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...