Puzzles, Shells and Reminiscing...

 

“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” Lewis Carroll.

Finding out who you are is a crucial element in the pursuit of happiness and fulfilment, but once you’ve achieved this, it is more important to release everything that you are; to be yourself.  

By this I mean breaking out of your shell, revealing your personality. For most of us, how far out of our shell we go, depends entirely on the situation and/or environment we are in. At home, we are likely to be open and comfortable with our natural actions and personality, whereas when we are placed in a new situation we are more likely to retract into our protective coating and reveal only the bare minimum. As the situation and environment becomes more of a regular occurrence, we begin to leave parts of our shell behind, until it has been completely discarded; surplus to requirements.

This first term at University has demonstrated this process throughout. Fresher’s week was a case of poking your head out to say your name, where you’re from and one interesting thing about you (much like those awful ‘icebreaker’ exercises which make you feel more uncomfortable than when the ice was left untouched) before frantically sipping your drink, knowing that as the glass gets emptier, things get a lot more comfortable and you’re willing to tell almost anything.

As the weeks have passed by at a very intimidating speed, people have become cosy in each other’s company and completely natural in the environment. This growth of comfort has enabled good friendships to blossom, some that could develop into strong bonds that last a life time. We all know that these friendships will rarely come close to replacing or even matching our relationships with friends back home, but they dig the foundations for a home, away from home.

It’s amazing how quickly someone that you have just met becomes a good friend, someone that you can trust and confide in. We all have our highs and lows; everyone has experienced the vertigo of fresher’s fortnight; right down to the murky depths of having no money and more than enough work. It’s when somebody notices that you’re feeling down, without hint or cue that you realise they’re a friend.

This term has been incredible. I’ve learned so much academically, but far more in life education. Unfortunately there isn’t an exercise book or any academic sources for the latter, but that’s half the fun. At least you don’t have to reference it.

So, Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat and if anyone wants to chuck a penny in this young man’s’ hat, that would be most appreciated. The only negative that overshadows this term is the sorry state of my finances. If it wasn’t for the Royal Bank of Mum and Dad bailing me out here and there I could well be malnourished by now. It’s ok I’m not expecting a Christmas present and after reading this, I’m hoping no one else will be, not from me anyway.

There are other things that I have learned from term:

1.       Whoever said that you don’t have to do any work in your first year at University was quite clearly lying.

2.       Chips are best accompanied by burger sauce, but only from Ali’s.

3.       University destroys your sleep pattern. To back up this statement, it is currently 02:09am and I am still up writing this rubbish.

4.       My decision not to invest in Football Manager before coming here was a wise one, having seen the levels of addiction it has caused to others.

5.       And finally, just because the Fire Alarm goes off, it does not necessarily mean there is a fire. It may just be some drunken idiot on the third floor playing silly buggars.

Anyway, as noted it’s getting late so that’s enough from me. Merry Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year awaits us. A year of Ashes retention, house hunting and.........oh yeah, exams.

I’ll sign off by quoting a Christmas poem that was read to me every Christmas eve without fail, back in the days when Santa was still alive.

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight.”

x

Remembrance, Staying afloat and a Fire breathing dragon...

Out of all of the things to get out of bed for, a dull, wet and cold morning sits alone at the bottom of the pile. A quick glance out of the window on mornings like these can often drain you of the motivation to do anything productive. Had it been any other day and I may well have just pulled the quilt back over my head and analysed the backs of my eyelids for another couple of hours, but not this day. It was November 11^th, Armistice Day.

I stood in the town centre to observe my two minutes silence. A few yards away from me stood an elderly man, at a rough guess I would say he was in his eighties. As the bell chimed to signal the eleventh hour he removed his hat and stared at the floor. His eyes were glazed with tears that he appeared to be fighting back. Maybe he was just a boy when it was all going on, maybe he’d seen things that wouldn’t be wished on anyone, maybe he’d lost someone.

 Unfortunately, the Armistice Day ceremony was, as many of you know, interrupted and disrespected by a number of people who felt it necessary to burn poppies and chant evil and dishonourable things. As expected, these protests have led to angry reactions, with many calling for deportation. It is very important to remember that just because someone is a ‘Muslim’ does not necessarily make them a foreigner. It is a shame that a small minority can give a whole religion a bad name; when in reality, these people are simply extremists, acting in a manner far away from their religious values. Armistice Day is one of the few days in which our country comes together to demonstrate a national pride which often goes missing, especially in England. Please read my piece on Armistice Day from last year, it’s one of my favourite pieces and in my opinion the best piece of writing I have done. Just scroll down on my blog home page.

Its week 8 at University and things are going ok. It’s evident that many people, including me are beginning to realise just how much work there is to do and that things won’t always be as fine and dandy as the early weeks may have suggested. In fact, team morale is at an all time low. I’m not saying that everyone is depressed, just that the current mood is as miserable as the weather outside. We do have Christmas to look forward to which is always an exciting time for all, however old you get it always makes people a bit more cheery. Whether you believe in Santa or not.

I have work being thrown at me thick and fast, but I am managing to stay afloat. On most subjects I’m doing considerably more than staying afloat, in fact I am swimming along quite comfortably. Note that ‘most’ was the key word in that sentence. ‘Most,’ meaning not all, in fact, all but one. Shorthand.

Slipping back into the ‘swimming’ metaphor, Shorthand is a very heavy topic and makes even treading water a struggle. It’s like learning a brand new language, however its closer to hieroglyphics than anything from the modern world.  I’m not struggling with it; it’s just eating up a hell of lot of my time. I have been promised that it will, eventually, be very worthwhile but the learning process is not at all aided by the dictation CD we have been given to listen to. The voice on the CD beats anyone to the title of ‘Worlds most annoying voice.’ Imagine Anne Robinson, slowed down and with random variations in tone, as if someone is remixing her voice box! It’s terrible.

The work side of things shows no signs of easing off, not until Christmas anyway and from then on there is exams to deal with. Ahhhh...travelling seems a great idea now.

However, for all the woes and stresses of the last week, there has been a few very entertaining moments. Carnage was a brilliant laugh which gave a quick glimpse of University life to my little big brother. That night saw the first appearance in history, of the Fire breathing Dragon. A momentous occasion soon to be backed up by video evidence. (This is an inside joke so don’t worry if you have no clue what I’m talking about.)

I hope to write again before Christmas, but by now, I’m sure you won’t be holding your breath.

Ciao for now. x

Start living...

“Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die tomorrow.” “Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift...that’s why they call it the present.” Both very over used and empty quotes, some would say. However, recent events have really brought them to life.

Last week I was saddened to hear the news that someone who had attended Filton College at the same time as me had passed away. Nelson Monhon was 20 years old when he died from a suspected heart attack. I’m not going to claim to have known him or indeed ever spoken to him, but a tragedy like this really puts things into context. For all our moans and groans about everyday chores and events, we are blessed. Blessed with a good quality of life, blessed with the ability to be whatever we choose to be; blessed with today.

I’m not the religious type. I don’t dismiss the idea of an overriding power and would probably class myself as an agnostic, but its complexity is baffling and far too intimidating.

I felt it necessary to base my post on this, especially at a similar time of my life. At 20 years old I hope to have many years ahead of me but I won’t take this for granted. I’m not calling for reckless actions, just for self fulfilment.

I’ll leave with this thought: Do you make the most out of every day? Do you appreciate today? Regret what you do, not what you don’t do. But most of all:

Start living.

x

Decisions and cliches...

Ah decisions, decisions. Without meaning to sound cheesy or bombard you with clichés, decisions make the world go round. Whether they be big decisions, (i.e. political) or rather smaller ones (i.e. what to wear out tonight?) we come into contact with them every single day. Most carry little importance and come and go pretty swiftly; others can linger and often have no easy conclusion, especially when it comes to deciding your future. To go to University or not? If yes; where and to study what? If not, what do I want to do as a career?

The tough nature of these somewhat life changing decisions means that when we get them right, we feel deeply satisfied...almost smug. Like you’ve got on up on the big guy upstairs. To put it into context, this is exactly how I’m feeling at the moment. Student life is great and I’m delighted I chose to enter into it. Not only that, I’m incredibly pleased and satisfied with Portsmouth; as a place and a University. When I came back from travelling I was immediately struck down by the contagious travellers bug. The symptoms are heavy and include a depressive feeling along with the ever nagging urge to get on the next plane and continue where you left off. So when I had to choose between University and work (to raise funds for another trip) I was left confused and a little lost. After much consideration I chose Uni and the rest, as they say, is history.

It was a real case of ‘the fork in the road’ situation (cliché #2). Two decisions, both of which present a strong case for itself. However, it’s not to say that either of the decisions is wrong. If it appears wrong at first, it will normally work itself out and lower you down carefully, back on to the right track. The same way a Tom Tom sat nav does if you miss the turning (minus the patronising female voice.) A quick recalculation and your back on the road to your unknown destination.

The truth is none of us have a clue about what we’re meant to do. There’s no handbook or tour guide to keep you on the straight and narrow, it’s all down to you; which makes for an interesting ride.

Back on to the subject of Uni life and we’re now into the real deal. Lectures have started and the honeymoon period is beginning to wear off. I’m not saying it’s become less fun, just that everyone is beginning to come to terms with the fact that Fresher’s week/fortnight does eventually end and ‘shock,’ we actually have to work. From the first ‘proper’ week I have quickly realised that shorthand will eventually be the death of me, however ‘handy’ it will be at some point in my career.

On Friday I have a job interview which, fingers crossed, will have a positive outcome and I can start to move out of the Tesco value isle and into a more edible world. Last week I told you that I was ecstatic as I had received my student loan. Well all that is now a distant memory as Halls’ rent chewed it all up and failed to spit it back out. Tragic. It’s okay though, that is what an overdrafts for (so I’m told).

Any regular readers will be shocked that I have managed to follow the standards set by the title of this blog and update it on a weekly basis...there’s a first time for everything (cliché #3).

That’s me done for now, if good habits are kept to then I’ll be back next week....tune in. Over and out...x

p.s. Big shout out to James Watson A-Team (they made me do it, honest).

An Unwanted Wake-Up Call & a New Start...

Everyone remembers their first day at school; your Parents' dropped you off in the playground and you were left to stand on your own two feet, wide eyed and anxious. If you were lucky, especially at primary school, you already knew a few people. But no one was ever sure just how they were meant to act. It comes naturally to some, but others have to work a little harder to get settled into their new surroundings. First stop was always the Lego corner to get things up and running and from there on friendships have been known to bloom. But for all the anxiety involved in a new start, there is a buzz and excitement about meeting new people and experiencing things that you’ve never experienced before.

So it was like being 5 years old all over again when my parents dropped me off In Portsmouth on Sunday, but this was a little bit different. Lego was swiftly replaced by a can of Fosters and this also accounted for your play-time milk carton. I wasn’t nervous about being/living away from home having spent 7 months on the other side of the world; a few hours south wasn’t ever going to be a problem...just excited and keen to get the ball rolling on the final chapter of education.

Fast forward 6 days, three quarters of a crate of Fosters and an emergence of a large gaping hole in my overdraft and I’m having the time of my life. James Watson Halls A Block has formed its small community and its hard to believe we’ve only known each other a matter of days. Motivation to do my washing is currently at an all time low but I’m hoping some progress will be made in the near future.  To go with this, my transformation into a nocturnal creature is almost complete. The concept of being out for most of the night and sleeping all day has been well exercised; give or take a few 9am lecture starts ( seriously, who arranges that in Fresher’s week?) Oh and that enjoyable 7am wakeup call which came in the shape of a fire drill. (Again, who does that in Fresher’s week?) After a rather heavy night, it was no surprise that the side roads of Portsmouth looked increasingly like a scene from Dawn of the Dead as thousands of disgruntled students’ zombied their way over to the meeting point. Seriously not cool.

On a very positive note, my student loan came in today. It’s been a rescue remedy to my bank account after a few challenging weeks for it; hang in there big guy. On a less positive one, I’m expecting the long awaited arrival of Fresher’s flu anytime now. Obviously all self inflicted and I’m not bidding for sympathy, I just wanted someone to moan to.

This entry was written in between my day time nap (I know, such an old man thing to do; must have something to do with being twenty) and my preparation for another night out. Lectures start next week so my blogging time may be limited. I’m sure you can forgive me. Ciao for now........x

The Wise Man knows best...I Hope

A wise man once said that your school years are the best years of your life. Now you can be forgiven for point blank disagreeing as a fourteen year old, led in bed trying to pull a fast one on your parents by clutching your stomach in anguish and forcing out a cough here and there; when the only thing making you feel a bit out of sorts is the thought of double English first up on a Monday morning. Shakespeare has been known to have that effect.

But its only once you’ve left school and advanced a little further along the line that you realise how comfortable and easy life was back in the day; a whole 3 years ago for me. I sit here writing this, currently 19 years and 355 days old. So without going into hours, minutes, seconds and leap years you may have worked out that in about 10 days time I will be TWENTY years old. Now to me, twenty, as an age is incredibly scary. It feels like as the suffix (for you English Language students out there) ‘teen’ is removed from your life and dropped deep into the abyss, never to be seen again...all your standard excuses and get-out-of-jail-free cards stand up and follow it. Any mood swings and tantrums can no longer be blamed on teenage hormones and will just earn the title of miserable bastard. Whilst any signs of reckless behaviour will leave you looking irresponsible and immature.

It truly is an intimidating time...being half way to forty is a terrible way of looking at it, even if the same wise man did say that ‘life begins at forty’, we’ll see about that. We all have an idea of things we would like to have achieved by certain age milestones. For example, at forty you’d maybe expect to be married with kids, with a few signs of grey. At sixty, if you’re lucky you’d be contemplating retirement and watching as your kids discover that parenting isn’t as easy they imagined. Grey hairs wouldn’t be an issue, you’d just feel lucky to have them; and by eighty and one would hope, well into retirement, a permanent break away to a seaside town would ooze with appeal. By seaside I do not mean Blackpool or Weston-Super-Mare; if the pleasure beach isn’t tacky enough for you, Weston is a prime example of what Blackpool would look like if nuclear war ever hit our great nation. I’m talking a cosy little bungalow in Devon.

But getting back to the subject, twenty is an age at which you’re not really sure exactly what you’re supposed to have achieved. I’m hoping I’ve got it spot on as I dive deep into the world of Students in three weeks time. But for many it differs, some are straight into the real world and in a well developed career; others have already started a family. As I said, no one is completely certain what a twenty year old is meant to be doing.

But if I do have to become a year older, I propose a way around all of this ‘real world’ malark for anyone approaching this terrible age. On September 9^th, I will not turn twenty...I’ll turn twenteen. It’s a self preservation thing. Peace out.

P.s this isn’t a mid-life crisis...I intend on making it to my bungalow.

Summer 2010 - Over rated

So as the summer holidays begin for many of the younger generations, I can’t help but feel a sense of anti-climax; like the summer novelty has worn off and these past weeks have done nothing but drag along. I’m all out of straws to clutch at with regards to the weather; however my ever pale complexion means I’m delaying packing away the sun cream until the first signs of snow.

It’s definitely a case of frustration. Frustration at: weather; repetitiveness; the fact that I’m not still on my travels. (Tick any or all of the above) but the underlying catalyst of my frustrations is boredom. There is only so many times you can go to the gym, kick a ball around or have a drink at your local before reluctantly ending your night in a half empty hall, regretting the very second you handed over that sacred five pound note. People of Clevedon will understand and unfortunately for many, you’ll be able to relate to the latter.

Boredom does strange things to people. For example, I nearly, oh so nearly read a book yesterday. As I scoured my book shelf for good material I realised just how many autobiographies I own, all of good people, people who have achieved great things in their life; legends some would say. Sir Bobby Robson, Sir Geoff Hurst, Ian Holloway (sort of). It takes a certain person to write an autobiography. A person with good life experience or just someone with a great story to tell.

At this point you’re all wondering what I’m going on about and why I’m hypocritically boring you all to death. I’ll tell you why. As I sat in my car the other day, waiting at the traffic lights I heard something tragic on the radio, (cut to the chase I know). Everyone’s favourite pubescent battering ram Mr Justin Bieber is releasing an autobiography. Yeah whatever he’s got a good success story and I do not doubt his musical talents. But please, give me a break! He’s sixteen years old! What could he possibly have to write about? Ok, so he posted some videos on YouTube, Usher saw them and signed him up and now he’s a star. Lovely story, almost bought a tear to my eye (note sarcasm). That fills 30 pages....what else? Two dot-to-dots, a colour by numbers and a word search? Is it just me that finds this hard to believe? I don't blame the kid though, if someone asked me to write a load of tosh for a few million dollars I'd do it; Instead I do it for free.

To accompany this, a film is rumoured to be in the pipelines. It’s good to see he’s catering for the majority of Americans by giving them something they don’t have to read. I’m sure the film will do okay, it certainly won’t be the worst life-based film ever, Get Rich or die trying has that award sewn up for a long time to come.

I’m very easily aggravated at the moment, as the previous 15 lines demonstrate. It’s nothing personal Justin, but it’s safe to say I won’t be buying your book.

In an attempt to put a positive spin on things, I start University in 7 weeks time which I’m really looking forward to. The thought of exams and revision again is quite daunting to someone who’s been out of education for a whole year but this is shoved out the way by the thought of a whole new start, new people and some great life experiences....oh and the degree bit, that as well.

This post may make me out to be an unsatisfied loony who writes with little structure and just blurts out his moans and issues with society before forcing them on to everyone else (some of that is true)...that’s assuming that people actually read this random rant. I’m happy, just bored and in need of something new. I’ll know it when I find it...Uni could be just the remedy. Over and out.

World Cup Fever...someone forgot to tell England

The long awaited return of the blog and what better topic to cover than the World Cup! It’s only the quarter final stage so England are obviously still in it. Ahah, if only. Yes once again after months of hype and expectation, English football fans are left angry and disappointed at an extremely under par and almost pathetic display in South Africa. Dismal performances in the group stage were followed up by an even worse showing against the old enemy, I needn’t mention the score. After the game, South African Police released a missing persons’ inquiry. They, like 6 million other people wanted to know if anyone had seen a Mr. J Terry and a Mr. M Upson who went missing between 1500hrs and 1700hrs GMT on the day of the game.  Incidentally, two of the 3 German goal scorers were born in Poland, which leaves me wondering if England would consider an invasion of Brazil or maybe Spain, is that how it works?  

One thing we have learnt from this competition is that sport can be oh so unpredictable. France and Italy both out in groups and King of the Underdogs, Ghana battling their way to the quarter finals only to lose on penalties. Their defeat came in sickening circumstances as Gyan snatched defeat from the jaws of victory with his late penalty miss; Uruguay then ran out 4-2 winners in the shoot out leaving football fans worldwide feeling as disappointed as the moment you pulled out Honduras in the work sweep stake, as your smug boss sits in the corner with Spain, next to his secretary , who has just pulled out Argentina, what a fix! Just for the record that is a completely fictional situation and is not one I have been involved in.

A big talking point of the tournament has been the rise to fame of the infamous Vuvuzella. These ear droning horns that produce a noise similar to that of a swarm of bees have received huge criticism from travelling fans. I can’t say I’ve ever had to sit next to someone transferring the contents of their lungs into one of these Vuvu-somethings and if I had my opinion would most certainly differ. But I see them as a footballing tradition in South African stadiums; much like the Mexican wave in Mexico, Samba Drums in Brazil and racist monkey noises in Spain.

As an England fan, my interest in who wins the 2010 World Cup is pretty much over. But if we’re being honest, anyone but Germany or Argentina. In fact, I’d love to see Argentina in the final. Who they play I really don’t care as long as they lose and as long as the winning goal is a volley-ball like finish past a helpless keeper. What a great representation of Karma that would be. Ok, so I’m dreaming now, but seriously, anyone but Germany or Argentina.

Having sat through every torturous minute of every England game in this competition, I have noticed the way in which every single supporter is transformed into the beholder of all footballing knowledge from the minute the first whistle is blown. From formations to substitutions, Joe Bloggs turns into Fabio Capello in the space of a few beers. How fickle we are.

But, we always have Andy Murray to pin our sporting hopes to this summer. Of course we don’t! His performance was significantly better than the England football teams’, but once again we have to wait another year for a British champion at Wimbledon. I love the way in which Murrays’ nationality depends on his success. When he wins, he is that great British tennis player; when he loses he becomes that useless Scottish T**t who can’t win Wimbledon either.

Anyway, rant over...we still believe! (Sort of).

Homeward bound

Tsunami warnings, cyclone warnings, torrential rain and gale force winds. Not quite what I was expecting from my time on the ‘Sunshine Coast’ of Queensland, but after 5 months of constant sunshine in Perth my complaints are likely to fall on deaf ears. However, things didn’t quite work out in Noosa (not just the weather I must stress) and I have reverted to the original plan of coming home at the end of March, with a few minor adjustments. My stay in Noosa was reduced to a mere two weeks and from there I headed south, to Surfers Paradise to stay with Leighton and co in their apartment. Surfers’ is a city situated right on the coast, with never-ending beaches and tall imposing buildings. It doesn’t take an expert to understand the reason it is called Surfers’ Paradise; the beach lifestyle combined with the rampant waves seals the ‘Ronseal effect’ (does exactly what it says on the tin).

It was great to meet up with Leighton and people he is staying with, two of whom I met in Sydney at New Year. In the few days that I’ve been here I have already been ‘guided’ around the cities’ nightlife, so to put it and had a really good time.

My quest to come home looking like I’d been to Australia and not Antarctica, however, is looking to be a fail. I’ve been able to seek remedy in the ‘Sun protection’ campaign on Australian television which boasts the slogan, ‘There’s nothing healthy about a sun tan,’ so taking that into consideration, it’s not all bad, though a hint of bronze wouldn’t go a miss.

I have mixed feelings about coming home; I have had such a great time in Australia and have learnt more in 6 months than I have in my previous 18 and a half years. Living away from home is also a mixed bag of pros and cons. The freedom is brilliant but is somewhat overshadowed by the blunt ‘your now in the real world’ factor. For example, if you don’t cook, you don’t eat. If you don’t do your washing, you wear dirty clothes and if you don’t clean up, you live in a pig sty. Simple. It proves that, however much they try to claim it, parents/carers are not superhuman and doing things for yourself isn’t that hard and even carries a very satisfying after taste.

Despite having an amazing time in Australia, meeting amazing people and receiving an education in life not available in even the best universities; I am looking forward to coming home, even if I am going to have to accept that I am not getting my bedroom back. It will be great to see my family and friends again and I’m sure that, in a way, the quicker I get back to reality, the better. I wouldn’t say I had suffered from homesickness very often, which has been good. But when it did strike, it was very draining and leaves you feeling a little helpless. It is a strange feeling, in my case I’d worked ridiculously hard over the English summer to fund my trip and was living the dream in a beautiful place. We all spend so much of our time and energy moaning about our life, or where we live or how much we want to get away from everything and I’m guilty as charged on this one. But of all the lessons I’ve learnt out here, one of the biggest and deepest ones is that, you can be in the most beautiful, desirable places on earth, doing everything you’ve ever wanted to do. But sometimes, all you need is all the things you’ve spent your whole life complaining about. It makes you appreciate what you’ve got as well as what you’ve got to come.

I’ve got university to look forward to in September and I’m sure 6 months away from home will have given me a good store of life skills to get me through. I am somehow going to have to rediscover ‘education mode,’ after all, £20,000 is a lot of money to spend, especially if you don’t come out with anything to show for it. Added to this the 3/ 4 years spent on a degree, you might as well get something out of it.

Minus the appendicitis episode, the trip has been amazing! Even that had a positive, its better I had it out in Perth rather than Weston general. After all, you’re likely to come out with more infections/illness than you went in with in the current NHS climate.

I’ve met some amazing people and had a great time. My highlight of the 6 months has to be Sydney at New Year. Spending time with mates from home, together with the fireworks and the general buzz that Sydney carries made it an awesome trip.

So, home sweet home on the 23^rd and back to the glamour and gloss of the real world, with a completely different outlook on things. See you all soon.........xxx

God save our gracious Queen...

Hello all, the prolonged absence from my blog is something you probably are all used to by now and yes your right; it should maybe be renamed the monthly rant.

In my five months down under, I have noticed a distinct feature of the Australian people. This could be many things; for example their bullish arrogance, or maybe even the incredibly annoying way they finish every sentence with ‘ey’. It’s neither of these things. In fact it is something that I wish England would adopt; their national pride. It is almost indisputable that every Australian is incredibly proud to be so. This was self-evident on January 26^th, Australia Day. A celebration of everything Aussie, a public holiday, a date clearly marked in everyone’s diary. In direct comparison and just as a quick piece of English Trivia...When is St. George’s Day? Don’t Know? Had to Google it? Don’t worry your definitely not alone. In fact you fall into a large percentage that also do not know when their National Day is. The answer is April 23^rd, but why do we not celebrate it? Less than one in five people mark/celebrate St. Georges Day suggesting that we feel less national pride than any of the other home nations. Are we really proud to be English? I think not, St. George’s day is not even a public holiday. If we’re lucky the rare traditionalist will decorate their window with the cross of St. George. When, in all honesty this should be the norm. Even if we slip into Christmas decoration mode and go madly OTT with this symbol of everything English; go for it, hang flags out of your car window, get your face painted, even get a tattoo (actually on second thoughts, don’t do that). We’re never afraid when a World Cup is on, even if we all know exactly how it’s all going to end (Penalty Shoot out, Germany or Portugal). In 2002 the country went mad for the Silver jubilee that as an excuse for a day off is on a par with academic mentoring day at school (Clevedon School pupils will know what I mean). I would predict that a larger majority of English people celebrate St. Patrick’s Day than St. Georges Day...and that hurts.

We’re a country of The Beatles (even if, mixed in with some of their classic songs are some dreadful pieces of music), Queen, Winston Churchill, Fish and Chips, The Royal Family, David Beckhams right foot, David Beckhams’ left foot come to think of it (to quote Hugh Grant, Love Actually). Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, Henry the 8^th, freedom of speech...I’m sure somewhere amongst that random list is something that makes you proud to be English, if not, blame the shrewd content of the list.

In the past, the cross of St. George has prominently marked English dominance, posted around the world as a symbol of control. Let’s not forget that we did used to control large chunks of the world in the once great British Empire. Let’s also not forget the thousands of people that died, fighting for the right to be English. The least we can do is be proud of our heritage and history and display it once a year. Parades, Fireworks, Parties, you name it I want to see it! And if nothing else, what a great excuse to substitute a day off work for a day on the drink!

Moving ever so swiftly on, I’m sure most of you would have seen/heard about the shooting at the African Cup of Nations football tournament. The team on the opposing end was Togo who lost 3 members of their travelling party to this horrendous act of terrorism. The Togo team subsequently pulled out of the tournament, sighting obvious safety issues as their reason. A fair excuse don’t you think? Unfortunately we don’t share the same opinion as the powers that be in African football who issued Togo with a ban and accusing them of wrongly boycotting the competition. If being shot at isn’t an adequate excuse to leave a tournament I’m struggling to find something that is. If the whole team had been shot and killed, would they have still been banned? Or would they have just given each of their opposition a 3-0 win (like they do on FIFA computer games when you get too many players sent off, I still miss the days of being able to foul the goal keeper with a cheeky L2 tackle). Now amongst all the jokes about Adebayor not running 50 metres to celebrate in front of these gunners is a very serious matter. I’m sure the families’ of the victims were more distraught with the boycotting of the tournament than they were with the news that their Husband/brother/Dad had been killed. If ever there was an example of kicking someone when they are down this it. Maybe common sense will prevail and some sort of justice can be restored.

A source of humour with a slightly better taste is the John Terry affair (excuse the pun). From ‘why didn’t he have a go on Ashley Cole’s missus instead, to ‘having to fill the holes that the full back leaves’ and my personal favourite ‘What have Wayne Bridge and the Titanic got in common....they both should have stayed at Southampton.’ Terry has fallen victim to the fame factor in which your public and private life merge as one. Karma.

Next Friday I bid farewell to Perth and move on to Noosa in Queensland to start the rugby season. Something I’m looking forward to, though the thought of pre-season is rather daunting, yeah I know, ‘man up’ and all that rubbish. Keep posted for news on the second part of my trip, and who knows, I may even surprise you with a weekly post, but don’t hold your breath.

An eye for a photo and a New Year to end all...

I have been trying to think up a worthwhile excuse as to why I have yet again taken a very long time to update, what I came up with was on a par with the famous ‘my dog ate it’ homework excuse, so I’ll just say I’m sorry. In previous weeks my excuses have been based on ‘If you haven’t got anything good to say, don’t say anything at all,’ you know, the sort of thing your primary school teacher used to say to you after you’d told poor Jonny that if he stole your crayon once more, he wasn’t coming to your birthday party. But after an amazing time in Sydney, I could not even consider using it.

Sydney is a city with a tremendous ‘buzz’ about it. Its appearance demonstrates a clear contrast between the old and the new. Skyscrapers spearhead the city skyline but next to them stand old fashioned, classical buildings. Of course, no trip to Sydney is complete without a trip to the Opera house. From a distance, it looks a magnificent pearl colour, but as you get closer it appears somewhat grubby (apologies to any Sydney based tourism company), nevertheless it is certainly a spectacular piece of architecture.

However, you could be forgiven for thinking that you may have got on the wrong flight and landed in Tokyo (or Hong Kong/Singapore/Any other major City in East Asia to avoid being branded stereotypically racist). The population, whether they be tourists or residents was strongly represented by East Asia; and as we all know, there is nothing they like more than a good photo. Which of course is not a bad thing, but their ‘eye for a photo’ seems to differ somewhat from mine. Examples of this include snaps in front of underpasses, train stations and by far the funniest example, on a train! Four men each took it in turn to photograph the other three; sat by a window on the train...I failed to keep a straight face and would have offered to take a photo of all four of them had it not been so funny.

Of course, the highlight of the trip was always going to be New Years Eve; in our case New Years afternoon. We headed to a park in Sydney, on the opposite side of the bridge to the Opera House. It was a completely worldwide party. I met people from Denmark, Sweden, New Zealand, some fellow English, Spanish and of course Australians. The one thing we all had in common was that we all spoke English; of course, the English people had not the slightest idea about any other language which really says something about the ignorance of our great nation. It’s almost arrogance, but one we can get away with because English is such a necessity to other countries. But amongst all of these nationalities, I managed to bump into someone from Clevedon. Completely accidentally and just in general conversation, stranger still, I found that I work with his sister! Small world ey. It was weird enough seeing mates from school. This was of course planned but it is a very surreal feeling being 15,000 miles from home and yet being sat with two people you have spent a large chunk of your life with.

We definitely saw the New Year in with style! At one point, it appeared that none of us would get close to seeing the New Year with the rate of alcohol consumption but we all managed it; I’m very thankful we did! Having watched the Sydney fireworks on TV many times, I thought I had an idea of what to expect. Incorrect. Without a hint of exaggeration it was the most spectacular thing I have ever seen, better than Michael Owen’s goal against Argentina, better than the 1999 Champions League final, better than Jonny Wilkin....ok maybe the second best thing, behind Jonny Wilkinson’s drop goal. On a serious note, the whole show, the colours, the organisation was incredible and rounded off 2009 in style, you have to see it to believe it. (Videos on Facebook) In the days after New Year we decided to explore the Sydney nightlife in ‘hotspot’ Kings Cross. By Day 5, a well needed time out was taken by all and we headed to the Aquarium instead of the town. For a $35 entry fee I was expecting a guided tour of the Ocean, we didn’t quite get that. But, it was very good nonetheless, especially seeing the Duck - Billed platypuses. The American kid (I hate to keep picking on them but...) at the front did his best ‘Sid’ from Toy Story impression by banging on the glass at them as if he was expecting a Q & A session with them, but the platypuses followed the rest of the world’s (apart from Blair/Brown) and ignored him.

Day 6 signalled the end of my brief stint in Sydney and it was time to head back ‘home’ to Perth. I hit jackpot at the airport and managed to bag myself a seat with extra leg room. When they say extra they mean you don’t have to cross your legs but it was certainly more comfortable than the flight there. I slept the entire flight and was only woken by the plane touching down. I continued my hibernation when I arrived at the house, but sleeping a full day was sign that it had been a very good week.

Facebook is a wonderful invention as it allows you to know exactly what other people are up to, especially handy when you are thousands of miles from home. After the 225^th person on my friends list had commented on the snow in their status I tagged on that maybe I was missing out. I now know for sure that I have missed out, everyone loves a bit of snow and it is very rare that we get as much as we have recently. Living in a house with two brothers you can imagine the carnage that snow causes, with extreme snow ball fights, (we can all throw quite well) so I am a tad disappointed.

But the truth is, everyone loves snow until they realise that it could well cause a few problems, the novelty wears off. A bit like a New Year’s resolution; giving up alcohol is such a great idea at first, until you realise that your mates 18^th is in two weeks! Let’s face it, we are complete drama queens in England and panic sets in as soon as something slightly out of the ordinary happens. Panic buying, everything closed, even school children realise that maybe they should be revising for exams; it’s a good job we’re not Russian! I did however think about how cold I would feel if I went home today. Considering it’s been 30+ degrees here most days and is dropping to -15 back home (so I’m told), I realised that maybe I will stay quite a bit longer, a 45 degree difference maybe a little bit too much.

Today marked my return to work. I can assure you I haven’t missed it, summer holidays + Sunday + too windy for the beach = ABSOLUTE CHAOS. Hopefully I have only 6 weeks left until I fly east again, this time to Brisbane to play a bit of rugby. So the planning has already started. Anyway, I hope I have made up for my incompetence in the field of organisation with this rather long entry. Enjoy the snow, if you can. Happy New Year x