Start of a novel

Here is the opening paragraph.... "Oh for God's Sake!" shouted Gary and he let off a short burst from his M60 in the direction of the trees. "Don't these fuckers ever give up?" He ducked back behind the dirt mound and was breathing heavily. Next to him, Ryan was busy reloading his M-14. "I don't think so, they're persistent little pricks." Ryan turned, stood up and let out a short burst of his own. The enemy was there, they could see them moving about the trees, but they were well out of range and without air support for the next 30 minutes, they'd have to wait it out and be subjected to the enemy's superior fire power.

Complaint letters

I've not updated this blog in, oooooo, quite a long time, but I have been requested to make public a couple of complaint letters I have written recently. Nothing is quite as satisfying as ripping out some cerebral abuse. On the other hand, I have not received any response from these. The first letter is to Vic Roads who do everything within the powers of the law to aggravate normally quiet and docile human beings. "To whom it may concern I am writing to congratulate your traffic light sequencing department on the magnificent job they are doing along the stretch of St George's Road running from Murray Road in Preston to Separation St in Northcote. I have been driving on Victoria's roads for well on 18 years now and never, in all my life, have I come across a stretch of road that continually sets new lows in effective traffic movement. Please, let me set the scene. It's 4.45pm on a Sunday afternoon, and, as I am a masochist, I have chosen to subject myself to driving south on the nightmare that is St George's Road. So, I stop at the red light at Murray Road. No problem, after living in the area for 10 years, I've come to expect these lights to be red whenever I approach them. Beyond this intersection I can see a sea of green traffic lights taunting me with their lustrous beacons of freedom all the way to Bell Street and beyond. So, as I pull away from Murray Road what should happen next? Oh, the lights at Cramer Street have suddenly denied myself, and the 10 other cars traveling with me, passage south. A single vehicle had tripped the sensors on Cramer Street...yes, a single car, a 1985 Ford Laser too which to be honest, shouldn't be allowed on the roads anyway. So, as the Laser turns down St George's Road in front of me and the 10 other cars, I can see it obtain green light after green light as it disappears over the horizon. Meanwhile, the 10 other cars waiting with me has swelled to maybe 15 now as we wait, yet again, at Bell Street. Again, a sea of green is taunting me in the distance, which the beat up old Laser encountered earlier seems to be blessed with. As the lights turn green at Bell Street, I can see the green lights of Oakover Road, egging me on, tempting me with its brilliance, but yet again, we are teased, and another red light ensues. So far, it's been 4 reds from 4. An awesome strike rate! It would seem to me that the traffic light sequencing thus far observed has been calculated using a sub 3 second 0-100kph acceleration time. I don't know about you, but I only know of a couple of cars that can accelerate like that, like the Bugatti Veyron. Do you have a Bugatti Veyron? I don't have a Bugatti Veyron. So, from Oakover Road we are blessed with red lights at Miller Street, Normanby Road and Separation Street. All in all, a 100% strike rate! Top marks, well done. Elephant stamp for you. I calculated that all these traffic lights added 7 minutes and 20 seconds to my journey, which does not include slowing down or accelerating. So, 7 Minutes and 20 seconds might not seem like alot of time to you, in fact, knowing how quickly VicRoads operates, it's probably the same amount of time it takes for your hearts to take a single beat, however, for the rest of us, it's a long time. There is someone in that hideous high rise that is responsible for traffic light sequencing, who is probably paid far more than what I am, to do a job that, let's face it, a mathematics graduate from Open University could do far more effectively for far less money. I've driven on your roads for 18 years. In those 18 years I've probably paid you nearly $10,000 in 'registration costs'. I'm sure, if you paid someone $10,000 to do a job, you'd expect them to complete it to the highest standard possible. But as mentioned previously, your 'High Standards' would be hard for even an ant to limbo under. For $10,000 I could get a new bathroom, and the plumber would probably do a far better job at programming traffic lights too. Have you got a new bathroom? I don't have a new bathroom. As I mentioned previously, I have lived in the area for 10 years, and the number of times I have subjected myself to this ridiculous stretch of road is difficult to calculate. So, for the sake of argument, say I drive along this road twice a week, so in a year that's 104 times, in 10 years, that's 1040 times! Multiply that my 7 minutes and 20 seconds and you end up with 127 hours I have been waiting at red traffic lights along St George's Road. Whoa, that's a long time now isn't it? I'm not even counting going north bound either, which I shall write about another time. So, what I have done is prepared an invoice for you for $3,429.00 + GST based on my pay scales from the past 10 years for due compensation of my time waiting at your hopelessly inept traffic light sequencing. You can choose to pay it, or, more likely, use it to blow your noses on, or wipe your bums with, or whatever else it is you do to waste your time in that hideous high rise building in Kew. I'm more than certain, that if you respond, you'll regale me with endless sentences of empty management speak explaining that you "set high standards in road and traffic management ensuring the effective transportation of millions of Victorians everyday". Well, not this Victorian I'm sorry. Your 'high standards' are just what one would expect from a government run monopoly." ...and here is another letter I wrote in response to the abysmal sound quality currently afflicting Hoyts Northland: Hi there. I'm writing to inform you of the abysmal sound quality that is currently being produced from your cinemas at Northland. My wife and I thought it would be a nice idea to go to the movies on Saturday night and chose to see Red in Cinema 2. After forking out what is now becoming a not inconsiderable sum of money, we were treated to a fairly lame, and lets face it, pretty limp wristed cinema experience. I can quite categorically state that I get higher quality sound from the 5.1 set-up in my lounge, and maybe even from the asthmatic old tube TV in my spare room. I don't know who sets the level of sound at your cinemas at Northland, but maybe you might want to check and see if they have super powers such as super hearing, which us mere mortals do not, unfortunately, possess. Furthermore, this is not the first time this has happened. I recall not long ago trying to enjoy a movie at Northland but the sound from the movie was being drowned out by someone whispering 10 rows away. I went to find an usher who came in to the cinema, checked the sound, shrugged her shoulders, and walked out. Maybe she possesses this famed super hearing? Is this a pre-requisite for employment at Hoyts?? Anyway, please look into this matter because at the moment I'm thinking I should just wait for movies to come out on DVD or Foxtel, because at least then I'll know I'll actually be able to hear all the dialogue without needing to invest in some sort of high end hearing aide."

time flies

Well, it is quite shocking to see that I haven't posted anything here since mid December last year, almost 3 months ago! How times flies huh? It's not to say that I haven't at least thought about maintaining this, but the inertia needed to actually sit here and write something was getting harder and harder to overcome with each passing day. So, here I sit, about to get the (rather large) ball rolling again. And what to write about, there is a plentitude (or multitude) of topics one can embark upon, not least of which is the day to day workings of my life and all goes with it. Sure, that would be easy; get up, have a shower, walk the dogs, cycle to work, do work, cycle home from work, walk the dogs, go to the gym, eat dinner, watch TV, go to bed, repeat. Not overly exciting, but it sure beats being struck down by a horrendous disease and winding up in hospital for 4 months. But a couple things recently have really caught my attention and piqued my interest; One is the economy and the other is the climate. I'll start with the economy. Personally, I don't understand it. I think about it and wonder where all the money in the world comes from...what thin air? For instance, the bank loans me money to buy a house, but where does the bank get its money from? And where do they get theirs? I don't get it. What I do understand is that a hand full of knob heads in Wall Street selling cheap loans got us into this mess to begin with. Were they mental? Did they not think that thousands of people on minimum wages would be able to keep up their loan repayments? God Bless America huh? Oh, and to cap it off, governments around the world are chucking money at the problem to no good effect....."Oh, we know you screwed up, but here, take $500 billion to make you feel better."...and so the high fliers and fat cats continue to live their lives as if nothing is wrong. As for the climate, well, it's all about global warming. As a scientist I'm starting question the validity of whether or not global warming is being caused by humans or not. It's true, atmospheric CO2 levels have been much higher than what they are now, about 175,000 years ago it was up around 2,800ppm compared with today's 380ppm, and it really didn't have that great an impact on the climate. I'm not debating whether CO2 can withhold heat or not, I agree with that, no issues, but I think we need to look at how life on the planet can cope with increased CO2 levels, see if it actually will create the environmental catastrophe that many are proclaiming will happen.

Best and Worst TV 2008...

In light of doing this post same time last year, I thought it pertinent to do another list of TVs best and worst moments from this year. So, in no particular order.... THE WORST: 1: Australian Idol. Seriously, watching these poor kids get through to the 'final' and win and then have their single bomb at no.52 in the charts is terrifyingly brutal. If their record doesn't sell, suddenly these poor kids then owe Sony/BMG a staggering amount of cash to make up their 'investment'. As I have said previously, if one of these kids can sing Wuthering Heights pitch perfect, then they have my respect, until then it's just glorified karaoke. As for the hosts, well, sometimes you wonder if their batteries need replacing such is their fascinating and sparkling repartee. 2: Big Brother: Went from the best last year, to one of the worst this year. The change in hosts to Kyle Sandilands and Jackie O just accelerated the demise. As hard as they try not to make it a 20-something beach party, it always turns out that way, because the housemates are all intellectually devoid 20-somethings. Strange that. 3: America's/Australia's Next Top Model: The combined mass of egos of Tyra and the other judges is so great that they're starting to form their own gravitational field. Get off my TV. Now. 4: Make me a Supermodel: How shallow are people? Hmmmm, just ask Jennifer Hawkins who just scored straight A's in Shallow Puddle Diving 101. Is it just me, or does she never open her eyes properly? Why is she on my TV? Can she even tie her own shoe laces? 5: A Current Affair/Today Tonight: A repeat entry. If the terms "alcohol fueled violence...", "rip off merchant....", "How to feed 9 children on a budget...", "Undercover cameras recorded this conversation...." interest you, then you need to seriously take a long hard look in the mirror. And the best... 1: All Saints: As much as I hate to admit it, I do enjoy this show. It's really gone from strength to strength over the last couple of years and has become a real sleeper for channel 7. The sad death of Mark Priestly made it even more compelling to watch. 2: Enough Rope: How Andrew Denton gets big name Hollywood celebs to spill their guts over the course of an hour is quite telling. It's good because it's not like Rove where they have 5 minutes of quick fire questions before the next commercial break, it really explores conversation and was terribly engaging. 3: Top Gear Australia: It has had its detractors from day one, including myself, but looking back I don't think SBS did a bad job of it. The main host needs a bit of a personality transplant but the other two are perfect. The show was never going to be as good as the British version, not on 10% of the budget, but nonetheless, kudos for SBS for giving it a go. What people don't realise is that it took the British version a good three years before it hit its stride, the first 'reborn' series in 2002, if you watch it, is painfully scripted and sparse. 4: AFL Carlton Vs Port Adelaide: On the rare occasion that Carlton was given free to air viewing, we came back from 40 points down in the final quarter to win by 25. That's television, that's entertainment. 5: Documentary night on ABC: I think it's Tuesday or Thursday nights 8:30pm, ABC serves up some real corkers,mostly BBC derived documentaries. I might as well don the plaid slippers and dressing gown to watch these, but in amongst the sea of dross typically served up on the commercial stations, it's sometimes nice to sit back and learn something new.

I am like..... so hardcore

I always thought there was something missing during my morning and afternoon bicycle commutes, something that wasn't quite all there. Alas, I have found it, all hail the BICYCLE COMPUTER! Yay! Of course, me being me, it was on special at Aldi for $10, so I got Miss R one as well. So now I am able to tell how fast I am going, how far I went, and how many calories I burn. So, for it's first run to work this morning I managed to average 32kph for 21.5 minutes with a maximum speed of 51kph (downhill of course) with 270 calories burned. Awesome! My normal route is mapped out here: http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/220177 although this morning I chose to ride down Brunswick St instead just for a change of scenery...and to see how hideously bad car traffic is going down that way.....which it is, although no better than what Hoddle St is. I have noticed that if you're in car, there is no easy way to cross Alexandra Parade. It's a traffic dam, although I did do it the other day in the car on Saturday when traffic was backed right up to the North Fitzroy Bowls club along Brunswick St. Take Rae st all the way down, turn left, then right at Brunswick St. Easy. Is it just me or is Saturday traffic worse than peak hour traffic during the week?

When worlds collide!

I haven't thought about this for a while, but for some reason during some obscenly productive internet browsing I came upon this: http://www.space.com/scienceastronomy/050822_asteroid_apophis.html If you can't be bothered clicking the link, it basically describes the impending 32,000km close encounter Earth will have with a 350m wide asteroid called Apophis in 2029. 32,000km sounds an awful lot, but it's closer than the moon which is almost 380,000km away, so yes, a close shave. So, if this chunk of rock happened to hit our dear old planet earth, what would happen? Thanks to the University of Arizona, they've worked out a simple computer program to help out here: http://www.lpl.arizona.edu/impacteffects/ The likely scenario is that Apophis would strike the earth in water, probably deep ocean somewhere about 2km in depth. So, if you were 1000km away, what would you feel? Well, not much apparently. You'd hear it, almost as loud as heavy traffic, you may feel a slight tremor about 3 minutes later, but otherwise nothing. If you were 100km away, you will suffer third degree burns over most of your body and your ears would be damaged by the noise. Even if Apophis landed on solid ground, the effects within a 100km radius would be survivable. So, I guess should all this eventuate you would be pretty darn unlucky to be at the epicentre of such a collision, but I'm sure there are some parts of the world that would benefit from such an event.

The Dogs

It's been a while since I have talked about the dogs, so I will. We've had Cleo the whippet for nearly 18 months now. She was such a timid little thing when we first got her and did not accept human contact at all. However, I guess it has been only the last 6 months or so where she has become very attached to Miss R and I, she'll even jump up on us and snuggle in behind our backs on the couch when we're watching telly. She's still quite independent and won't come back inside from the park when called, but she lets us clip her on the lead at least, so we have to walk her in. It's funny, as much as she loves running full tilt across the oval, she just as much loves trotting along on the lead down the street sniffing every tree in sight. When we're not in her familiar environment, such as down at the dog beach or down on the farm, she never leaves our side. Merlin the retired racing greyhound is the crowd favourite though. Over the last 6 months we have become much more confident in controlling him and we're not afriad that he's going to ru off never to be seen again. IN the park at least we can let him off the lead no worries, it's all fully fenced and he tends to just follow me around now without looking out for the next opportunity to escape. He is even getting better with other dogs, he even plays now which is great to see. If another dog barks at him or snaps at him, he is very quick at high tailing it for home, the brave dog that he is....not. He did himself an injury last time we were down on the farm, his front right paw must've done a tendon in it or something as he can sometimes have an obvious limp there. Still, once he warms up he has a big 30 second sprint around the oval, he is then flat on his back for the next 12 hours. I swear, if you're after a low maintenance dog, a greyhound is for you. So yeah, the two of them still get along well, they'll take turns in chasing each other around the park. A greyhound should be a darn sight faster than a whippet, but they can't turn as quick, so Cleo gets away in that respect, plus a greyhound doesn't have the endurance of a whippet, not by a long shot, and also Merlin is quite stiff in his back legs so he doesn't stride out all that well. I really want to take them down to Templestowe flats where I hear there is a bit of a rabbit problem, let the dogs do what they were bred to. I think Cleo would probably catch one, but I doubt Merlin would.

So, back in Melbourne......

It's been almost 6 weeks since we got back from Europe. Man, time has flown hasn't it? So, now we're heading into the Christmas season already. And what of this whole global financial crisis that is supposedly occurring? Well, from where I'm sitting, I've noticed the phone stop ringing a bit, especially since I got back. What I do is primarily linked into the start of big budget residential developments across central Melbourne. Luckily, we have a pretty good working relationship with a few of them and I asked them how the current financial situation is affecting them. Well, not much apparently, well, not in the strict sense of the word. It so happens that they're going to sit on their hands until the new year before starting new projects. They're still able to get funding, they're still quite solvent, so I think you'll see things start to turn in the new year. I guess we're lucky here in that our housing market is not artificially inflated by too much, supply and demand you see. There's not much vacant housing here, and with 1,500 new people arriving in Melbourne per week, these people need to live somewhere. I'm not a economic genius, but it makes sense yes? And Australia is still exporting hugs amounts of natural resources, be it food or minerals, so I don't think we're doing too badly, even in this day and age, I guess primary industries are still the bedrock of any good economy. I hold grave fears for net importers of foods though, such as many European countries. What if we closed off food exports to look after ourselves first? Wow, now that would make us pretty poor, but on the other hand, at least we wouldn't starve.

The trip part 11

So, our final full day in Paris and of our trip. We caught the tourist shuttle (again) around to LaFayette for Miss R to try and find some perfume or some such, but in actuality, we were going to have to re-mortgage the house should she wished to buy anything, such was the shameful performance of the South Pacific Peso at that point in time. So we left there and tried to find our way to Montmarte and the Sacre Cour Cathedral. This meant having to brave the Paris underground metro system. Now, four years ago I never had any problems with it, I used it quite easily, but for some reason this time around I was apprehensive. We asked a ticket booth lady which ticket to get, but she a grumpy little thing that was obviously upset by our mere presence, so we used the automatic ticket machine. Somehow we made it to the right station and walked up hill...a very long hill. What I wasn't expecting were laneways filled with dodgy secondhand dealers and equally dodgy people. Suddenly we weren't in Paris anymore but the back blocks of Doveton. Seriously, not pleasant. We took a look at the cathedral at the top of the hill, as impressive as it was, and walked back down the hill. Let down factor 10. I also got hit up by the infamous bracelet scam, where some African guy comes up and asks you to put your finger in a loop of string. Apparently they go on tie a bracelet around your arm and then 'insist' that you pay for it. They were very insistent, Miss R wanted me to be polite, but I was ready to sink my fist in his face if he didn't leg it. So, we made our way around to the Musee D 'Orsay, really, the best gallery in Paris in my book. The Louvre is a waste of time and money (The countless floor to ceiling renditions of the crucifixion get a little tiresome if you know what I mean). Anyway, the best bit about the Musee D Orsay was the Impressionist section. Here were some of the world's most famous paintings, all in one spot. Van Go, Monet, Renoir, all of them. Even Miss R, who isn't an art buff, was suitably impressed. And this wasn't just a pissy little room, with 5 paintings that the National Gallery of Victoria would put on, no way, there were about 5 large rooms, with 10 paintings from EACH artist. Breathtaking. So, that was that. We had dinner at a lovely little restaurant around the corner from the hotel where upon I had my final Creme Brulee. Pretty bloody nice it was too. The next day, our shuttle arrived to pick us up and take us to Charles De Gaulle airport. Not the prettiest of airports in the world one must say, and certainly one of the worst security checks in the whole world. Only 1 x-ray machine to serve about three plane loads of people. stunning in its inefficiency. We had good seats home, the trip from Paris to KL was uneventful, prescription sleeping tablets working a treat yet again. However, the trip from KL to Melbourne was not so good. Apparently we had found ourselves in the unofficial 'baby section'. I'm really not convinced that a 10 hour plane ride with a 6 month old is a pleasant experience. We had 6 of them in close proximity, plus a few toddlers whose parents decided to suddenly disown them once in the confines of the plane. I think check in people should just put all the kids and parents together in the one spot, maybe down the back, behind a sound proof screen perhaps, because, from the reactions of everyone else on that plane we were with, that would've seemed like the smart thing to do.

The trip part 10

As soon as we arrived in Paris it was if everything became easier and much more user friendly again. We had splashed out for a private shuttle to collect us from Orly airport to our hotel. Yes, we had a man standing, waiting for us with a little whiteboard with our name on it. How special are we huh? He was such a nice driver too, he loved explaining to us the city sites as we made our way to the city. He even gave us a few handy French words to use, he was great. Our hotel was in the (we found out later the upmarket bit)7th district, between the Hotel Invalides (the big old army hospital) and the Eiffel Tower which we could see from our sixth floor window. Awesome. The whole notion of French people being rude and arrogant is unfounded. I was last in France 4 years ago and for a much longer period of time, and could've said the same thing back then. We always found everyone to be extremely helpful and pleasant, unlike some of the Barcelona locals who really thought their shit didn't stink at all. Miss R and I wandered around Paris during the afternoon, walked up the Champs de Elysee for a bit of gawk and then found ourselves a little cafe near the hotel. Anyone who knows me knows that of all the desserts in all of the world, I simply cannot get enough of Creme Brulee. And here we were in ground zero of Creme Brulee. Miss R bet that I couldn't eat one at every restaurant we went to during our stay, but I did, and these weren't your little ramekin ones either, these were practically served in breakfast bowls. Outstanding really. I wonder if a city can ever reach a restaurant critical mass. Paris seemed to have one on every street corner and in between as well, and yet they were all busy, even on a Tuesday night. We found ourselves on another tourist bus the next day, an easy way to get around to be sure, but again, the headphone commentary was rubbish at best. But it's a good way to see everything and to get around. We started at the Eiffel Tower, dodging the super dodgy street merchants trying to flog the crappest of all tourist tat imaginable. There really is too much to explain to go into any great detail, but Paris is simply stunning, really it is. If you see a gold topped dome on a church, the Hotel Invalides, or the old Opera House, it isn't paint, it's actual gold leaf, and it really shows. We stopped off at Gallerie Lafayette, which is quite simply a staggering temple to consumer-dom. We're talking umpteen floors of department store madness here, and we're not talking your $10 home brand tracky dacks here. All the high end stuff was to be found, from Gucci, YSL, Prada, Versace, Chanel...just staggering. I'm not sure how many people were actually in there to buy anything as opposed to just having a good ol sticky beak at how the other half live. A $350 t-shirt...come on, that's just silly. We got on the bus and off again half way along the Champs and found ourselves walking back to the hotel through some very exclusive streets. We bought some very very high end chocolate from a lovely chocolatier who was very excited about us being Australian. According to him "I simply luuurve Australians, you are always so happy." Warms the heart really huh? We ended up having dinner at a restaurant next door to the hotel which, from what I thought, were pretty reasonable main meal prices. Yet, the bill came to a staggering €75.00!! I was amazed, yet they had pinged us for coffees that were €4.50 each...yes, that's almost A$9.00....for a coffee....boggles the mind that people over there can afford anything.

The trip part 9

Our last full day in Barcelona allowed me the time to get my money's worth at the all inclusive breakfast buffet. Quite an unhealthy array of fatty pastries, meat, eggs, cereal and more pastries were consumed. I was hoping it would tide me over until dinner time as we had found that lunch, and take away food in general was becoming prohibitively expensive, especially since the Aussie dollar continued its downward trajectory. Our plan was to visit the tallest building in Barcelona, La Sagrida Familia, or, as a rough translation, the 'massive funny lookin church'. The cathedral, if you aren't familiar with it, is the pinnacle of design from the architect Antoni Gaudi. He was famous for rounded, organic lines in his buildings, inspired by natural shapes and geometry. Truly breathtaking indeed. Construction of the cathedral began around 1890, however, due to the complexity of the design, engineering limitations of the time prevented the entire cathedral being built. In fact it has been a constant work in progress so much so the the expected year of completion will be sometime around 2050. As a result, the interior still resembles a building site, although much had been done since I last visited four years ago. But, in truth, I dunno if it is worth the admission. A building site is a building site, and not very exciting at that. Despite that, Miss R and I completely lost track of time and realised we had spent nearly three hours in there. We got on the tourist shuttle again and headed for Parc Guell. I thought it would be nice to chill out there for a while. Parc Guell is a park constructed by Gaudi for a good friend of his, but is thankfully open to the public. The unfortunate thing was that this was a sunny sunday, so I think just about every person in Barcelona had the same idea as us. It wasn't bad, just not very peaceful. Dodgy men from north Africa were everywhere trying to sell 'tourist tat' and were being 'moved on' by the resident security guard. We decided on having some good Spanish tapas for dinner and we weren't disappointed. If I could remember the name of the restaurant I'd write it here for a strong recommendation. If you're ever there, I think it was north of Placa Catalunya and had a red and white colour scheme. Anyway, the food was great, the establishment clean and the staff very friendly. Our waiter was very interested that we had come all the way from Australia to be at his restaurant, but I don't think he was as enamored with the American couple sitting next to us. So, the next day we flew out to Paris, but here was where Spain was to give us one last bit on the bum. Miss R checked us out whilst I stood outside the hotel with the taxi driver waiting...and waiting...and waiting. I went back in and asked what was going on. Apparently, all those 'collect calls' we had made to Australia had cost us €78.00. That translates to about A$160! for three phone calls! Talk about rort, we were even told that they were reverse charges. But oh no, the check out guy suddenly couldn't speak English and wouldn't understand our protests. So what else could we do but suck it in and pay. As if they hadn't already got enough of our money. Then, so cap it off, we had found that teh taxi driver had had his meter running the whole time, so before we had even left the hotel there was €6 on the meter! That's $A12, enough to get me from Reservoir to Fitzroy and still have change, and yet we hadn't even moved yet! By teh time we had gotten to the airport, the total amounted to €35...phew, not a total rip off...until the driver presses a few buttons on the meter and suddenly the total is €45! Easily the most expensive cab fare I have ever taken. Step into Barcelona airport and it was pandemonium. The check in queues were hideously long and they weren't moving at all. I thought, this can't be right, these people aren't all going to Paris, indeed they were all heading to Madrid. And then I saw it, three check in counters at the end with three people lined up at each. It occurred to me that sometimes people are just sheep, they just accept the norm, whereas, thankfully, some people break the mould. I lined up adn we checked in in 10 minutes. If we had stayed with everyone else in the long lines we would've missed our flight and that would've just taken the biscuit. Quite frankly, Barcelona this time around was a disappointment. It just felt dirty, tacky, touristy and like no-one was willing to help us and that everyone was trying to stitch you up. Good weather but.

The trip part 8

So, having our main suitcase back meant at least we could change into some clean-ish clothes, and head out to do some touristy things whilst the hotel changed our room. We headed for Placa Catalunya around the corner and the plan was to catch the tourist bus around, see everything, then the next day stop off at what we wanted to spend more time at. Best laid plans of course. The main tourist bus, the government run Bus Turistic, has a ticket booth queue stretching to Madrid, so we opted for the 'other' tourist shuttle bus. Now, I don't mean to sound harsh here, but the running commentary by this bus company was sparse at best. Miss R kept turning to me and asking, "Did you understand that?/what does she mean?/I can't hear what she's saying," etc etc. Yes, not the best as you can well imagine. I think if you are going to offer an English option, at least get a native English speaker to speak it. Heck, I would've done it if they had asked me. It was quite a warm sunny day, we were sitting on the open top deck, but it was likely soon we'd get sunburnt, so we went down stairs. As it was getting near lunch time, Miss R and I decided to get off the bus at some random stop near the main palace. After walking around for a little bit we stumbled upon a 'medieval' market. Despite how tacky you might think that sounds, it was actually very good and the Spanish do know how to make good assorted bakery products. My Spanish was rubbish, I should've brushed up on a bit before we landed. One of the main words I should've learned was for 'meat' (which is 'carne' by the way...DER!) as Miss R is a vegetarian. So trying to ask a Spanish stall holder which dishes were vegetarian was quite futile. I don't think there is such a term in Spanish for vegetarian, as from what I could gather, their diet is strictly carnivore. Miss R's attempts at communication was to sound like a mentally challenged person putting on a bad Italian accent and asking "No meat no meat??", nup, still non comprende. Anyway, it was a nice little market, we picked up some ridiculously fat laden chocolate pastry thing that dripped all over my hands. Why aren't Spanish people fat...oh yeah, that's right, most of them wouldn't have been able to afford the hideously overpriced food we encountered. After a day out doing a big lap in the tourist bus, we made it back to the hotel and at last, a shower that drains away!! YAY! After three days stinking like a dog, it would have to have been one of the best showers I have ever had in the history of me. We had dinner in a lovely restaurant around the corner from the hotel. The staff were really very very nice and accommodating for our lack on language skills. I had looked up a few phrases courtesy of babel-fish before heading out, so at least we knew that we could ask ¿Esto tiene carne?

The trip part 7

So, Barcelona...where to start. Okay then, how about with the shittiest airport experience ever?? Actually the flight from London to Barcelona was very nice, in a British Airways airbus. Now I see why Airbus is a far superior product than anything Boeing can dish up. Seriously, the cabin noise was virtually non-existent, and the seats much more comfortable. Really, if the French can do it, why not everyone else huh? Anyway, the walk from the arrival gate to the baggage reclaim area can only be described as epic. I think it took nearly 20 minutes. And upon arriving at the baggage carousel we managed to claim one of the our suitcases...the one with all of Miss R's shoes and our dirty washing....but wait a minute, everyone else from the flight has gone, and we've still to get our main suitcase. And I'm talking our main suitcase here, with all of Miss R's new clothes from London, not to mention all of our clean clothes and toiletries. And still we waited....... In the end we had to go to the baggage counter and file a report of a missing suitcase. The lady was okay, but seriously, their system of missing baggage has to be put into question. The poor lady had no idea where the bag could be, their system in Barcelona is not linked with BA's system. She gave a claim number and that was that. So we were left with the clothes on our backs and a suitcase full of shoes and dirty washing. Great. So, having been to Barcelona 4 years ago, I had remembered about the Aerobus, a shuttle bus to the city. The automatic ticket machine was infuriating, so I kicked it and we bought a ticket from the driver instead. Seriously, by this stage I wasn't enjoying this country at all, can you tell?? We got to our hotel, which, thankfully, was very very nice and well appointed, as well it should be considering how much we paid. By this time it was 1pm, so we thought we'd head out for a wander, at least have something to eat, and see some sights, and maybe by the time we got back to the hotel our bag would have turned up. We hired a couple of bicycles which was awesome, and probably highly recommended. It really is s great town to cycle around, although a bit scary with cars being on the opposite side of the road. We rode down to the beach, along the harbour and up through the old city. The weather was great. I must say though, that coming into evening, we found ourselves in some very dodgy back blocks that we quickly high tailed it out of. We got to Placa Catalunya right in the middle of rush hour, and seriously, there were people freakin everywhere. We couldn't ride anymore, had to walk the bikes around. So, we returned the bikes and made our way back to the hotel hoping to see our suitcase there. Alas, not to be. By this stage we were getting pretty peeved, no doubt. We rang the number that the woman at the airport gave us only to be told to look it up on the internet tracking system. But he had no idea where the bag was, and couldn't say whether it had left London or not. So we rang BA in London only to get a recorded message saying to call back later when the lines weren't so busy....which we did countless times. So, we thought we had better ring our travel insurance company. Oh, but wait, they had reps in every country EXCEPT SPAIN! So, we had to somehow find out how to make a reverse charges call to Australia. We had no luck. The phones were crap, no-one would help us. So we went down to the reception, and she ended up ringing for us, but of course, it wasn't business hours in Australia was it? So we thought we could at least have a shower, clean ourselves up, use the hotel supplied soap etc. Oh, but that would be too easy wouldn't it? We turned the shower on and in the space of a minute the whole bathroom floor had flooded and the expanding tide was making its way out the door. Closer inspection had revealed the sink hole to be plugged full of hair. Ewwwww. We rang reception, they sent up a maid to mop up, but they couldn't change our room as they were full, and they couldn't fix the plug hole as the plumber wasn't available. So we couldn't even have a shower. I'm not kidding, we hadn't washed since the night before, and we stank. Nothing to do except get some cheap take way, and wallow in the state of how crap Spain had been to us. The next day, still nothing on the internet regarding the bag. Questions start running thought your mind....was it nicked off the carousel? Did someone take it by mistake?? Would they take it back to the airport? Why wasn't it here?? We made our way down to breakfast, ate a minuscule portion, not hungry at all. Miss R and I were fed up, we were going to go back to the airport and talk to someone face to face as the people of the phone were freakin useless. We got back into our room and guess what....our suitcase had magically arrived!!! Oh I actually heard angels singing such was the joy. Hopefully Barcelona was going to redeem itself...unfortunately it was only going to be fleeting.

The trip part 6

The final few days in the UK really went by terribly quick. We went into central London to conduct a military assault on our credit card balance. First stop was the half price theatre ticket booth in Leister Square. We wanted to see Wicked, and quite honestly, I highly recommend this option. We had looked online the night before and A-Class tix were in the order of £60 each, which with the way the Aussie dollar was nose diving, equated to about $5,000 each. But anyway, after going to the booth we walked away with two A-Class tix for the price of one. Bonus! Then it was shopping time. I mean, people in Melbourne think they have the best shopping? Come on, who are you kidding?? Even country towns in England have a better selection of clothes than the tripe served up at somewhere like Myers. So anyway, Miss R and I successfully wore out the magnetic strip on the back on the credit card. That night we went to see Wicked at the Victoria Apollo. Yes, strictly not the West End, but damn handy to Victoria station and the train home. As far as musicals go, it was very very good, and I'm not a big musical fan by any stretch of the imagination. The good thing about the Victoria Apollo, and it's only a small thing, but it means a great deal, is the fact that as it was one of the more recent theatres built, so the seats aren't built for midget sized people. The next day we headed back down to Brighton on the train. This time we left in good time so I could show Miss R around the place a bit. After dawdling through the North Laine district yet again, we found ourselves in the more touristy Brighton Lanes area. Now, I really cannot for the life of me remember this or not, but quite frankly there were jewellery shops everywhere. It was a dazzling array of silver and gold, and suffice to say Miss R was drooling at every opportunity. We then made our way to the famous Brighton Pier, truly the epitome of tourist tackiness. The worst thing was that the wind was blowing an absolute gale and the thoughts of a pleasant lunch eating fish and chips on the pier were not to be. Anyway, from there we made our way back to Grandma's for what would be my last visit. It was bittersweet, truly it was. It was just so nice to see her again, yet being the last time on the trip was very very sad. I said that we'd be back for her 100th birthday, and you can mark that in your diaries right now folks; December 2010. Our final full day in London, and MIss R and headed up to Camden Market, I had been looking forward to this all trip to be honest, but I was sorely let down. It's funny how your brain plays tricks on you isn't it? I seem to remember things a bit differently up there, yet, all of a sudden every second shop was selling tourist tat and the in between shops were selling punk fashions. Not exactly my bag. Once in the markets, maybe if you're into second hand clothes, then it might be the place for you, but since I've kinda grown out of that then the attraction had kinda worn off. Luckily Miss R and I found a kindly suitcase shop where we had to buy a second suitcase in order to transport our copious amounts of shopping on the plane home with us. From there we decided, as our last touristy thing, that we'd go to the Natural History Museum. In the end we only found ourselves with only 90 minutes, which is simply not enough time to do the place justice. And that was England. I swear, you could spend weeks holidaying there and still not see or do everything you want to. I guess that is like anywhere else too I suppose. And then it was onto Barcelona......

The trip part 5

This day was to be one of my personal highlights of the trip; taking grandma to high tea at the Brighton Grand. We travelled by car and stopped in via Sevenoaks on the way. Now, as I have mentioned previously, I had the best of times and some might say, some of the worst of times in this town. I left in 2003, but the town had left an indelible mark on my life, so it would not be right if I didn't see how the town was faring. A little bit had changed, the McDonalds was gone, the two pubs down near the station were gone, but otherwise things were pretty much as I left it. It was still a ghost town on a Mid Sunday morning too. So onto Brighton and the trip to the Grand. I wanted to take Grandma there 4 years ago, but her health was a little on the down side, so it was not to be, so consider this a wish fulfilled. Now, I must say, I have never had high tea before, I've only read about it or else seen it on one of those ever perky travel TV shows. But man oh man, how good was it?? I give the whole experience 5 stars, truly exceptional. The staff were lovely, the service impeccable, and the food, my god the food. The three tiered silver platter with sandwiches on top (with crusts cut off too!), and cakes etc on the lower two tiers. Who would have thought that picking at little cakes and things would fill you up, but I don't think anyone managed to get through everything, we literally rolled out of there quite contented. The next day, Miss R and I did a big tourist day around London. Well, a bit of a tourist day anyway. We caught a river ferry from Waterloo down to The Tower of London. I love the Tower...the history of the place is quite staggering. This was my third visit, but quite frankly, it wouldn't have bothered me if it was my 10th. We managed to tag along on a Beefeater tour who had a voice that could wake the dead. No microphone and loudspeaker for this chap, lord no. After watching the two Elizabeth movies and "The Other Bolyn Girl", Miss R was intrigued by the fact that this was the place where it all happened. Here was the place where Anne Bolyn was beheaded and buried, here was where Elizabeth I took the crown and here was where King Henry VIII ate his way into a diabetic coma. Awesome. Also housed in the Tower are the Crown Jewels. The Beefeater explained at length that the jewels on display are the real deal, and not replicas as some urban legends would have you believe. Why would they house replicas in a 2 foot thick vault? Doesn't make sense. So, yes, these are the real deal, and stunning is a word that can not begin to describe them. The 500 odd carat Cullinan diamond is a whopping piece of stone if ever you've seen one. To give you some idea of its size, I would think a clenched fist is about right. Bloody huge. Leaving the Tower, we thought we'd head via docklands light rail to Greenwich. Easy you might say, but alas, track works scuppered that idea and instead of a quick 15 minute trip, it took a 40 minute tube ride changing at three stations to get there. Greenwich really is lovely, we walked from the station up into the park and the Observatory. Miss R and I did the obligatory standing on the 0 degree longitude thing, which we all must do I suppose. THere is a great view of the London skyline from there as well, although I really didn't think Greenwich was that far from the city, but it jolly well was. Anyway, we caught the ferry back to Waterloo along the river. The weather was starting to get a bit chilly by this point and we weren't exactly dressed for the cold weather. As a side note, I should say, that travelling on the river ferry seemed to a nice, relaxing mode of transport, and yet, pulling into Canary Wharf at 5.30pm on a weekday, you'd think more people would use this wouldn't you? Not many suits got on, I mean, it wasn't exactly fast, but I can think of far more taxing ways to get around London that's for sure.

The trip part 4

We spent a a great evening cacthing up with our Rezza neighbour Mr S, who just so happened to be in London at the same time. Funnily enough, we found out he was staying only two train stations away on the same line. Very convenient. The next day Miss R and I had grand plans of doing another walk around London, but wasn't to be as a dodgy panini ruined Miss R's morning, so we made our way back to Earlsfield where Miss R spent the rest of the day in bed and I ended up catching up on British day time TV. Such quality, although, thankfully, Miss M had the British History Channel, so the nerd within was quietly satisfied with numerous documentaries on the Roman occupation, World War 2 and Ancient Battlefield Strategies. A catch up day with our very dear friends Miss G and Mr J down in Surbiton was in order. So, Miss R and I made our way on the train only to find that Surbiton had decided to hold, apparently, it's once in a decade street party. Being a recent arrival to the town, Miss G had no idea where all the people had suddenly come from. But she and Mr J kindly took us down to Kingston on Thames where we soaked up some rays for a while. The weather had turned it on by the way. We all headed back to my sister's house where my dear cousin Super G and his fiance had arrived to meet us. It was an awesome night. Miss M had cooked up a pretty mean roast with...wait for it...Yorkshire puddings!!! So the 8 of us had a really nice feed and chin wag out the back in the courtyard.

The trip part 3

I guess the main reason from the trip was to visit my dear old grandma. When you think of the word 'grandma' my bet is your mind conjurs up some image of a white haired, 4 foot tall woman with glasses and a deep respect for the British Royal family. Well, my grandmother couldn't be far off that description. She really is a remarkable woman, and she is turning 98 this December, and from what I could gather, is well on her way to cracking the ton and then some. She has an amazing memory too. She remembers when she was a child during the FIRST world war, going down to the Brighton Docks with her mother to meet up with the fisherman as they came into shore as there were rations on meat and that was the only real chance they had to get substantial protein. So it was great that Miss R got to meet her that day, a real privilege I must say. And Brighton hadn't really changed since the last time I was there four years ago. I took Miss through my favourite part, the North Laine area, full of students and musty old second hand shops. It's still a great part of the world, and may I add, one of the few places in the UK where we scored a decent cup of coffee...most important. I did notice though a bit of mainstream creeping into the area, which is unfortunate, I think the appeal was the fact that it was so secret, or that the tourists stayed away from there, instead opting for the more exclusive Brighton Lanes with all their jewellery shops (more of which I'll talk about later). So, the next day, Miss M and Lord Bez took us up to Cambridge. I had never been to Cambridge before so I didn't know what to expect. Well, I could quite happily live there that's for sure. Such a lovely town, chock full of history and bikes! Miss R and I availed ourselves onto one of the many open top tourist buses of the trip for a bit of a guided tour. I learned the following facts about Cambridge, but please correct me of you know differently: - There have been 40 Nobel prize winners from Cambridge (and at last count, good old LaTrobe uni had a big fat zero). - THey first split the atom at Cambridge. - They first discovered DNA at Cambridge. - Students can't own cars within 5 miles of the city centre...hence all the bikes. - Schlumberger have a lab there that has a roof that can blow off should an experiment go wrong. Okay then. I guess I should post some photos, so here they are: THis first pic of of some old building. I think it's Kings College. Obviously the significance is a little lost on me. I must say I was quite taken by the green-ness of the grass and its distinct lack of weeds. Obviously no drought going on here then. This next pic is of the River Cam...hence Cambridge. Obviously had their thinking caps on there when they thought of a name for the place. This last pic shows the usual mode of travel on the River Cam, a punt. Kinda like a Gondola except not. There is no shortage of punt rides you can take. One is quite frequently accosted by, my guess is PhD students needing extra project funding, offering punting rides. In the end it kind of felt like guys in big trench coats outside of a strip joint whispering out the corner of their mouths "Hey, looking for a good time??"

The trip part 2

My sister Miss M had booked us for two very 'touristy' outings for our second day in London; The London Eye and Buckingham Palace. So, the London Eye is just a very big ferris wheel, moving very slowly around and around. It wasn't a terribly clear day, the lower cloud deck was encroaching on the skyscrapers in the distance and there was that unmistakable European haze that I had missed so terribly....not. Being a Tuesday, it wasn't terribly busy. Miss R and I jagged a capsule with a group of 4 Italian tourists, which was lucky as the next capsule was packed full of pensioners probably on their annual day trip. So there I was pointing out all the landmarks to Miss R who, I figured out, had absolutely no idea what I was crapping on about. Oh look, it's Charing Cross Station, Tower Bridge, The Soda Bottle Building, Buckingham Palace etc etc.... ......where where where?? Was the typical response. From the eye, we walked across to the Embankment for the first of what was to become many a pathetic excuse for coffee. I guess we might be spoilt here in Melbourne with the quality of coffee, but I guess what you don't know won't hurt you, and the people in London have obviously accepted mediocre coffee as how it should be. Newsflash people!!! Coffee should not be served so hot that it scalds your hands through a ceramic mug, (or later we were to find coffee so cold that it might as well have been a coffee Big M) don't let the espresso shot run through too long, and for the love of god, where's the taste??? After forking out the equivalent of $18 for two coffees and a muffin, we moved on. We walked up to Covent Garden, around to Leister Square and to Picadilly Circus. I was to find out later from my Grandmother that my great-great (I think)-uncle cast the bronze statue of Eros in the middle. Good job too! We walked onto Trafalgar Square which I had not seen since the road in front of the British Portriat Museum had been closed. We were scheduled to a 2pm tour of Buckingham Palace, so we managed to get there just in time. Obviously, the tour wasn't to go through the entire building, but it did wind its way through some pretty impressive areas. The first was the courtyard area where foreign dignitaries and the like get greeted by HRH. TO be honest, the front door was a bit of a let down. I would've expected giant Corinthian columns and the like, not what amounted to a dodgy glass lean to. Anyway, inside we were treated to a number of rooms, many of them quite dark and full of old, and lets face it, quite uncomfortable furniture. The big exhibit was the setting for a state dinner. Apparently it takes upwards of four days to set the tables for a state dinner and you can really see why. Each knife and fork etc is set using a measuring tape which smacks of OCD at the highest level. The setting they had set up was for 300 guests (I think). And the washing up??? All done by hand using a sink and a bottle of Fairy apparently. Wouldn't want to put all that gold leaf edged Royal Dalton through the dishwasher I guess.

The trip Part I

In the beginning...... We flew out of Tullamarine at 12.00am on the Sunday morning. As flights go, it was pretty uneventful, we ended up flying with Amalysian Airlines, so yes, the route to Europe encompassed a 3 hour stop over in Kuala Lumpur. This 9 hour leg was punctuated by a lovely 5 hour sleep courtesy of Stillnox. The only down side being that I woke up with my head hanging down to the left, so a sore neck ensued. How much is First Class again?? The stop over in KL was, well, let's just say, airports aren't exactly the most exciting places on earth, and certainly KL airport reinforced that fact. Miss R and I ended up sitting in the Starbucks for two hours because quite frankly everything else seemed fully dodgy. MMmmmm, yummy. Had no idea what the exchange rate was...didn't care. The next leg to Heathrow we were bundled onto a aging BOeing 747. Not the quietest plane going around, I'm sure the new airbus will have no problem being a bit on the quieter side...the competition, let's face it, is pretty poor. Arriving at Heathrow, my super sister Miss M and her boyfriend Lord Bez picked us up and drove us back to their place. It felt a bit funny being back in the UK again. My last trip in 2003 encompassed many good, and bad, memories. But it didn't feel foreign at all, just another suburb of Melbourne really. I mean, it wasn't, but it just felt familiar. Luckily we had landed around evening, and my jet lag wasn't as bad as I remember it in the past. Neither was Miss R, so thumbs up for prescription medication. We slept like babies that night and woke up on our first day of the trip quite okay. Unfortunately Miss M and Lord Bez still had to work, so it was up to MIss R and I to find ourselves around. We were staying in the South-western Suburb of London called Earlsfield, which despite Miss M informing us it was a tad unsavory, it felt like quite a nice place. Our first little trip involved us heading to Wimbeldon and Richmond on the overland train system. I forgot how fast british trains travel, and how frequently they travel too. A train every 6 minutes! Man, if only Connex in Melbourne could do that...sheesh! We got to Richmond to try and find a vegan shoe shop for Miss R. My lovely sister had SMSed me to give me the address which ended up being a 45 minute walk. No problem, got to see some lovely back streets of Richmond, including the back of the local Sainsbury's. Tops. But the shoe shop was a great success according to Miss R who proceeded to make good a purchase of two pairs of shoes. Not bad really, you can't get those sorts of things in Melbourne. The jet lag wall closed in on that first afternoon, but it was nice walking around in England again. The weather was pleasant...in fact, pretty much the whole trip was blessed with good weather. Brucie Bonus there. .....more to come.

The trip...a summary.

So, where does one start when describing a 3 week holiday overseas? I guess this will just have to be chronological...as mundane as that sounds, I can't find it in me to sit here and write umpteen paragraphs today. A more fully scaled description of events will follow, but the outline will go something like this: - Flight from Melbourne left at midnight on 21st September. Arrived London 8pm that night. Long haul flights suck. Sleeping tablets are a god send. - My sister Miss M and her boyfriend Lord Bez met us at Heathrow and took us back to our digs in Earlsfield for the next 11 days. - First day wandered around Richmond and Wimbeldon. Too tired to do much else. - Second day went on London Eye, walked to Covent Garden, Leister Square, Trafalgar Square, Picadilly, Had a tour of Buckingham Palace. Feet hurt. - Third Day went down to Brighton to visit my dear old grandmother. - Fourth Day hitched a ride with Miss M and Lord Bez to Cambridge. Wandered around there, took a tourist bus around the town and caught train back to London. Met up with Mr S who came over for a few drinks and dinner. - Fifth Day went into London again but Miss R had dodgy lunch so day trip aborted. - Sixth Day caught up with old family friend the Gabster and her hubby. Miss M then cooked a great roast with my dear cousins also dropping in. Great night. - Seventh Day down to Brighton again and took grandma to high Tea at the Brighton Grand Hotel. - Eighth Day to the Tower of London and Greenwich. - Ninth Day shopping around Oxford Street - Tenth Day last trip down to Brighton. - Eleventh Day Camden Market and Natural History Museum - Twelfth Day fly out to Barcelona. Main suitcase lost. Spanish people not very friendly nor helpful. Hired bikes and rode around a bit. - Thirteenth Day suitcase shows up. Catch tourist bus around Barcelona. - Fourteenth Day Catch tourist bus to La Sagrida Familia cathedral and to Park Guell. - Fifteenth Day get stitched up for phone calls and a $80 cab ride to airport. Vow never to return to Barcelona. Arrive in Paris and feel instantly welcomed. Wander around a bit. - Sixteenth Day catch tourist bus around Paris. Marvel at LaFayette department store. - Seventeenth Day Catch tourist bus to Musee D'Orsay and the underground to Montmarte. Get hassled by a group of dodgy African guys. Trust no-one. - Eighteenth Day Fly back to Australia...lose a day. Again sleeping tablets are a god send, but being sat in the 'baby zone' was well out of order. - Nineteenth day home.