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