Darts and Janelle in the UK

July 15-28, 2007

Even though it had been 14 months since I'd seen Dad and 10 months since I'd seen Janelle, it felt like I'd seen them only a week or so ago.

We cured any jetlag with a hearty home cooked roast dinner and a big sleep then set off north to York. AFter spending a few hours wandering around, Fi had already declared she'd like to live there. It had a very nice, old, Englishy but happening and stylish feel about it. As well as plenty of history. The minster was a highlight, as was the walk around the town wall and Big Ian's Pub Quiz. We came last (as expected) but our team name was "At Least We've Got The Ashes!"

We spent a couple of days driving around the scenic Yorkshire Dales, stopping for as many walks as Dad could handle. (We did our best to wear him out) One thing he couldn't stop being amazed about was the green grass. Theakstons Black Sheep Brewery offered a very convenient distraction. And James Herriots old vet practice, TV studio and house, now converted into an interesting veterinary museum was very enjoyable (luckily, I passed the 'are you fit enough to be a vet' test!)

We visited the Lake District where we did more walks, more driving and more tasting of local food and beverages. We nearly killed our 1.2L hire car by trying to drive it up a 25% incline with a heavy load. Got a nice burning smell from the clutch!

The scenery up here was amazing, which meant stopping regularly for photos. Fi and Janelle both became pretty handy at out the window snaps from the moving car.

The weather hadn't been too bad thus far, mostly overcast but with sunny spells. But at the end of this week, Englands long run of floods began. We had to drive through some aweful conditions. But it all cleared 30 minutes from Felsted. (We really are blessed with the best of the English weather in East Anglia) Just as well because we had a cricket match to play!

Dad had brought his whites hopeing to get a game, but I knew we wouldn't be short for this weekend. Fortunately, the opposition were one man down. Dad was stoked. Even after standing in the field as the rain clouds rolled in sending down a chilling, steady drizzle. Welcome to English cricket Dad!

He also got a bat, celebrated as if he'd scored a ton, after getting a single run on the board. He went on to make 7 runs that he never would have dreamed makeing before, and avoided facing any of my 'potentially lethal' deliveries.

After a few days chilling around Felsted, a dinner at Jamie Oliver's parents' pub, a day visit to Cambridge and helping Fi and I pack up our house, we went into London for a few days. We did all the touristy things, got on a big red open top bus, wen down the Thames on a boat, wen for a ride on the London Eye and bought Mum a promised gift from Harrods. After all that we'd finally worn Dad out and it was time for him to go.

Janelle was off to Ireland for 10 days, while Fi and I spent a day at the Ben and Jerry's Icecream Festival - all you can eat icecream! We had our first, albiet brief, taste of proper English summer weather. I worked a solid week in Tiddington near Oxford while Fi was homebody for a week.

Then our 6 months of hardcore travelling, unemployment and homelessness was about to begin!

Running Of The Bulls

July 4 - 13, 2007

I don’t really know how to tell this story to do it justice. It all started with a 24 hour bus trip from London to Pamplona in the north of Spain. We pitched camp with about 800 other Aussies and Kiwis, all part of the Fanatics tour group who were in Pamplona for San Fermin, the running of the bulls.

The week long festival began with a crazy opening ceremony. Everyone was dressed in white with red sashes around their waste. Sangria was flying everywhere by 9am. Champagne was being sprayed all over the place and bottles dropped and smashed on the ground. Girls were being hoisted onto blokes’ shoulders and if they got their boobs out they’d get a cheer, if not they’d get a boo. The festival was officially opened at 12 noon by a massive fiesta in the centre of town. With about 20 minutes to go before noon, the crowd was so thick you couldn’t move. Then a surge would come in from one end of the crowd and you’d be helplessly swept off your feet. If you were one of the stupid ones who wore open shoes or thongs, you’d be getting your feet sliced up by the broken glass. Think of the craziest mosh pit you’ve ever been in and multiply it by 10, that’s what it was like.

After 12 the party progressed to Muscle Bar, a 6 metre high statue that people climb and then jump off. The only thing from stopping you going face first onto the pavement is a bunch of 8-10 drunk blokes with their arms linked down below. There are stories of tourists getting up there and the locals letting them fall at the last minute. Thankfully we didn’t witness this, but we did see one bloke over estimate his dive, going head first. He got up with a bleeding head. And a chick decided a pin drop was the best way to come out with 2 broken legs. Most people were mesmerized by the stupidity of what was going on, but it wasn’t stopping them from having a crack.

There was a sangria assisted siesta that afternoon, a bit more sangria then a failed attempt to get more sleep, partly from my mate snoring and partly from nervous energy.

Next day, the running of the bulls. One of the stupidest things I’ve ever done and I’ll quite openly admit, the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. We were up before the sun and into town to get a good spot on the track. The bull run is about 850 metres, it starts in a bull pen, runs through town to the massive stadium that holds over 20,000 people. The runners can start running at 8.00am, the bulls start at 8.05am. The idea is to get into the stadium after the first bull (not before or the crowd will boo and throw stuff at you) and not long after the last bull (before they close the gates).

The majority of the runners were hungover Aussies. The cops come through at about 7.30am and form a line and clear the track. Dodging the swinging batons is just as crucial as dodging the bulls horns. After this point no one enters or leaves the track until the bulls have done their stuff.

I was in Spain with my mates from vet school, Pete, Rob Dogs and The Stoff (or while in Spain, Pedro de Suza, Roberto Perros y La Stoff, mi llamo Senior Davo.) Rob Dogs and The Stoff have brains and intact egos – they didn’t run. Pete and I are unstable and relied on paper scissor rock to make our decisions for us – we tested fate and betrayed our promises to our mums’ and ran.

I remember my heart rate being very high, my mouth being dry, but Pete had to remind me later how much my hand was shaking when we stopped on the wall half way between Dead Man’s Corner and the stadium and waited for the bulls to come past. All it would have taken was one little turn of the head and 600kg of bull could be pushed through your abdomen. But it didn’t happen to us. I got a few pics with the desposable camera and then turned and bolted after the bulls to get to the stadium.

As I turned I was knocked by a runner and my camera went flying. I stopped and turned to pick it up and got steamrolled by another runner who dropped me on my left buttock. But I crawled through the legs, got my camera back and turned and ran even faster. Made it to the stadium just in time, alive!!!

The cheers of 20,000 people were pretty sweet. But not as sweet as going head first over the railing of the stadium to the safe side of the barrier, knowing that you’d run and come through without any puncture wounds.

Good excuse to drink some more sangria!

The fiesta went on for a week, people partying or sleeping on the streets day and night. The mix of sangria and urine created a beautiful aroma around the town. The day after we ran, we got into the fiesta. Drinking sangria in the streets; joining in with the locals chanting for the residents of the high rise flats in the streets to throw water from their balconies; helping Rob Dogs with broken spanish chat up the locals (his favourite line being 'Hello, my name is Roberto Perros. You are very beautiful. Will you permit me to have this dance?')

We were pretty happy to find ourselves in the fiesta free sanctuary of San Sebastian the following day, where the sea breeze and huge variety of tapas bars helped us rekindle our sangria drenched bodies.

Here we hired a car and drove across the top of Spain towards Pompenillo, a small village with 24 residents, including Kathy, Martin, Molly and Harry. If San Sebastian was a sanctuary, this was heaven! Kathy and Martin are friends of friends who I hadn't seen in about 15 years. Their amazing hospitality and barbequeing skills were hugely appreciated.

We trekked up to the Spanish Pyrenees for a day of breathtaking hiking. The views were unlike anything any of us had seen on our travels yet. We came back to Pompenillo via on of Spain's best wine regions where Kathy had organised for a friend of hers to take us on a guided tour of one of the wineries called Enate. We were treated to a 2-3 hour personalised tour which was very special.

The road trip ended in Barcelona, where we saw out the Spanish adventures in style by sitting in the sun drinking beer and maybe a little bit more Sangria. I left the lads to enjoy the sun for a couple more weeks while, I flew back to the cold and rain of the English summer.

La voyage en bateau

Bonjour!! I guess you could say that spending a week cruising along the French canals in Brittany , is in stark contrast to Davo’s recent entry detailing the Glastonbury mudfest. Annabel, Sue and Fi headed to the land of frogs legs, snails, fine wine and champayne for a week of relaxation…….

Collecting our Penechiette (boat), “Sarcelle” from Chenille-Change in Western France we began our journey both as French tourists and virgin boat operators. After a short induction into how to operate both our boat and the locks, we were off with a slightly stronger wind to contend with than hoped. Swerving up the canal approximately 400meters proved challenging so quickly we decided to experiment with our parking (or mooring) abilities and opted to pull over at a jetty outside a sleepy little French village which we soon discovered to be completely deserted and lifeless. With fruit trees heavy with plums and fresh rosemary at the side of the road we naturally helped ourselves to get our fresh produce basket well under way, while exploring the uninhabited area. This was shortly followed by a glass of rosé to celebrate (both not crashing to the boat so far and for finding food).

Making our way successfully through a lock was to be our next challenge, a mere 300m or so up the canal. Once through – again, a celebratory glass of wine was called for…..

Chasing markets along the way, there were times when we did have to ‘put the foot down’. Our days were filled with exploring villages, sampling fresh produce at numerous markets, visiting a stunning chateau with an equestrian centre and horse stud in operation which just happened to be only a 5 minute walk to a donkey farm! Despite a serious lack of sunshine we still managed to fit in plenty of walking as well as bike rides along the picturesque banks overlooking the canal on one side and the farm land on the other.

Cows proved to be good company with many curiously venturing down to the waters edge as we glided past sometimes only 5 meters away.

Despite our French being perhaps closer to pidgin than fluent, we managed to have some interesting conversations with the lock keepers who without fail, provided us with some beautiful garden scenery and more often than not, a dog to admire as we waited the water level change. Having spent the week relaxing and enjoying getting in touch with nature (ahhhh two stroke!), we headed to Paris for a couple of nights seeing the world renowned Palace of Versailles, being wowed by the stunning (and topless) Moulin Rouge dancers and while Sue explored Monet’s garden, Fi and Annabel (having missed markets for a day or so) headed to the popular Parisian markets where some final purchases were in order. Beads galour! And here ended our trip and ‘la voyage en bateau’. We returned feeling relaxed, refreshed, with slightly lighter pockets (Rick wasn’t really worried, was he?) and feeling like we could now handle driving any vehicle thrown our way!

Au revoir!

Annabel & Fi - Hitting Camden & Cambridge

With Annabel’s long awaited arrival came a sudden change in the weather which somewhat resembled Winter in Australia but WITHOUT the frosts and WITH a lot of rain. In came the clouds and tragically the next two weeks our pastey white bodies saw little of the great yellow circle which was going to release us from our albino appearance. Shortly after Mum’s arrival, we hit the ground running. With no time to get over (or even realize she had jetlag?) it was out to a local pub for some lunch, chauffer driven by Davo in his schweeeeet blue (fast!?) sports car. Day 2 we adventured into London to experience the ultimate market experience at Camden. Unbelievable. I think Mum was only just starting to realize the scope for both buying and selling anything and everything at such a place! I had to put my foot down though and drag her away from the gumboots with heels (given her level of coordination……. better stick to the flat soled shoes I think Mum!)

Cambridge was the next stop and we headed again to the markets before cruising down to the river for a punt, this time with a tour guide. Hearing about the history of the many colleges and the city itself kept us entertained and was certainly an eye-opener (Australia is sooooo young!) Following a delightful Ploughman’s Platter for our midday meal, upon a Big Red Bus we jumped for the informative tour of Cambridge – then down came the rain! At first, refusing to let it dampen the spirits I insisted we stay up top, however this was shortly lived. With Mum not having a waterproof jacket, we finally had to give in to Mr Rain and move downstairs. Our final must see for the day was the world renowned Kings College Choir. Very hard to describe what you feel when they first begin – it gives you shivers. What an amazing sound. The lineup outside the chapel was clearly an indication of the sheer crowds such a talented group of young singers can pull. With most of the prayers being in song, the 45 min service was certainly a highlight for our day-trip.

The remainder of the week saw some exploring of the Flitchway, Great Dunmow and a bit of a snoop around Felsted checking out some local icons including the local pub, the Raj (Indian Restaurant) and antique shop as Fi prepared to say farewell to the staff and students for the final time.

Final days of Felsted School

The last few days of school were completely mad and difficult to describe to anyone not actually there – but I’ll try. Thursday was the last day of classes and that evening saw the traditional Road Relay Races along with the highly competitive tug of war between the boarding houses! Competition was intense and I am proud to say that yes, my boarding house won both the senior and junior girls pull (we do eat the most pies!!) With Housemasters and Housemistresses yelling at their teams and many having coaches yelling instructions and encouragement, witnessing the seriousness of such an event was both intriguing and laughable!

Friday saw the end of year Chapel service, followed by speeches, presentations and house teas and farewell drinks. A very emotional day, saying goodbye to those who have really been my family this year, however it was great to finish on a high with so many of the girls telling me they are already planning trips to Australia to visit me! OH NO!!

Saturday night was the exclusive Summer Ball (so important that students set up a Facebook account to ensure no female would wear the same dress!). With everyone dressed to impress, a quick drop in to the local pub for a beer before hand was on the cards. Unexpectedly though, the pub was chockers with students in their tuxes who had been drinking there since 5pm! Unlike any other ball either of us had attended, this one was complete with a casino including a Poker Tournament, Disco, dodgem cars and thriller ride “Insania” – a ride where previously students have been known to vomit although this year more shoes were lost than anything else. A caricaturist was also on offer to draw both individuals and couples – our picture to be shown at a later date as it has accidently already been sent home!

As we danced the night away (and Davo gambled in the casino with his 5 quid) it quickly approached time for the “Survivors Photo” at 2am. Shortly after, it was only a small distance to stumble across the lawn tennis courts to our flat in which Sue and Annabel had somehow managed to entertain themselves away from the party (had fallen asleep and consequently thought there were intruders in the house when we returned home!)

Our crazy neighbours - Wiz & Motty