Here we go again...

My journey back to Australia passed in the blink of an eye. A very slow blinking eye but at least all went to schedule and most importantly the Australian Quarantine Service let me bring Granny Wobbly’s crumbly fudge into their country. So, year 2 and it felt like the start of a new school year after such a long and wonderful break. I returned to a sparsely furnished home in a cool and cloudy Canberra but pleased at least to see my bed, where I spent the next few days at all sorts of hours.

Of course there is a great deal of familiarity compared with this time last year but there is also a sense of starting out again. The main thing to worry about is finding somewhere to live, but fingers crossed I seem to have that sorted. Sure, my commute will change from a 15 to 20 minute walk, but for my money I’ll be getting two rooms (so no excuses for visiting!)…keep watching for exciting moving news! I’m also hunting a car, which is tricky given that I am pretty useless with cars. Hopefully though I will have something to show in the next few weeks. So, new home, new car but same old job. Any thought of a gentle reintroduction to working life was swept aside but at least it made the days pass quickly and I got to produce some snazzy charts!

The weather has been a little disappointing since I’ve returned, not the usual clear Canberra days but a lot more cloud. However, I certainly seem to have missed the worst of winter and the daytimes are pleasantly warm and the weekend has fined up quite nicely. Putting off the many things I need to do (cleaning, packing, car hunting) I prepared myself to dust off the cobwebs of deadly spiders on my bike on Saturday, only to find the tyres a bit flat and no pump to hand. Instead though I took a walk past Old Parliament House and along the lake shores of Yarralumla, where Spring was well and truly in the air.

What a tonic this place is! Returning last week I was tired and grouchy, it was cold and miserable, I had the prospect of nowhere to live and I had to work again. But getting out there today, feeling the sun on my face and watching the Rosellas and Silvereyes (pictured) enjoying the blossom as much as me was just lovely.

It’s not just the blossom which is coming out at the moment but the all Australian wattle. I noticed it lining the road from Sydney to Canberra and it was in evidence again in the sculpture gardens of the National Gallery, interspersed with the iconic white gum trees. I figured out the smell is a bit like marzipan and I love marzipan, so no complaints from me.

Gum trees, wattle, Australian Idol, Cockatoos, Coles, the Captain Cook Memorial Fountain and the Telstra Tower. It took a while, but I feel back!

The farewell comeback tour

Leaving home was tough and despite, or maybe because of, the sunshine illuminating the beautiful south Devon countryside I was feeling a bit melancholic as the train headed towards London. The trip was not over however, but it felt like the last leg, squeezing in a few more hellos and goodbyes before being re-deported to Australia.

So, London was the first added date on my European tour, meeting a friend Brian for lunch in a sunny and constantly revamped Paddington before trundling – because trundling is all you do on the District Line – to East Putney. Now this was one of those upside down moments because I was here to meet up with my now ex-housemate from Canberra, Lauren. She was on my patch now, and I was pleased to help her navigate to the City where we had a beer and walked along the South Bank for a bit to St Pauls, where we had a spot of Gelati.

We then did our most to avoid the rush hour crush and walked onto Chancery Lane where we hooked up with two more TNS friends of mine, Sadia and Susie in a great old pub. Seated in a confessional booth, it was very much a chance to let off steam and have a good old gossip, enhanced by beer which only cost £1.99 a pint.

The next morning I left Putney and joined the crowds of workers heading to Waterloo, traveling the Northern Line one more time to Euston for a train to the mysterious North. Northern England is a place I haven’t really explored in depth and it wasn’t going to be the case this time, having only a day and a half to meet up with more friends around the Blackpool area.

Now, Blackpool is an interesting place…the most popular holiday destination for Brits I think. It is dominated by a number of features, namely the Blackpool Tower which rivals Paris, the long stretch of muddy looking beach perforated by piers, trams riding their way past countless B&Bs, teashops, amusements, takeaways, bargain stores, pubs and clubs. It seems a place you can both love and hate at the same time!

Luckily I had more to see here than the legendary B&M Bargains and stayed with Melita and her family, enjoying a full on Blackpool night out, complete with chip kebabs and girls wearing hardly anything on hen nights. Well, they were my abiding memories of it anyway. Somewhat wearily we turned in close to 5 in the morning at Lee and Michelle’s, our tiredness the next day enlivened by their beautiful daughter Eva, who was having a fine old time jangling keys, emptying bags and tottering all over the place.

In the afternoon Melita and I met up with Ollie, another former housemate and great friend who was now settling down in Lytham St. Annes, a stone’s throw from the Open golf course. It was a warm and pleasant afternoon as we sat and had a late lunch beside Lytham green and strolled along the waterfront to the Windmill, from where Ollie and I had a contest to see who could look best in a picture.



Clearly Ollie won, maybe because I was taking the picture and also because he was in his natural environment. I was in a foreign land and look to be waiting for an old lady to park herself to my right so we can gaze out to sea together. Melita meanwhile was content to be a bystander and try and avoid having her picture taken.

Pictures done, we ambled some more for an ice cream and strolled round a small boating lake, the highlight being the young lad falling in and struggling to get back out due to the slippery bank, egged on by his family safely dry in their little boat. Suitably entertained we visited a local pub where they were showing the opening games of the new football season and Stevie Gerrard was making himself even more popular in these parts.

After a decent night of much needed sleep it was time to move on again, back to the more familiar south to my last stop of the European trip, Basingstoke. I was here to see my relatively newly arrived in the country Dad and Sonia, and whilst I didn’t get to see much of Basingstoke itself, this was compensated by some hearty food and a trip to Christchurch and the New Forest!

Christchurch (England, not New Zealand) was bright and quaint, with a nice relaxed feel, a few old buildings and a market. Highlight of the market for me was the cheese stall, with some stand out Cheddars mixed with either Marmite, smoked garlic, curry, sundried tomato and various other herbs. I would of loved to have brought some back to Australia but I’ll have to make do with Coon.

I feel, like the New Zealand one, Christchurch is an ambling town where you happily go to have an amble. Our amble took us down to the quayside, dotted with boats and huge swans, then along a river full of fish and lined with leaves. There were also a number of buildings, including a priory and ruined Norman castle.



Despite the dark and dramatic clouds in the air, it stayed dry and we were peppered with the warming summer sun as we ambled on through more gardens and pure leafiness, the odd red robin coming to join us.

Have I mentioned food yet? It’s been a while. Now Dad & Sonia are regular readers of my blog (come on, you should all follow their example!) and were worried about how they could compete with all the Devon delicacies and Cornish cuisine which has made my jeans tight in recent weeks. They did very well however with a full on, heart stopping English breakfast, modeled by yours truly before and after.



The reason I have not turned completely into a Rik Waller lookalike during this time is thanks mostly to the walking, and we took some more fresh air in the delightful surroundings of the New Forest. Now this is a fine last taste of southern England, full of love and life, another unbeatable place when the sun shines through the dense green foliage.

Here we saw an old tree, a few birds, lots of New Forest ponies and a herd of deer, nothing could be more English apart from a nice cup of tea and a youth in a fake Burberry cap.

Alas, quaint olde England had to be left behind and we rejoined the M3 up to Basingstoke where I made my way onto Heathrow. Now this is the tricky part. How do I end this story…a month of amazing sights, memories, above expected sunshine, food (oh my God, how much food), and truly terrific people? I’m actually quite sad to be leaving, I was getting used to our English ways and my stomach was expanding so I could happily continue with the eating. I love England, I love home, and I love the people I am leaving behind but I also love travel and the thrill of exploring new places. For me, Australia still remains mostly untouched and that excites me. Now all I need to do is get that little bother called work out the way!

As something of an epitaph I would like to thank all the people who made my trip so special, all those who put me up (sometimes unexpectedly) and put up with me. I’ve traveled the world and been lucky to see so many places, but this has been my best holiday ever. Now, I must pack up as, rather aptly, Don’t Dream It’s Over by some antipodeans called Crowded House plays on the radio of this coach delivering me to that Malaysia Airlines check-in desk. See you in Oz!

The last supper (...now the diet starts?!)

If I could choose how to spend my last day in the Southwest of England for some time, it would probably involve waking to perfect blue skies, crossing the idyllic countryside to a rocky stretch of coast, doing a bit of walking, perhaps grabbing a pasty, pint and ice cream along the way, then returning home to the smell of a roast dinner to share with my family. Seems I just lucked out…

The Cornwall + Holiday = Shorts equation was very much on as Al, Vero, Philippe and I piled into the Yaris taking us up through Callington and Launceston with views to Dartmoor on one side and Bodmin Moor on the other, cruising beside a windfarm and the Davidstow cheese factory, then along the Atlantic Highway and across to the north Cornish coastal village of Tintagel. The main feature of Tintagel is the 2000 year old ruins of a castle on the island, linked to the mainland by a small footbridge. There are plenty of steps to climb here, so sustenance was obviously necessary beforehand.

It was one of the clearest days I had seen in a long time and the views were simply awesome, up the coast to Devon and Lundy Island, down the Cornish Coast to Pentire Point and inland to the villages, farmland and moors beyond. Really this small crowded island of ours is jam packed with beauty and I think being away for a little magnifies that somewhat. No excuses for showing a lot of pictures here…

Climbing back up to the village from the castle was of course thirsty work, so we popped into the Cornishman Arms for a pint of Doom Bar and then visited the amazing Granny Wobblys Fudge Pantry for ice cream topped with clotted cream and crumbly fudge, along with several tablets of crumbly fudge to take home, wherever that may eventually be.

Home for now was Beacon Park Road in Plymouth, where Mum was kicking up a storm in the kitchen with roast beef and lamb, Yorkshire pudding and masses of roast potatoes. This was kind of an early Christmas dinner for us all as it will be the last time we are together for a while. The food was of course fantastic and plentiful and it is with regret that I shall be leaving the leftovers to head to London, Blackpool and Basingstoke for a few days.

We managed to assemble for a few family photos, almost a repeat of one year ago when we were having an all out Aussie BBQ, the hat with corks in and XXXX was flying around and the sun was out. I can’t believe twelve months has passed since then and I have done and seen so much in that time. But, cliché ridden though it may be, there simply is no place like home.

More Moors, more food

The food themed road trips continued into Monday as we took a cross Dartmoor jaunt to Exeter, principally to indulge in a cream tea on the way to Exeter Tinshed Airport to pick up Veronique’s brother, Philippe. It was quite a showery day, dark brooding clouds and chinks of sunlight typical of the high moors and adding to their mystique.

We stopped at a couple of places to take in the landscape…whilst all looks barren there is plenty of life up here – Dartmoor ponies and the inevitable sheep standing in the middle of the road and a few friendly birds.

The eastern edge of the moors descends into a Devonyllic realm of patchwork fields, thatched cottages and cream teas.

Have I mentioned cream teas? Oh, yeah, about that, we drove through the gorgeous village of Drewsteignton, down to the steep sided valley around Fingle Bridge, home of the inventively named Fingle Bridge Inn, where food was being served. Aforementioned food included freshly baked scones accompanied by a huge bowl of thick yellow Devon clotted cream and another bowl of strawberry jam, washed down with the finest pot of her majesty’s finest tea. What a way to do lunch!

This blog is rapidly turning into a food tour of England and is probably blacklisted by FatFighters! Whilst it seems like it, it’s not all food, food, food you know…we did manage a bit of a jaunt along the beautiful stretch of river near the pub, all green and ancient and thriving at this time of year.

However much we all dislike the rain, it does provide for an amazing richness of life and, perhaps more importantly, the greenest grass for the cows to produce the finest Devon cream tea!

A man dressed up in a bunny costume, sunny Sundays and how to make Marmite even better than it already is...

Food seems to have been pivotal in the last few days to the planning of my days. As I’m running out of time at home it is always…oh one last chance for this, better cook that, gotta grab one of these before it’s too late, must go to X so we can get Y (mmmmm, Y). Needless to say I may have to pay extra weight allowance on my flight home :-)

Well, away from food it’s been sunny and pleasantly warm which must mean the football season is upon us. Proper football, not some drugged up hoon in a wifebeater catching some oval shaped ball on an oval pitch! What the?!?! I won’t get to see any proper matches – the season starts next Saturday when my team – the mighty Plymouth Argyle – is away to Hull. Probably the furthest away trip all season. However, I did get to catch a friendly match against Bristol Rovers at Home Park, Al & I taking Bethany to her first football game.
She is quite into football but mostly England. However, despite a plethora of goals (7-3 to Argyle) she got a bit bored and restless, but I think that was in part due to her wariness of Pilgrim Pete, the Plymouth mascot now otherwise referred to as a giant bunny. He has a hat as big as a reasonably sized midget, size 22 feet and a Moustache as long as a whole jellied eel. Yeah, I’d be scared too.

The rest of the weekend entailed a few kickabouts in the local park with a little green football, jumpers for goalposts etc. On Sunday afternoon, which was an absolutely glorious day by the way, I went onto the moors with Bethany, Cheryl, Steve & Mum. This took in an ice cream stop which was perfect in every way (Langage Farm again), a little walk on the shores of a full to the brim Burrator Reservoir, a stop at Cadover Bridge, which was more like Blackpool-upon-Moor given the number of oiks out on a sunny Sunday afternoon, and a pint of cider at the Skylark in Clearbrook to cap it all off (possibly served by the most bored-with-her-job barmaid in the world). Sunday afternoons and beer gardens were made for each other.


Monday was also mostly a nice day which ended in fine style in the sunny back garden with Mum’s cheesy Marmite* twists, home made sausage and egg pie and Rhubarb Crumble.


* Colonials could substitute ‘Vegemite’ for Marmite but must prepare to be disappointed.