exams at uni BUT I did get my VISA granted for New Zealand and Australia in early January, who knew then what that’d lead to.

February and March seemed to pass with little activity. As always. April, again boring, but May... oh May. May meant that I finally met, who I would soon find out, would be the boy that I’d intend to spend the rest of my life with. Henry and I met on the 6^th of May and, without sounding cheesy, it was love at first sight. I won’t go on about him much more, but he’s my gorgeous boy and I love him (and miss him) very much.

June saw me finally leave the place that I’d worked for, for five years. Ragdale was well and truly my home from home and some of the guys I met there I’m sure will remain my friends for the rest of my life. Ragdale and I saw some massive things together and it was such a huge part of my life. I was truthfully sad to leave and still miss it a lot. I don’t think I cried on my last day.

That was a lie.

I did. I was fine all day until it came time to go home. I’d made sure Nicky (who wrote the rotas) had put all my favourite staff and friends on my last shift. We all gathered at 9pm to leave and as the clock hit nine all the staff gathered around me in a big circle and gave me a massive group hug. I’ll remember it forever.

July was a bit of a pissy month for me. I didn’t work and just messed around a lot, seeing friends and saying goodbye to everyone. It went so quickly and as soon as I knew it, it was July 29^th and I was boarding a plane to see the world. (see below blogs for more info on these)

August started well, but by the 19^th, the world came crashing down around me. My Grandad died on Sunday evening, surrounded by his family, excluding me. I still am upset that I wasn’t there to say goodbye, but my goodbye was three weeks previously when he was still healthy. That image is still vivid for me, and I still think about him a lot. I flew home to a family that was utterly devastated, but I don’t regret my decision to continue travelling. I know it’s what my Grandad would have expected me to do, and where I went, and what I did after that, has been amazing.

I flew from home straight to Sydney in what might have been the most uncomfortable seat in the world. 34 hours went by, 34 hours of my life that I’ll never get back, but when I finally got the Oz, it was lovely. Again, see previous blogs.

I realise that I’ve blogged very little since I got to New Zealand, but October, November and December have been basically me settling into “living” in New Zealand. I’ve got a job that I love, friends that I like (sorry, truth!) ;) When I first arrived, I intended to fly home in January, but since then, have decided to stay until July for my cousins wedding.

I’m flying home at the end of March for a friend’s wedding in the UK and bringing Henry back with me (to New Zealand) for 6 weeks, then he flies home, then Mum and my brother fly out for the wedding, and then we’ll all fly home together.

So that was the summary of 2012, thinking about it, prior to travelling, not much else happened, but I suppose it’s the things I remember that matter.

So here’s to 2013, I wonder what I’ll be writing this time in 365 days time. Happy New Year boys and girls. 

Day 47+ - Auckland: Back to reality... NURSERY RHYMES

My last blog was 10 days ago (ish) and quite frankly I’m sorry. I need to apolagise to Ross and Henry, Stuart, Chris, Adam, Kat, Tom, Matt, Dave, Soph, Laura, Mike, Tara, Taylor, Han, Kelly, Nic and Mum.

I shall attempt to make it up to you all... however, I guess this blog won’t be hilariously funny...

So landed in New Zealand after a HORRIFIC flight (see previous blog) and a lovely first night in Auckland it was nice to be back in reality, with family, and under an actual roof, and in a bed that I didn’t have to make up from the living room couches every time I wanted to go to bed. It was also a relief that Sara’s house isn’t on wheels, or had a steering wheel in the hall way, or a 12 volt mini fridge that you can’t get three pints of milk in.

I miss Matilda

So I didn’t waste any time and started applying for jobs... that sounds silly, but really, I was so bored of being a tourist and not doing anything productive, the idea of having purpose again was quite nice. I applied for pretty much any job that was being advertised. Part time, full time, casual, contract, retail, hospitality, office work etc etc etc. If it paid, I applied.

While I waited for a phone call from at least one of the jobs, I decided to fill my twitter feed up again. That sounds silly, but actually, everyone I follow was asleep in the day when I was awake... quite boring. So I followed about 100 people from Australia and New Zealand which was nice, but only about 80 of them followed back, which wasn’t so nice. Suppose I should just say more funny things... ANYWAY. I have no shame in telling you that I based my following on the exact same thing as I base my supermarket checkout decision on, the looks of the person... no shame. No shame at all.

Speaking of supermarkets, we went to one.

There are two stores here, Countdown, and another one that I don’t know the name of... Now if you remember my dilemma in Australia regards to my supermarket choice, well there is none of that here... the decision was made for me. Sara shops at Countdown (which is the same as Woolworths in Australia) and it’s fabulous. I like fresh food... and I like dairy. Mainly dairy though, and New Zealand has some of the best dairy produce in the world. The yoghurt here is incredible... I bought some lemon curd flavoured stuff and I about died. It was lovely. Their Cadbury’s is also quite amazing too.

Why do I always get back to food...

Alas...

Spending time with Lucas has also been a highlight (over and above the cute boy at the checkout). He’s eight and a half months old now and nearly starting to talk. He’s so cute. He’s got a lovely smile and such a cute giggle. OH and he sleeps through the night (mostly) so we’re cool there.

The day after I arrived we went to Sara’s best friend’s one year olds birthday party. It was funny... the kids didn’t really have clue as to what was going on, especially the one year old, but the adults seemed to be having more fun anyway. We played pass the parcel, which none of the kids grasped the concept of so it ended up being just a wrapping paper ripping game... what was the best bit was that it was so windy, a tree had come down over the power lines and the entire village had no electricity, but the parents sang as music for the game. It was the cringeiest thing ever. One of the mothers was a famous opera singer; although I’m not sure she actually had a very good voice.

We stayed for a few hours and chatted but then headed back into the city as Lucas was tired... that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

The weekend came and went without anything else really occurring. Went round to Alison’s (my second cousin) for breakfast which was fab. Met Connor (Alison’s son) and his girlfriend Caitlin too and their two dogs, a pug and a fox terrier. We had a full English (New Zealand sausages etc) and sat and drank proper coffee. Then we went down to the beach with the dogs and had a fab long walk from where Alison lives down to Brown’s Bay with a couple of her friends and their dogs. We went for coffee in a small cafe which had the most divine carrot cake I’ve ever tasted. The lifestyle in New Zealand is just lovely. At home I would never have walked the dogs and gone for coffee on the beach... maybe I’d have rushed to Tesco ten minutes before it closed for a jar of Nescafé or some hot chocolate, but never on a beach...

Now... I’d like to discuss nursery rhymes. I’ve began listening to them as it’s the only thing that keeps Lucas quiet while Sara is cooking dinner. I sense that there are awful undertones to some of them.

They’re mostly about teaching kids right from wrong but also about teaching them some history and also consequences. I’ll go through them one by one and you might be surprised about some of them (I’m not going to go through EVERY nursery rhyme ever, we could be here all year).

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the Kings horses, and all the Kings men, couldn’t put Humpty together again. So... get this. Humpty Dumpty is actually based on Richard III and the reference to him having a great fall is after the Battle of Bosworth in 1483 when was thrown from his horse, and later died. There are loads of lessons that are taught here. One is not to climb a high wall, because you will fall off and die. A bit extreme but still... the second is that even the King, the highest power in the land (i.e. a Doctor) won’t be able to stop you from dying. There is obviously the history stuff too, that men used to ride horses for the king, not drive around in the Challenger II (a tank).

Next. ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’ was originally published in 1962 about a spider that was trying to ‘climb up the water spout,’ but the rain kept coming and ‘washing the spider out.’ Then ‘out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.’ We all know it... but do you know the messages behind it. 1. Keep on trying, no matter what and eventually you will reach your goal. 2. The spider represents the oppressed black people who were being knocked back by the white people (the rain). 3. Later, people thought the water spout represented something you’d snort cocaine with and the spider was the “bad” stuff in the drugs you’d get rid of before snorting it. The rain represents the cocaine itself... Now which ever you choose to believe, it proves that there definitely never was a spider, and it never got washed down, and it certainly didn’t get washed away... Moving on

The last one... today. THREE BLIND MICE.

Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?

Yes. I have seen things much MUCH worse than three blind mice... notably watching a grown man take a shit at the side of the road... we were in horrendous traffic, stand still, on the motorway and hadn’t moved for three hours. He must have been desperate, but that’s neither here nor there.

ANYWAY... The origin of the words are based in English history. The 'farmer's wife' refers to the daughter of King Henry VIII, Queen Mary I. Mary was a staunch Catholic and her persecution of Protestants led to the nickname of 'Bloody Mary'. The reference to 'farmer's wife' in three blind mice refers to the massive estates which she, and her husband King Philip of Spain, possessed. The 'three blind mice' were three bishops, Ridley, Latimer and Cranmer, who were convicted of plotting against the Queen. She did not have them blinded like it says, but she had them burnt at the stake instead. No biggie!

Alas, singing them to Lucas just makes him laugh. He doesn’t see the meaning and poetic historical echoes behind them. His favourite is without a doubt the wheels on the bastard bus (without the bastard bit) go round and round... ALL DAY LONG.

So yeah... I’ve got loads to tell you about my job too, but I’ll save that for the next post.

Day 46 - Sydney to Auckland: Qantas? Shitas!

I got up at 2am. 2am... yes you read that right... 2am. Silly me for booking a 6am flight.

Fucking hell. Got up and grabbed a taxi, got to the airport and checked in. All very normal so far.

Then... take off... this announcement came over the cabin... “This is your captain speaking (etc) we’re expecting a little turbulence this morning...”

Oh brilliant.

Take off was shit. Ascent was shit. Turbulence lasted for all of the two hours. Nightmare. One of the worst flights I’ve ever taken. Even the cabin crew were shrieking. Finally landed in Auckland and the captain apologised to everyone as we got off. I gave him a proper ugly look and stalked quickly through immigration.

Walked through the arrivals gate and had to wait five minutes or so for Sara  and Lucas to arrive (because of the strong tail wind that caused the turbulence we got there 40 minutes early)

Now, the last time I saw Sara was at least two years ago and I’ve yet to meet Lucas who is now 8 months old. Needless to say we used to spend a lot of time together. Sara lived in London with her husband Scott who was my Mum’s cousin. Tragically, Scott passed away in 2008 after a very short illness.

Mum went out to New Zealand shortly after he passed away but I hadn’t seen Sara until 18 months ago when she visited us in England. She’s now happily settled with Chris, her partner and Lucas, their son. I was so looking forward to seeing Sara and Chris again!

Drove back to Sara’s house after an emosh hello and had a brief view of the city which looked beautiful. Sara and Chris’ house is lovely and properly Kiwi. Betty (my Mum’s auntie – my great auntie) and Alison (my Mum’s cousin – my second cousin) popped over and we had a lovely catch up... I say catch up, I saw Betty when I was about 14 and I’ve never met Alison. I won’t post too much about them because it was so fantastic and I couldn’t even begin to tell you everything we talked about, but I am so looking forward to getting to know them properly while I’m over here.

So, tomorrow the sightseeing begins early. Off to One Tree Hill.... YEAH I KNOW RIGHT!

Miss you all. Love you loads. x

Day 45 - Sydney: Climbing a bridge

What a fucking (sorry Mum) fantastic day. Literally, had such a good day.

Had a nice lie in and then went down to the Harbour again to a building called Bridge Climb for, yes you guessed it, a climb on the Sydney Harbour Bridge. I arrived early and eventually got suited up. You have to wear a grey jump suit so that the traffic below doesn’t get distracted with the people driving on the road below.

You go up in groups of no more than 12 and there are two different tours. The Express Climb which takes two hours and the Discovery which is nearly three and a half hours, the latter being the “better climb” according to the professional climbers. I was on the longer tour and set off with two Liverpudlian’s, a woman from Wales, one man from Frankfurt and three Americans. Our leader, Cass, was Sydney born and bred and was just wonderful.

So, started the climb... we had a harness around our waist and then had a head set on so we could hear Cass talk over the wind on top of the bridge. We attached ourselves to the rope leading along the walkway and headed off. The bridge is just fantastic seeing it so up close and being able to touch it. It has 6 million rivets in it and took 6 years to build.

Got to the top and the view was spectacular. You’re not allowed to take anything up with you other than your t-shirt and pants. Everything is attached to you so it can’t fall onto the road below. Cass pointed out Bondi and Manly beach and the city of Sydney. The bridge really is the only way to see the city. The Opera House actually looks so much different from 135 metres above sea level. If any of you ever go to Sydney, make sure you climb the bridge! It was wonderful.

Went back down the other side and got my pictures (which I’ll have to scan in soon) and jumped straight on the open top bus outside the bridge and did the three hour tour of Sydney and the Bondi area.

Many people know Bondi as just the beach, but actually it’s based around Bondi Junction which is a very large industrial area. There are huge shopping centres and boasts the second biggest train junction in New South Wales. It can be incredibly expensive to live here, due to not only the name, but also the proximity to the beach. Bondi beach itself is literally the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been on. The sand is blindingly bright and if you don’t have sunglasses, don’t bother going on it!

The beach is where beautiful Sydney people go to sunbathe and the people are all so gorgeously tanned and toned. The surf is always up and the guys sit and paddle while the girls sit and bronze. There is something called the Bondi glance which is simply where you look someone up and down over the top of your sunglasses. It’s actually quite funny to watch three girls do it at the same time  in unison as a fittie walks past.

So jumped back on the bus and headed back into the city to pack.

Follow on tomorrow’s blog children... x

Day 44 - Sydney: Singing and that

I slept in a lay by last night. First and last time ever. It was... loud. The lorries kept going past all night, and then it started raining at 6am. I literally couldn’t bare the noise any longer. I got up and drove the final 50km to the camper hire place. I had a chat with Matilda on the way and she agreed that even though we’d probably never see each other again, we did have some wonderful times and she will think about me every day, and I’ll look at her picture every day. Shirley, the bitch, kept interrupting, but once I’d told her that she was coming with me, she shut up.

Drove through Sydney to the camper hire place and gave away the food I had left to a pair of German guys who were just embarking on a trip. Exchanged the keys with the guy in the workshop and called a taxi.

The taxi rocked up probably 40 seconds later and the guy lowered the window and called my name. He winked at me, which was probably the clue right there not to get in the taxi, but I did anyway. He turned around and asked me where we were going. I jumped in the front and everything I said to him he kept saying “very good, yes, yes, very good” and drove off into the city. He actually was a lovely lovely guy.

His name was Ben and came from Burma to Australia in 1984. He had a really cute face and when he smiled his teeth (or lack of them) was hilarious. We had a lovely chat and he asked me which part of my family was from Asia.

Yeah, you didn’t read that wrong.

He thought I had Asian blood in me. I had it all to do not to laugh hysterically in his face. I eventually palmed him off with the fact that I had Spanish blood in me (which I have, about eight generations back) and he seemed happier. He told me where to go to see all the “pretty rich ladies” at a bar that he pointed out as we drove past and generally just pointed things out to me.

I was staying at the Metro Hotel on Pitt Street which is one of the four main roads that stretch North from the bridge and Opera House all the way south to the airport. He dropped me off and knocked $10 off the fare, gave me his card and said goodbye. It was midday and I was early for check in, but naturally, I flirted with the guy behind the desk and he gave me my key card.

Now the room...

It was massive. I booked it on Late Rooms and got a really good deal. There is a queen sized bed, and a separate sitting area. The bathroom is huge, with a walk in shower (it’s a wet room) and a Jacuzzi bath. Strangely there is also a hi-fi in the bathroom... not sure what that’s about. So the bed... omg... it’s so soft and big. And the towels... oh heaven. To think I’ve been living in a van for three weeks when this was sitting here... fabulous.

I unpacked and had a shower (and a poo, which I’d had to hold for coming on 48 hours) and walked out into the streets.

Now, I’ll try and explain what happened next.

As I walked down the steps, I put my iPod on shuffle. The selection was Whitney Houston – I wanna dance with somebody... the first ten seconds played while I walked and stood in the pavement. I looked up and around and decided to go right. As I took my first step, the music got going and I walked through the street strutting to Whitney. I felt like I was in a film.

Sydney is lovely. It’s very cosmopolitan. The only other city I’ve ever been in which feels the same is London, and everyone knows my love of London. The streets were alive with people. Not uncomfortably so, but it was lovely. I walked the half a mile or so and found myself walking under a railway bridge and then found myself looking out onto the Sydney Opera House.

I really didn’t know what I felt when I saw it. It’s so iconic and basically everyone in the first world has seen a picture of it. Up close, it doesn’t look anything like it does in the pictures.

Well, obviously, it is the same building, but up close it isn’t as white as it looks and while it’s huge, it’s slightly unstated and fits into the background and surrounding city rather than standing out. The bridge next to it is probably more impressive, I’m climbing it tomorrow as well!

So I thought I’d spoil myself and have a McDonald’s for dinner. Mainly because I was so utterly starving, but also because I could destroy a Big Mac.

So yeah, until tomorrow!

(Much better day today)

Also.... Big thumbs up to Adam and Chris. I’m so HAPPY! WOOHOO! 

Day 43 - Brisbane; (to Sydney)

Today. I got up at 6am and drove. For 11 hours. From Brisbane to Sydney.

Literally... so tired. Exhausted.

Day 42 - Brisbane: Boring

So today I sat outside Matilda in the sun and wrote 13 chapters of my book. It wasn’t very exciting. I’m not entirely sure this counts as a blog at all. Never mind.

Got some news for you all.

I'm flying to New Zealand on Thursday.

Bit of a shock decision but I'm not really loving Australia like I thought I would and I'm desperate to see some family in Auckland. I've not seen Sara for coming on for two years and I well and truly miss her. She's also had a little baby called Lucas who I can't wait to meet!

So yeah... going to stay in Sydney for a few days before Thursday. Might climb the big bridge... will see!

See you tomorrow boys and girls.

x

p.s. Mother don't worry. I'm okay, I'm fine. I'm just bored.

Day 41 - Brisbane: Walking (again)

Today I decided to get out and explore Brisbane on foot. I caught the 390 into the city and  took myself on a three hour walking tour of the cities sights.

First stop was the South Bank, which I’d only seen a small part of with Tara and Harriet. I walked down to the Maritime Museum which sits at the south end of South Bank (which is actually on the west of the river). There is a small museum and a dry dock which I walked around for half an hour or so. There is an old Navy Friggot (or however you spell it) there and its tug, which is now locked into its final resting place by a bridge. The goodwill bridge was built as a pedestrian only walkway across the river. It has really good views over the city and the breeze was very welcome

Over the bridge, I was back into Brisbane CBD and walked through the City Botanic Gardens. I nearly shit myself when a snake slithered past me, but the signs all said none of the species here dangerous. I wasn’t convinced and headed up towards the old Customs House before heading back into the city centre.

There was a huge long line of teenagers along the central road, the Queen Street Mall. I followed the queue to the front and found them waiting to go into a small clothes shop that had one sign saying “Buy one tee, get one free” in the window. I asked the guy on the door what was going on and he quite simply said “end of season sale mate” and ushered the next five girls through the door. From what I can work out, it was a shop similar to Jack Wills or Hollister. I walked past, annoyed that it was just a shop. I thought for a second that a boy band might have been giving away free snogs or something...

Spent the next three hours or so wondering around the city and then found my bus stop and headed back to Matilda... It was already dark and my bed was calling so while this isn’t the longest post on the blog, it isn’t the shortest. The next one will be.

Loves x

Day 40 - Brisbane: South Bank

Had a lazy morning and got a lovely text from Tara at about 11am saying she and Harriet were going sunbathing and did I want to come too? Never being the one to miss the opportunity to stare at half naked men, I agreed and met them at the bus stop over the road.

We headed to the fake beach on South Bank and Tara treated us to a taxi to get there (thanks Tara) and we wondered down and found a nice grass patch to sit and tan (burn).

The sun is so much stronger in Australia than it is back home. You can physically feel your skin getting hotter and hotter. It’s no surprise that Australia has one of the highest rates of skin cancer anywhere in the world and their “Slip Slap Slop” campaign teaches kids from a really early age to Slip into a t-shirt, Slap on a hat, and Slop on some sun cream. Despite this effort, skin cancer rates haven’t significantly dropped that much but the government reckons it’ll take several generations to get the message across.

Despite the warnings, there was bare skin everywhere. There were people rubbing oil on themselves instead of sun cream and one woman was so wrinkly and brown her skin looked like leather. I felt physically revolted and tried to busy myself with trying to pick out the gay guys.

Now, if you’ve ever played Gay or European, you’ll know that on holiday, that game gets considerably harder. Well, the new, and less played version of that game is Gay or Australian. I’m pretty sure no one has ever won it ever. I was so sure one guy was gay but then his girlfriend walked over and sucked the face off of him. Another two guys had short shorts on that were so short I swear I could see a bullock hanging out. They got up and went and started chatting up some girls.

It’s just a very hard (no pun intended) game to play.

So we sat there for nearly four hours, interrupting ourselves only for lunch. I had an avocado and smoked salmon salad which was divine. The massive bowl of chips counteracted the healthiness but it didn’t matter. I think the problem is, is that I eat what I like and I don’t give a shit.

Got back to Matilda and Tara had to go to work, so I thought I’d read J K Rowling’s new book; The Casual Vacancy.

I won’t ruin it, because it turned out to be a very good read, but the main story line is as follows.

A man called Barry Fairbrother dies. He is on the parish council, and a teacher at the local school. When the village of Pagford learns of his death, there is a power struggle in the council and arguments and disagreements break out amongst its members. There is a council estate nearby which is in Pagford’s district but the parish council really doesn’t want it to be. The parish council is split. Half want to keep the estate in Pagford, the other don’t. The town council are thinking of moving the boundaries and it all becomes a little bit messy.

While the adults of the area are all arguing over the smallness that is their village, the teenagers lives all intermingle at the local school. The story continues and we slowly find out that, obviously, all of the characters are all connected to each other in one way or another. There are two more deaths in the village before a relatively small amount of calm is brought upon the villagers. It takes one small voice to bring the whole community together.

It was quite a good book actually, and it being labelled as an adult novel was definitely a good thing. It was no Harry Potter. There were more references to vulvas than in 50 shades.

I liked it, and Jo didn’t ruin my childhood... but I will point out the fact that Pagford and Padfoot were very similar, as was the token Asian family which is found in both novels. Either way, I loved it. I will read it again one day, perhaps.

Until next time x

Day 39 - Brisbane: Don't mention the war

I was woken up very early this morning by an, excuse my language, bastard car alarm sounding it’s fucking head off at 5am. The German owner of the van simply rolled out of the door, in nothing but his pants, put the key in the drivers door and it was silenced just before giving one last half-hearted honk. The man scratched his bollocks and got back into his van. Always blame Germans... he probably had a towel down over his pitch before he even arrived. This is exactly the reason why the EU isn’t a good idea. Don’t mention the war.

As you can imagine, I wasn’t very happy, but since I was awake, I decided to do a bit of controlled dreaming. What’s that I hear you say? Well, controlled dreaming is where you sort of doze or snooze and try and think of what you want to dream, but where you sort of dictate what’s happening, subconsciously. I read about it in this leaflet I picked up from a shop in Coffs Harbour. It proved, well very disturbing. I was in a garden, and there were rats everywhere, and then I stood on their heads and killed them all. Then there were three dogs, who someone else had killed, but I stroked them and they came back to life. What a mind fuck. I assure you, there was nothing controlled about that dream. Perhaps if someone could translate that and let me know  what it means, that’d be great.

So finally got up at 9am, and had a shower and walked down to the local shopping prescient to meet Tara for breakfast in a cafe called Vinnie’s which is where Harriet, Tara’s lovely friend, works. I sat down and Harriet ambled over. Tara was late (obviously) and I had a coffee while I waited. When she eventually arrived (Tara, not the coffee) we ordered the same, Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce. It was fantastic and the eggs were so perfectly runny. Tara and I had a lovely, and I mean lovely, chat. Can’t believe how much I’ve missed her! (I’m well aware she’s reading this, so Tara, hi).

After Vinnie’s we went to Coles (supermarket) and I bought Tim Tams, cookies, milk and bread. Tara bought orange juice. What followed was funnier than the items we’d bought. I made a beeline for the cutest boy on the checkouts, as any young gay man does, and found a cute boy. His eyes were a bit too close together but I wasn’t that bothered. Tara self checked out and when she asked me why I wasn’t using the same, she simply glanced at the guy and rolled her eyes... nothing ever changes. Well, I never change.

So it was laundry time and being the domesticated goddess I am, I sorted my whites and colours out before I got there into bags and headed to the Laundromat. There were only two washers free in there, I emptied my whites into one and put them on a hot wash, brilliant. Put the colours on a warm wash and added detergent to both. Oddly the detergent I bought weeks ago smells of my Nan. I wonder if it’s the one she uses... So put my $4 in and pressed go...

I sat down and thought I’d catch up on my Temple Run games, which have been suffering lately. I wasn’t even at 3000 metres when into the Laundromat walked two very very ugly girls, possibly the same age as me, with... a quick count up... 45 piercing between them. And they were only the ones on their faces... I dread to think where else they had them. They were carrying what looked like half of a small third world country on their backs and emptied their bags into the remaining 10 washers. Into the first washer went whites, not too exciting. Into the second, bed sheets and a couple of towels. Fine. But into the third fourth and fifth washer went, what I can only describe as, Australia’s biggest leather bondage collection. I tried not to stare with my mouth open as she simply added her detergent and pressed wash (on a delicate cold wash ironically).

I wasn’t quite sure where to look when they came to sit down next to me and made sure that my iPod was turned up all the way so they didn’t feel the need to communicate with me. The following 30 minutes were the most agonising of my life. Twice, twice I say, she asked me for change... I didn’t have any, but all I could think of was her dressed up in leather. Very unlike me...

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my washers beeped and I jumped up, like Usain Bolt at the 100m Olympic final and emptied my washing into bags. I didn’t even stay to dry them, I’ll find somewhere else to dry them. As I left I made the mistake of making eye contact and they both gave me a chilling grin.

Thank god washing is a monthly event...

So, obviously being as domesticated as I am (i.e. mother teaching me about washing) none of my colours had run, but there was a stain on a white t-shirt which bothered me a little. I raced back to the campsite and bought pegs on the way and hung my washing out to dry. There’s an air of certain satisfaction that comes from washing. I actually find it quite therapeutic. I wonder how I’ll feel about doing it every day when Henry and I eventually have some kids. Either way, for now, it’s relaxing. I sat and sunbathed while they dried in the Australian sun (which was hot today... lovely and hot) and read the end of Fifty Shades of Grey (finished the third book)

While I don’t intend this to be a book review, I will talk about it briefly. While I had heard the hype surrounding the books, I didn’t actually hear any reviews, just about how popular it was. I read it with an open mind. Well, an open mind is what you need. The kinky-fuckery is, well, in some way tame. I’ve read about much worse. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no sycophant but the whipping and tying up didn’t make me in any way hot under the collar. I also found the sex scenes incredibly repetitive, and anyone who’s read the books will know that normal “vanilla” (no toys, just sex) features just as much as the kinky-fuckery.

It got to a point where I was more interested in the story going on rather than the actual sex that kept, and I mean kept, happening. I found myself skipping paragraphs at first to get past the “samey” sex scenes. Then I found myself skipping entire pages looking for the sentence “I reached orgasm” which is how the author finishes every sex scene... annoyingly.

I’m not sure about the sex that other people have, but I don’t have “samey” sex... the sex always starts the same way, and the flirting between Christian (Grey) and Ana (the girl who becomes his girlfriend) gets tiresome and repeititive. It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but the conversations wer all the same.

As I said, I found myself skipping the sex bits and ended up reading the story which in itself is weak. It’s something that I could have written. While E L James attempts to wind the story of why Christian likes the kinky-fuckery around the rest of the characters, the only person it connects to is his ex mistress Mrs Robinson. I found it boring and tedious.

Another thing that I also found annoying was how the author flipped from one scene, or moment in time to another, possibly days later without anything in between. She also left out certain parts of information that, had you not have read between the lines you would not have worked out. While someone would scoff at that sentence, and call me a pretentious prick, I wasn’t balled over by the writing, and while I don’t profess to be a multi million book selling author, I simply add that I did not like it.

I’m sure there are people who would argue with me and there are people who enjoyed the book, and while I did enjoy it, it didn’t grip me. Remove the sex and it’s simply a very poorly written story about a 21 year old woman who loses her virginity to a sadist, gets married, tries to convert him to a normal person (selfishly) and then accidentally gets pregnant, all over the course of about 3 months. I just didn’t buy it.

Anyway... enough of the book review. I’m going to read J K Rowling’s new book next, not entirely sure if I’m going to like it, but we’ll see. I hope she doesn’t ruin my childhood... if the character suddenly burst into a passionate kinky sex scene, I won’t be pleased.

I love you all, be good boys and girls. If you read all of that ^^^ I applaud you, and thank you J

Day 38 - Brisbane: Newmarket

Woke up early (I think there was a bit of wildlife around the camper) packed up and started the drive to Brisbane. I had arranged to meet someone whom I used to work with, Tara, in Brisbane later that day. She moved to Australia to work and travel in February and I (obviously) haven’t seen her since.

The drive to the city was only about an hour, but driving a camper around city roads, physically being unable to see in your blind spot, while avoiding Chinese tourists and toll roads was giving me a headache. Thankfully, Shirley wasn’t being too bossy today and we got to the campsite in a place called Newmarket, about 10 minutes on the bus from the city centre.

When I booked the site, I casually mentioned to Tara where I was staying, and I didn’t realise it was less than 5 minutes walking from her house. Scary how these things happen! Such a small world.

This campsite was different to any I’d stayed in before. It was full of hired campers, rather than Australians on holiday in the caravans. Most of the people staying here were young, mainly British and had all just arrived. It’s clearly the closest campsite to the airport (the planes go over head) so it must be the first step for many people.

Finally got out to see Tara and her friend that she lives with, Harriet, at about half three and we got the bus into the city. Naturally the conversation fell to Ragdale (where we used to work) and it was great to catch up. We walked over the river and past the main casino then onto what the Brissee’s call the South Bank. It’s a bit like London’s South Bank, except not shit.

There are cafes and restaurant and bars and shops, then a walkway covered in pink flowers, and then a small lagoon swimming pool with a fake beach, patrolled by actual life guards. It was very idyllic, but apparently it’s mainly a touristy place and not many Australians went there. We went for dinner in a restaurant called DM which only reminded me of Ragdale more (Duty Manager) and then to a chocolate shop for dessert.

As we walked in, there were two massive containers of melted chocolate being swirled around with a huge paddle. The temptation to dive is was too great. We ordered (chocolate sundae for me, brownie for Harriet and crepes for Tara). It was fantastic, if a little cold. Despite it being Australia (and it is hot in the day) it’s not warm at night. I was in shorts and a tee and the wind was blowing. Perhaps ice cream wasn’t a great idea. Either way, we headed back to Matilda for pleasant introductions.

It’s odd seeing someone from home, so far from home. It was great really. I’ve not felt lonely in the camper, I’ve felt alone, but that’s because I have been. It was nice to have some company for a change. Hopefully, we’re going to go to the beach later in the week which will be nice.

I shall try and keep you updated with more Olly fun filled adventures soon. Much love.

Day 37 - Tambourine: Mountains

Day 37

Left Southport this morning and headed into the Moutains.

Shirley was being an irritating bitch so I turned her off. In hindsight this wasn’t a great idea as quite simply I had no idea where I was going. Reluctantly I turned her back on and she finally decided not to be quite so moody.

For those of you who don’t know, Shirley is my GPS.

So headed to a place called Tambourine National Park. It’s incredibly close to the coast and very high. As you can imagine, the climb to get there was quite steep. Matilda did struggle a bit but with 28 cars behind us, she was under a bit of pressure. Finally we got to the town and I pulled over. I had a walk along the main road of the town, strangely called North Tambourine. The road is full of galleries, fudge shops and gifts shops. I actually lost count, but the shop that got my attention the most was a rather impressive German style chalet set back from the road.

I wondered inside to be confronted by probably 12,000 cuckoo clocks. The shop was empty except for the two owners who sat behind the counter. As I walked in, one of them simply said “just on time”. I thought this was some kind of sick clock joke, but no less than 15 seconds later, every single one of the cuckoo clocks started cuckooing and chiming and generally making a racket. It was quite deafening, yet strangely transfixing.

Some of the clocks were very traditional with the cuckoo coming out of the top. Others had little scenes that moved, wood cutters and maids milking cows. Several even had waterfalls with real water. The larger clocks were at the top, and when they chimed, the cuckoo, probably as big as my fist, threw itself out and made a low groaning noise. It was actually very entertaining and I couldn’t help but smile.

Slowly, one by one, the cuckoos returned to their holes and they fell silent one by one. One clock did a last cuckoo and then they all fell silent, except for the ticking; none of which was in time and would have driven me mental. The shop assistant arrived next to me and said “impressive, hey?” in a strangely American accent. I at least expected Australian is not German. Either way, he talked to me about the cuckoo clocks and told me how they all worked, opened one up and showed me the mechanism and then gave me a tour of the rest of the shop. It was vast. Once out of the first room, there were grandfather clocks small and big, some going up to the ceiling. He made some of them chime and I caught a glimpse of the tallest clock, a snippet at $48,000... about £30,000. Cheap I suppose.

So he left me to browse and I bought a tiny little wind up music box. I wish I could have bought a cuckoo clock, but the idea of carrying it around with me and it only getting broken annoyed me. He gave me their web address and told me that they could ship anywhere in the world. Yes, I would buy one when I was home... that’ll wind the family up. Brilliant.

I didn’t have anywhere booked for that night, so headed to a small campsite just on the outskirts of the national park and pulled up. The caretaker took my $15 and pointed to some trees for the power. I don’t have a very long cable so I couldn’t park very far away, but there was only two other tents on the site, so I knew I’d have a nice night. It was pitch black, and I mean bitch black. I nipped out for a wee at about 3am (no bottles left) and as I opened the door, a possum ran past the camper. I decided against the walk to the toilet block and so stood on the step and did it like only a man knows how.

Tomorrow, I’d be heading into Brisbane city, so the peace and quiet was quite welcome for one night, but I did get the feeling I was in the middle of nowhere.

So until tomorrow...

Day 36 - Southport: Sea World

Up bright and early. Except, it isn’t bright, it’s overcast and cold. And It’s not early, it’s about 9am. Anyway.

Got up and headed to Sea World half an hour before it opened. I thought I’d get there early to avoid the queues. Obviously everyone else had thought the same. The car park was already half full, or half empty, depending on your optimistic/pessimistic out look. I joined the queue for the ticket office and got to the front. The woman said is was $80 to get in, such a huge amount of money, but I paid and went in anyway.

I headed straight to the Sea Lion show which started at 10.15am and I can honestly say I have never laughed so much. The sea lions and seals were fantastic. The actually didn’t need any prompts to do their tricks. I’ve been to Sea World in Florida, and the animals there are so dependent on their trainers. There has to be a verbal command and a whistle before they’ll do anything, but here they just ‘do.’

The show was set up as an investigation into why there was no fish left in the local area. It highlighted key over fishing issues and the male seal, Burnie, played a detective alongside the two human police men. If you took away the fur, and the fishy smell, and the flippers, he almost acted like a human. He put his flipper over his eyes when he was supposed to, and pretended to be looking for fish by putting his head in the water and leaving it there for ages. The very act itself was hilarious enough, but when he brought his head out, he shook it, got on his back flippers and held his front flippers up in the air and shrugged (I’m aware they don’t have shoulders by the way) I literally burst into laughter, as did the rest of the crowd.

Next, Burnie went into a fish compactor to look for clues, and the door closed by accident. As it did, the machine buzzed and as the door opened again, three second later, a baby sea lion popped out. This charade went back and forth a few times and then on the fourth time, the police man (obviously a trainer) went to open the door, and couldn’t. It had broken and while they tried to keep their composure, you could see the moment of hilarity that was about to ensue on stage. They looked at each other and then did a nervous giggle. To the amusement of everyone, Burnie came out of one of the doors and sneaked up on the two of them, trying to open the door.

I knew it wasn’t scripted, you can just tell sometimes, and they laughed hysterically. Burnie went over to the door, got up on two front flippers and kicked the door with his back flippers. The trainers laughed with us and they carried on, but I got the impression the escapade had put the trainers off of their stride and hadn’t affected Burnie at all.

The show ended and the crime was solved. It was actually a really good show and I jumped up and beat the queues out of the arena and headed straight to the dolphin show at the other end of the park. I got myself a nice central seat and treated myself to come popcorn. (I didn’t want it, but, yes, as you can imagine, the vendor was pretty). So I ate half of it and then shared it with the four year old next to me (her parents had agreed, I wasn’t being some kind of creepy stalker).

As I said earlier, I’d been to Sea World in Florida in 2004 (I think it was) and seen the dolphin and killer whale show there but I always remembered it as very American and quite “lets just keep high fiving the dolphins” and pretend that’s a trick. I hoped this wasn’t the same, but I guessed it wouldn’t be. The show started, and instead of having a narrative, it was much more about trying to teach the audience about dolphins, their habitats and how to protect them. I actually found it really interesting. Did you know that in their tails there is a blood vessel which is as wide as a 5p, one of the widest in the animal kingdom (in comparison to its body size).

The dolphins were all introduced to us, and the seven of them did a little trick each before they disappeared. They were gone for about 15 seconds and all of a sudden the first one appeared, pushing a person with his nose straight up into the air. They all did this, in turn, all seven of them, until there was seven gorgeous (and pretty similar looking) guys in wetsuits standing next to their dolphins. I really REALLY need to meet the person in charge of their recruitment and human resources.

I later learnt that a trainer is paired to a dolphin and only that trainer is allowed to swim with that dolphin. Other trainers can feed and look after other dolphins, but they’re only allowed to train their own. It’s to do with bonding and trust and stuff like that. It was very interesting. The dolphin closest to me was called Starbucks much to the amusement of the girl behind me who kept saying “like the coffee shop, like the coffee shop”. I really wanted to turn around and say “NO, you fool, like the character out of Moby Dick” but I thought that would be antagonising.

The music got all inspirational and the dolphins did more tricks and I lost count on the flips and twirls they did. It was fabulous. The talker guy said the dolphins wanted to say goodbye because they were tired, and they all did a parade with their trainers raising one fin out of the water and shaking it. This was my queue to get out and I missed the massive hoards again. Result.

Headed straight to the petting pool, which surprisingly enough is where you can pet stingers (sting rays) sea cucumbers, fish and star fish. It was actually lovely. Sea cucumbers feel like, well cucumber. Star fish feel like a rock and stingers feel like, jelly. It wasn’t an all together unpleasant experience really. I did give evils to the big sting ray in the middle of the pool and wondered if he was the one who had killed Steve Irwin. Don’t worry, I don’t think it was, but I hope the message gets back to him somehow.

The Polar Bears and Penguins are next to each other in a large polar exhibit. (I should, at this point, point out that in real life, polar bears and penguins would never meet. One is from the North Pole, and the other from the South.) Alas, they weren’t in the same enclosure so they weren’t going to start gangs against each other. The polar bears were incredibly boring, but massive and lovely to look at. Here’s a fun fact... Did you know that female polar bears are in hibernation when they give birth, and as a result, don’t wake up for the birth! I know a few (all) girls who’d love to just wake up one morning and have a baby, instead of the whole labour thing. Fantastic. The babies feed themselves on the mother’s milk (while she’s still asleep) and it stays this way for up to 3 months until she wakes. Fascinating.

I moved onto the penguins. They have three types here. King, Rockhopper and Emperor. I think that’s what they’re called. As with all animals in captivity, there were a few penguins doing a circuit around the outside of the enclosure (which is like a big freezer kept at -12 and  has snow and everything). This always annoys me, and I really don’t like watching animals do it. I took a picture or two and left. I actually really like zoos, but sometimes, they enclosures aren’t big enough, and it’s so unfair to keep animals locked up, especially if you could release them into the wild.

Anyway.

I left Sea World (via the Sponge Bob Square Pants Parade and the Dinosaur world – both as unremarkable as each other) and went to the beach. Another three hours of gorgeous people watching and then it started to rain, so I ran for cover (just made it) and returned to the campsite to see who my new neighbours for the night were. I write this, and they still haven’t arrived, so I guess I might be left alone again, but we’ll see.

I shall write again soon. I’m driving to Brisbane on Tuesday to meet up with a friend of mine whom I used to work with. I’ve not seen her in about 7 months so we’ll have a good old catch up hopefully!

Until the next time x

Day 35 - Surfers Paradise: Beautifuls

I left Moonee Beach at about 9am and took the Pacific Freeway North for about 5 hours to what is known as Surfers Paradise. Surfers Paradise was known, and still is, for it’s good surfing, good nightlife and hippie lifestyle. Sadly, the latter of the three have now made way to the concrete high rises. There are more hotels along the cost here, than the equivalent distance in Rio. It is packed will restaurants and bars and clubs and surf shops. That’s pretty much it. There is the beach then a small promenade, maybe 40 feet across, then a road, with parking, and then the hotels. It is always busy and is one of the highlights of the Gold Coast south of Brisbane. The highlight of the strip is the Meter Maids who patrol up and down the promenade feeding meters so that drivers never get tickets. It used to be paid for by the restaurants and hotels along the promenade, but now they have their own merchandise which pays for itself. In 2006, government officials said that they would no longer be sending traffic wardens down to the area, and true to their word, removed all meters from the 8 mile stretch. The Meter Maids now walk up and down only to attract paying customers to their shop. The government really can be spoil sports can’t they.

I stopped here for an hour or so and sat on the beach. I’ve never been to LA, but this is what I imagine it to be like. I’m never really sure if beautiful and pretty people attract each other, or whether ugly people are repelled by the prettiness. Either way, everyone here is perfect. There isn’t a hair out of place, a muffin top to be seen, and everyone, and I mean that exclusively is wearing thongs.

I should remind you at this point that Australians call flip flops thongs. Don’t ask me why, and don’t ask me what thongs are called if thongs are thongs. The sound of ‘thong thong’ (no, it doesn’t work does it Australia, just call them flip flops) is only drowned out by the music that the bars blast onto the street constantly. There is a real party atmosphere and it strikes me as ‘the place to be seen’. The Palazzo Versace is by no means the largest hotel on the strip, but it is the most impressive. IT was designed by Gianni Versace shortly before he was brutally murdered. His sister Donatella completed the hotel and there is a tiny museum next to the hotel car park dedicated to the entire hotel. It’s a very odd place. The furniture isn’t luxurious, but instead comfortable. Despite this, you can tell it’s expensive as fuck. I didn’t dare touch anything.

Trekked back to Matilda and saw I didn’t have a parking ticket (lovely) and drove to the nearest shopping centre to get some food. Aussie’s don’t do shopping centres like us. Instead of having loads of little shops all basically selling the same thing (for example, the Highcross) they have huge shops all selling one item. For example, there is a male clothing shop, and a female clothing shop. One shoe store, a hairdressers, a Boots type shop, a bakery and a butchers. Most centres either have a Coles, Woolworths or Aldi as well, but rarely anything more.

I stopped at the butchers and bought some meatballs and a steak mainly because it was cheaper than Woolworths, but also because the butcher boy was gorgeous. There is something about a beautiful man with a sleeveless t-shirt and blood all over his hands and arms. His name was Brook and he winked when I said have a good day. I wanted to giggle like a little girl but just smiled and walked off.

Got plenty of food (might have gone overboard) and headed to the campsite to pitch up. Broadwater Caravan site is massive. It has over 300 camp sites, and then loads of cabins and fields for camping. Despite this, it’s across the water from Sea World and pretty much in the middle of Southport. Southport is a five minute drive from Surfers Paradise (which isn’t a town, so much a part of a long stretch of places that have merged together over the years). IT was very idyllic and just as I sat down to dinner, it started raining. I wasn’t sure where the clouds had suddenly appeared from, but it rained all night. I didn’t mind it so much, the noise on the camper roof is quite relaxing. 

So until tomorrow, if I’m not too damp, see you then!

Day 34 - Coffs Harbour: Big B A N A N A S

Today was a bit of another nothing day; something I’m beginning to love in fact. It’s so relaxing knowing you don’t have to be anywhere, or do anything, or meet anyone, or poo. Well, you do have to poo, but only when you want to. You get the general idea.

Oh dear, it seems I’ve already turned today’s blog to smut. Shame... I shall continue on, nevertheless.

Thought I’d head back into Coffs Town Centre (after driving through it) and decided it’d be a good idea to do some good walking. I drove and parked up in a little beachside car park which was free then started the walk down into the town. I expected it to be quite a sea-side-y type town, perhaps like Skegness or Southend (without the tack and poo in the water) – there it is, poo again. Instead, the jetty was incredibly beautiful and the beach was white with small waves. The clue of why the town became about is in its name. It was discovered by John Coff, and the natural harbour lent itself perfectly to shield from the wild Pacific Ocean. The waters, whatever the weather outside the harbour walls, are always perfectly calm and flat.

I should point out that we’re in school holiday season at the minute and there are kids everywhere. This doesn’t bother me too much, but the upside of this is that the older kids, sort of 17 plus, are also off of school. The education doesn’t quite work the same as in England, and to be truthful, I don’t understand it myself. Google it, that’s probably easier. Anyway, the jetty sticks out through the centre of the harbour about 300 metres. The water at the end of it is about 10 metres deep and there’s about 20 metres from the jetty to the water and it’s a famous jumping spot.

Not for suicides.

There was around 30 teenagers, more girls than boys which surprised me, not really sure why, jumping off of the pier, then climbing back up and doing it again. They were doing somersaults and back flips (are they the same thing) and pikes and tucks and stuff (my Tom Daley fascination came in use, I knew it would. See Henry!) I was actually quite impressed with it all. I wondered back along the jetty and found that in fact there was no more “town” to be seen. Shocked, I jumped back in Matilda and headed for, what the guidebook described as “The Big Banana”.

It didn’t fail to amuse me. There it was, perched above the entrance to the banana plantation. It’s incredibly yellow (oddly enough) and is one of the best marketing tools I’ve seen in a while. Everyone was stopping to have their photo taken with it. While I’d have loved to have posed for a quick snap, the excitement didn’t ever really arrive. I think it was more of a kids type attraction.

Back to the camper and I cooked myself dinner and went to sleep. A nice relaxing day.

Day 32 & 33: Coffs Harbour and Moonee Beach

Day 32

What a lovely day. I left Port Macquarie early this morning and stopped for breakfast in a little cafe just off of the beach. I wondered in and literally couldn’t choose between the things on the menu, there must have been 200 of them. The woman behind the counter smiled and said “Lots to choose from hey?” and I mumbled back yes, in my pathetic English accent which is nowhere nearly as cool as the Australian one. I mean, I can do an Australian accent, but I think it’s classed as a piss take, like if you do an Indian accent to an Indian.

“Oh, you’re British, are you hungry?” she shouted at me. I half expected her to shout “Barbara, we’ve got a British guy here, and I’ve asked him if he’s hungry” and then for Barbara to reply “Ask if he lives near Birmingham, Sally has a daughter who lives near Birmingham” or something to that effect. I nodded back to her and she asked if I wanted hot or cold food. Once I’d told her cold food, she asked me how I liked my coffee, told me to take a seat and told me she’d bring me something to eat. She brought my coffee over (I had a fantastic view of the sea) and asked me what I thought of the beach and the town and made polite conversation. To my amusement, a second woman appeared with my breakfast. They’d made me ham and cheese with like a chutney thing and some toast for good measure. She said she wasn’t sure if she should butter the bread, so she didn’t. I was actually pleasantly surprised. It was really nice. I drank my coffee and ate my breakfast and got up to pay. She asked me if I enjoyed it, to which I obviously said yes, and she said “Good, then it’s on us. And don’t bother arguing. You’re a lovely guy...” and she looked at me, I told her my name and she introduced herself as Brenda and her friend as Patty.  Lovely. What  a way to start the day.

Drove north (sick of saying that actually) to a small, increasingly retirement town, Coffs Harbour. The town has about 50,000 permanent residents but this number swells to nearly a quarter of a million in the summer. It’s set in two main areas, the town, on the main Pacific Highway, and the port and harbour, about 3km toward the coast. I was staying at a campsite in a small village called Moonee about 10 clicks north.

Got to the camp-site at about lunch time and the woman on the desk greeted me with a huge smile. She asked me for my name, and instantly something wasn’t right. She was English. I smiled and told her my name. She pulled up my booking and asked for my address. Once I’d got to the “Loughborough” bit she looked up and smiled. She used to go to Loughborough Uni (she is now in her fifties). Such a small world. We had a nice long chat during which the woman sitting next to us commented on us both being Poms. First time I’ve been called that. Anyway.

Checked in and got to my pitch. It overlooked the sea. This would do very nicely. I plugged myself into the electric. The camper I mean, not me and walked down to the beach before the tide came in. I sat and sunbathed for a good few hours before heading back to the camper. I decided it was silly to sit in the camper when I had a beach less than 200 metres away, so I stuck a hoodie and joggers on and walked back down to the grassy bit just before the sand started. I got out my iPod and started reading.

There was a family cooking on one of the barbeques just behind me and the smell was driving me wild. All across Australia there are these ‘camp kitchens’ which are basically gas barbeques under like a shelter thing. They’re free, most of them, and you just clean it after you’ve finished. I was tempted to turn around and see just what they were cooking, but I resisted, for the most part.

After a good hour, by which time the family had been joined by another two families, this time with older teenagers as well as young kids. It was getting too much. I just had to go and buy some sausages and a burger to eat. I got up to drive to the supermarket, which is only a few minutes away, when one of the mothers walked towards me holding a paper plate and a sausage in a bun. “Would you like some, we have plenty. You can join us if you like?” I honestly was so shocked.

This just sums Australians up. They’re so... nice. And polite and caring. I smiled back and glady took the plate and she led me over to the families which were sprawled across three long picnic tables. She introduced me to everyone and told me all their names. She took me over to what looked like the teenagers table and told, what I think was her son, to look after me. I sat there talking to them all for a good three hours.

The woman, who was called Clare, had a son, Tom, who was there with his girlfriend, Andrea, and his sister, Jo. There was also Joe (very confusing) and Matt and their twin sisters Heather and Verity. They were all so welcoming. We chatted for hours about the differences between England and Australia and how beautiful it was, and I kept pointing out that the people are all beautiful too (it would have been rude to not have complimented them – they were giving me free food) and then we all walked back to the campsite. I said goodnight and we parted ways.

This is what I like about being alone. I didn’t feel under pressure to go anywhere, or leave them to come back to the camper, or even to turn the food down in the first place. It was nice to just be able to chat to people and for them to listen. I said it before, but I’ll say it again, Australians are so nice. They’re just lovely. So welcoming.

Day 33.

I was awoken at 3am this morning by my mother who said she had totally forgot about the time difference. At least I know that my Australian phone number is working. She said she’d ring back later and hung up. I don’t remember being up for long after that so I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly.

I was woken up again at 8am by Mum again. We had a nice chat, but I wasn’t really awake. As soon as she hung up, I went back to sleep until.... 11am! I know! I like this holiday malarkey. I got up and went for a shower. The families from last night had all left early in the morning but I did just glance over towards where they were camped in case they’d stayed. They hadn’t.

I felt that a good day on the beach was needed. So I pack my rucksack, and spent ALL day on the beach. I mean all day... until 4pm ish when the tide was getting a little too close...

Not an overly exciting day to be honest. But I couldn’t help reminding you that I was in fact on the beach while in England, it’s been raining... oh dear, that slipped out didn’t it.

See you tomorrow my lovlies. 

Day 30 & 31 - Newcastle and Port Macquarie: Koalas and LIFEGUARDS

Day 30

Spent the day driving from the Hunter Valley, where I’d spent the last couple of nights, towards the city of Newcastle on the coast, before heading north to Port Macquerie.

The road coming out of the Hunter Valley is called the Golden Highway and I could see why. Corn and wheat stretched for as far as the eye could see and the road, though being single carriageway, was fast and not really busy with cars. Or did I speak too soon? I came up behind a car that had pulled over and had flashing lights on saying “large load ahead, slow down” so I did... Once we’d got onto a straight bit of road, I saw the quarry digger ahead of me. It was the width of two lanes, so big in fact that the cars coming the other way were being told to pull onto the verge by the police. I followed it for nearly 30km at a brisk 60kmph which I thought was quite good for a vehicle that had a pulling truck and a pushing truck. It finally pulled over to let us pass while the drivers had a rest (I presumed) and I got a bobble on towards my first stop of the day.

Newcastle is quite a large city that still bears the scars of the awful conditions that the Australian Miners endured during the coal and gold rushes. The city was founded in 1804 as a convict town for the rougher prisoners who needed to be put to work, usually manual labour, to keep their spirits down. While the city was based around mining, it is more famous for its steel works, opened in 1911, which closed only in 2000. Despite this, Newcastle is still the biggest coal port in Australia and around 86 million tonnes of coal are exported from here every year. It’s a fairly large city, but a bit of a usual normal bog standard town with nothing on. Every year in March, Surfest is held here. Surfest is the biggest surfing competition in the country and while the waves here don’t rival those further north, or further south, they are big enough to allow, for example, the first 360 ever to be done here. (I type this like I know what I’m talking about; I actually read it on a poster).

Newcastle also has the largest quays along the Central Coast and has been renovated with loads of shops and cafes along the harbour edge. Here, the Hunter River, which I stayed next to back up in the valley has changed from literally a trickle of water (I actually drove through it) to a huge tidal estuary where many whales have often ventured.

I spent about an hour or two wondering around, but then decided to get on with the 280km drive to Port Macquarie (I’d already drive 250km to Newcastle) and set off again on the Pacific Highway. It was quite a scenic drive, and me and the local lorry drivers have come to an understanding. I let them overtake me, and they don’t try and kill me. Lorrys, or trucks as they’re known here, don’t have a speed restriction like they do in the UK. They just hurtle along, usually faster than cars, until you move out of the way for them.

Anyway, I digress. Finally got into Port Macquarie at about 5pm and went straight to the camp ground. Got checked in by a lovely lady called Jill who’s son had just left to go to Bournemouth University. I assured her it was nowhere near where I was from, but then in Australian terms, I suppose it was just around the corner. I got my site and parked up. Thought I’d take a nice walk down to Woolworths as it was still quite warm. I got my backpack and on the way, got beeped at by a car full of teenager Australian boys. I wasn’t sure why they were beeping me, but the driver was only 17 as he had a Provisional sticker on the back (which all new drivers have to have) so the fact he was limited to 80kmph made me smile.

Decided I’d have steak and sweet potato fries for dinner with salad and tomato. It was fantastic. The Australians call sirloin powerhouse and I sat in the sun and ate it. I hear it’s raining in England isn’t it?

Day 31

Got up relatively early (9am) and drove about 3km out of the city to the Billabong Koala Zoo. It’s a zoo specialising in breeding koalas and it was lovely. It wasn’t big, but what they had there was so well maintained and pretty. There was a huge koala creation thingy in the car park so I had high hopes. I arrived at 10.20am and the lovely girl on reception (If I was straight, I would have) told me I should head straight to the koala shed as Blake, who she pointed to (he smiled and waved) was about to do the first talk of the day. I paid my $20 and got my kangaroo food (ground sweetcorn – I wasn’t convinced) and got my map.

Once I’d paid, Blake told me to follow him as he was going in the back way and I could sneak in and miss all the crowds out. Blake is my kind of guy. Any guy who likes going in the back way is. Sorry mother.

Blake took me right to the front and started his talk. I stood and listened to him tell us how the northern koala (the southern ones are bigger) are on of the most endangered species in Australia. They grow to about 50cm long and have five fingers and five toes on each hand, two of which are thumbs, and are opposable. Many people think that Koala translates as “doesn’t drink” but it actually means “bear with pouch”. They sleep for between 16 and 20 hours a day. Yes, I know... that even beats some of the people I know. My favourite fact about Koalas is that the males have two penis’ and the females have two vagina's. I know right. If you sort of give someone the v’s with your index and middle finger (go on, all do it) that what their penis looks like. It isn’t two penis’, it is one, split. The male ejaculates out of both of them at the same time, but the females vagina will only release an egg into on uterus at a time. Females can carry two baby koalas, known as a joey, at a time, one in each uterus, although this rarely happens. My second favourite fact is that they have a brain about the size of a walnut. It sits inside their skull, surrounded by fluid. It’s so small because, well, think about what you’d have to think about if you were asleep for 20 hours a day... eating, pooing, having sex... that’s about it really. They also survive exclusively on eucalyptus leaves which are pretty poisonous and not very nutritional. They often eat over three kilograms a day in leaves alone, and rarely drink.

Anyway, enough koala facts for now. I petted the old male called Stoney, and stood next to Blake and had my picture taken... Stoney looked away at the last second, bitch, said thank you to Blake, and headed to the Kangaroos. Now, as I had paid $1 for my cup of sweetcorn, I was going to make sure I got my $1’s worth of feeding. I arrived at the feeding bit and guess what, they’re all asleep. 140 wallabies and kangaroos all fast asleep. I was however one of the only people there, so I thought I’d try a little roo calling. I shook my cup and about three all came over at the same time.

I petted them for ages while they nibbled on my corn (not a euphemism) and then I asked a lovely lady to take a picture of me... she did, but I had to return the favour, by which time, all my new friends had had their fill and disappeared to sunbathe again. Never mind. I stroked a kangaroo. Might have been a wallaby, not entirely sure. I’ll ask next time I see one.

Drove back into the town and parked up on the beach. There was a van full of people getting out in the car park which had “Surfy’s Surf School” written on it. Original name I thought. I was going to wonder over and ask if I could join in, but when I realise the majority of the people learning were between 10 and 14, I decided against it. I’ll learn in Brisbane with Tara. Hopefully.

Sat on the beach and sunbathed for what seemed like about 5 hours, it was in fact only about 2, but the tan was coming along nicely. I got up, and as I did, saw a lifeguard run past me.

I’m sorry, I’ll rephrase that.

I got up, and as I did, saw THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LIFEGUARD I’D EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE run past me. He sprinted to the sea and grabbed his board then ran into the surf and paddled out to a guy who’d I’d not even noticed was throwing his arms around in the air. The lifeguard got to him and pulled him onto his board and then brought him back to the shore. To my horror, the guy shook the lifeguards hand and (he’d lost his board) ran to his car and grabbed another one, then went straight back out to sea. The lifeguard didn’t seem to bothered by this, and sat and dried off in the sun. I tried to take a picture, but he kept looking at me. Dammit. So, this guy just started surfing again, so I went over to the lifeguard and asked him if he was okay (the man in the sea, not him – I wasn’t hitting on him) and he said “yeah, these guys are crazy, once the surfs up, the surfs up. I’ll have to go out again soon”. We talked for a little while longer and eventually he said he had to go, and popped back onto his tower looking fione (no spelling mistake there).

Drove back to the campsite and sat and wrote this for you beautiful people. Aren’t you glad I didn’t blog yesterday!?

Until tomorrow, my beauties.

Day 29 - Literally nothing

So, I’ve started writing my book. It’s going to be rubbish and I probably won’t let anyone ever read it, but it’ll keep me busy while I’m sitting in the van at night. I didn’t actually do anything today, like I planned. I just go so engrossed in typing I looked at the clock at I’d been at it for nearly 8 hours straight. Scary really.

I suppose this means I’ve not really got anything to tell you. Which is bad really. You’ve all signed on to see what I’ve been doing today and the truth is I’ve been doing something I could have done at home.

I’m moving back to the coast tomorrow, so keep your eyes open for that...

Mother, you still haven’t emailed me back. Sort it out.

See you all tomorrow

Day 28 – Sandy Hollow: Topping up the tan

Nothing really exciting happened today. I decided that before I go and see Tara (someone I used to work with in England, but who moved to Australia at the beginning of 2012) I should make sure I’m nice and tanned before I stand next to her. Being inland is a perfectly good time to do it really... Except for the insects. Thank God for the 100% deet insect repellent I have... not 100% sure it’s legal in Australia, but still.

Downloaded more Sophie Kinsella last night and read a whole book this morning. Without sounding too pretentious and stupid, it’s kind of made me realise that I actually quite like writing. So while I’m in Australia, I’m going to write a novel. Not a major classic like Wuthering Heights, or David Copperfield, but just a nice small 1000 page book about... well actually I have no idea what it’s called, or what it’ going to be about. Would any of your buy it, if I did write it? Like seriously. We’ll see who actually reads this... feel free to DM/Message/text me...

On that note, if you actually DO read my blog, can you do that ^ anyway... I’m going to test certain people who say they do read it, but who I don’t think do. You have been warned. I sense that I am only setting myself up for failure here... We’ll see.

I’m also seriously considering getting my tragus pierced (which I planned on doing ages ago, but because of where I used to work, I wasn’t allowed to get it done) and maybe getting a tattoo. I know it’s very stereotypical, but I could look back on it in 50 years and think “I got that done in Australia”... please forward ideas. If you can also draw and would like to design something for me, also forward these to me... Your brief is “Australia”... no kangaroos though please. Oh, also, I hate pain, so please feel free to make them small... and discreet. No angel wings on my back please.

I'll be truthful, don't really have anything else to say today. Put some photos on Facebook, downloaded some films. Men in Black 3 made me cry. Apart from that, nothing else happened. 

Mother, if you could email me back, that'd be great.

See you tomorrow x

Day 27 – The Hunter Valley: Wine, Wine, Wine

Got away with not paying for where I stayed last night. Good wasn’t it? It was in a national park and the ranger never came and collected the money so I didn’t worry too much. Then again, it wasn’t really a caravan park so much as a camp site with toilets (that didn’t flush properly). I would have begrudged paying for it anyway, so I didn’t let it rest on my conscience too much. Got up nice and early and drove out of Monmorah National Park and back onto the Pacific Highway, then on to the Central Coast Highway and inland towards the Hunter Valley.

The Hunter Valley (I started in the lower part) is known as being the second oldest wine growing areas in Australia. It’s not really an accomplishment is it... I mean... my brother is the second oldest child in my family, but he didn’t get a medal for it... nor is he first. Anyway... There are about 40 vineyards dotted around this park of the valley so instead of stopping at one (I would do that in the upper Hunter Valley in a few days) I decided to drive what I thought to be a scenic route through all of the vineyards. The road is called Broke Road after the town that it goes through. There is also Broke Mountain Range, Broke River, Broke Creek and Broke Vineyard. It quickly became apparent that while the road was named after the town, it also was broke, as in, broken. I have never seen so many potholes in my life...

I was literally being shaken. My bum hurt after about 20 minutes on this road. It snaked up through the valley, and while it was stunningly beautiful, I couldn’t hold the camera still long enough to get a good picture. On this road, it also became very apparent that while you didn’t see it, there was wildlife everywhere. I had to cross to the other side of the road three times for dead wombats (fully grown, they’re about as big as a lion) and I stopped counting after 14 kangaroos. I was actually shocked that no one was cleaning them up, or at least pushing them aside... they laid in the middle of the road, very much in the way of traffic, just dead. Rotting.

Made my way through the Valley to Branxton and then along the New England Highway (Route 69... lol) to where I intended to spend the night. I arrived, and lets just say, I knew immediately I wasn’t staying. The book described it as being ‘100 metres’ from the road... It was in fact a lay-by. It also said it had fresh running water and toilets. It had one tap and... lord above, even talking about them makes me feel sick... long drop toilets. Now, if you don’t know what one is, and you’re squeamish, look away now... if you’re not a girl, or gay, read on. Long drop toilets are toilets that do not require water to flush, because you essentially shit on the floor. Have you ever seen that scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the little boy has to jump through the hole to get out of the toilet? That’s a long drop. I immediately felt like Dev Patel.

Needles to say, I took one look (I was so shocked, I stood and starred for a good three minutes) and then practically ran back to Matilda. I got in and locked the doors in case the poo was coming after me. I thought I’d fast track ahead to the next site and just stay there an extra day. What I didn’t remember was that it was 300km away. Piss flaps. No matter, I like driving.

Got there late afternoon. It was a lovely little campsite with nice new clean showers and free wifi (even though you had to sit in the communal lounge to use it) so I think three nights will be lovely. It also seems I have the park to myself, which is nice.

So just a little blog for you today. It’s about 6am in England and I’ve just realised I have nothing to eat tonight. Oh, I do... soup. Brilliant. Au revoir! 

Day 26 – Freemans/The Entrance: Pelicans and ants

Attention world. Today is the day I actually start travelling. The past couple of days, I have tried (in vain) to get my body clock on to Aussie time. It’s sort of worked, but I’m still waking up at about 3am every morning before falling back to sleep at 4am. I think it’s more to do with the temperature than with the time though.

So, I got up early and packed up the camper ready for the couple of hours of driving to my next campsite, at a place called Snapper point in the Munmorah National Park. Instead of driving the direct highway to campsite, I decided to take the coastal scenic road and stop along the way. First stop was a little beach town called Copacabana. I shit you not. It’s actually a real place. Google it... Copacabana, Australia (NSW). It was lovely, but the road into the town was nearly vertical... getting back up it was nearly as much fun.

By this point I had filled up my fuel and water tanks. This, at the time seemed like a great idea, however, driving with an extra 235 litres of liquid was a new experience. Dad never told me about this...

I had to go into first gear to get up the hill, and had a huge queue of cars behind me. I was slightly pleased with myself for some reason and bobbed along without a care in the world. Next stop on the road was a little town called Terrigal. It is famous for it’s golden beach, which, despite it being 11am, was already packed. There weren’t many big waves here, but there were a few surfers out anyway. I stopped and had a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin in a beach side cafe. Lovely.

North again to a town called “The Entrance” which is known for it’s wild (however slithgly domesticated pelicans which live on the sand dunes just off of shore. Every day at 3.30pm they are fed and I’m told they attract quite a large crowd. Sadly, I didn’t have time to witness what I’m sure would have been a magical event, but the town was nice anyway. I nipped into a $2 shop and purchased some hooks and non slip matting for the camper (I have a plan you see) and wondered along the promenade. The drive to the campsite from here was pretty much one road. I left and got sidetracked by a sign to a “lighthouse”. Now, I am fully aware of what a lighthouse looks like, but I’d never seen an Australian one. I thought I’d give it a go, and after the 4km road to get there (at a place called Norah Head) I arrived in the car park with five other cars.

The lighthouse was closed to visitors but the views were lovely. I’ve taken some pictures too. So, I went back to the camper and had a quick look at the map. I hadn’t been there 3 minutes when a young blond (gorgeous) guy pulled up in a car next to me and jumped out, ran over to another car and tried the door.

Brilliant, I had found the crime hotspot of NSW. I sat and watched this boy clamber around the entire car and then run back to his car and proceed to get essentially naked. He, in vain, wrapped a towel around himself to hide his modesty and ran back to the car, laying on his back and getting right under the car. He got up and must have seen me looking and asked me if I knew where he’d put the key, because, and I quote, “He’s got my wetty”. I didn’t really know what to say, but said no, and got out and helped him look. I eventually found the key in the exhaust. I wasn’t sure if what I’d just done was legal, but the guy was gorgeous and seemed like he was in a rush. He practically hugged me when I told him I’d found the key and proceeded to open the boot and pulled out a wet suit.

A wetty. It all became clear.

I wondered back to the camper and he followed me back to his car, where he into the wetty (such a funny word – say it out loud) locked his car, put the key in his exhaust and grabbed his board off of the roof. He’d probably not walked three steps when he turned around and said “Thanks by the way mate, it’s just, the surfs up and I’m in a rush. If you hang around, I’ll be back up with the lads in about 30 minutes and we’ll go for a drink to say thanks”... he threw out his hand, I presumed for a hand shake (straight – gay men don’t shake hands). His hands felt like velvet. I think I actually went “ooo” when he touched me. I told him I’d wait as I didn’t have to be anywhere (which was entirely true) and got my chair out and sat in the sun.

As he said, about half an hour later, he and his friends all came back up off the beach, with wet hair and wetsuits around their waists. I was in heaven. Mother, if you’re reading... skip the next paragraph... seriously.

I’d like to tell you about these four people who’d just presented themselves to me. My blond friend was by far the youngest at probably 17. He was followed by two slightly older, and a little better looking, boys and then in turn was followed by an older guy, probably my age. All four of them were blond, between 5” 8’ and 6” and simply beautiful. My friend came over and introduced himself as Jake, and then introduced the others at Tom, Adam and Crookey (which I presume was a nickname – no parent would be that mean). We sat and I offered them some water (cold, from the fridge) and they told me all about how the surfing was perfect today and how Jake would have missed it if it wasn’t for my quick thinking (I actually just wanted to get a better view of him in a towel – no, I have no shame. None at all). So we sat there for a bit, when one of them went “yikes” and said he was already late for work. They all jumped out of their wetsuits while I pretended not to be looking. None of them were wearing underwear, and none of them seemed to be bothered about getting naked in public in front of each other. These were my kind of boys. Now if you think I was at any point being a perve, you’re wrong. I’m pretty sure Jake kept looking to see if I was looking... Anyway... They all got dressed and said thanks again and off they drove.

Mother, miss the next paragraph too.

I should point out at this point, that while in Australia, I may be presented with situations where I could quite happily get my “fill” as it were of Australians (pun not intended) I assure you I won’t be. I have my boy, Henry, whom I love very much and I won’t be playing around or being a “naughty boy” at all. I love henry.

So... I bid them goodbye and followed them along the road back to the town where I turned off to the Munmorah National Park which was actually closer than I thought. I got to the camp ground and had it literally to myself. I parked up and sat in the sun and read a bit, then wrote this blog and now, I being wondering about the beach, which I can see from the camp site.

After a little bit of research from my guide books, I find that it is in fact an “unclad” beach. Brilliant. I have found a nudist beach in the middle of nowhere. This should be exciting. I locked up and went off to the beach, towel in hand genuinely to have a dip in the sea, which I promised myself I would do once a day while I’m within 5km of it. So I got to the beach and it was deserted. Just my luck.

Now, I have no shame telling you what happened next. While on this nudist beach, alone, I decided that if I was ever going to sunbathe nude, now would be the time. So... yes, you guessed it. Stark bullock naked, rubbing suncream into my gentlemen’s region. Fantastic. I sat back and loved it. Then who should appear but Jake and his three friends.

I am of course joking. Good things like that don’t happen to bad people like me.

So alas, tonight is the first night without electricity or wifi (first world problems) so you’ll be hearing from me in a few nights. Until then!