Rottnest Fly-land and the search for the Festive spirit...

Christmas time, BBQ and beach doesn’t quite have the same ring to it; but as long as Cliff Richard isn’t singing it I don’t care. The thought of my Christmas Day BBQ and lazy afternoon on the beach hardly fills me with overwhelming feelings of festivity, but it’s just part and parcel of a traumatic gap year in Australia (as if). If I’m honest I do not feel at all Christmassy. I’ve tried everything from The Pogues to Home Alone but when its 30+ degrees outside it feels too hot to be an English Summer let alone Christmas. But I will be joining half of Britain (obviously not Clevedon) for a white Christmas; except my ‘White’ will be sand and not snow. Ok, enough of the salt rubbing into envious wounds. This week we ventured across the water to a place called Rottnest Island. ‘Rotto’ as it’s known over here was advertised as a beautiful destination with beautiful beaches and clear sun-drenched bays. Ever single word of that was correct, but they failed to mention that the human population of Rotto was hugely outnumbered, by at least 100-1, by FLYS. They were unbearable, at first I wondered why everyone was waving at me, and then I realised that this technique was the only way to keep these disgusting and completely pointless creatures from venturing up your nose or into your mouth.

Another creature that outnumbers the human population is the Quokka. These miniature wallabies/giant rats roam the Island and have absolutely no fear when it comes to humans; quite happily eating out of hands and in my case exploring dorms. The genius plan to get rid of him worked; a peanut trail followed by a quick prod with a broom was enough to get him out the room.

As I said the bays and beaches were really beautiful (see my Facebook photos) the sea was pristine and clear and when the flies took a time out it was very relaxing. We toured the Island on bike and clocked up a fair few miles in two days, this being the most exercise I’ve done in a little while.

But as for nightlife on the Island, this was about as exciting as an interview with Andy Murray. The bars closed no later than 11 and had as much atmosphere as the moon. Added to this the extortionate prices made for some very quiet nights.

Though for all its faults, I am really glad that I chose to go to Rotto. Mainly because the other trip we had planned was to rent a campervan and drive north to the exact destination that has just been hit by a cyclone. In a tossup between a cyclone and the flies, the flies maybe just win. Just.

Back to the festive subject, there is definitely no escaping the fact that Christmas becomes more of anti-climax as you get older. When your 12 years old, a box of chocolates and some socks is an adequate present, but with age comes...responsibility? Maybe. Expectation of more expensive presents? Definitely. Added to all this the fact that the big Christmas secret (coded for young readers) was revealed to you many moons ago, you could say that Christmas is a commercial rip-off merged together with a great excuse for time off work/school and licence to eat and drink as much as you want . Bah! Humbug! I’m sorry. All this sunshine is turning me into Scrooge.

As soon as this Christmas malarkey is over and done with, I will be off to Sydney for a week which I am really looking forward to; and then into 2010 we go. As for the name of the decade, it doesn’t quite follow the 80’s, 90’s, Noughties pattern. I’ll let you decide.

But a Merry Christmas to all! It will be a few weeks before my next blog, but hopefully I’ll have plenty to write about after my trip to Sydney. Have a good’un and don’t get too sunburnt....oh I’m sorry...wrap up ;) x

Laparoscopic Appendicectomy, Xmas Panic and the 19th Hole...

There is a very good and feasible reason as to why I haven’t blogged in a little while. It turns out that I missed something off of the trip itinerary; this being a trip to explore the local health service. It was last Tuesday morning when my body decided that this trip must go ahead and by the evening I was led in Hospital, high as a kite off of Morphine and General anaesthetic, a few kilo’s lighter and *drum roll*...Appendix-less! Oh yes you can’t beat a good stint of Appendicitis on a trip abroad.

Once this unexpected hurdle was overcome I left hospital with three very neat scars and feeling like I was 80 years old, by this I don’t mean racist and hateful of anybody under 25, just that my movement was very limited. I can now finally, completely sympathise with my Dad when he complains of ‘hurting all over’ after a day’s cricket. But as soon as I’m up and running again that sympathy diminishes as quickly as Tiger Woods’ reputation...... (Ooooh low blow).

On the subject of Tiger Woods, it was only a month ago that he was King Pin in Australia after his appearance in the Australian Open. The fact that he was payed a few million just to play in it didn’t even come into it. It goes without saying that Tiger cruised his way to winning the competition.

At this moment in time Tiger is probably looking for a rather large bunker in which he can bury himself and escape for a couple of.....decades. It seems that there is a waiting list to jump on the ‘I also slept with Tiger Woods’ bandwagon; 12 is the current number, oh the irony if it reaches 18 (holes on a golf course). It’s amazing how things can change. Tiger Woods is one of the greatest sportsmen of all time and with that he was also a seen as a superb role model. Reputations take years to build but minutes to destroy. One false act (or 12...at least) and you’re in the water...hot water in this case. If only he could have resisted the 19^th hole.

So, Christmas is coming (you can continue) and its just approaching the annual ‘Christmas Shopping Panic’ week. It’s a worldwide phenomenon and I experienced Perth’s version today when I headed into the city. Everywhere you looked there was a Husband/Boyfriend being dragged around the shop like a stray dog as he watches his credit card being branded around like a magic wand; Or a couple stressing because the CD’s aren’t in alphabetical order and they just cannot remember the name of that Xbox game, and all of this on the hottest day of the year!

As you walk through the City you cannot help but notice Australia’s version of the ‘Chav’. They really are a strange breed and comparing them to the English Chav is very funny. The English Chav stereotypically wears: Jeans (as low as possible), a shirt that is a few sizes too big, a hoody and a baseball cap. The Australian specie is a warmer weather transformation. The jeans are replaced with shorts, sometimes short shorts; the shirt is even bigger than the English Chav’s but the baseball cap remains present. But to top it all off, they wear pulled up (shin high) socks, the sort your granddad wears on holiday with his brown sandals. The characteristics are very similar though with regular acts of spitting, swearing and smoking; real charmers.

I’m still struggling to come to terms with an Aussie Christmas. The carols and songs are the same, but just make no sense. It is the ultimate oxymoron to be listening to ‘White Christmas’ whilst its 35 degrees outside. Nevertheless it’s a good experience. I cannot begin to imagine how cold England is at the moment. We’re off to Rottnest Island next Sunday for a few days before Christmas and then I jet off to Sydney on the 29^th to catch up with the Clevedon Boys for New Year.

I’m not planning for another hospital admission so will be able to update again before Christmas...After all you can only play the appendix card once....x

Rain, Cupcakes and the 'Hand of Frog'...

A very English week on the weather front, it has rained for the last few days; rained very hard! This has meant that outdoor activity has been very much off the agenda. There has, however been something very comforting and homely about sitting in a warm lounge, watching the rain bounce off the pavements and roads outside whilst playing Rugby 08 on the PS2. It’s not all doom and gloom though, it looks to warming up from here with temperatures of +30 predicted for the coming week.

Because Britain is so great and interesting there is plenty of news coverage on Australian TV; and having watched the news this week I couldn’t miss the highlights of the Football; Republic of Ireland Vs France. As far as controversy goes, this was pretty extreme and has forced me to dislike Thierry Henry even more than I already do. The ‘Hand of Frog’ ordeal is even more evidence that football needs to introduce technology to help officiate games. There have been far too many examples of poor decisions in major games that could so easily have been solved in a couple of minutes with the aid of a video referee. The stubborn nature of football and its authorities means that it could be a while before we get close to watching a game in which all major/important decisions are correct. The sad thing is that the Irish (who qualify for major competitions’ about as regularly as the solar eclipse) have no chance of a replay or of getting this horrendous injustice overturned. Their only hope is if the French wave the white flag (now where have I heard that before) and surrender their place in the World Cup in exchange for a replay; which has about as much chance of happening as Scotland qualifying ever again or England beating New Zealand at rugby on Saturday...nil.

On the subject of rugby, I was unfortunate enough to watch England lose to Australia in an Australian pub. I was happy to see Wilkinson in an England shirt again and it was brilliant to see him get through the warm up as well as the game. But apart from that it was same old same old with England not ever looking like scoring a try. Injuries or no injuries England were poor and the game highlighted a few players that just don’t cut it at International level. Matt Banahan for starters who might well be able to run over people in the Premiership but (even at 6ft 5) looks severely out of his depth at international level, even a walk in try against a distinctly average Argentina cannot justify his selection. Shane Geraghty looked below average but I’m sure there is more to come from him. Anyone that has watched rugby with me knows that I reserve most of my sporting hatred for Andy Goode. He is (in my opinion) one of the worst players ever to play Test Rugby. Not only this, he has a beer belly! An international back, a fly half with as much fat on him as a prop from club rugby. It just cannot happen. People have said that he has lost weight; which is a ridiculous statement, Rik Waller is fat and lost 3 stone, the problem was that he was 23 stone to start with. To add to this he is as predictable as night and day and as mobile as Steven Hawking; if only he had 1% of his intelligence.

Well now that is off my chest I would like to address another issue I have with England rugby selection. What on earth has Matthew Tait ever done to upset the powers that be in English rugby? He is arguably England’s best and most creative outside centre, apart from Tindall and yet constantly gets overlooked. Johnson seems to be turning back to ‘the old boys’ in a bid to rediscover the form of 2003. I would honestly rather see us lose by 50 points and play positive, attacking rugby than lose 18-9 in the manner that we did against the Aussies’.

Apart from watching and playing sport this week has been very uneventful. Work has been as interesting as it has got. The swimming pool I work at has a slide and a river rapid ride and so gets extremely busy, especially after school hours. I am certainly earning my money at the moment with swimmers continuously finding new ways to break rules in the pool.

Last Saturday we played against arch rivals Wanneroo in a game that was very heated throughout the grades. I got my first, real taste of Australian sledging, triggered by asking for the sight screen to be moved. For the next hour or so I listened to impressions of English accents, feedback on how good I was and was quite bizarrely called ‘Cupcake’ all day. This was a dig at being English but I didn’t quite understand it. It was very clear that the only English impressions that our ‘Ashes-less’ friends can do are Yorkshire or London and one player even referred to England as ‘cupcake land’. They are a witty bunch. All four grade sides came home with wins against the arch enemy which meant free drink at the club after training on Thursday, courtesy of the club Chairman, happy days.

With the weather hotting up, the next week or so should be a lot more entertaining. Though I have plenty of hours at work to look forward to. Ciao x

Lest We Forget: Remembering our Past

Lest we forget; how could we? In moral terms, you would imagine it to be impossible, though we continue our lives 364 days a year with a mere mention of the reason our great country is as it is today. Though every year, on the 11^th November at 11am, the country stands still, submerged in silence, drowned in appreciation of the millions of people, most yet to leave their teen years, that fought for our freedom 90 years ago.

Last year’s Armistice ceremony was lead by the three remaining World War 1 veterans, Harry Patch, Bill Stone and Henry Allingham; all of whom have passed away within the last 12 months. The ‘Last Tommy’ Harry Patch was the last to die when he passed away earlier this year. The 2008 ceremony will stand firmly in my memory as one of the most moving events I have ever seen. As the two minutes silence got underway, the three stared at the poppy covered pavement, their faces evidently torn by repressed memories that annually return to haunt them. As the bell rang, tears fell from their tortured eyes. It was all too much.

In a moving ceremony, the three heroes carried wreaths as they were escorted in their wheel chairs by current military servers. The eldest veteran, Henry Allingham was determined to stand as he laid his wreath, an action that appeared one battle too many for a body that has witnessed more than many of the attendees of the ceremony could imagine. Teenagers lost at such young ages, whom in the modern world would be beginning work, studying at college and enjoying a life in which danger is miniscule in comparison to the Great War.

As his body surrendered to the challenge, he began to cry. He appeared to feel guilty that he could not honour the soldiers that weren’t so lucky by standing to appreciate their sacrifice - those whom he grew up with, fought with and was prepared to die for. Mr. Allingham needed not to feel guilt, for he, along with every other soldier that has served our nation in any war, is a hero, never to be forgotten.

During a visit to Menin Gate weeks before (his first return to Belgium since the war itself), Harry Patch, the last remaining ‘Tommy’ or trench soldier spoke to a crowd of about 100. He said something very powerful and very important.

“Let us remember out brethren who fell, on both sides”

Many forget that it was not only the soldiers of Britain and its allies that fell, but Germany as well. The Germans were of equal reluctance as the British to fight in the war. In fact, men on both sides were merely puppets of their superiors, men with no control over the war, with simple orders to destroy people whom against they held no grudge.

Ludwig Baumann, a Nazi soldier during the Second World War is currently heading a campaign to pardon all soldiers that were shot for fleeing or rebelling against the Nazi movement. A war he described as well ‘criminal’ and ‘genocidal’. An accurate description and a worthy campaign, that will hopefully result in justice for innocent men who stood their ground against an evil regime.

Once again this year, at the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the Western world fell silent. A silence full of memories and respect; A silence of wonder and confusion for those not old enough to understand; A silence that the world went without for many years during the Great War(s). Two minutes seems an inadequate length of time on terms of the thousands that died; but when the silence is broken, the world returns to its everyday happenings, until next year when we once again bow of heads and gaze down at our poppies to remember.

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them."

There's only one 'Football!'....among other things...

An entertaining week to say the least, including one of the funniest things I have ever seen; more on that a bit later.

I arrived at the ground for cricket on Saturday and overheard my team mates talking about the Premiership football (soccer) results, something about Liverpool losing. Having got up quite late because of an early start on Friday I was yet to see any of the scores. I promptly walked up and asked what the other ‘football’ scores were. The reply I got went something like ‘there wasn’t any football on, it’s called soccer pom!’ ‘We invented so we can call it whatever we like!’ Was my reply. This slight disagreement got me thinking; how can it be wrong to call a game, predominantly played with the feet and using a spherical, leather item, football. Over here ‘football’ is the name used to describe Aussie rules in which the ball is kicked out of the hands and to other players who catch it with their HANDS. Ok, I understand that the only way a goal or points can be scored is by kicking it, but to save confusion there can be only one ‘football’ and in this case the title is better suited to the game in which only one player on each team can use their hands. There is one other sport that challenges for the title of ‘football.’ This is American football, I completely understand that the Yanks are under evolved in terms of intelligence (common/slightly controversial assumption) but there is no way in this world that this sport can be called ‘football!’ Points are scored by catching a pass (which is thrown) in the end zone. Extra points can be added with the boot but the fundamental aim of the sport is accomplished with the hands. That concludes my rant on this topic, case CLOSED.

However it does not conclude my rant on the erratic and irregular specie of the American. Having read the regional newspaper I noticed that Baseball is a well followed sport in Australia. The story I read focused on was the MLB ‘World Series.’ I have never claimed to be an expert, but an event that includes ‘World’ in the title e.g. Football World Cup, Athletics World Championships, normally involves different nations or teams from different country’s that compete against each other. The MLB certainly does not and therefore can surely not claim to be a ‘World’ event. This would make the winner, ‘World’ Champions which is tragic. I know that it be hard for America to come to terms with the fact that it is not the only country in the world and that there is other places over the golden arches and far away but if Manchester United win the Premiership, it does not make them ‘World Champions’. It is no surprise that only 20% of Americans own passports and can therefore travel outside their ‘great’ nation. On top of this, only 8% of American citizens (on average) will leave the USA this year.

Now on to the occurrence mentioned in the first few lines. On Monday we headed into the City to visit Kings’ Park. This is a beautiful botanic garden area complete with amazing views of the city and the Swan River. It also has a War memorial as well as restaurants and cafes’. We lazed in the sun for a few hours, kicking a ‘football’ (see previous paragraphs for details) or rugby ball around. It was a really nice day which we rounded off with a KFC, can’t beat it. But as we left KFC and walked towards the train station I couldn’t help but notice a slight scuffle going on about 20 metres in front of me. It was between two Aboriginal women who had quite obviously had a slight disagreement. After a minute or so, it looked to have ended and the gathering crowd gave out a slightly disappointed groan, bit of an anti-climax. But the crowds’ favourite wasn’t finished and began taunting her opponent who was fleeing the scene. Neither of them could quite see the irony in calling each other a ‘nigger’ or a ‘black ‘see you next Tuesday.’ The two came face to face in the middle of the road complete with their guards up, á la Ricky Hatton Vs Floyd Mayweather. It was like a very heavyweight, hardcore, extreme rules match (for the wrestling fans amongst you). The contest moved out of the road and on to the pavement. But it all ended very soon, a shove to the torso and down she went. The winner got her bag and entered the train station. As she ran through the ticket barrier she told the officer to ‘F**k off, I’ve got a ticket,’ and there it ended. An immensely entertaining and incredibly funny five minutes and yet I still struggle to see why the locals don’t like the aborigines...such a charming bunch.

I also started my job during last week. A beautiful 5am until 1pm shift to get me started. This meant a 4am start; a time of the day that is very unpleasant to be awake at. My previous experiences of this time are all mainly from a night out at Vibe and end as soon as my head hits the pillow. On the brighter side of things, I earned $170 for it, which covers rent for a week, sorted.

Apologies to any Americans that may read this, I understand that it is not your fault and that we still value your support in any future world conflicts (that would involve more than one country hence ‘world’) even if you are renowned for shooting our soldiers by mistake. Also, you don’t help yourselves by voting morons (for want of a better word) like George Bush as President (though I accept it may be slightly corrupt) and making films in which you claim that you won the War single handed and saved everyone there was to be saved; Especially when it is widely reported that it was in fact the British, as you did in ‘Saving Private Ryan.’

Much Love x

Iced Coffee, Whale Watching and a Drowning Lifeguard...

This update is a little overdue and I’m sorry for this....had plenty to do and very little blogging time.
This week has been one of sorting out work as well as virtually living on public transport. On Monday I had my first of three job inductions at the local leisure centre. When I was told it was an induction I was expecting a few hours of guided tours, paperwork and getting to know the centre; how wrong I was! It started off with a tour of the building but when this was finished we definitely didn’t do paperwork. Instead a 400 metre timed swim was slyly dumped on us, 13 minutes to complete it...Oh dear. Just to put this in context, in England the fitness tests are two 25 metre swims followed by towing a casualty back 20 metres and then 10 metres; 65 seconds for the first and 45 for the second. Incidentally the quickest I have ever swam is 100 metres in about 10 seconds, though this wasn’t officially swimming, it was more a case of losing concentration whilst body boarding and being carried to shore by a rather large wave. Getting back to the topic in hand, I managed to complete the swim in 10 minutes, I was very pleased as well as very f***ed! Straight after this the instructor asked for a volunteer to play act a drowning scene; I’m not sure what he was getting at when he said I would be perfect for it.
Tuesday was spent recovering from the previous day’s antics, when would I ever have to swim 400 metres when lifeguarding a 50 metre pool anyway? Crazy! Moving on, we went into the city again on Wednesday after I had been to my second induction, this one was far more reasonable and contained no swimming whatsoever. The train journey in didn’t quite go to plan as a unexpected bump left me with iced coffee on a white shirt. After a quick glance to make sure that not everyone was laughing at me, I mopped it up and carried on as if nothing had happened. However, the light brown, saturated area on my shirt compromised this somewhat.
As we left the station, I watched a lady trip on the stairs that were alongside my escalator. As she stood back up she demonstrated the same quick glance around to make sure no one had seen her/were laughing at her; I had and I was. But as I peered down at the stain on my own shirt which was now standing out like a sore thumb (I’ve never quite understood that saying) I realised I was in no position to be ridiculing another person’s misfortune. Tragic.
After a very long ten minutes trying to hide it, I gave into temptation and common sense and bought a new shirt from Perth’s equivalent of Primark. Job done, now I could laugh at whoever I wanted.
It didn’t take long for me to notice that Australia advertises Christmas, as early if not earlier than England. Everywhere you looked was Christmas sales, decorations, adverts! Are they off their heads? It’s not even November yet! By all means have a few little signs, maybe some small reminders that Christmas is all of 10 weeks away, but not full blown decorations!
Thursday came and went with only a weekly shop to report and Friday was the day of my dreaded Lifeguard requalification exam; complete with a repeat of my 400 metre drown. It was based in Fremantle, an old fashioned port half hour south of Perth. This meant an hour on the train for me as well as an early start (5.45am). Luckily everything went to plan and I passed it all, yes including the swim which left me feeling very relieved that I chose not to eat my full allocation of sandwiches at lunch time, reappearance could have been messy.
We faced one of the top sides in the league on Saturday in very English conditions; cloudy, windy and with rain in the air. We won the toss and batted first and were 170 all out by 4 o’clock. I was out for only 6, LBW which left me with a trophy bruise on my inner thigh; and yes before you tell me, I know that is what the bat is for. They finished the day on 50-2.
It was 35 degrees and very bright on Sunday, perfect for our day of Whale watching. The only stint of whale watching I had experienced before was completely in voluntary. It was in St. Kitts but came in the form of trying to see past the disgustingly fat, loudmouthed Americans who couldn’t help but draw attention to themselves on what was meant to be a relaxing boat trip. This trip however was different and so it bloody should be for $80. An early wise crack from myself about the whereabouts of the harpoon gun didn’t go down very well and left me dodging a few stares from the surrounding tourists...ooops.
As we approached the end of the first hour we had seen as many whales as we had clouds in the sky, absolutely none. I don’t know what happened after that, but out to play came the Whales and everywhere we looked was greeted with a surfacing or a splash. At one point one of these magnificent mammals’ surfaced 5 metres from the boat, it was amazing to see. The 15 minutes that followed was a relatively dry patch, but soon enough we spotted 3 Humpbacks’ putting on a show a few hundred metres away. They were surrounded by 3 tourist boats and obviously relished the attention. (See Facebook for videos and pictures) We arrived back on dry land satisfied, but very hungry. A trip to the greatest takeaway/restaurant around, Wok In a Box sorted this and so we headed home.
A cooler week is predicted weather wise, so I may be able to leave the house. I may also be able to start work this week which I am looking forward to for some bizarre reason, might have something to do with £12/13 an hour...

Transport, Racism and a Controversial Cheese

Two weeks into the 24 week trip and things are going pretty well. Weather is warming up, (whether or not this is a good thing for someone with a pale complexion is debatable) we’re beginning to find our way around the place and I have potentially sorted out some work; its dependant on passing a course but hopefully I should get use of the Visa quite soon. Its lifeguarding work and on the plus side; it pays more than double what I was getting back home, bargain. I have always thought that £5 an hour for a lifeguard was verging on taking the piss. Although the job is 95% uneventful, the responsibility of a person’s life is worth a little more. Added to this the potential of a prison sentence, should you, god forbid, mess something up that led to a person dying...
So when I found out that the local swimming pool pays $22.60 (£12ish) an hour to their lifeguards I was pretty impressed. It’s just one of many things that Australia does better than England. It just seems that we are trudging along at the back as the Aussies continuously lap us in the race to national perfection. But how is it we are, in many cases, 20 years behind a nation that we should be hundreds of years in front of? I’m yet to bring out the ‘convict’ claim and will remain reluctant to unless strongly provoked. But we did place the first Western inhabitants on to the island all those years ago and yet still we lag behind.
Let’s take immigration for example. I’m not talking about visitors, (see how I covered myself there) just people looking to settle. For years Australia has imposed a points system meaning that anyone wishing to move there must qualify in a number of categories. The main one being that they must carry skills or qualifications that relate to the needs of the country. To put it simply, you must bring something that can benefit the country. Therefore you cannot come over, expect to be given a house and all the money you want while the majority of society works for a living. Oh and you have to pass language competency tests which rules out the ‘language barrier’ excuse for unemployment. England has recently begun the process of mimicking a system like this, but, like the building of Wembley Stadium, will probably take longer than planned to finish.
My next example is public transport. Perth’s Transit system links buses, trains and ferry’s and runs as one combined service. The trains are very rarely late and best of all are REASONABLY priced. Tickets are zoned and can be used on any bus, train or ferry up until a certain time. Or you can buy a day rider which enable you to use any public transport all day, anywhere. This day rider ticket costs $8.80 which is roughly £5.00. Now compare this to a £7.20 return train ticket into Bristol from Yatton, (about half an hour) and you’ll see where I’m coming from. This outrageous pricing scheme on the British Railways comes at a time where we are constantly being reminded about Global warming and cutting down on emissions. You’re not going to convince people to take public transport instead of driving if they have to go without food for a week to afford it.
A further example is sporting facilities. In Perth you will struggle to travel 10 miles without seeing a state of the art facility purpose built for sport. They are facilities that are well maintained and well attended. In comparison to the UK, in which someone has to slip in a pile of dog shit (for want of a more formal term) or fall ill from its effects before anyone thinks of clearing the pitches. I understand that this is as much the fault of dog owners as it is the councils but it’s clearly not good enough. Youngsters will quickly fall back in front of their XBOX or computer if they have to dodge faeces (I’ve found it) like land mines every time they venture outside.
It may look like I’m completely slagging off our great nation. But amongst all its positives (crisp autumn mornings, power, countryside) there are many blemishes. God save our Queen...
Despite being 20 years ahead of us on many things, I have found an issue that Australia is decades behind the UK on. Since I’ve been out here I have heard, on more than one occasion, racism of a strong nature, so to put it. These comments are the sought that only you’re Granddad can get away with because ‘it was acceptable in his time...’ The target of most of the abuse is ironically the aborigines, whose land this was in the first place; the cheek of it.
Whilst trekking through the supermarket this week, my eyes were drawn to the cheese section. I looked once, rubbed my eyes, looked again and rubbed my eyes once more before bursting into fits of shameful laughter. If you haven’t already seen the photo, Australia has a brand of cheese called ‘COON’. In the 21st century this is surely oh so far outdated. I can’t imagine this brand lasting ten seconds is the UK. You can’t even sing ‘Bah Bah Black sheep’ anymore for fearing of offending someone and causing carnage. Needless to say I bought some....We all love a bit of cheese after all.
Finally back off of my many tangents, the trip itself has been going really well. We had the novelty of a rained off cricket match, yes that’s right a rained off cricket match in Australia. Of course we would have played through it back home; a bit of toughening up required on the part of the locals I think.
Cooking is becoming ever easier, last night’s meal was Chicken, rice and vegetables. I definitely didn’t phone my Mum to ask how to cook the chicken, it just comes naturally.
Our housemate Cruella is yet to break a smile. I figured she must work as a pest exterminator by day and end up swallowing hundreds of wasps; it’s the only logical explanation.
I had my first experience of Joondalup’s nightlife on Saturday and took a liking to the local drink, Fusion with a hint of lemon, can’t go wrong. It’s very similar to Clevedon in many ways, a few half decent pubs and then on to a shoddy, worn down night club that everyone goes to because they can’t be bothered to go into the city. I gave Dusk (Joondalup’s version of Vibe) a miss due to a shortage of funds on the night.
I’ll keep trying to update, Ciao for now....x

Glasses, Zombies and Lara the digi-person...Week 1 in Perth

To say that this first week has been eventful would be a terrible injustice to the term. Strict evidence that your parents do a little more than nag and moan; but I won’t tell them that.
The flight itself, in contrast to everything else, was rather uneventful. A few moments when it felt more like a stint at sea than a flight; but that be forgiven as the flight path was directly through the heart of the Pacific Ocean storms that devastated Samoa.
In flight entertainment provided many a laugh with recent hit film ‘The Hangover’ doing most the work. The passengers sat around me also found out what a hilarious film it is as I often forgot that although headphones stop you from hearing yourself laugh; it does little for anyone else. However a few stern looks over at me and the odd turning head soon made me realise my error.
The flight stop over was in Hong Kong. From the airport you can see the magnificent City with its montage of skyscrapers filling the overcast skyline. The airport itself is amazing with a tube train taking you to departure gates every few minutes. After admiring the city skyline I also observed that everyone in Hong Kong wears glasses, (I assume they were all from Hong Kong or surrounding places, apologies for being unable to tell the difference, black hair and slanted eyes leave little to differentiate.) It was very strange and is something Specsavers may want to look into; a Hong Kong base could be a good investment.
Next stop was Perth which came and went in a few blinks as I finally managed to get to sleep. I was woken only twice, both times for food, which was devoured before I returned to sleep. Hard life.
A downside of travelling to Australia is the hassle of declaring goods at customs. Foreign soil and food being a few things off of the forbidden list. All this kafuffle makes for a major delay, all a bit too much after 20 hours of travelling. Not to mention the amount of times the cue at customs was held up by a Chinese/Japanese/Korean/Polynesian person who had failed to do anything they were meant to have by the time they reached the front. This honestly isn’t a racist attack on the Far East, merely an observation; and an irritating one at that.
So after declaring sports shoes, collecting luggage and squeezing my way through customs it was straight to bed for a well needed sleep. I forced myself out of bed at a reasonable time (9ish) to avoid sending my body clock doo-lally amidst all the changing time zones and the fact that my body still thought it was 2am.
Next stop was the estate agent to collect keys and sign three rainforests worth of paperwork which all pretty much gave the message of ‘if you break it, you pay for it.’ The house seemed really nice at first but we were soon reminded that we were not alone after a quick glance into the fridge, lovely. Apart from that it is nice, exactly as I imagine student accommodation to be like at University.
House mates came and went throughout the day with the odd, ‘Hello’ or ‘G’day’ as they passed. Not all friendly though as one of the zombie girls on our floor proved. She did manage a grunt as she gormed her way past in a zombie like manor back to her room. The challenge to us is to try and make her smile by the time we leave, but I fear if this is achieved, there is a strong chance that hell will freeze over and the world would end.
I have done a bit of shopping in the past, usually for bread and milk, maybe some eggs as well. But never have I done a full food shop. This all led to our supermarket trip being an absolute nightmare but hilarious at the same time. We did buy essentials though; baked beans, pasta, rice, cereal and milk. Adventurous I know.
That evening we went to our first Squad training session which went well; realised how professional everything is over here. But there was a downside to it; we were served food after training, bit of chicken and lasagne. I was reminded of this meal the next morning; more than once which led to a day in bed. Not ideal.
When my stomach cleared up and I was able to venture outside the house without having to dart back to the bathroom it was game time. To cut a long story short we lost having scored 220 in our innings, 48 of which were scored by me, before a mixture of a day in bed and the heat (which to me was pretty warm but the locals were wearing jumpers and skins) got to me and I gifted my wicket away.
A quiet few days followed the cricket before we tackled the next task of internet and mobile phones. If I’d have known this meant 5 hours in a Vodafone shop and 2 hours on the phone to Lara the digital woman on the helpline, I would have thought twice. She struggled to understand ‘I want to speak to a f***ing human’ and just asked me to repeat it. Science is NOT all progress.
After 2 days of throwing things and swearing to avoid completely losing it, we finally got a connection. Hallelujah.
Thursday saw us embark on what proved to be a pretty pointless trip to the city in search of a tax file number. It wasn’t pointless in terms of finding it, this we did but pointless because we could quite easily have sorted it on the internet we spent 2 days stressing over. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
So with tax file numbers gained and internet working all that is left is to find a job. The reluctant search is a task for next week.
I’ll try and update every week....Ciao for now...x