A Backlog of Blogs

2009 was like the Friday of the decade. It had been a long week full of excitement, adventure, and life-changing experiences – but I was tired and went home early to have a very lazy afternoon.

That’s not to say I didn’t accomplish much that year, just that it was the more sedate and simple things that entertained me such as catching up on missed television programs, drinking with old friends, and certainly not blogging about my experiences.

But 2010 is now here: ‘The Year of the Future’, ‘The Year of Change’, ‘The Year of Progress’ (and apparently also ‘The Year of the Girl Guide’.) And for me personally it will also, at least in part, be the year for catching up on my blogs.

I wrote many travel blogs in 2007/2008 because I was doing lots of things which I felt were exciting, for myself and hopefully for one or two others that know me. I enjoyed writing them immensely, and the occasional feedback I received was always very encouraging; and given my tendency to forget – I think it was a valuable way for me to consolidate the memories that otherwise might have drifted off into obscurity.

So now I start a mammoth task: to remember 2009! I have a few photos at hand to try and stir my hippocampus into something resembling normal activity, a pot of fresh coffee at my side, and a host of music from the last year at my disposal to try and awaken those forgotten thoughts and emotions.

I will be organising my posts not by the dates they are eventually written, but by the dates the events I discuss actually happened. In that way, I hope to produce a diary of 2009 which doesn’t all occur in the first few weeks of 2010! I will publish them in no particular order, but will add a note to this blog as each one is written.

So it is with a promise that I will try to make my next blogs much more interesting than this one that I now begin....

Addendum...

‘Back in the UK’ added – 20th September 2009

Back in the UK

It was with much sadness that I left the wonders, warmth and whimsy of Australia behind me and returned, prematurely I felt, back to the UK. I had made so many friends, seen so many fantastic things, and been to so many exotic places that the previous year had swept past me with the speed and force of a tornado, leaving me a little dazed and dizzy in much the same way.

The plan was to arrive at the beginning of October 2008, find a job as soon as possible, and be back Down Under three months later. I was determined to make that happen! I spent the first two weeks mainly locked away in the eaves of a barn with Internet-based recruitment portals as my only friends, and took the first role that was offered to me. The money was average, the project was vague, but I could work remotely, and that would give me plenty of time to catch up with my friends!

Rather than live in Leigh where I had been immediately before I departed, I was staying in the countryside of Burnham-on-Crouch, as my family home had been sold in my absence (parents are like toddlers when they get to a certain age – you should never leave them unsupervised!) And Joe, my mother’s partner, very kindly agreed to take me in. So in a back room of his converted barn I worked away on my employer’s website during the week, and returned to civilisation at the weekends to catch up with the friends I had missed whilst I had been abroad.

I managed to balance my life pretty well. I was saving money by not having to travel to work and by sponging off my mum, and so fairly quickly I had paid off my debts, paid for my next visa for Australia, and had money in the bank for the flight back.

Realising time was short, I was keen to resurrect Super Monster Destroyer – the greatest comedy metal band to ever wear Christmas lights and stuffed turkeys on stage – and we organised a Christmas Spectacular, rocking loud and long into the night, and even managed to have Santa Claus deliver presents to all the good (and bad) boys and girls that came to see us. This was certainly the highlight of my first few months back in the UK – to play again with some of the most amazing friends and musicians I have had the privilege to be amongst, and get royally wasted in the process.

After Christmas, for various annoying reasons, the return trip to Australia was not yet ready to happen. So I postponed for another three months, and decided a change of strategy. I had my money, I had worked hard and been far away from my friends, so now was the time to start celebrating being back in England throughout winter and spring.

I sensed that my mother and Joe wanted their space, and I would be omitting all the facts if I said that it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind too, so I moved in with some great and longstanding friends back in Leigh. The house was large and very comfortable, the entertainment was always on hand, and the pool was freezing cold. What a daft time to live in a place with a swimming pool! It really made me miss Oz and the warmth! So before long I was planning some trips away! If I was going to be stuck in the Northern hemisphere, I didn’t have to remain in England!

And so in February I visited my family in the Prague. In March I visited my friend in New Delhi, and we spent some time in Manali in the Himalayan foothills. And in so doing, being unable to return to Australia wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Truth be told, I loved being back around all my friends. Most of whom I had known for so long that the time apart was like it had never happened. I was able to see friends’ bands, like Scratton Road and Dark Matter Transfer; Meet new additions to the various social circles I had left behind like the new role-players and photographers I met. We had some excellent reunions in familiar and homely locations like the Leigh Seafront and The Elms pub; and had I not so often been drinking a little bit too much, I would probably be able to categorically say (rather than assume) that I had some very deep and meaningful conversations!

Those three months passed quickly – and instead of getting straight in a plane and returning to the place I was still thinking of as ‘home’, another delay scuppered my plans. Spring was now here, and summer was approaching as fast as it could in England, and it seemed silly to delay another three months just to disappear as the Australian winter was in full swing and the British one just beginning – so I decided that I would wait out the summer. Before I left Australia everyone had told me that if I went back I would be gone for at least a year but I refused to believe them, and here I was making plans that would ensure I would be doing just that.

I was determined to make the most of my time in England though. I arranged to go to the mighty Roskilde Festival in Denmark to see some astounding bands, and meet with some very beautiful people; the new Dark Mills alternative festival in London, and I was also keen to have another Edinburgh festival before I ventured to the other side of the world.

In between these various trips I spent my time working for the same awful company, and tempering the irritation that came with that by role-playing with my friends, visiting shows and gigs, photographing anything and everything I saw, and trying to meet new people.

I ended up living in Burnham on Crouch again. For a while back at the barn – which in just the few months I had been away had transformed into something so drastically different it was practically palatial – with beautifully tended flower beds, large daisy-speckled lawns, newly planted trees and pot plants on a newly constructed patio, and decking around the swimming pool which was just crying out to be exploited on a long summer evening. When I had out-stayed my welcome again [or maybe a few weeks after that point] I moved into a cottage down the road where I could have my own space, leave my mess around the house, cook stinking foods in the kitchen, and not worry about disturbing anyone with the screeching noises coming from my guitars or computers.

Moving to this place was more of a blessing than I had expected. I was further away from the expensive temptations of the town, and so began slowly to save up some of the money I had spent on my too-frequent overseas trips and jaunts down the pub, and met several new people who really made my time there fantastic. The sort of people that made sure they were around to see me off before I finally left the UK, and brought more wine than sense to make sure that we had a fantastic night to remember (through the little windows the booze left us to look back through). I learnt to shoot traditionally longbows, made by Joe, and even cooked my first bit of road-kill (if you want a recipe for worm-stuffed pigeon give me a call!) The evenings by the water were as stunning as those spent cycling through the corn fields, and to have that last glimpse of quintessential English life before I left was just what I needed to temper my normally all-too-jaded outlook.

So sincere thanks and love goes out to all who made that year more than bearable (and apologies for including such a corny ending to my first blog in a year.) Thanks to all of my family who I know made sacrifices to bring me much happiness. Thanks to Robbie, and Darryl for being so much fun to rock out with; Gaz, Vince, Mark, Matt, Stu, and Jim for being very entertaining role-players and great friends; Liesl, Jeni, Keeley, Tina, Joel, Leo, Pete, Dan, Hayley, Jeff, and many more for being wonderful people to talk to and to listen to me – in and out of good times, and in and out of the pub! Steve and Scratton Road, and the crew from DMT for making my ears cry with joy and scream in pain (respectively); Fatts and Amy for their generosity and humour when we were up in Edinburgh, and Juan for his amazing cooking and unparalleled cheerfulness; Ian for being a constant source of provocative thought, inspiration, technical and spiritual guidance, Mike and Dave for being wonderful friends I would love to have known for longer, and everyone else (I know there are many of you) who I have not mentioned here but who I will always love very dearly.

A Day on the Great Barrier Reef

Magnetic Island is just under two hours from the Great Barrier Reef and so it is a great place for a day-trip. We set out early one morning on a catamaran bound for Kelso Reef and spent the trip out there sunning ourselves on the open top deck and learning about the marine life we were going to encounter.

We had around four hours at the reef but the time flew by. There was just so much to see that every second something new appeared and took our attention. Immediately after plunging into the water we saw massive Spangled Emperors, Red Bass Snappers and Yellowtail Fusiliers that had come to the boat-side knowing there would be food thrown in the water for them. Some were nearly a metre long and looked strong enough to tow us along if we had grabbed hold of them as they swam past. They were very used to people being in the sea with them, and brushed past me more than once without worrying at all. In fact most of the fish were like that, excluding a few of the more timid little fish that darted in and out of their hiding places in the corals.

There were also fantastic corals all around – such strange shapes and structures from the pointy Staghorn corals to the lumpy Brain and Lunar corals. Amongst them were Giant Clams, some a metre and a half across, brilliantly coloured Blue Sea Stars, urchins, and Sea Cucumbers. It was difficult to take it all in!

We were able to identify quite a lot of the fish thanks to ID cards we bought on the boat, and amongst my favorite sightings were the Moorish Idol, Bicolor Angel, Humbug Damsel, Bluegreen Damsel, Blue Devil Damsel – which were all small brightly coloured fish found darting around the corals; and the Spotted Unicornfish, Yellow Boxfish, Trumpetfish, Wrasse (including the Harlequin Tuskfish, Sixbar, Moon and Bird Wrasse), and many types of Parrotfish which were sometimes over a metre in length and much more docile as they cruised around in the waters.

There were a couple of highlights for me, though. Knowing that there had been a sighting of a turtle 50m from the starboard side of the boat I went looking for him and after fifteen minutes of drifting around the edge of the reef I spotted a big grey shape twenty-five metres ahead with flippers and a little head which was tearing at the coral, looking for juicy morsels to eat. He was well camouflaged, but I could see the patterned shell when I got closer, and the two Blue Angel fish swimming by his head picking up the bits he left behind. Swimming back to the boat a little later I came across two squid which were right in front of me, and even more impressive than the turtle. One tried to chase the other smaller squid away and emitted a pulse which effervesced through its body in a wave of multicoloured light. I in turn, chased that one for a while but couldn't manage to make myself glow in the same way that scared the little fellow off. But I had fun all the same!

It was a tiring but incredibly memorable day. To be immersed in the world of hundreds of fish, swarming around in every direction is indescribable – an assault of colour and movement from above and below, left, and right, in front and behind. As soon as we were out of the water and on our way home we were planning our next trip out there.

Living on a Tropical Island

When it came to extending our stay at the hostel 'Bungalow Bay' we found out they had a seven night maximum stay policy, so we sadly accepted that we would have to get back on the road and leave behind the tropical paradise of Magnetic Island. We were returning to Townsville later that day anyway to spend a final night there with Matt before he returned to the mines early the next morning, so we started saying goodbye to the people we had met.

One of the things about an isolated place such as Maggie or another frequently visited paradise of Katoomba in the Blue Mountains is that the people found there have decided to specifically spend their time in that place. You have no people passing-through, and rarely find day-trippers, so everyone there really wants to be there . Those that choose to make it their home are unique in their desire to be away from bustling cities and towns, and the small tight-knit communities they live in means only the most friendly and sociable can survive. So in retrospect, it was no great surprise that by lunchtime we had been invited to stay in several different houses throughout the island.

Anthony is a chef on the island, one of only a handful of trades that really exists here, and moved from a small flat in Sydney to a big house in Horseshoe Bay a couple of years ago. We met him briefly at a party the night before, but he was very eager for us to come and share his house with him and an English girl, Natalie, who worked at the wildlife sanctuary in the bay. And for the price of four nights at Bungalow Bay, we had our room for the month in a beautiful, spacious house with massive living area, pool table, huge kitchen, and lovely gardens.

When we returned from Townsville the next day the parties began again, starting on the beach and ending up back at our new house – and going on well into the night! We saw familiar and new faces come and go and made many friends very quickly. It helps having a pool table in the front room! When the first couple of days had passed and the house-warming had subsided we built up our connections with other businesses on the island – it never hurts to be friends with the local restaurant owners – including of course Ferrari's, the tapas bar on the beach front where we drank sangria on the hot afternoons.

Exploring the island was another joy that we immediately took to, and we found a track to the local pub which took us through a tropical wetland reserve past 40m high bamboo and palm leaves as big as houses. The locals called it the 'butterfly walk' – and hundreds of white-tipped crow and blue-spotted tiger butterflies flitted through the air above the path. The walk was also a great place to spot other wildlife – dozens of different types of kingfishers, impressive pheasants, bush hens, wallabies, kangaroos, pademelons, echidnas, and spiders – to name a few. On the opposite side of the bay was a huge lagoon filled with geese, moor-hens, lizards, snakes, dragon-flies, and much, much more. It was a wildlife paradise!

We found that the best way of getting to the other side of the island, about 8km away over quite a steep hill, was to hitch-hike. There's only one real road, so everyone passing would have to be going to where we wanted to go. It never took more than three cars passing before someone stopped to pick us up. This was how we went to Picnic Bay one evening to join in with a music jam and watch fire-spinning on the beach. The fire spinning was enough to inspire me and Matt to give it a try ourselves and we have the burn marks and bald patches to prove our incompetence! We also hitched to and from Arcadia one evening to watch the weekly toad races. My toad, Purple People Eater, came in third – but he looked like he tried hard!

We explored more of the bays on the island and found each one to be uniquely appealing. At the tip of the island is an area known as West Point where we went for sunset and saw that the water was as still as a mirror with ripples only made by the fish breaking the surface. Another bay was perfect for spear-fishing and snorkeling and others were ideal for sleeping on underneath a coconut or pawpaw tree. Living on this island for the last few weeks of our Australian adventure was going to be a real chore.

A Week on Magnetic Island

Townsville is one of the bigger cities in Queensland with a population of 120,000 who mostly serve in the armed forces or work in the mines in the outback and use Townsville as their base during their time off. The town itself is a sprawling mass of houses and bars, and the main attractions are often cruelly described as Cairns (a town several hundred kilometres north) and Magnetic Island, 10km off the shore. And after a day and a night in Townsville, where we caught up with Matt returning from the copper mine at Mount Isa, it was time to see visit of those attractions – Maggie Island.

The 15 minute ferry journey from Townsville was choppy, but quick and after a short bus journey from the harbour to gave us a glimpse of the tropical island before dropping us of at our hostel, Bungalow Bay. The accommodation at the hostel is mainly A-frame 'bungalows' scattered throughout six acres of bushland, so we dumped our bags in one of them and headed straight for the beach. Standing with the sand between my toes, I realized it had been nearly six months since I had been on a beach; and although that was because I much prefer trekking through the bush than paddling at the water front, I vowed to spend some serious time laying in the sun and listening to the sounds of the waves whilst I was here.

Close to the beach was a convenient pub, so we sat outside with a few cold beers and discussed our plans for the next few days. Matt had been on the island several times, so with him as our guide, we planned a 12km walk for the following day to explore some of the islands secluded bays.

The day was hot, dry, and clear – so even though the scrambling through small tracks was hard work it wasn't too uncomfortable. And at each bay we arrived at we could cool down in the water and dry off in the sun before wandering on to the next bay. We even saw a group of humpback whales off the coast as we were sitting under a palm on one of the beaches. One of the peaks of the island is renowned for the beautiful views at the top and the koalas living in the trees on its slopes – so our final slog for the day was up to the old WW II lookout built at the top of this hill. It didn't take long for me to spot a sleepy grey lump nestled in between two branches, and I watched him yawning, growling, and dozing for about twenty minutes. He was completely indifferent to my presence and only looked up lazily when I made some noises to get his attention and quickly returned to his afternoon nap. Further up the track we found another large male who was also growling and grumbling to no one in particular – but the highlight of the day was coming across a mother and joey as we were returning down the hillside. They were awake and looking around when we spotted them, and gradually began making their way up the branches to get some dinner. The joey clung to the mother's back until her weight prevented her from getting any higher and then the joey set out on its own, under the ever vigilant gaze of mum, to get the tender eucalyptus tips on the thin top branches.

There is an amazing amount of wildlife on the island. Some of it uniquely found here, and a lot of it is indigenous but animals like the koalas and a few of the other endangered species were brought over here when extinction seemed likely on the mainland. The possums however are not endangered by any means, and manage to get everywhere. Some consider them pests and vermin but their playful demeanour and inherent cuteness makes it difficult for us tourists to dislike these animals that pop up as soon as people start preparing dinner in the evenings. They know exactly where to go to scrounge the best meals! And of course there are the usual hoards of wallaby and pademelon in the fields at dusk.

There are also 150 different bird species living on the island such as sea eagles wedge-tail eagles, ospreys, owls, hawks, bush hens, kingfishers, pheasants, lorakeets, parrots, and curlews. The lorakeets are beautiful and very tame, and swarm down in their hundreds to eat food offered by the tourists. Not so amiable however are the curlews, a type of plover, which gracefully struts around the island but enjoys shrieking a piercing, haunted scream when it feels threatened, or lost, or finds food, or apparently whenever it feels like it. Usually in the early hours of the morning.

There are plenty of interesting plants on the island, too. Massive tropical leaves line the roads, up to 30ft tall, and there are dozens of different palms on the island. I saw a sign that warned of falling fruit – quite a risk when the fruits are as big as paw paws or coconuts; and when you aren't looking out for attacks from above, it's helpful to keep an eye on the floor as there are plenty of vicious spiders and snakes around, including the notorious death adder which I'm sure needs no further explanation. There are also some pretty nasty ants with green abdomens filled with formic acid – the same acid that gives citrus fruits their sharpness – so you can imagine what it feels like when they bite. Like a lemon squeezed into a fresh cut. But also like a lemon, the ants can be turned into a tea, or just licked on the bum to get a lovely burst of sour freshness. Yummy!

One morning I got up early to have breakfast with the koalas in the neighbouring sanctuary, which gave me an opportunity to eat and drink loads (a breakfast is only worth getting up early for if its a self-service buffet served with champagne) and get close to some of the animals. Barney the koala was a heavy but cooperative lump of grey fur that smelt like a mixture between eucalyptus and sweaty arse, and quite happily went to sleep as soon as he found a comfortable way to nestle between my arms and chest – though being a 'boob man', he did seem to have a more contented smile on his face when the girls were holding him. There were also cockatoos, crocodiles and carpet pythons which came out to join us for brekky, and later we were able to explore the rest of the sanctuary and had an opportunity to handle some of the other animals like the lizards and echidnas that hadn't made it to breakfast. The guy that showed us around was an obvious reptile lover, and told us plenty of interesting things about them. He was particularly impassioned by the fate of the crocodiles – all twenty-three species of which are endangered, yet they are still being farmed for their leather and meat. People tend to turn a blind eye, maybe because it is a reptile and people have difficulty relating to them compared with cute and cuddly pandas, or maybe because of their reputation as man-eaters. Even though only thirty-eight people have been killed by crocodiles in Australia in 200 years, and all have been either drunk Australians or German tourists splashing through known crocodile infestations at night when the crocs are most active. Either way, I don't think the poor fellows can be blamed for getting a little snappy.

Yet more wild life lurked beneath the waters, so on a couple of days we hired some snorkelling gear and went for a swim around the reefs. Water is not something I'm particularly comfortable in and putting my head under the surface and breathing through the snorkel felt very unnatural at first, but the lure of brightly coloured curios swimming amongst the corals made me forget about my apprehensions and soon I was gliding along with the little box fish, rass, and huge green and blue parrot fish that had also come to spend a day out on the reefs.

Tropical islands encourage a certain way of life from their inhabitants, where daily activities start when the sun comes up and end shortly after it has set. The days here have been beautiful, with clear skies and extraordinary heat that invokes a fabulous laziness – whether that is spent lying on beaches or lazing outside bars. The heat can be quite energy sapping, so bars and restaurants close early so their employees and patrons alike can get a good night's sleep before the day's routines start again – but there are hidden pockets of night-life on the island for the discerning party-goer to seek out and enjoy! The hostel has a bar next to a pool which is open later than any other in Horseshoe Bay – sometimes 10pm – and it is there that the locals and travellers can often be found towards the end of the night. So when the number of beers consumed is just right, that is also where the plans for parties are hatched, and from there we met some great locals – Aussies and Brits – who were always up for a good time.

Let the parties begin!

Four Days on the Road to Townsville

It is just over 1300km from Brisbane to Townsville, and much of that stretch has been described as 'famously uninteresting' in at least one guide book we have with us. So we were lucky that we travelled in a shit-heap of a van which made our journey far more remarkable!

The van had been 'affectionately' named Basil after the plant of the same name that lived in the van with us for a few months and also after Basil Fawlty, on account of the tendency for the thing to break down at the smallest sign of pressure. Breaking down was in fact the van's speciality, and we had spent many times the original cost of the rust bucket on repairs over the last few months. Knowing this, we had tried to limit the driving to a couple of hours a day in order to give him a bit of a break, but now we had a long distance to travel and not much time to do it in. The first day was fine, stopping at a caravan park overnight a few hundred kilometres from Brisbane overnight, but the fun began half way through the afternoon when Basil decided it was too bloody hot in Queensland, and that he'd had enough. So with many breaks and a decidedly sluggish pace, we made our way to the closest town of Gladstone to let him have a nice long break. But even with this rest and a fresh radiator of coolant, we hadn't even made it to the edge of town before he started protesting again, and we accepted that we were spending the night there.

Luckily for us, the nearby yacht club had excellent food in massive portions, so after having our dinner and taking away the leftovers (which lasted us each another 2 meals) we retired to the still smouldering van for an early night. On the way back we noticed a warning sign close to where we had parked. We had seen plenty before – warning about spiders or snakes – but this one told the tale of a terrible blight on the local community: vicious kamikaze magpies. Even the Aussie birds are out to get us!

The next day we continued driving through fields of ripe sugar cane and yellow grass, watching the landscape slowly change from the green of New South Wales to the dusty tones of much drier Queensland. Mountains sprung up, blue and hazy in the distance, and then seemed to approach as we continued on, turning greener as we neared and disappearing into the distance as we passed into new countryside. More signs warning of the proximity of the elusive koalas appeared at the sides of the road, and plenty for the cattle which dotted the fields that we were driving through and occasionally spilled onto the road. But rather than wildlife, it was the bloody van which dominated our attention again that day. Guzzling water, belching steam, and grumbling all the while. We made it a little under 400km before we had to stop to give it a 4 litre drink, and then plodded onwards again, ever wary of the temperamental temperature dial.

Finally, after consuming what must have been close to twenty litres of water, we pulled into Townsville, an industrial town nestled below a huge red rock escarpment. Now my only hope is that we can find an honest mechanic!

A Weekend in Brisbane

Our last morning in Byron Bay started slowly on account of the beers consumed the night before, but by midday we were on the road to Brisbane where we were meeting our friends Mike and Bex. We had originally met them in the Blue Mountains before Christmas, and seen them a few times since, but just a couple of weeks after we moved to Sydney they moved away to Brisbane (though they assured us there was no connection) and we were keen to have a weekend of drunkenness with some familiar faces.

Being on the road, or even when settling in a town for just a short while, most friends that you make are for one night only! Stories exchanged in the pub or round a fire at night are always entertaining – you always remember and retell your most exciting tales – but the start of the night tends to follows a tedious pattern of introductions and exchanging background stories and that level of familiarity that defines the relationship between good friends is rarely reached. So when you hit it off with fellow travelers, spend some time together and stay in touch, it's always worth the effort to ensure your paths cross again.

So it was with no lack of excitement that we made the uneventful journey 150km north to Brisbane and the state of Queensland to visit our friends that we hadn't seen for nearly six months. They had been living in a beautiful 'Queenslander' house; a roomy wooden structure on stilts with various levels and open spaces to encourage a cooling flow of air. But it was straight out to the garden we went to discuss our latest adventures and plans for the upcoming weeks. The weather was noticeably better than it had been in Sydney – staying warmer further into the evening and without a cloud in the sky all day.

That evening we went into the city to see a band that had been recommended to Mike – and to our surprise it was a band we knew! I had spent a while discussing slide-guitar with the main guitarist/singer in Byron Bay before his solo gig, but then missed most of his set that evening. So now was my chance to catch him again and this time with his band The Lapdogz. He didn't disappoint and neither did the opening act, Mark Easton Limousine, who played two equally impressive blues sets.

It was a little late when we finally stumbled out of the pub and into a cab that the more inebriated of us were very surprising to find waiting outside. And so it was with a slightly fuzzy head that we found ourselves walking to the market early the following morning. We'd missed most of the markets on the way up, so I was keen to dive headlong into the throng when we arrived. One of my favourite things about markets is the abundance of food stalls – and so I strolled through the crowds with a skewer of pork balls in one hand, a cup of freshly squeezed sugar cane juice in my other hand, and a lady finger banana in my pocket waiting for one of my hands to become free. The fruit and veg were amazingly fresh and cheap, but it was the temptation of the fried foods that mostly won out. As we left the market we saw a corner of a main street that looked like an allotment – and that was more-or-less what it was. An organic community garden where everything from broccoli to paw paw was being grown; with no fences or gate, and no vandalism either! It's a shame when a thought like that occurs, but when it did I felt it illustrated the difference between Australians and Brits perfectly – and markedly increased my resolve to stay amongst these people.

With a couple of brief stops on the way home for cakes, smoothies, and sausage rolls, we made it back shortly after midday. I was stuffed and ready for a kip; but managed to hold out until around midnight and spent the rest of the day strolling through parks and sitting in the garden with jugs of freshly made sangria and great friends.