Inadequate Skylines

The cities of Chicago, Shanghai and Sydney all have two things in common for me. 

• Firstly, I have been to each of these places and witnessed truly magnificent skyline views at night. 
• Secondly, I have tried to catch each one of these night time views on my little compact digital camera (and failed miserably on each occasion)

I have come to the hard considered conclusion that the things I have seen will have to remain in my memory and not on my blog - and perhaps thats a good thing. It all too easy to spend your time when seeing something spectacular in the world, taking snaps rather than actually enjoying the event firsthand.

The most spectacular (purely because of scale and the complete absence of clouds) night skyline I have failed to capture on camera has to be Shanghai. Here is the best photo of a very poor bunch (I am sure that Kerry or Dan from AllThatComesWithIt who were there with their SLR can beat this one):

Here is one I took of another fantastically clear night in Chicago in 2006... actually that is a complete lie, my colleague Mike took it and I 'borrowed' the photo as my camera wasn't quite up to the job (or I didn't know how to work it properly). I really like the foreground on this one, and the fact it is a little imperfect:

The reason for all of this random gibbering, is that last night Lucy and I went to watch the New Years Eve fireworks celebration in Sydney at Cremorne point. And boy was it busy! We turned up at 9am, and the only place left to pitch our blanket and cool-box was on  45 degree slope in the full heat of the sun as people had been setting up camp for days beforehand. Throughout the day, the place got gradually more and more busy (at what we thought would be a quiet vantage point), a ferried kept shipping more and more people in. The queues for the toilets were 40 minutes long, and people were camped out everywhere. 

Anyway, to the point. After a long day of sunburn and JD and coke (we didn't have a bottle opener for the beer), the fireworks were absolutely spectacular, as was Sydney Harbour. It is really something you can only appreciate first hand, particularly the huge day-long build up and the busy atmosphere. Some of my best photos (of a poor bunch) are below (in their raw form at present - soon to be photoshopped), and they look good, but I couldn't even get any kind of an image of the Opera house and the bridge both of which were spectactularly lit up.

The Blue Mountains

We went to the Blue Mountains this week, for a little bit of escape from the city and I have to say I was a little disappointed. Walking in the Blue Mountains is something I had been looking forward to for months. It wasn't that the scenery wasn't impressive, because it was, deep ravines, exotic birds everywhere and amazing flora I had never really seen before. the reason I was disappointed was because I never really felt like I had left the city. In fact it felt like the Blue Mountains is an extension of the city. Every walk is covered in carved stone steps, every slight slope has enormous steel railings concreted into the floor to make sure you don't slip. I think there would be national outcry if they did this in the Peak District. I think maybe we'll try to get a little further afield the next time.

The Blue Mountains are strange to me, as you begin your hikes from the top of the hills and work your way down into the ravines. The day was pretty overcast, so none of my photos were particularly spectacular - but here are a couple of the best (with railings edited out):

The Three Sisters:

Ravine on the "Grand Canyon" Trail

Birds of My Balcony

This is probably really boring mundane stuff to Aussies, but over the last couple of days we have had a number of visitors to our balcony (and we're not used to it!). So we have been birdwatching Bill Oddie Style and have seen:

Daffydd the Noisy Miner (actually there are several noisy miners - but we just pretend they are the same one) 

Larry and Lorry the Rainbow Lorikeets (these are Lucy's names by the way - she wanted to call her hamster Hammy the Hamster)

Damien, the Harbinger of Death.

And of course, Bruce the Laughing Kookaburra.

Ah the Nook

Today is Christmas Eve evening. Its 24 degrees C according to my computer (not so hot for Sydney). I have spent the day bathing in sunshine (and buying a fridge). But I have to say that for all the bikini clad girls and suntans in the world, it doesn't yet feel like Christmas. It might be the lack of freezing cold weather, it might be the absence of 8 hour traffic queues on the M1, or it might be the fact that I haven't bought my Christmas presents yet - but it doesn't quite feel like Christmas.

After some thought today, I have come to realise what it is that my life is missing. What I need to complete that Christmas circle. Its at times like this that I long for that great Holmfirth institution ... the Nook!

For those not in the know, the Nook (aka the Rose and Crown) is a bit of a Yorkshire legend. And here it is for your delectation in all its glory (don't get too overwhelmed, it actually looks a lot grottier than this in real life):

As a baby, I spent many an hour here (apparently) wedged under one of the scarred, battered and beer stained wooden benches, happily sleeping away whilst my parents supped on the glorious (filtered back) real ale. Ah the sweet nectar!

When I was a small child, I vividly remember my first sip of beer (in the Nook, where the pool room now stands). How I hated the vile fiery liquid (if only it had stayed that way - I would be a millionaire!).

During my teenage years, my Dad abandoned the Nook, claiming that it had been lost to undesirable local druggies and underage drinkers, reminiscing about the time that the Nook was the only place around where you would see a workman in his scruffy overalls sitting next to an accountant (or more probably an alcoholic).

At this point in the story alter egos will be assumed to preserve annonymity.

During my underage drinking years, the Nook became a haven. A place where my obligatory friend (lets call him "The Artist", the one that had more facial hair than the rest of us) could get served, whilst the rest of us cowered in the corner for fear of discovery. There is even a facebook group dedicated to those who had their first ever alcoholic beverage in the smoke filled air of that great building.

Eventually, as we came of age another of my good friends (lets call him "The Nurse" (followed years later by "The Artist") got a job there and spent 3 years observing the fruit machines (reading the fruit machine manuals) and emptying them of their wares at the end of the night, and we spent 3 years trying to empty the bar for free. Those were the good years!

Now the Nook is much as it was. The management has cleaned up the clientele significantly, though you can still find some of the underage drinkers chancing their luck. Over the bar hangs a cast iron rotating spirits dispenser that my Dad made for the place when he used to own a blacksmiths shop back in the 80s and that "The Nurse" used to complain about regularly for releasing Captain Morgans all over his head (I believe there is still a poker by one of the open fires made by him too). It still smell of stale beer and Seabrooks Crisps.

If you go there when its not busy, there is always a dog or two to pet, and a pickled onion or bag of pork scratchings  behind the bar for sampling (as well a some good real ale).

We tend not to frequent the place much nowadays as the gang and I are scattered across the globe, except at those times when we are all back in the 'firth, such as Christmas Eve. Hence the nostalgia.

Around about this time on Christmas Eve, we would be gathering (The Nurse, The Artist, The Rock Star, the Sergeant Major, The City Worker and I) - the only time that I can walk into a pub and expect a drink on the table waiting (assuming I am not first) for me. We would spend some time discussing how events over the last year had transpired. The conversation would go a little like this: 

"Alright mate?"

"Yeah, I got you a pint of Kronenburg"

"Cheers [drinks] ... its Carlsberg isn't it?"

"Yeah ... its cheaper"

This has always perplexed my other half who always asks me about how my friends are getting on, and about their relationships. I always answer - I have no idea about their relationships. I still don't understand why she would expect us to discuss all of that boring rubbish, when we still haven't concluded the argument on whether 50 midgets would beat a lion in a fight?

We would then proceed to spend most of the night avoiding people we went to school with. Either those who had never left the town, telling you how there was no point in leaving Holmfirth as there is nothing out there (always reminds me of the Arctic Monkeys song "Vampires", or some boring idiot telling you about successful they are as a London Banker and how you could never possible earn as much as they do (why do these guys think that you care?). 

Then we would get slowly drunk, do the beer salute (demonstrated kindly by the Rock Star - below) a few times, and stumble home, swearing at the local Indian Takeway which astonishingly isn't open at 3am on Christmas day (which we alway forget from the previous year).

Unfortunately tonight, I will have to make do with Coopers Pale Ale, Bundaberg Rum and coke, and watching the sunset whilst the boats manouvre around Sydney harbour with the lovely Lucy.... I guess its not so bad.

 

P.s. I did have a picture of all of the Rock Star, the Nurse, and the One That Got Away all pulling moonies in the Nook doorway, but I thought it a bit blue for publication.

Park at 60 Degree Angle

I started my first first week at work this week just gone, and immediately discovered that all of my pre-conceived British stereotypes of the Australian way of working are completely wrong. The pace of life of Sydney is certainly a little slower than that of the UK, but in terms of Aussie working being laid back - it certainly doesn't seem to be! Where us Brits - we love to queue; the Australians - they love rules and regulations.

I've had a few experiences of this over the past couple of weeks - from the way that the people drive so slowly, and no-one EVER breaks the really slow speed limits. The other day, my bus driver had a massive tirade of beeping and swearing at  car driver who had parked in a bus stop. As the driver drove off I heard the bus driver say "and he didn't even indicate at the roundabout UNBELIEVABLE! That's FOUR traffic offenses I've seen .... and the police, they do nothing you know! If I could hit him I would!" Personally - I was considering calling in a SWAT team. 

And you don't have to worry about what angle to apply to you parking here (or whether you should go in forward or backwards) - because the signs tell you what to do. 

I terms of climate change policies for business you can apply the same principles; those of Australia vary vastly from those of the UK (which will take some getting used to): 

The UK government apply what I would term a 'stick disguised as a carrot' philosophy - i.e. they create rules and regulations (and extra tax) which affect the cost of energy for businesses, which then get hit in the pocket and have to do something about the way they use it in order to make financial savings (or that's the theory).

The Australian have extremely cheap energy (due to the abundance of coal), and are extremely scared to do anything about this (as it has been an attraction for business moving to the country for many years). Consider this - when a Brit uses a unit of electricity, they produce 0.43kg CO2 per kWh (due to the current energy generation mix i.e. natural gas, nuclear, coal). When an Aussie uses a unit of electricity, they can produce way over 1kg CO2 per kWh depending on what state they are in.

The Australian government therefore apply a "stick disguised as a stick philosophy" - whereby they create masses and masses of regulation which require companies to prove that they have all kinds of energy management processes in place, and have to undertake all kinds of assessments and audits. The Australians love detail, and wont do anything without comprehensive cost benefit reviews to the nth degree so they take great care in completing these assessments.

Of course - if you applied any such onerous regulatory controls to a British company - they would just say 'what you going to do if I don't to this?', and would weigh the penalties for non-compliance up against the cost of actually doing it.

Whether the Australian approach has merit - I have yet to discover.

p.s. sorry for boring uninterested people - this probably just interests me.

The Kookaburra Laughs

When I was young, I remember listening repeatedly to an old tape of Australian folk songs. I'm not sure whether this was enforced, or whether this was through my own choice. One of the tunes I best remember is the Kookaburra song (my family will hopefully help me with the titles of the other songs which have since escaped my memory), which is a bit of an Australian institution.

The reason I am reminded of this is because this morning, I awoke to the sound of what I believed to be a gaggle of rampaging monkeys, escaped from the nearby Taronga Zoo intent on slaughter. Then I saw this enormous bird perched on our balcony. "Come quick!", I shouted. "I think we have some king of bald eagle perched on our balcony!" After some work on google, the reality (disappointingly) is that we seem to have adopted one of the neighbourhood Laughing Kookaburras. If you click on the link and go to the Kookaburra clip, you will understand the confusion (with the monkeys, not with the eagle - that was just stupidity).

Lucy wants to name the little chap Percy, but I think that Barry is a much more fitting name:

I have to report that we have finally managed to sort out something that resembles a living room, and importantly we managed to achieve all this on a shoestring budget whilst still managing to color co-ordinate the place with my new Mac-book. 

Mr (storm trooper) Potato Head is certainly very happy with the results:

All is going well, Lucy spends her days walking the streets of Mosman looking for nic-nacs while I work my new job (I'm hopefully going to write a big post on this tomorrow).

Posing with Ute

Lucy finally arrived in Sydney on Thursday after  huge build up. For the first time, I was one of those people waiting in the arrival lounge nervously moving my head from one side to the other to cover both of the possible exits she could take. But when she got here, it was all worthwhile, I almost couldn't believe that she was finally here (and she brought duty free Tobelerone - the snack of the gods!). And she didn't complain too much about the apartment with no furniture (or a fridge) in (although she did try to introduce some floral patterning which didn't go down too well. 

 A trip to Swedish hell (otherwise known as Ikea) saw that we instantly fell back into our old ways. Its so good to have her here.

I was reading Jerry Chicken's blog recently who (in between spinning Christmas tunes) has been writing bout his upbringing in Burley in Leeds (co-incidentally where I used to live) and his thrifty Yorkshire Dad who refused to throw anything away and was a sucker for a bargain.

I was reminded of this on Friday night when, after returning from a nice dinner (Lucy in a beautiful dress), we struggled about a quarter of a mile down the road to my apartment with quite a large fridge freezer at round 10 o'clock at night. 

In Sydney, there are a lot of migrants and temporary workers, and as most of the apartments and flats remain unfurnished there is a lot of furniture moving around to be done. Many people, a they move out of their apartments, simply leave their items on the front lawn of the property for anyone who wants it to pick it up (although I was slightly unsure of this at the time).

So as we carried the fridge down the road (that we had tentatively abducted from outside a neighbours house), our forearms killing us and Lucy complaining of a near terminal full bladder, I was kind of unsure as to whether we were stealing it, and also praying to the lord that the damn thing would work. It took us quite a long time to manouvre the thing in the dark, up the two flights of stairs (without annoying the grumpy old man downstairs) to the apartment, but we succeeded (although n

ot without swearing).

Anyway. The fridge doesn't work. So now I am left with the moral dilemma of whether I should leave the stupid thing outside for someone else to make the same mistake. Or whether I should pay to dispose of it properly.

In other news, I drove a Ute for the second time. This left me feeling exceptionally Australian and manly. See below Lucy posing with Ute:

Random Review

Taking what is essentially a two month holiday has allowed me a lot of time. Time to think, time to look inside myself and to re-evaluate my life. As I was unhappy with what I found, I decided that I should spend my time reading a bunch of books.

I have no real knowledge of literature (I am just starting this thing), but because I have nothing else to blog about) - I have decided to have a little review slot (also copy-catting my brothers Saturday review which I am slightly ashamed about). In typical RCWR style, I will do no research about bestsellers lists or other reviews, so I will tell you nothing you couldn't find out through a simple google search, and nothing will be up to date.

 

Like the sound of that? Read on.

7 Years in Tibet, Heinrich Harrer (1952)

Since my trip to China in 2005, I have had a mild interest in Chinese history (the trip was one which inspired my desire to see south east Asia). I have constantly been going on about wanting to go visit Tibet and do some trekking through the mountains (another of my new found likings). A guy I used to live with suggested I have a look at '7 Years in Tibet', a book made famous by the 1997 Brad Pitt movie of the same name. It took me some time to track down the book in bookshops (partially because I forgot the authors name), but once i did, I saved it for my Indonesia trip.

The book is hard going for the first part, the author makes the written excuse in his introduction that he is not a writer, and it tells in his writing style (it is also translated from German). It tells the story of Heinrich Harrer, a mountaineering and ski champion of some repute from Carinthia, Austria. In 1949 Heinrich is caught in India (on a mountaineering trip) at the onset of the second world war. His primary fear being captivity, he decides to make his escape from the British PoW camp and after being re-captured twice, he made it to the Himalayas, and eventually to Tibet.

His story really takes off when he talks of the months of hard trekking through inhospitable lands, and the years he spent trying to get Tibet to accept him into the country. However what really inspires is the story of becoming the fried of the Dali Llama, and learning of Tibetan politics and society. He accompanies the Dali Llama into exile from Tibet during the Red Chinese invasion, and goes on to be instrumental in raising global awareness of the plight of the insular Tibetan people on a global scale. 

The vivid and pragmatic depiction of the untouched Tibetan race (before the Chinese cultural revolution in which 1.2 million Tibetans lost their lives) is what has made this one of my favourite books. I can really recommend this.

Rating: 4 1/2 Rabbit Raisins

Mao's Last Dancer (2003)

Continuing the Chinese theme, this was a book that I had no prior knowledge of, and I spotted on an Australian bestsellers list. Another autobiography, this book tells the story of Li Cunxin, a peasant boy living in poverty in the 60's China. The book tells of how his peasant life is affected by the politics of Mao's revolution, how he grew up to love Mao and his policies although he descended into deeper and deeper poverty and starvation. Eventually he was randomly plucked from that poverty by the Chinese government (on the basis of his flexible limbs) who were looking for candidates to attend Madame Mao's dance school, and compete on a world stage.

He works hard, knowing it is his only chance to lift his family out of poverty and build a better life for himself, and upon the death of Mao and the beginning of a new open door policy he becomes one of the first Chinese people to leave the country. Upon leaving, he discovers that all he was told about the 'impoverished west' was fabricated and he uses his dancing as a means to gain freedom from the communist regime.

This book is written exceptionally well and is unputdownable for somebody keen to learn about Chinese peasant culture, and Mao's cultural revolution from the inside. One of my favourite self explanatory quotes echoes a sentiment given to me by a Chinese tour guide 'Oscar' when I was over there in 2005: "I often shed sympathetic tears and I felt even more grateful for the life that Chairman Mao had given us. If our life was heavenly, then these poor 

children's lives in America must be hell indeed."  

Rating: 4 Rabbit Raisins

Bridge over the River Ottawa

This is a bridge over the river that separates Quebec from Ontario (a photo that I took). Nuff said.

The Importance of Being Bald

About a year ago, I was on a staff night out with my boss (a very interesting character - I may post on him later), when we got into talking about ages. I vividly remember him saying something to me along the lines of "you've got plenty of time to get some more experience, what are you? 28 years old?". At the time I had to remind him, that I was in fact 25, and that in fact he had seen my CV and  therefore should know my age, and that in fact we had been working together for three years and he should know it anyway, and anyway - do I look 28?!

Since then I have never been able to figure out whether being mistaken for a much older age, is an insult or not. In a professional capacity, I guess it is not all bad - people assume you have much more experience than you do, and they give you a lot more respect than perhaps you deserve. 

On a personal level, it is much more insulting. Such as when I first met Lucy's friends, and they said to her afterwards "Wow, we cant believe you are going out with such an older guy", to which she replied "Not that much older - how old do you think he is?". Turns out they thought I was well into my 30's!

"It is because you are so much more mature and grown up than them" says Lucy. 

"Its not fair!" I squealed and ran up to my room, slamming my door.

The reason this has entered my mind is because of a conversation I had with an engineer at the steel works near Montreal, I was working at today. 

Engineer: "Do you have kids?"

Me: "Nooo!"

Engineer: "You don't sound too keen o the idea?"

Me: "I'm way too young for that kind of carry on!"

Engineer: "What are you? 35?"

Me: "A little younger than that!" Embarrassed to give my real age in an effort to not lose respect.

Engineer: "Oh. I'm 35. I guess you look a little older because you ... err ... shave your head"

Me: "WHAT? I'LL HAVE YOU RIGHT NOW YOU BALDIST SWINE!!"

(Actually I didn't make that last comment. But I am sitting here wishing I did!)

I know they say that baldness comes from your mothers side, but they all have a full head of hair, and my Dad is bald as a coot. My theory is that some past member of my dad's side of the family sold his soul to the devil and his descendants are still paying the penance in hair loss!

When Sam met Lucy (Part 2)

Part 1 can be found here.

In my usual manner, after having a quick look around the place - I made a beeline for the bar. As was usual for Mark, he made a beeline for the nearest single looking girl. If I remember correctly the offer at the time (there always has to be an offer in a student nightclub) was some kind of 3 for 2 on vodka red-bull as advertised on a scrawled chalk board on the bar. Being a Yorkshireman at heart, I could hardly pass up the offer, despite the fact that I didn't particularly like vodka... or redbull, and there weren't three of us.

I pushed my way to the bar, trying without success to use my 'older guy' stare to intimidate the sweaty students 3 deep at the bar into moving aside. Abandoning this I opted for the elbows in tactic of trying to get one elbow on the beer sodden bar surface and wriggle my way to the front. I remember it taking quite a few minutes to get my three plastic cups of delicious vodka and chemicals, designed to make you hyper and drunk at the same time (not a good idea). I grasped my reward for my patience in two hands, and turned back into the dance floor trying to locate my absent friend. There he was, over by the DJ booth, already deep in 'conversation' with a particularly young looking (they all look young to me) student girl.

'Oh well', I thought to myself, finding somewhere to lean, and chugging back the first of my three drinks. 'All the more for me.'

That when it happened. This extremely cute girl with beautiful blond hair came up to me, low cut top full of attitude and with a bright smiling face which drew me in from the very first moment. 

'Don't you know you aren't allowed to have two drinks in your hands at the same time? Its the rules.' she said.

'You going to buy me a drink if I can neck them both?' I replied. (at this deluded point in my life, I still thought that I might be able to impress girls with my ability to consume vast amounts of alcohol).

I smiled without waiting for an answer, shrugged my shoulders and putting on my best 'this is easy' face, I quickly drank both of the remaining disgusting drinks one by one .  She seemed like my kind of girl already.

'What's you name?' I asked. 

'Lucy,' she replied. 

'Hi Lisa, I'm Sam' I said. At this point the base was reverberating right through me, and I couldn't actually hear anything I was saying - let alone what she was saying.

After getting the names right some time later, I intimated that she was now indebted to me and that she owed me a drink, but being the gentleman that I am, I would go to the bar and get her some shots of tequila (presumably to get her drunk in a gentlemanly manner). Which I did.

We talked and she danced (I attempted to dance), and quickly became embroiled in each other. She was witty and flirty and had incredible big brown eyes. When she smiled or laughed her face seemed to shine in a way that moved me. Some time passed, I have no idea how much and we never ran out of things to talk about, though I struggle to remember what. 

She was worried about where her friends were but they eventually found us, as did Mark who had lost his student girl and was now trying to engage us in some kind of dance-off which we found so amusing (still do). 

I think it was when Mark was involved in one of his crazy dance moves when one of the overly aggressive bouncers barged past him on his way to some other incident. The club seemed a little emptier and quieter at this point, perhaps it was getting late. 'Watch it mate' shouted Mark at a clearly audible level to the bouncer (though mark didn't realise he worked there). The bouncer moved on, and Mark went back to his dancing, and I went back to talking to Lucy.

That was until a few minutes later, when Lucy said to me 'Is that your friend', pointing to some guy who was literally being bundled head first out of the fire escape, down some particularly nasty looking concrete stairs about 20 feet from where we were standing.

'Yeah', I replied. 'I think he is being thrown out'.

Lucy was surprised my my matter-of-fact attitude, but I tried to explain to her that it happened all of the time.

'I had better go, I suppose', I said, saying goodbye and heading to the exit.

That when I made one of my better decisions in life and turned round and went back to her. At the time, I thought I was the smoothest thing on the planet, but Lucy will probably give you a different story. I said something incredibly cheesy along the lines of 'you're beautiful, can I have your number?'. For some reason, against all reasonable odds it worked!

So the next day, I made the call and we were going out by the next week. It was pretty instant attraction (at least on my part).

When I left the club I never did find Mark outside, but he later informed me that after he left the club, he spent his time wisely piling wheelie bins against the fire exit doors in order to stop the bouncers, until the police chased him off. It amazing what things you think are a good idea after vodka-redbull.

Unfortunately every story has a tragedy. The sad part of this story is that Mark passed away in 2006 after having an accident whilst diving off the coast of Sharm-al-Sheikh in Egypt. I never professed to have known the guy particularly well, he was best friends with a housemate and good friend of mine. But I will always owe him for that one night out we had together that brought Lucy to me.

Borobudur

One I forgot to post from the Borobodur Temple in Java....

I will probably black and white it at some point in the future in an attempt to make it more 'arty'.

Random Stuff

I have had a couple of requests to do part 2 of 'When Sam Met Lucy', unfortunately I am finding it difficult to find the time. Blogging is very hard when you have to travel for half an hour to the nearest internet cafe.

Tomorrow I travel from Sydney to Montreal to complete a piece of work for my old company (for one week). When I was sent the work order, it gave my duties as: Day 1, handover and meetings; Days 2-5 observing the furnace.

Basically I will be spending 4 days peering into a furnace at 1500 degrees C. I have a strange job sometimes.

Heat is not my issue at the moment though. My issue is that it will be -15C this weekend in Canada. It is summer here in Sydney, and all I have is my backpacking stuff which I used to travel through Indonesia. This leaves me with a problem. Its mot very easy to buy clothes to withstand -15C when you are in a county at 30C.

As my Dad pointed out the other day, when I land in Montreal, I will have travelled all of the way round the world this year (given that I was in Montreal in June). Pretty cool. Its a shame I hate flying. I have the beauty of actually landing 2 hours before I set off.

Further news. I have somewhere to live. this is the view from my living room:

Unfortunately I now dont have any furniture and/or money. So if anyone wants to donate any of either - let me know.

Table for One Please

Whilst in my old job, I spent quite a lot of time travelling to different places (usually chicken factories in Northern Ireland, or steel foundries in Gateshead). during this time, I became very familiar with dining alone (you gotta eat!). I mention this, as since my arrival in Sydney I have had to do this a couple of times to escape the monotony of sitting in a room with my book, or watching the local, badly tuned in (why are they always like this in hostels/hotels?) television.

I have spoken about this to a few of my friends (and my girlfriend) who are horrified that I do this. They would never even consider going into a pub or a restaurant without someone with them. I even have frineds who won't enter a bar on their own when meeting people, in case they are first. they have to meet outside. 'I always feel sorry for the guys who are eating on their own', is the usual comment.

Dont, is my response. Take one look into the eyes of that guy sat in his suit on his fourth pint of local ale, digging into his Chicken Madras. What you will see is peace.

This is the only time he gets to truly empty his mind, and think about what he wants to think about, such as Steve McLarens tactical mistakes, or whether to get the new iPod touch or not, or whether 50 midgets really would be able to overcome a lion in hand-to-hand combat (a common discussion topic amongst my friends, and one which causes many arguments). Plus he gets to eat what he likes, and drink as much as he wants. The true beauty of it all is that it is usually on company money!

While eating out on my own, I have spent an entire evening in Amsterdam (the only person in the restaurant) talking to the waitress about her children and getting loads of free drinks, I have sampled some enormous steaks in Northern Ireland, and more recently I went on a full night out in Bali on my own (not company paid for might I add), rolling in at 5am, talking with an Australian entrepeneur and leaving after refusing to go on to an after club-club.

But mostly at the moment, I just sit and eat spicy pizza, drink beer and think about Lucy.

So here's to the single diners.

And Then There Was One

I stayed in the hostel last night to watch the Australian election results roll in. After 11 and a half years in power, Howard's coalition government has been dramatically displaced by the Rudd Labor party. I don't pretend to know anything about Australian domestic politics, but commentary suggests that it was Howard's lack of 'contemporary' policy which lost him the voters, and in particular a couple of larger issues including lack of action over climate change.

As a country so dramatically and obviously affected by climate change in areas such as water shortage and in effects on Australian national institutions such as eucalyptus survival, and damage to the Great Barrier Reef (advice is see it while you can), and for a country with such a reputation for environmental beliefs, I always found it strange that the Australian government had not ratified the Kyoto protocol. And it seems that Australian people (particularly the young)were somewhat confused by this also:

While setting up a new bank account with a local Sydney branch, the lady going through the application noticed my new job title "Climate Change Consultant". She enquired what it entailed, and I politely informed her that I went out to factories and large companies and provided advice to them in how to reduce their carbon emissions (mainly through energy efficiency and good management techniques). She asked me the very frank question "how do you think the Australians stack up against the rest of the world?" I gave her the honest answer of "I haven't got much experience of Australia yet, but I think they are around 5 years behind the Europeans". She went into a long monalogue about her frustration at the governments refusal to ratify Kyoto and take action on climate change - frankly surprising me with her understanding and concern for the issues.

Watching the elections and the commentary on the political mood of a nation, the Australian attitude reminded me of the British popular opinion of two years ago. For all of the faults of Blair's government (mainly with respect to foreign policy), Blair spotted this change of popular opinion some time ago, and begun to initiate change (though you might question how successful it has been). Howard did not, and he paid with his job (and his party paid).

Blair has managed to put in motion some political reforms and has presided over the implementation of a number of emissions 'cap and trade' schemes including the climate change levy and the EU emissions trading scheme. And he was there at the inception of the renewable transport obligation and climate reduction commitment (that the British people will hear much about over the next 5 years or so). Personally I think more investment should have been made into capital grants schemes, and into improvements in planning policy to favour renewable energy schemes. Professionally however, the inception of these trading schemes have meant massive workloads for consultancies such as the one I work for.

So one of Rudd's election promises here in Australia has been the ratification of the Kyoto Protocol. Which means that if my experience in climate change and energy consultancy over the last four years are anything to go by - the company I am about to go and work for will experience a massive rise in workload over coming months and years. Which is pretty significant, as it appears to me that it is the only reputable large company in Australia to be undertaking these types of projects.

In order to see the other concequence of the Australian government change on climate change politics cast your eyes on the linked map.

So I wonder. Will Bush heed the story of Howard and pay more attention to 'contemporary' politics? I wonder if Howard's story will be repeated on a larger scale.

Though of course Afghanistan hasn't ratified yet, so why should America.

Beginners Guide to Moving Country

Ok, so here I am in Sydney. I have learnt a large number of lessons in the last three or four days, largely through doing some extremely stupid things. So here is my guide to moving country (to Australia) based largely upon the things that I DIDN'T do:

1. Firstly, remember to call your bank to tell them that you are leaving. This way they wont cancle your cash card upon your arrival in Asia (en route), thus landing you in all kinds of crap!
2. Secondly, dont put your cash card in any Asian ATMs not attached to banks (discovered by my friend Pete), as if the machine swallows your card and then switches itself off, you will NEVER get it back. You will have to get a taxi to the nearest major city (using money you don't have - which why you were at the ATM at the first place), and then they will charge you to come out and fetch your card from THEIR faulty machine. Best just to cancel the card.
3. While on the subject of banks, make sure you set up a foreign account (in this case Australian) before you leave. Its not too easy to set up an account in a country where you have no address.
4. Always make sure you have accomodation booked if you are going to Sydney. This will save wandering around for six hours in 30 degree heat with a 20kg backpack on.
5. Never arrive in a new country during tourist high season - THERE IS NOWHERE TO STAY.
6. Never arrive in a city with a housing crisis on - THERE IS NOWHERE TO LIVE.
7. Investigate where you want to live before you land. This will save around 4 days of wandering from street to street.
8. Save up approximately $8 billion before arrival. (Deposit - $2,000, two months rent $2,500, Hotels $500, New Mac - $1600, Travel - $200, Intenet Cafes for blogging -$50, setting up a new bank account - $2,000 required, new furniture at least $1,000 as every property is unfurnished. That makes $8 billion right?
9. On the subject of banks, be aware that Oz banks charge you for EVERYTHING. To get money out of your account, to pay a cheque in. Even to get money over the counter from you own branch is $5. And dont expect any interest unless you have Bill Gates bank balance.
10. dont expect any help from Real Estate Agents. They are even bigger sh*ts that they are in the UK. Basically then can rent out any property at any price they want and still fill it. therefore they dont have to (and refuse to) work very hard. Expect them to take around 3 days before rejecting you application for a property (yes - you have to apply).

Well thats that off my chest. I am off on another wander to try to find somewhere to live. will keep you posted.

A Sign from Above

I am as a general rule, easily amused. I was browsing through my camera and found that I had quite a few which had amused me:

London: For my friend Hardy.

Singapore: Only so funny because the punishment is so out of keeping with the crime!

Singapore: "Please touch the animals, kindly do not lift them out of the water", the only fish petting zoo that I have ever been to!

Jakarta: An Old Favourite

Yogyakarta: where is the temple again?

Yokyakarta: How about a refreshing bottle of sweat?

I also saw an amusing one with "Please do not enter the temple if you are menstruating", (with all due respect to religious traditions) it made me chuckle a little...

I am laying out a challenge to see if anyone can top these (internet downloads not allowed)?

Also I have managed to upload a limited amount of new photos. I will post these soon...

Hiking in Flipflops

Last week we undertook the three day ascent of the second highest peak in Indonesia (Grunung Rinjani) which is essentially a massive dormant volcano with a large 5km crater lake at the top, and a smaller (active) volcano within the lake. The summit of Rinjani reaches up to 3,726m with the last 1,000m be largely volcanic ash, rocks and other crap which you have to scramble over in a two steps forward 1 step back fashion.

The second day was an eleven hour slog beginning at 3am with the final ascent, our guide was a 28 year old who said he had climbed the mountain at least 350 time over the past 10 years. His calves which were the size of a small country served to emphasise the point.

Phot form in the crater:

Setting off half an hour after a Kiwi couple, and 10 minutes after two French guys we joked with the guide that we had to beat the French to the top. A joke which the guide took all too seriously! The 3 and a half hour final slog to the top was absolute hell, with the last 300m taking over an hour due to the nature of the volcanic ash we were walking on, the freezing cold (very bizarre when in a tropical country), and the wind that seemend hell bend on blowing us from the precarious ridge that we were trudging up. But we did our bit for national pride and beat them all to the summit by 20 mins. The Kiwis blamed their slow guide but I am not so sure.

As I have already done all the hard work, I will give you the benefit of the view for free:

In addition to ourselves and a guide, we were (unknowingly) supplied with three porters by our travel agent! We felt like colonial English explorers on a full expedition. This is a photo of our porters taken at approximately 2600m. These guys carry loads of up to 40kg tied to bamboo poles. They are wearing flip flops!!

There were some other strange sights on the mountain including thieving monkeys who have a liking for cameras and anything shiny, and perhaps even stranger - stray dogs at least a days walk from the nearest house. They exist entirely off scraps provided by the porters on the mountain and are inexplicably well trained!

Its ok, the Rangers are Armed with Sticks!

Was what our guide said at the moment we were about to disembark for Komodo Island. "Surely he means stakes right? Like a harpoon or something?" was my response as we had just watched a documentary on the Komodo dragon (in which it shown to be able to bring down a buffalo!)

No joke - these Komodo dragons can get absolutely huge at way over 6ft long and with shoulders larger than a mans (the scale is hard to get accross in the photos). They secreet deadly bacteria in their saliva and the guide at Rinca island informed us that a dragon had recently killed and 8 year old local.

This explains why Pete was somewhat aprehensive as this dragon made a bee-line for him (of course the ranger was there with his stick). the rest of us saw it as a perfect photo opportunity however.
Komodo Island rounded off a pretty cool 5 day boat trip in which we finally managed to get away from busy towns and cities and hawkers and see some countryside, stopping at desert islands, small villages and some spectacular reefs (although one of the coral reefs on the return journey escaped with half the skin from the top of my foot) around the islands of Lombok, Sumbawa, Rinca, Flores, and of course Komodo.

As you can see the scenery was rubbish:
We made some good friends on the trip (who hopefully we will keep in touch with). And got some pretty good sunburn.

Cheers Bigears

Wow, so its been a while since the last post they will be coming thick and fast from now on...

Next stop Gilli Islands (off the coast of Lombok) for 5 days. As far as I can tell, in between hawking magic mushrooms to local tourists and playing the guitar - the sole occupation of the 700 people on this island is sleeping.

This is also the only place in indonesia where if you say "cheers" to your waiter, you will find yourself recieving the reply "cheers bigears" or "cheers moite" in a London stylee, for somehow, all the inhabitants seem to have learned cockney! They seem also to be very fond of "chicken curry don't worry", which I am not sure I have heard before!

The Gilli islands are one of the few islands who have no police, and you can tell pretty much straight away. I wasn't quite sure if the inhabitants were eating the mushrooms they were trying to sell, but there is definately something in the water!

Anyhow, we did some snorkelling, saw some giant clams and turtles, met some cool people, but most of all - did a lot of this:

When Sam met Lucy (Part 1)

An story for our anniversary - 3 years ago today:

It was a Wednesday night, one of the first of the student year. My housemate (an off duty marine) and I - a guy who still referred to myself as a 'young professional' (in an attempt to demonstrate my non-student status whilst still clinging on to my student lifestyle with my fingertips) were on our way into the club.

The club was known at the time (and perhaps it still is) as 'Halo', a former church near the university whose owners had somehow sidestepped planning policy (and common decency) to rennovate the place in the style of a 90's nightclub hole akin to ones I used to frequent in my youth. We were half-cut and quite obviously (at the age of 23) the only non-students in the entire queue.

We were dressed in tight shirts and baggy jeans as was the style of our generation. We had though we looked pretty cool as we had set out - completely unaware that the students of the age were for ripped skinny jeans, scruffy t-shirts and ridiculous (what we had termed 'Headingly wanker') mohecan haircuts.

Mark was the original wild child and a guy who has lived life to the full more than anyone else I know. A more unpredictable guy you could never meet. But he was a good guy all the same.

Mark had a ponchant for what he termed himself 'shit' tattoos, and was openly proud of the 'shit' Royal Marrines Commando Dagger scrawled down his upper arm (he was planning another at the time). He also had a liking for seedy internet 'dating' which I wouldnt like to comment on. All I will say is that I wouldn't let any daughter of mine 'date' a marine.

We had made a pact for that night Mark and I. We were determined to re-live (my) student days and with both of us having some time off that week, we had decided to head off on a Wednesday night to find studentdom. Upon talking to the natives in the local bars, we determined that Halo was the place to be on a Wednesday.

So there we were shuffling forwards in the queue trying to look inconspicuous when the bouncer at the front gave us a knowing frown as if to say 'I know your game' and promptly asked for our student ID. We exchanged panicked glances but just as we were about to offer our unrehearsed excuses someone from behind us broke for the doorway. A stroke of luck, our doorman was distracted and needing no further encouragement we made our own breakthrough.

Inside the club was already sweaty with heaving bodies. The multi-mezzanine floors throbbed with the bass of the awful 90's dance cheese that only student nightclubs could get away with playing. I looked around and could have sworn that most of the kids in there weren't even 16 let alopne 18 year old university students - the creme de la creme of the british education system.

.............

Unfortunately the conclusion of the story will have to wait 6 or 7 days as I am shortly going on my 'Hunting Kommodo Dragons by Camera' trip (although this apparently doesnt involve throwing my brand new compact digital at lizards as I first thought).

Also yes lucy this is a day late (sorry) we have been pitched into a two day blackout as the Gili Trawangon generator packed in and I was unable to post.

Sorry I cant be with you today (yesterday).

Looks like a woman - but with the strength of TWO men???

There I was just walking down the street minding my own business in the resort town of Kuta. Granted it was three in the morning. Granted I had just finished some ridiculous looking fishbowl thing full of some foul liquor. And granted the walls did seem a little wonky and I had to use both hands in order to hold them up in places (to ensure that they didnt fall down).

When out of the blue came a speeding scooter (in that it was going over 10 mph which is pretty fast for Bali) carrying a ladyboy with suspicious intent. The vehicles occupant jumped off the scooter and ran towards me. Now I'm an open minded guy and if given the chance would have politely declined the young ladyboy's advances.

However the person in question proceeded to perform a pretty challenging manouvre which involved simultanmeously trying to grab me where it hurts whilst attempting to remove my wallet from my pocket. Luckily I have seen the same attempt on my friend Paul in Prague and was wise to this game. With some difficulty I managed to prise them (these guys are strong!) off and quicken my step down the street. Unfortunately said person decided to jump back on the scooter and chase me down.

Now this leaves a guy in a pretty serious dilemma. All of my insticts are telling me not to hurt the lady (drilled into me through years of believing it is wrong to be violent towards women). The other side of me is thinking "I'm not a small guy, but the dude in this lady has a blooming vice like grip!"

Only one thing for it. I ran as fast as my little wobbly legs could carry me back to the hostel.

According to the guy who works in reception, the number of huffing and puffing guys who run in in the middle of the night is quite high. And they think it is HILLARIOUS!

Inb the Gillis near Lombok at the moment after a horrendous 12 hour journey. The internet seems a little quicker now so I may be able to post some photos up.

Hotel Jam-Jaman

This means literally pay by the hour hotel, which we found out to our horror during our stay in Semarang!

Desparately trying to get to Borneo, we decided to take a 5 hour bus trip to the north coast to try to either get a flight or a ferry. The bus was an interesting experience, every second stop or so, a "musician" jumps on board and starts playing an awful tune on some form of primitive banjo. Then the hat goes round and you are expected to give payment "from the heart" according to our indonesian friend that we made on the journey. Obviously being western it was percieved that our hearts should be slightly larger than anyone elses. Which was fine except we had no change!

It turns out that Indonseians find it hilarious when a westerner says to them "I have no money". I think we should possibly avoid the use of the phrase in the future.

On arrival in Semarang (late at night) we walked the streets lookin for somewhere to stay, unfortunately all the places recommended by the lonely planet were "full" or else unwilling to accept us. We kept getting directed to this decent enough looking hotel accross the way, so eventually we gave up and decided to go there. The receptionist asked if we wanted "Indonesian Woman" which we thought was a little strange and we politely declined.

This is where we made our first mistake - we neglected to check the room before accepting it! Handing our money over, only when we got into the room did we think something suspicious was going on. Only then did we realise we were in Hotel Jam-Jaman.

This was the biggest hole I have ever been in. The sheets were brown and crusty, the whole place stank and the toilet didnt work. Luckily I had a sleeping bag liner and was able to hide within this, unfortunately Pete had no such luck and had to snuggle up into his delightful bedding!

Following our Semarang ordeal we went to the travel agent and promptly discovered that we couldnt get any flights or boats from here to Borneo either. Deciding to alter our oplans we thought it best to go to Denpasar (Bali) and head oward from there. This of course (by the rules of sods law) meant that we had to get a 5 hour bus back to the city that we had just come from. Altogether not such a good experience!

Still trying to upload photos, I think I managed to upload four in an hour yesterday - loads more to come...

Borobudur

Borobudur is the worlds largest Buddhist stupa built in 775AD. Rediscovered in 1815 (from underneath a covering of volcanic ash) restoration works began in 1907 and it was reconstructed block by block in the 70's to combat the subsidence in the structure.

Anyway, enough of the history lecture, Borobodur is absolutely spectacular, and my highlight of the trip so far.

We have also hit our first stumbling block in that we are desperately trying to get to Borneo, and failing miserably (and its looking like we may have to give up in the end). All the flights entail either changing 17 times or spending 3 days on a boat.

Im finding it extremely frustrating that I cant download any of my pictures due to the slow internet connections (after being sat here for an hour), so pictures may have to wait until Denpasar.

Fancy a Haircut?

1 Adult Please

Travelling alone can be pretty empowering. You can go where you want when you want and spend as much time as you like. You also get to meet some pretty interesting people (see picture of drunken Irishman with Indian dancer).

Today I went to the Changi Chapel and Museum on the site of Changi Prison (with a German Guy amnd a Finnish Girl. Its a pretty moving exhibition dedicated to the memory of the Englishmen, Australians and New Zealanders who were imprisoned there during the Japanese occupation of Singapore. Very bizarre to see the letters and memories left their by former POWs and POW relatives who have been back to the site. The majority of the letters seemed to come from the small Yorkshire town of Barnsley.

However, I am looking forward to Pete arriving this afternoon as the city of Jakarta (my next destination) can be a little dodgy and apparently you cant move for people trying to rip you off, so safety in numbers is what I say...

Singapore Photos

www.flickr.com

A Tale of Three Cities

Singapore is a pretty cool place. Hedged with skyscrapers and enormous glass buildings,

Singapore is certainly the place if you like to shop!

Which I dont unfortunately.

However, there are other sides to Singapore, and if you get away from the main riverside area a few tube stops away is a place called Little India (where the majority of the island's 20% Indian population live). Its an amazingly colourful part of the town, and I elected to stay here for the whole of my Singapore stay. There are small curry houses on every street corner and you can eat here for 4 singapore dollars which is little over a pound (struggling here with a lack of pound signs!)

Another side to Singapore is slightly less glamorous. Singapore is the second largest sea-port in the world (after Rotterdam), and there are cranes abosultely everywhere (it never said in the guide book that it hadnt been finished yet)! Sentosa island is located just off the south coast and pretty much an island of manufactured, man-made beaches designed to be an expensive resort town. And the view is pretty strange to me. Just row upon row of cargo ships and oil tankers (see photo)!

I went to a shopping centre last night with an Egyptian guy that I met this week as he was looking for a Mac - and electronics really are dirt cheap. The one we went to had 6 floors of electronics stores each with around 20 shops (so probably well over 100). I plan to severly annoy my Ipod obsessed brother by buying a 160GB Ipod for 70% of the price he paid for his 30GB one (I dont really want an Ipod, I just think it would be funny).

The whole trip is only tainted by two things: my bank decided to cancel my card as they thought someone may have obtained the detailes fraudulently over the net, and also I cant make outgoing calls on my mobile = lots of stress...

RCWR Goes Global

Wow, looks like I never got to spend those three days on blogger, nor any time over the weekend either (much of the weekend was spent doing long hard goodbyes)!

Anyway, I am in Singapore now (having just got to my hostel), and by my reckoning I havent really slept for almost 24 hours now and I'm pretty knackered! First impressions of Singapore:

• Boy do thse guys really love their PSPs (they're everywhere!)
• Tubes with air con (and hardly any passengers) - Nice!
• I sweat a lot

As you may have guessed, my first impressions are quite heavily influenced by the fact I have only seen the tube as of yet.

Over then next few days I hope to be able to post up some pictures and some more interesting stuff (when I have seen it). Also in the next week or so, there is going to be a new blogger on this site, in the form of my mate Pete.

As a side note, it would have been useful to know that chewing gum is illegal in Singapore BEFORE I walked through the airport with a mouthful of Wrigleys best.

*&%$@

My work have blocked facebook. This angers me greatly.

This angers me not because I really want to look at facebook. It is the principle that makes my blood boil!

For those who dont know me, I work long hours. Long hours with long commutes added on the end. I earn directly over £80k for the company, of which I estimate that a good £45k must be pure profit.

The IT department trust me to work extremely long hours with no overtime. They trust me to earn the money which keeps them in a job (as non fee earners). I am trusted to sell work all over the world to clients in large blue chip companies. They dont trust me to use Facebook sensibly! What the &%*$£)"*!!!!! Its like being treated like a child!

Oooh, if I wasnt three days from leaving (I would probably have a good moan).

Anyway. In protest, I am going to spend as much of the next three days (apart from tomorrow) on Blogger.

10 Faces of Sam

I would never call myself the kind of guy who likes to relinquish control - of anything. At least not too much of it anyway.

If we go to the cinema to watch a film that Lucy wants to see, I will moan incessantly about the poor acting, and the obvious plot (how I knew all along that the Kate Hudson character would get the guy in the end). If we go shopping for clothes for her, I will stand outside the changing rooms and tut (along with all of the other guys) about the indignity of having to stand around in such close proximity to the underwear section.

There have been two occasions in the last two weeks where I have had to relinquish control to Lucy; both of which have made me realise why I love her so much.

Last weekend, I went back up to Leeds for a bit of a night out with some of my buddies up there. Lucy promised to arrange "a surprise" for me and some of my friends during the day. I found this surprisingly difficult. Dress warm she says. "why what are doing? are we going caving? are we going hiking? where are we going? have we left enough time to get there? do you know the way?" was my response.

The day out was excellent, the theme was "laser combat". The best way to describe this is like paintballing, but without the pain and misery (and the cheaters who wipe off the paint and pretend they havent been shot).

The guy who ran the centre told us in no uncertain terms - "its not a good idea to do guys vs girls, as even when you win, you lose". We ignored him. How right he turned out to be.

The first game was capture the flag and was set in the woods. The guys were on the offensive first. We had a quick discussion and decided to take the girls from the side of their camp in a lightning raid, capturing the huts they were occupying one by one before raising each flag in turn. This was a heavily flawed tactic. The girls hid behind their wooden structures (and once they had figured out that shooting the structure caused your laser to rebound and kill yourself), they pinned three of us down (each behind a different tree) almost immediately.

Our fourth squad member "private Steve" was at this point attempting an ambitious three mile outflanking manouvre. We lost one man (technically we lost him 30 times as thats how many lives we had), and out of desparation tried to charge the girls. This failed and we ran out of time.

It was the girls turn to attack. We each took position in the huts and spied the girls though the forest trying to make a head on attack. "they're coming straight down the middle" was the cry. We attempted to gun them down and they took heavy fire. then suddenly two of the girls appeared from our flanks and began a surprise attack. Lucy got round the back and started raising one of the flags "bloody hell they're using tactics" was the shout, "cheating cowbags!". She managed to get the flag up (1 of 4) despite the fact we were riddling her with bullets (not sure this would have been an appropriate tactic in real life). Before we killed every one of her team.

This is where the argument began (and it went on). The girls didnt seem to appreciate that the rasing of one flag did not constitute victory when their entire team was ruthlessly despatched.

There were two more pretty cool games (involving attaching forts and disarming bombs) on the day and fun was had by all. Laser combat did teach me one thing - I'd be bloody rubbish at war. I would probably be dead 65 times over in the space of an afternoon. Better throw out those army application forms then!

The second time I had to relinquish control to Lucy came this weekend when we went down to London for (another) leaving do with all of my friends from back in the Hudd (thats Huddersfield to those not in the know). There were about 20 or so of us playing a little poker and having a few drinks before invading the bars of Clapham. We were just about to head on out when Lucy lands yet another surprise on me!

I was slightly suspicious of the size of the suitcase that Lucy dragged down with her from Manchester as we were only there for one or so days. It turns out that she was harbouring a secret.

The suitcase contained 10 t-shirts. Each one of these t-shirts had a rather embarassing picture of me in some kind of just a little unflattering pose. These ranged from the rather nice one of my head superimposed on a body builder's torso, to a peach of a photo from my childhood falling off the "climbing frame of death". Each of the guys was instructed to don one of the t-shirts (some worn with more pride than others) and we headed on out looking like a rather confused stag do.

It was a brilliant night, and I just wish I could post up some pictures. However I was having camera issues, and as my work has just blocked facebook I cant get access to anyone elses (I have a separate rant to make on that!). So these will follow shortly.

I actually felt a little tinge of regret for moving away on both of these occasions. Particularly when I said goodbye to my partner in crime Rob. I guess its the price to payand it will only get worse.

I've got exactly one week to go before I fly off on my adventure, then I will be away from Lucy for around 8 or 9 weeks (until she flies out for christmas) then again for a few months after that. I just have to say - thanks for making this last couple of weeks so perfect Lucy!

Nidderdale

Quick - Before we get Shot!

While sorting out all of my photos in Flickr, I came accross this gem from 2005 which I have entitled "a lesson in how to take photos of bored Chinese soldiers without getting arrested!"

I am posting this in honour of Kerry over at All That Comes With It's birthday.

I appreciate I am a few days late (work stress and all that) - but Happy Birthday Kerry!

p.s. note the amusing oversized uniforms.

Owt or Nowt?

Someone sent me this link some time ago, but I've only just got round to writing this post. The link is to an article about a degree course that you can take in "Yorkshire"! Apparently it involves the study of brass bands, coal mining and other quirks of gods country.

But to me, being Yorkshire will always mean:

• Being able to say "Its grim oop north" with pride
• Being obsessively tight with money claiming "pennies make pounds" (to the extent that I get cross when my girlfriend puts the heating on befor December).
• Looking down on those unfortunates from "t'wrong side o't pennines"
• Looking down on those even more unfortunates from "down south".
• Being able to say "noooo" instead of "no"
• Not having to waste time pronouncing consonants
• Using the phrase "when I were a lad" usually followed by "I 'ad to walk fower hours to school and all I 'ad to eat were gravel 'n' dirt" in every second sentence.
• Drinking real ale (which everyone knows tastes like crap) and saying "ooh I luv a nice pint o best"
• Playing rugby league at school and not that poncy version.

I could go on for ever! Unfortunately I am at a hotel somewhere in the North East of England and the counter is telling me I only have a couple of minutes left! So I leave you with this link. Though I think it was writtent by someone who has never been there as it goes into great detail about the fantastic A1(M) / M62 moterway junction for some reason! Arrgh 1 min left.

Go Go Gadget Go!

In an attempt to up the reading figures this week, Rabbit Confused with Raisins is attempting to go a little more interactive...

As a typical bloke, I have a quite severe obsession with gadgets of various descriptions. Though unlike my brother I am not into flat screen TVs, surround sound and Ipods. No. My gadget obsession consists of a desire for more outdoors gadgets, they look cool, but are often completely pointless.

A guy that I used to live with worked on a ski-slope and used to refer to people that showed up in all the most expensive equipment but couldn't ski as "all the gear, no idea!" the slightly more insulting version is "all the clobber what a knobber!" or. That's me.

So, the questions I am asking my readers this week are:

1. What is the most pointless gadget you have?
2. What is the most useful gadget you have?
3. What is your biggest gadget extravagance?
4. What is your favourite gadget?

Here are mine (three of which will make it to my upcoming Indonesia / oz trip):

Most Pointless Gadget

My fork/spoon/knife. Its a fork, but its also a spoon, and a knife (and its also got a bottle opener on it as an added bonus)! For all of those expeditions where you you just cannot do without cutlery. Why not get a fork, a spoon, and a knife I hear you ask? No need - this is a fork, a spoon and a knife all in one! Though granted it is a little difficult when you try to use the knife and fork at the same time. It actually came in pretty useful for our recent trip to the high Tatras for cutting into our block of rancid cheese so not altogether useless.

Most Useful Gadget

My Travel towel. This thing is forged from the spirit of genius itself. Its a towel, but its tiny, and it dries even when you cram it back into its packaging. Cool. This thing was all that kept me from being outcast from my trekking party for attracting the wolves and bears with my pungent odours on our recent trip. Very useful if you need a space saving device and I have no doubt it will be invaluable when plodding through the jungle looking for Orang-utans!

Biggest Gadget Extravagance

A couple of years ago, during a rush of blood to the head, I decided to purchase a 3.5m traction kite (the kind that will lift you off the floor if there is enough wind). The kite is amazing fun (though probably not worth the £00's paid for it). However, this wasn't the big extravagance. The extravagance was the mountain board that I got to go with it. Powered by images of me speeding along some beach, kite in hand, going where the wind takes me as a free spirit, the board seemed like an excellent idea.

We took to the park, and I quickly realised that using the board on big stretches of downhill grass was much more fun than use with the kite. On one such downhill boarding trip, I convinced my housemate that going down this particularly steep slope would be a really good idea (I had done it before). Not one to be outdone, off he went down the slope, and over he went onto his face. In his usual relaxed tones he moaned, "It think I have broken my wrist" - Whoops. He was told by his Doctor he may not be able to climb again. He was a keen climber - double Whoops (luckily this turned out not to be the case).

Favourite Gadget

My Platypus. When I first saw people using these things, I thought "why not carry a bottle of water?" but since doing a bit of trekking, I have discovered that actually when you have a 10kg backpack on, you really cant be arsed to take the damn thing off every time that you want a drink. The platypus fits inside the back compartment of most backpacks and it has a straw from which you can drink when it takes your fancy. This thing is worth its weight in gold. Of course, you do look like a real plonker doing a lap around your local reservoir taking water from this enormous straw over your shoulder, but it is worth it. Ok Ok just use a water bottle! But where's the fun.

So the question is what gadget, any gadget (electronic, DIY etc) I am going to ask my bro at All That Comes With It what his are , and I am also going to try to break the mold and ask one of the few that have passed comment here LA Daddy as he seems like a very practical kind of a bloke. And also - anyone else who wants a go...