Monday, July 28, 2008

End of Part One



OK, maybe when people said I had brought the good weather with me they had a point. Apart from a minor blip on Friday it has been pretty much perfect and the short wearing opportunities have far exceeded expectations. After the initial frenetic activity to make hay (see below) I have taken a much more leisurely, Devonian style approach to my time. This has included the odd spell of reading in the garden, more gentle ambling, a trip round the shops and out to Aunty Pat’s for lunch – it was good to see some raspberries growing in her garden, a few of which I nicked to complement a home made cream tea.

I ramped up the pace slightly on Sunday, catching a bus across the Tamar to Crafthole in South East Cornwall. This region is such a delight and seems a million miles away from the council chav towns of Plymouth. Not only do you have the rolling hills from the Ambrosia custard tin but the stunning sweep of coastline around Whitsand Bay, all gargantuan cliffs dropping down to shingle coves and beaches. And of course, access to the South West Coast Path, maybe I'm biased but without doubt the greatest track in the world!




Whilst I will be returning to the southwest in a couple of weeks with Dad, it has become something of a ritual to end my time in this part of the world with a barbecue. Being the honorary ‘Australian’, I am charged with responsibility for burning the snags and turning the prawns, sculling a XXXX and muttering a few XXXXs as I singe my eyebrows. Mum seemed to think all the family were there and Allan could help eat the food mountain which emerged, including approximately: 20 prawns, 8 giant burgers, 20 sausages, half a pig’s belly, 20 chicken wings, 8 chicken drumsticks, 8 chicken thighs, 20 slices of butternut squash, a few mushrooms and peppers, salad, bread, one rhubarb crumble and one banoffee cheesecake.

Needless to say, leftovers will be eaten today, probably at Exeter Airport Shed as we wait for Cullompton Airways Flight 00AR to Spain. Hopefully the weather will be as good in that part of the world!

Making Hay

As the sun continues to bathe this soggy little island, people keep telling me “you brought the good weather with you”. I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s probably single digit degrees, slanting rain and gloomy mornings over in Canberra. The marketing people have done such a good job through ads for Fosters (the Australian beer!), Home and Away and Crocodile Dundee that the very thought of wearing a coat down under seems nonsensical.

My ethos has been very much to make hay while the sun shines, knowing all too well that the dark clouds are always on the horizon! This week has encompassed a couple of contrasting trips to the seaside. First up was St Ives down in Cornwall, known as the St Tropez of England, complete with palm trees and exotic flowers, art galleries, sandy beaches and fine cuisine.



It’s not without the more typical English seaside attractions though – buckets and spades on the beach, colourful windbreaks, purple skinned Northerners. And, of course, being Cornwall, you can’t move without bumping into a pasty shop or teahouse or ice cream parlour. Having already eaten a small pasty for lunch it was with some dismay that Mum and I stumbled upon Pengenna Pasties, famous for being exceedingly scrumptious and posing on rocks in Tintagel in 2007. The only solution was to buy one and bring it home for dinner… I’m thinking that this is the first time in my life I have had two pasties in one day (that’s quite surprising really!). Credit goes to Mum who safely transported the prized specimen back on the train and home to Plymouth.

St Ives is the kind of place where you amble. Narrow streets lined with cottages meander in a haphazard fashion before, without knowing it, you turn the corner and face a sweeping stretch of sand which if you squint could almost be Coogee. A sandy beach no less, much to the dismay of my Australian friends. You amble along the sands, you amble around the headlands and, if you are brave enough, you amble with your feet in the water!


Hey everybody it’s a montage of pictures of me, in shorts, in England. Blimey!
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The second trip to the seaside followed the day after, and this time it was Devon’s turn to show me what it had got. To be fair, Devon is absolutely beautiful but Dawlish Warren isn’t the most scenic of spots, despite an interesting coastline made up of red rocks and cliffs. The convenience of this place is the accessibility by train and amusements to keep young monsters, well, amused. Whilst it was still bright, a stiff breeze made it much cooler and, still wearing shorts, I think both Mum and I both shivered now and again. My sister Cheryl meanwhile, who is more akin to the English weather thought it was just perfect!

It wasn’t really beach weather so we made use of the amusements, plying pound coins into the scammer grabbers for soft toys and going crazy shoving 2p’s into a big pile of even more 2p’s in the hope that some of them may fall over the edge and into our pockets. At least it kept my niece Bethany amused… six year olds seem to take some amusing but thankfully she likes crazy golf (which we can all take part in) and trampolines (which is effectively like putting her in a cage for a few minutes to wile away some energy!). It was nice to see Bethany doing this though since – sign I am getting well ancient – it brought back childhood memories of me doing the same, ah.


Saturday, July 26, 2008

Retracing the past

There is something reassuring about the train journey to Plymouth, the scenery seemingly little changed over time, hills and hedgerows increasing as you thread your way through deepest Devon. Suddenly, abruptly, you cruise alongside rows and rows of houses, no doubt full of ruddy faced farmer types baking fresh scones and drinking Cyder with a ‘Y’. Yeah, of course, that’s totally what it’s like…

After meeting Mum at the station, first stop was “Town”, where not a lot had actually changed from a year ago… the odd new shop here and there and more quality fancy dress and fashion accessories at Bits N Bows, the premium stop for all your party needs in the South West! A pasty for lunch was followed by Mum’s homemade lasagne in the evening, eaten outside on the deck in the increasingly bright and warm weather.

Blue skies and fluffy white sheep clouds greeted me for my first full day in Plymouth and I took part in the annual pilgrimage that is the bus to town, walk up Armada Way to the Hoe and along the seafront to the Barbican.


It’s hard to beat on days like these, perfect for the 15 year old mums to take little Courtney for a pram push, ideal for the foreign exchange students to take their backpacks off both shoulders and lounge in gaggles on the grass, and just super for the wrinkles to park up and sit in their car staring absently out to sea. Also a great day for an ice cream, and I even stumbled across a BIG ice cream - all presented in a very restrained British way and not with all the associated hoo haa you might find in the colonies.


Now, you may know when I’m in Sydney I like to get out on the water and in this most Sydney-esque of days I decided to take the ferry across the Sound and over to Cawsand. Of course, it’s very similar to the Manly ferry, leaving the old part of town as it does, passing the shiny white architecture of Plymouth Dome, views to the Tamar Bridge and cruising on along a number of wooded inlets, some even with swanky apartments overlooking the water! Pleasingly, Cawsand, and it’s partner in crime, Kingsand, is a long way from Sydney and was designed before such things as cars existed, creating a confined maze of narrow, cottage lined alleys and lanes, leading down to slipways and shingle coves peppered with Northerners getting sunburn.


Now from here I took the walk into Mount Edgecumbe, climbing steeply up to Maker. I passed some people coming the other way, one of the guys was busy taking photos whilst his partner patiently waited. Did he make her come along? Make her, Maker? Geddit?! Oh dear, I think I was actually getting slightly delirious here as it was unseasonably warm and, believe it or not, my head was starting to get a little tinted. The shady trees helped a bit and it was nice to be greeted at the top of the hill with more Cornalishious scenery.



From here it was downhill all the way into the more formal gardens of Mount Edgecumbe, a place I have wandered around many times since a wee nipper. When I was younger the highlight was always the chance to have an ice cream from the Orangery Café and, as nice as all the plants were, it was no different this time round. Given I’m a little older these days I can also have a sneaky pint of Cider, very useful when there is an hour wait for the Cremyll Ferry and there is a pub slap bang opposite the quay. Glorious.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Welcome to Country

And we’re off. Kinda. Destination Mother Country would get there but first there was the short matter of, well, getting there. I had a bit of time to fill before leaving the chilly winter of Canberra and indulged in a lazy morning including a nice hot bath and a divine brunch, followed by a walk through the Anglo-Australian ramblings of Telopea Park in Kingston. Winding down, beginning to relax and take it easy.

And then, with minutes to spare until departing for the airport, the news filtered through of delays to my flight from Sydney, leaving me with more time than I bargained for in Canberra. For many, the line "more time than I bargained for in Canberra" would induce dread, turning them as white as a cockatoo in a carwash. For me, well, I just continued relaxing and taking it easy… a nice afternoon doze, followed by a stroll up Red Hill for a coffee and some cake.



Eventually the pace did quicken and, leaving a surprisingly frenetic Canberra Airport, I reached Sydney just in time to sit in a chair and watch people watching people trying to sing lines to songs on some typically below par Aussie TV. The show ended with a guest appearance from Joe Dolce who sang his classic hit, shaddap you face.

It seems the Qantas crew must’ve been hooked as well, since it was almost immediately after that boarding for flight QF31 to London commenced. I won’t bore you too much about the journey, it was excruciatingly boring, punctuated by a very brief stopover in a lounge in Singapore where the time was half past Zombie. I did manage to catch a few winks and a few decent TV shows, including a fascinating documentary on the construction of a big Gumboot in Tully, Queensland.
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Britain, Britain, Britain. You gave me such a disappointing start I almost wanted to turn back. Looping around the edges of London, finally landing at, yes, a grey dreary Heathrow, unable to work the aerobridge, walking mile upon mile to bags and Customs. Being greeted by the most over-officious and patronising woman piling people onto a messy transport system and then queuing endlessly for an over-priced ticket on a bus which sits on the M25. The 30 hour journey does not help at this point let me tell you. Somehow though, it seems the M25 presents a clear physical boundary between the grey monotony and leafy green England. The ride into Woking through the lushest woodlands perks up the battered soul and improves along the train line to Basingstoke. I was here, the first stop in the itinerary with Dad and Sonia.

Of course it wasn’t long until I hit up the supermarket. I don’t know if it was the jetlag or whatever, but part of me felt a bit lost, like I didn’t belong here. Sainsbury’s was all a bit alien and strange, having said that I did manage to acquire some pork pies, pickled onion flavour Monster Munch and a Double Decker. Such foods are vital when lounging around watching the Open golf, which was an ideal way to get over the journey and encompassed much of the weekend.

I did visit a few parts of jolly olde England as well though. This included Basingstoke Mall, where the glass was shiny but the coffee was inevitably disappointing. I just don’t know why we cannot make a good coffee in England. We are a bright nation and goodness knows how many people from coffee making countries exist here. But some spotty youth pressing a fully automated button which dribbles out some scalding hot, bitter liquid and a pile of mush is not the way to go! I so needed a good coffee too.

On Sunday, the weather was improving all the time, bright and reaching dizzying heights of 17 degrees. Dad and I headed to Virginia Water, a part of Windsor Great Park and, for some reason, a part of the world I associate with Peter Alliss who is rambling more than ever these days. It was oh so leafy, horsey horsey, joggers and kids and people on bikes. I loved it, I now seem to be staring at big broad leaf oaks in the same way I used to gasp at Eucalypts.

Sunday afternoon was pretty good too, struggling a little to keep eyes open and watch Paddy win the golf, accompanied by the smell and taste of Roast Pork. It may have been a ropey start but things were getting better all the time. Plymouth, you cannot disappoint…

Sunday, July 13, 2008

A few of my favourite things

No doubt in a week’s time I will be stuffing my face with pork pies and cream teas, watching BBC1 and moaning about the weather. I am going home, again temporarily, and very exciting it is too. There are some things I am not so excited about, like Qantas Flight 31, the summer heights highs of 17 degrees and the impending arrival of an extra four inches on my waistline. In fact, some strange things are happening to me in that I am thinking of some of the things I will miss, such as a nice coffee in Manuka, a walk up Red Hill, my beast of a car and even some Australian people. Worryingly I also seem to know much of Advance Australia Fair (apart from a bit of mangling in verses five and six) although Waltzing Matilda is still far beyond me. Am I turning into an Australian? I think no, as I still can’t stand Koshie and Mel on the Sunrise show and Lamingtons remain perennially underwhelming. I guess I am somewhere in between, which, looking on the world map, makes me Dirga Dirga Dirga.

So to fill my boots on Australianity before filling my boots with cholesterol I have been indulging in a few of my favourite things, like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Last weekend I took one of my regular walks on Red Hill and it seems all of Australia was out on view, with more colourful birds than marching up Oxford Street in Sydney’s Mardi Gras.

I also went to the Botanic Gardens, thinking there wouldn’t actually be much there given we are in the midst of winter. Well, let me tell you now one of the great things about Australia is that there is always some crazy plant in flower, usually combining with the Eucalyptus in the air to give off a wonderful fragrance which I wish I could bottle and bring to England.




Red Hill and Wattle and caramel slices,
Parrots and coffee and great restaurant prices.

This weekend, and my last Saturday in Australia until August 23rd, meant I was pretty keen to go bush, just like a jolly swagman doing stuff under a Coolibah tree (OK, are you getting all these references today? Come on, keep up!). Thankfully the weather this week has been cold and rubbish meaning that summer highs of England will actually be tolerable (though I will still need a nice comfy jumper I think). Saturday the sun shone and shone though, following a heavy frost and snow on the not so distant ranges.



So, picking up an Australian for good measure on the way, it was north to good old Fitzroy Falls where not much had changed since last time I had been there, apart from much better food in the café.




Lyrebirds and Gum Trees and huge café sangas,
Big things and Coles Bird and hoons in their bangers.

For some unknown reason, it seems to me Fitzroy Falls attracts a lot of Australian Chavs. Not quite the same as the English chav but you can spot the similarities (a bit like comparing the English and Australia Magpie). I guess it’s not actually a million miles away from the very southwestern suburbs of Sydney which could explain things. The Croydon of the bush. Anyway, it was good to get some fashion tips as this Thursday I will be joining the fraternity, decked out in tracky pants and a hoodie for maximum comfort aboard a big aluminium tube. Yes, join me as we go up over once again.

Pasties and Cornwall and proper Devon teas,
Football and Top Gear and choppy old grey seas,
Fish, chips and a spam fritter from Francines,
These are a few of my favourite things.