Well, the journey is almost over as I am back in London after the European road trip. And yes, the most striking thing is that everybody here speaks English (albeit with a stupid accent). No one believed it could be done, but the van made it all the way round Europe, doing close to 14,000 kilometres in total (when you count Scotland). All that is left (‘all’ he says!) is Egypt, Syria and Jordan. The plane tickets for the tour arrived in the mail today so I am extra excited. If you’re really envious and have a lazy 4 or 5 grand lying around… there are still spaces on the tour.

I’m sitting comfortably at my aunty’s house and for the first time in a month or so have the luxury of sitting around in shorts and a t-shirt despite it being about 7 degrees outside. Even though we stayed in hostels for about half of the past three weeks and they were nice and warm etc… there’s nothing quite like lounging around in a familiar environment, sitting on the couch with a hot drink and watching a Judge Judy triple bill. Know what I mean? Course you do. However, this comfort (including internet access) means that I can no longer deprive you all of my zany stories with lame excuses like ‘internet is too expensive’… which is not to say that it wasn’t expensive. Some places were up to €8 an hour which is something like $15!

With the Louvre closed, we took a walk down the Champs Elysees and through the Jardin des Tuileries. It is quite a long walk but very beautiful and interesting. We walked to the Arc de Triomph at the end of the Champs Elysees then caught the Metro the Eiffel Tower. We climbed the tower as far as we were allowed which was about halfway to the top. To get right to the top you had to get a lift and pay something like €10. I considered it but the lines were just way too long. After that we probably did something which I can't remember then headed back to the van and out towards the airport. The plan was to park somewhere near the airport for the night so that I could drop Rachel and David off in the morning without too much hassle. As it turned out, finding somewhere to park was hassle enough. After about an hour driving along long roads with virtually no shoulder and through numerous industrial estates we found a little dirt road and a nice spot in a deserted field. We awoke the next morning to find people tending the field nearby. It was not as deserted as we thought. A couple of times a car would drive past and park nearby, with the driver giving us a puzzled look.

The fun really began when I dropped Rachel and David off at the airport. I had to drive from Charles de Gaulle airport to a little town north of Bordeaux called Aulnay de Santogne where I was to meet my English friend Matt. The drive was god knows how long but I figured it would take me about seven hours. It ended up being about eleven hours in the end. First of all I somehow missed the Paris ring road and ended up right in the middle of the city. I drove across the Champs Elysees and only missed the Arc de Triomph with its twelve (count ‘em) intersection, six-lane roundabout. I more or less drove past the Eiffel Tower and along the Seine. I’m pretty good at reading a map (and have since gotten even better) but it was pretty hard to navigate alone in a foreign country. But folks, the fun didn't stop there. I proceeded to get lost in Versailles, Tours, and Chartres. Every time it was because of construction works and the resultant forced detours. The trouble with French roads (apart from being crap unless you get on the exorbitant toll ways) is that there are too many roundabouts even on major inter-city roads which slow you down and can quite easily put you on the wrong road if your not paying attention. Also, there are often signs pointing to obscure little towns but not to bigger towns which are closer by. Anyhow, if I’m gonna bag French roads this much I could go on about Spanish and Italian roads for days… so I’ll stop… and go on about how great German roads are. Nah, maybe later.

So I get to Aulnay, a sleepy little town in a beautiful area filled with far reaching plains and fields of sunflowers. I had no idea where Matt’s place was so I just parked near a biggish church and told him to meet me there. A little while later he showed up on a beaten up little pushbike and I thought ‘ooh, how provincial.’ Matt and his family have owned their property in France for quite a few years and it is an ongoing project to bring it back to it’s former glory. Think of it as ‘The Block’ in the French countryside. It was really quite idyllic. I spent the next week lazing by the pool, eating sandwiches and doing some sightseeing. The bread in France was really good especially the most simple kind, often called a flute. We would just call it a baguette but there is a distinction as baguettes are smaller and crustier while flutes are bigger and quite soft to the touch. It was pretty hard to find sliced bread as we are used to but with the quality on offer I wasn’t complaining. Aulnay is pretty much in the cognac making region so we naturally went to the town of Cognac and visited the Hennessy distillery. I was expecting to see at least one American gansta rapper there visiting the home of the beverage which has inspired so many lame rap lines. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be but we did get a good tour of the place and a taste at the end. I have to say that cognac really isn't my bag but they also make another spirit which they call Hennessy Pure White. Get into that I say.

I can't remember much else of my time in Aulnay but I do remember that it was great… really relaxing, hospitable and fun. Matt and I did get around to a couple of the local discotheques and in actual fact the two big nights we had were two of the strangest nights of the whole trip for me. I don't know if I can be bothered going into details now and it’s a bit weird to type about some of this stuff but ask me about it sometime. The code words are Hypermarche and Le Miami.

So, I’m gonna skip ahead to the part where I left Aulnay. The plan was to pick Adam up from nearby Poitiers about a week after getting to Aulnay. That same day, Matt was due to fly back to London. As it turned out, Adam had to delay his flight by about three weeks so I was left with the prospect of driving to Valencia (Spain) by myself to meet up with Jeremy (who I’d met once previously). It wasn’t a particularly exciting proposition but I figured it could be done. Fortunately, a better solution was arranged as Matt decided to come to Spain with me. We left Aulnay on I’m guessing the 19^th of August and headed for Bordeaux. Bordeaux is a really beautiful city and it really took me by surprise, as I didn't have many expectations at all. When I think Bordeaux I just think wine, so apart from wine, I didn't know what to expect. We didn't do anything particularly cultured but instead wandered through the streets and along the trendy shopping strips. I bought a pair of jeans, which I badly needed, and we had dinner at nice little place in what seemed to be the restaurant district. That night we went to a Japanese bar which was again interesting and again too weird to write about.

The next day we headed for San Sebastian in Spain via Bayonne and Biarritz. We went to Biarritz, a touristy, upmarket beach town full of trendy people, because Matt couldn’t stop going on about some restaurant there. When we got there he wasn’t so sure that the restaurant was actually in that town. So, we sat by the beach and ate a croque monsieur (ham and cheese toastie… but it is so much more. I think it’s the cheese they use). As we neared the Spanish border I thought it might be a good idea to get all our documents ready for inspection. Spanish police have a mixed reputation but it is quite clear that aren’t particularly fond of the English given their tendency toward drunken hooliganism in resort towns all along the Spanish coast. Driving through the area where the Pyrenees meet the Atlantic I kept a keen eye out for any indication of the border but there really wasn’t one. I realised we were in Spain when we stopped at a roundabout and noticed that the signs on a nearby shop were all in Spanish. It was very strange but of course not the last time we were to experience that phenomenon. We made it to San Sebastian without any drama but the drama did indeed begin when we got there. The roads were really busy and it was almost impossible to find somewhere to park. By the time we did it was almost dark. The night in San Sebastian was stupid for reasons connected to Bordeaux. (intrigued?) It also suddenly started raining heavier than I had never experienced before although I think I have since experienced worse. We were dry one minute, the next minute we could see the rain rolling in from the sea and the next minute we were soaked to the bone. So, San Sebastian was lousy for several reasons despite the considerable praise that people heap on the place. I’m not saying I’ll never go back there again but yeah, it’s ‘tainted’.

I’m a bit sleepy now so I’ll stop. Next time the tour of Spain continues with Pamplona, Teruel, Valencia, Bunol (including tomatoes), Barcelona, Peniscola (my personal favourite), Vinaros, Tarragona, Salou and a bunch of other places I can't remember right now. Geez this is tiring. I’m still only two weeks into the tour. There’s about two and a half months to go. Do you really want to hear about it all?

Adam and Jeremy have photos up at the following sites. I’m sure I’m in some of em. I err… don’t really have any myself.

http://au.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/jlcho6/my_photos

http://photos.yahoo.com/_willow_99

It’s been almost a month since my last update and there has been so much going on that I can hardly be bothered doing and update. So I’ll either get tired halfway through this or it will be a fairly half-assed effort.

It seems like years ago that I went to the British Museum but it was only about three weeks ago. The place is great and full of fabulous things plundered from around the world, with the Elgin Marbles probably being the most notable. I had been to the museum in January with Michael for about 15 minutes and as it happened the only bit we saw, the Egyptian collection, turned out to be my favourite. The Rosetta Stone is the centrepiece and despite being very unassuming when compared with all the sarcophaguses and statues deserves its esteemed position.

I really can't remember too much else about the museum apart from the display of costumes from the movie Troy…which is a bit sad really. After the museum I met up with Aunty Joyce and Sarah and we went for a turn on the London Eye.

Here are Sarah and myself on a bridge over the Thames with a building that looks like a gherkin according to Sarah. I just think it's blatantly phallic.

The walk along the river to the Eye was lined with those stupid buskers that paint themselves a metallic colour and stand still until you give them money. I couldn’t help marvelling at the fact that they’re onto a real money-spinner with that thing. All it does is spin so slowly that it doesn't have to stop in order for you to get off and they can charge something like £10 a go. Nevertheless, the view is really great and in a city like London there is plenty to see. After our ‘flight on the British Airways London Eye’, Sarah and I went off in search of a Japanese restaurant as she had never before had the pleasure of raw fish. On the way to Chinatown via Piccadilly Circus we saw perhaps my favourite site of the trip thus far. Interestingly it has to do with ‘statue buskers’ which had annoyed me only hours earlier. Right opposite the Trocadero, next to fountain of horses stood an Asian guy wearing a military hat, ‘Top Gun’ style sunglasses, checked pyjama pants and a t-shirt with the words ‘Odd Erection’ on it. beneath the caption was an indiscernible blue and white blur (probably/hopefully not and erection). Oh, and in his right hand he held a banana. I don't know why I bothered explaining his attire when I have a photo. Anyway, it was probably one of those ‘you had to be there moments’, but I absolutely lost it at first then proceeded to be completely transfixed. Sarah, even though she was there, couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. I couldn’t resist asking him what the story was as he didn't even have anything laid out to collect money. He tried hard not to smile and apart from a slight smirk managed to remain composed and tight-lipped. And so I was left pondering the mystery of the Odd Erection Guy.

A day or two later I had a little leaving party as I had quit my job the previous week. The job was a joke as many of you may have heard (or experienced first hand) but the people were great and there was always a laugh to be had. The night was supposed to be a simple ‘dinner and clubbing’ affair but it all nearly ended in tears when we rolled up to the bar and found it closed. Admittedly it was a Tuesday night and I hadn’t checked that it would be open, but I was still a bit annoyed. Thankfully the English are a bunch of drunks and a number of alternative venues were quickly suggested. So it turned out to be a fun night without scandal which yielded some nice photos which you can find here.

A couple of weeks ago I finally got to go a theme park. Thrills in Melbourne are definitely thin on the ground and I haven't been to the Gold Coast parks either so I’ve really been wanting to get my fix in Europe. So, Rachel, Sarah, myself and their friends David and Sharon made the trip out to Thorpe Park which is near Heathrow and probably the #2 theme park in Britain. Despite the fact that we went on a Tuesday the queues were still pretty long. It’s amazing how people (including me) are willing to queue for over half an hour for a 20 second ride. Naturally the rides had exotic names like The Samurai, Nemesis Inferno, Colossus, Vortex and my personal favourite X: No Way Out. They were all pretty good and Colossus apparently holds the world record for the highest number of inversions (10).

The following day we drove from Chester to the little town of Drymen just north of Glasgow. The West Highland way officially starts closer to Glasgow but apparently the first bit was mainly along roads and really not much to shout about. Starting in Drymen gave us a relatively easy first day to ease ourselves into the walk. By the time we got to Drymen it was evening so we stayed the night at a campsite. Notably, it was the first night I spent in the van and all in all it was quite good.

I wont go through the details of the walk, as it was definitely something that needs to be experienced in the flesh. Even the photos have relatively little meaning unless you have done the walk or intend to. Still, you can find them here.

The West Highland Way is 95 miles long (about 150kms) but we would have walked about 130kms over the course of seven days. The walk took us over hills, along roads and rivers and through forests, valleys, farms and fields. It wasn’t a case of being completely isolated from civilisation as there were towns along the way, but you still feel like you are in a magical place. The highlight of the first couple of days was walking along the banks of Loch Lomond, the largest body of water in Britain. We had the luxury of staying at hostels and bunkhouses rather than having to camp. Only a few places had cooking facilities so we enjoyed a few dinners out. It all felt a bit strange to be walking 20kms a day then chowing down in style at night. Testament to that is the fact that I didn't lose any weight on this walk despite having lost something like 5kg doing the Overland Track in Tasmania. One night I even had scallops with risotto in a crab bisque sauce! We had some pretty good haggis along the way too. Lunches were not as interesting and consisted of the fairly standard camper’s fare of tinned tuna with a bit of bread and potentially some tinned corn. On the third day of the walk I developed a mysterious Achilles tendon injury. It happened just after lunch and I have no idea why. I was fine in the morning, had a very relaxing lunch, got up and couldn’t walk properly.

Walking from Kingshouse to Kinlochleven on our sixth day was something else altogether. I only took one photo the whole day because it absolutely bucketed down all day. I had reluctantly bought a pair of waterproof pants before the walk and hadn’t used them up to this point. Needless to say I was glad that I did buy them. However, the joy was short lived as the tracks turned to streams and we found ourselves walking in shin deep water at times. Despite all the wet-weather gear we were all soaked to the bone along with the contents of our bags. I cursed the ‘waterproof lining’ of my pack when I opened it to find all but one piece of clothing wet. Having said that, I actually really enjoyed walking through the torrent. Once we were all as soaking wet as we could possibly be there was really nothing to worry about. Rather than trying to avoid puddles and streams you just walked through them. It was actually quite relaxing and uplifting.

The day after we finished our walk we caught a bus from Fort William back to Drymen and hoped that our vehicles would be intact and that the van would actually start. During the bus ride we caught our first glimpses of Highland cattle. We were all liking forward to seeing these big shaggy things along the walk and we quite disappointed with all the normal cows we saw instead. Back in Drymen we found the cars as we had left them and the van started first time. Bless the Scots. We drove to Stirling and stayed the night at a caravan park. Stirling Castle was on the agenda for the next day and it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience from the archery demonstrations to the tour guide who claimed to be Mel Gibson’s cousin.

Sadly, Stirling was our last stop in Scotland as Christine and I drove back into England and towards the Lake District. I found Scotland to be completely different from England. It may, in part, have to do with my own romantic notions of the place or all the myth and legend surrounding it but yeah, Scotland is soooo much better than England. The people are really friendly, haggis is tasty and you gotta love a good Scottish accent.

The Lake District is beautiful but I couldn’t help thinking that they didn't have the charm of the Scottish Highlands. Add to that the fact that the couple of hours we spent walking in the Lake District were a shambles and didn't involve any lakes. So we ended up leaving a bit earlier than expected and decided to drive all the way to Alton rather than just halfway as was originally planned. Alton, which is near Stoke-on-Trent is the home of Alton Towers, the UK’s #1 theme park. We stayed the night at a caravan park nearby and man was it mondo bizzaro. It was set on the grounds of what appeared to be an old manor. It was clear that the place would have been quite grand in its day but had been left to fall into disrepair. I can't even being to explain how strange it was and I’m not going to try.

So,  the next day dawned bright and sunny and yay, we set off for Alton Towers. We were only going to stay til about 3 because we wanted to get to Chester that night to see Jacqui and Maria, so I was determined to cram as many rides in as possible. In the end we got onto six rides and while that doesn't seem like much, Chris and I both had a great time. Most notable was a ride called Air, which was really quite innovative. It is basically a hanging-type roller coaster but the twist is that once you are seated and ready to go, the harnesses rotate 90 degrees so that you are horizontal and facing the ground. Then off it goes and you feel like you’re Superman.

We made it to Chester in good time, had a great meal with Jacqui and Maria and went out for a couple of quiet ones. We had to scoot off early the next morning as the girls had to go to work, but a couple of detours meant that we only got back to London at about 5. Christine has now set off for India and I have the next week to set everything in place for the European tour. It is going to be a major shock to the system and the next time you hear from me I will probably be cursing French drivers, French keyboards and the French in general.

Agnes, you will shield your eyes in awe of my vintage Transformers t-shirt purchased through Ebay for the low low price of US$14. Hahaha.

Admittedly the rain on the window makes it look a bit worse than it is but I cant convey in a photo how cold it is so that kinda evens things out.

I can't believe that in just over a month I'll be heading for France. I have no idea where the time has gone. It seems as though all my time has been occupied with making preparations, fixing up the van and generally worrying about finances.

Since I wrote my last entry Euro 2004 has kicked off in a big way. From what I gather there has not been much talk about it in Australia. Over here it has drowned out just about everything and if England were still in the running I’m sure that people would have just about forgotten about Wimbledon. It seems like so long ago that I was at work as England were playing France. It was England’s first game and the cinema was all but deserted. Some clever dick had stuck a coat hanger into one of TVs in the cinema which normally play movie trailers all day long and managed to tune it to the soccer. Just about everyone on site including the managers spent most of the evening skiving off to watch the game. For France to score twice in extra time and steal the game was truly amazing. Despite being in an empty cinema watching the game, the atmosphere was great. After the game, shell-shocked, drunk and angry fans could be seen leaving pubs and driving noisily down the A10 (main road which passes the cinema). This leads me to start ranting about the English so if you can’t be bothered reading it scroll down a couple of paragraphs. Hooliganism is a real problem here. It is difficult to make sense of it and I think that you can only blame alcohol to a certain degree. After the loss to France people were stopping cars in the middle of the road, trashing pubs and fighting with each other. All this without a French person in sight. 

I watched the England v Switzerland match at the pub across the road from the cinema called the Southbury with a bunch of people from work and while it was fun and exciting to watch I just could not understand the passion and anger with which the English fans were shouting at the screen and calling the Swiss f’in c’s every time they stole the ball. Even though England won the game the crowd still got rowdy and proceeded to spill out onto the street and jump on passing cars. The only way for drivers to avoid being mobbed was to run a red light or honk wildly and wave a St George flag to show just how patriotic they were. Though bewildered by the mob mentality I was tickled enough to take a few photos and even a little video clip. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your point of view) the car that I videoed being set upon got off relatively lightly. In the end, two van-loads of policemen showed up to disperse the crowd. The scary thing was that this was the experience of just one pub and without doubt the scene would have been repeated at just about every pub around the country. Straight up, there are way too many pubs around. The fact that they all survive shows how big a part they play in English culture. I can’t even think of one pub within walking distance of our house in Mount Waverley (the Notting Hill is probably the closest and that’s too far to walk) but I can name about seven around here and can see one out of the window right now. As an aside, one of the pubs nearby is called the Jolly Butchers and I think you’ll agree that the sign out front is a bit disturbing. 

With only two weeks to go before I head for Scotland I am vainly attempting to get around to all the tourist attractions I shoulda/coulda/didn’t. Went to the Natural History Museum last week mainly to look at dinosaurs. I didn't quite get to see everything but what I did see was very good. I would have enjoyed it more if I were younger though. Take your kids there before they’re 15 and they’ll remember it for the rest of their lives. The Natural History Museum is a proper museum unlike the joke that is the Melbourne Museum. Let me tell you, it’s all about fossils and taxidermy. The Natural History Museum has oodles of both. Though the fossils on display are only casts of the originals, there are heaps and some of them are pretty big. They also have a stuffed version of just about every animal you could think of including all the big cats. And admission is free! Can't beat that. Most of the photos I took were lousy so I wont bother putting any up. 

The van is coming along relatively nicely. My neighbour Stefan has been unbelievably helpful. I cannot begin to tell you how up the proverbial creek I’d be without him. If he wasn’t around, I like a fool, would have wasted hundreds of pounds on mechanic bills for simple things. The van now has an electric coolbox, 240v power, two new tyres and new carpet (which I laid all by myself). Just a bit more tinkering and a bit more cleaning and it will be ready to go. I think that driving the van will teach me how to control a car better and drive gently as you have to constantly be mindful of all the stuff in the back that jumps around every time you take a corner too fast or brake too hard.  

I went to Wimbledon on Wednesday! Never been to the Australian Open but I’ve been to Wimbledon. I ended up going by myself but it was still a good experience. There was a tube strike that day so I had to rely on the slower overland trains. I planned to get there at about 9:30 but only got there after the gates opened at 10:30. I joined the very long queue right before it was closed. Only one other person got in after me. The queue moved fairly quickly but it still took an hour to get in. A ground pass cost £13 which was reasonable enough. I walked around for a bit then headed for court 18 to watch a men’s doubles match which featured three Aussies including Wayne Arthurs. There were quite a few Aussie fans watching as Arthurs and Hanley won is straight sets. Tim Henman was up next on Centre Court and the hill named after him was jam packed with people watching the game on the big screen. (see pic at top). I didn't bother trying to find a seat and instead walked around the outside courts where most of the matches were contested by kids or oldies. It was, after all, day 10 and most of the men’s and women’s singles games had been played. I had serving of the obligatory strawberries and cream but at £5.50 a glass passed on the Pimm’s and lemonade. At the end of the Henman match, which only lasted three sets, the weather wasn’t looking too good so I decided to head home and catch the Hewitt v Federer match on TV. Just as well I left when I did because as soon as I stepped onto the bus for Wimbledon station the heavens opened. When I got back to Kings Cross station I had to catch a train for one stop and change and Finsbury Park. I swear I got on the right train as there was more than one that I could have caught but as it turned out I was quite mistaken. After about 10 minutes on the train it finally clicked that something might be wrong. At about the 20 minute mark the scenery changed from drab inner-city to rolling plains and fields. At the 30 minute mark the train still hadn’t stopped since leaving Kings Cross so I finally decided to find a conductor and ask when the train would finally stop. One of the incompetent chaps had checked my ticket soon after leaving Kings Cross and even put a little stamp on it. However he failed to notice that my ticket was only valid within the London area. Let me tell you, it’s pretty hard to miss that. Anyway, another conductor apologised profusely and even offered the use of his phone in case I needed to let someone know that I’d be home late. He told me that the next stop was St Neots, a further 10 minutes away. This statement received a blank expression from me and only later consultation of a map revealed that St Neots is near Cambridge. So basically, because of the stupidity of two people (me and the conductor who checked my ticket but more him because he should have been doing his job and I am just a tourist), I went from London to Cambridge and back again when all I wanted to do was get home and go to bed.

So that was Wednesday. Tuesday night was my last shift at UGC Cinemas. I cannot tell you what a relief it was although it is scary to think that I will not be earning a penny (or a cent) for the next seven months. I’m having a little leaving party on Tuesday so I’ll probably post something after that. I’ll try put some more pictures up too. Here is one of my cousin Rachel and me in Enfield town.

This photo is more or less the view looking in the opposite direction… with ducks!

Does anyone else find this amusing?

Hooray, exams are finally over. At last the real purpose of this trip can be achieved. I haven't done nearly enough sightseeing or wandering. I’ll be going to Scotland in July to do the West Highlands walk with my cousin Christine. I can’t wait to see how it compares to Tassie. The walk is about twice as long as the Overland Track but doesn't seem to be as difficult. The plan is to have the van ready by then and take it to Scotland as a test drive. Should be hilarious.

So anyway, the bane of my existence has been this part for the van windscreen wiper called a wheel box. Even the most avid car nut probably wouldn't have heard of it as it hasn’t been used in any vehicle for about the past 20 years… probably because it’s crap. A few days after I wrote my last blog entry I went back to the scrap yard as planned and began unscrewing everything on the Sherpa they had. The rain began to pour and 20 minutes later it became obvious that the part I was after was completely different to the one in front of me. The bloke at the yard said that old Mini’s also used the part I was after. The trouble was the Mini he had was perched above a couple of other cars about two storeys high and he wasn’t willing to fire up the forklift and bring it down for me. The other option was to climb up on a ladder and I was actually considering this for a while but after taking into account the pouring rain and the incompetent brova who was holding the ladder, decided that discretion was the better part of valour.

Thus, defeated I decided to fork out and buy the part off the shelf. I the end I had to purchase the entire wiper unit including motor and have it couriered from somewhere down south at a cost of £55. The box it came in was about 1m x 1m x 20cm but the bit I needed was tiny as you can see. (I really need to put up more interesting pictures eh?)

A few days ago one of my neighbours helped me put it in along with some new brakes I bought. Things are starting to come together but I will only relax if and when the van passes a roadworthy test which will hopefully be sometime next week.

The weather is really improving here and we’ve had temperatures above 30 this week. Just like it cant cope with very cold weather, this country cannot cope with very hot weather. Just about all the air conditioning at the cinema broke down as did the ice machines and Coke towers. So basically we had a couple of days without soft drinks… the cinema’s most profitable product.

Got the shock of my life a couple of weeks ago when I went to a central London club for the first time with some people from work. Before that it has mainly been pubs and clubs locally or around uni. It was someone’s birthday so we were on the guest list. Nevertheless, the cover charge was, wait for it, £14! (AU$35) I’ve never even paid AU$14 to get into a club before. Most people, me included, only make about £5-7 an hour. Drinks were also ridiculously priced. £6.50 for basics. Good thing I’d had a few travellers. Anyway, it was an interesting experience.

Adam and I booked a tour of the Middle East a couple of days ago. 28 days in Egypt, Jordan and Syria starting in December. We were planning on doing a slightly longer one which included Turkey with another company but the company we booked with just happened to have a huge 3 day sale. Well it wasn’t huge because there were only 250 discounted tickets but the discounts themselves were huge. Basically all we are paying is about £250 (AU$630) plus airfares and insurance when the regular price is closer to £1000 (AU$2500) plus airfares and insurance. You can barely live a month off that and we’re going to be traipsing round the pyramids and sailing down the Nile. Can you tell I’m excited?

Euro 2004 fever is building up around the country (the continent even) and people are getting very patriotic and hanging St Georges flag out of their cars and in their house windows. The first game is on Sunday and not surprisingly I’m working because every other guy at the cinema has asked for it off. Also, Wimbledon starts in 10 days. I’ll have to get along with my Aussie flag and cheer on the Poo and co.

Wow, it’s been ages since I posted anything. I’ve managed to turn 23 in that time. It’s not that nothing’s been happening, I just haven’t had any ‘postcard moments’ and I keep forgetting to take the camera with me. The weather is slowly getting better but they have a stoopid thing called ‘April showers’ which basically means that despite the fact that it’s spring, April is rainy and crap.

I’ve been occupying my time by working, trying to track down van parts, going out a bit and avoiding study. Exams are in about 3 weeks so I really cant put it off much longer.

I drove the van around the block a few weeks ago. It was an interesting experience and I only had a couple of near misses. Nah, it was ok, will just take a bit of getting used to… which will have to wait as the battery has since run dry. I also got a £40 fine for parking it with 2 wheels on the pavement. So with the battery dead, 3 of us were forced to push the van off the pavement. It was harder to turn the wheel than push the thing. Rachel and I gave it a quick clean too. The stove is now fit for cooking and the bacteria count in general has been lowered significantly. The front part is carpeted and I want to change it but it’s probably best to wait until the mechanical side is sorted out. For those that are interested the van needs a new brake cylinder, front indicator lamps and a windscreen wiper wheel box. The old brake cylinder was leaking brake fluid and it has become clear that rather than replace it the previous owner was happy to keep on pouring brake fluid in. I’ve found about 4 empty bottles of the stuff inside. Listen to me going on about cars… you wouldn't read about it. I’m learning a fair bit though, thanks in particular to one of our neighbours, Stefan, who has been nice enough to help me out. I’ve discovered that battery fluid is very corrosive and will ruin you clothes. I managed to screw up my favourite t-shirt whilst carrying the battery from van to house. Spewing. I even went to a scrap yard last week and had a rummage around. It was all quite exciting and manly. I managed to find a Sherpa at this particular yard but it is a later model and the wiper part I’m after is different. However, I’m hoping that it can still be used so I’m planning to go back this week and attempt to remove it from the van. It should be interesting, as it will involve ripping out virtually the entire dashboard. All this hassle for a little part. I managed to track down the brake parts, which was a small victory for me. At this stage I plan to head for the continent around mid August. Probably only hours before my visa is due to expire. It’s a bit scary, as I may have to do the first leg alone because I am now meeting Adam in Paris. So it’ll be a drive from London to Dover on the left side of the road, a ferry to Calais followed by a drive to Paris on the right side of the road. They say that guys think about sex most of the time. I can tell you that I’ve been constantly thinking about the logistics of driving on the right. Where I should be looking, how to turn, which lane to drive in, how to use mirrors, how to head-check etc. Ugh. Well this paragraph is getting kinda long so I’ll talk about something else.

Work is still stoopid although it’s getting to the point where I just laugh. Management are getting all excited because we have just switched to Lavazza coffee but I’m there thinking, dude, we have no vessels to serve the said coffee in, the staff don't know the difference between a cappuccino and a latte and most probably haven't heard the word macchiato. On the plus side I’m getting along well with a few people from work. Hopefully some lasting contacts will come out of it all. Everyone seems to be leaving though. I’ve been to two leaving parties (for 5 people all together) in the last few weeks and there’s another next week. Two of the guys that left were subjected to a rather embarrassing farewell prank which involved being stripped virtually naked and covered in tomato sauce and mustard. I just stood back and reluctantly took photos all the while pondering why most guys are reluctant to hug another guy in friendship but relish the opportunity to strip him and roll around on the floor covered in condiments.

I saw Kill Bill 2 last week, which was really good. Also saw Hidalgo, which was not so good. Hanging for Shrek 2 and HP3. More importantly I really have to start getting around to all the big London attractions. I’ve been to some previously but I keep putting off things like the British Museum, Camden Market and Tate Modern. 

Many may laugh but I’ve embarked on a bit of a health crusade. I wont go into the details of how I’m doing it as questions of sexuality may be raised but initial results are promising. Yesterday saw a bit of a setback as I ate a bit too much but I figure it was my birthday the day before and besides it was totally worth it. I went out with Christine and a bunch of her people on Friday night. We both had dinner at a nice little Italian restaurant near Fleet Street after we found that the sushi place we had planned to go to closed early. I think we stumbled across a real gem as it was packed while restaurants around were quite empty. The food was really good and they even gave everyone macaroons and a free shot of Amaretto as an after-dinner drink. We went to a couple of bit-too-trendy-for-me bars but had a good time all the same. Yesterday afternoon Christine, her friend Nat and I went to Borough Market which is near London Bridge. It is a food market and it was incredible. The place was filled not with Greek men trying to sell you cheap fish or old ladies sitting amongst a mountain of smallgoods but with a plethora of gourmet delights. It was one of the best gastronomic experiences I’ve ever had. We started with a freshly shucked oyster and a huge clam each. It was very cool. I had no idea clams could be so huge. The oysters were graded 1 to 5 and priced accordingly. Since we were only going to have one we decided to go for the highest grade… but all he was the lowest grade… but they were still awesome… which means I have to go back and try the grade 1 oysters. They were bigger than a clenched fist. Then it was on to an ostrich burger with fresh greens, whole grain mustard and cranberry sauce. Delicious once again. This was followed by real hot chocolate. ie chocolate that is hot as opposed to chocolate powder and a bit of milk. Man it was rich. It had gone cold by the time I finished it. I couldn’t help thinking that this quality chocolate was only a pound per cup while at work we charge £1.30 for some grey looking crap. The chocolate was accompanied by huge scallops, one of my favourite things, on a bed of stir-fried vegetables and crispy bacon. In amongst all the things we paid for there was much sampling of cheese, goat’s cheese, smoked cheese, smoked eel, olives etc. After all that we parted company and I did a bit of window-shopping around Oxford Street. The place is always crawling with people so I gave up fairly quickly. There are people from every corner of the world in London, stumbling around with map in hand.

I’m sure I have more to write but it’s 2:45am and I have to be at work at 9am. I’ll be procrastinating this week so I’ll probably have time for another update. Stay tuned for nighttime walks through forests commonly used as dead body dumping grounds, random trips to the beach in the middle of the night, disposable barbecues and plans to explore the Middle East.