rapping their way to town...

I had to catch the train to Bacchus Marsh yesterday to meet Rohan at work and was lucky enough that my train trip coincided with a whole bunch of fans heading down to etihad stadium to see eminem the now clean-living, 'great white rapper' as i read him described in the paper. I've always found him a bit more like a great white crapper myself, but to each their own musical tastes I guess. Today is really about pondering at the future of society.
I went to the counter to buy my train ticket and in line were a teenager and his scantily clad girlfriend (I'm using my teacher skills to say they may have been about 17)- and with them was mum. Mum was frantically hissing instructions in his ear 'now buy a ticket for the way back at the same time', 'how come?' 'because that way you won't have to get it at the counter in Melbourne, do it here, oh look there is a special train coming back late after the concert', says mum spotting the poster that told all fans they could see the show and still manage to catch a train home. So son gets to counter with girlfriend and mum starts to slink off. Boy stammers a bit and vline man looks bemused. Mum is suddenly centre stage again, 'so they're going to that concert and they want a ticket on the train to Melbourne, they need to get back home on that special train. do they need a special ticket for that or will a normal ticket work?' Mum completes all the transaction, pays the money while these two almost adults stand there looking like superfluous appendages. It worries me when young people cannot work out how to ask for a train ticket and when parents continue to take responsibility for them. Particularly when the children then move away and strut around like they are rapper fans from the bronx. Give me a break kiddies if you can't buy a train ticket I don't think you'll be out there causing societal revolutions.
On this same day a former colleague told me her 19 year old wanted to know more about a university course that she wanted to do, but was too embarrassed to ring up and ask, so mum got on the phone and left a rambling, pleading message with an academic asking them to call her back so she could find out the information and pass it on to her daughter. Why? At 19 you can drive, vote, drink - but you can't dial a phone number? As an academic nothing would piss me off more than a phone call from a parent - it's like the student who got his mum to ring uni and ask about the vit requirements for teachers - honey if you can't ring us to find out what you need to do to get your registration then I don't think you should be going out and facing a classroom of kids and their parents next year.
All this depresses me - what does this mean for the young folk of today? Oh god, I just used young folk, now I sound like Kevin Rudd. Is it too early in the day for sherry and the crossword - I must be getting old and grumpy. 

let the christmas madness commence.

 I thought I might pop into the shops quickly on my way from one meeting to another today and pick up a present. I try to avoid taking Rohan on these kind of things because as soon as he hears a christmas carol he undergoes a jekyll and hyde transformation from good natured science geek to raving psychopath. I thought I'd duck into central square carpark and do a quick in and out mission. 
Mistake number one was it was lunchtime. 
Mistake number two was it was raining and windy therefore increasing likelihood of all round craziness from people. 
Mistake number three was to go to the roof carpark. 
I saw a park one from the end of row and I zipped round a corner into it. I will admit now I didn't see the indicator on in the ute that was in the row - I thought they were driving out. 
That was mistake number four. The driver went mental - her horn was beeping, she was swearing (my lip reading is pretty good and I definitely made out 'Fuck you'), she was waving her hands in the air in exasperation. Not a happy lady.  
So I thought, oops, that was genuinely my mistake, she can have it. 
I reversed out of the park and then she goes crazy again. But this time it's a whole new kind of crazy, now she's waving like an old friend, my lip reading makes out 'thank you' instead of 'fuck you' followed by more crazy waving. Okay lady - your hormones are out of control. Its still over 3 weeks till xmas. Take a freaking chill pill.
I headed back into the main part of the car park and someone was up on the ledge in their car doing some paris type parking as they tried to get in?/out? of a park. I decided that this is too much for me to bear on an empty stomach.
 Clearly an early am assault is required. 
Note to self - start christmas shopping in January next year. 

the drought breakers strike again

So the drought breakers in the form of rohan and I struck again when we headed off to queenscliff music festival - and we weren't even on the motorbike... We headed down fri after work and made home for the weekend the rather spiffy barwon heads 13th beach resort where they were much nicer to me after I'd filled out my name with my title of Dr.  We had thought we might go see pseudo echo fri night but instead spent the evening in ocean grove with lach and jane and the sleeping fin.
Sat started with our planned breakfast feast thwarted by the fact that the hotplate wouldn't work so I couldn't sizzle my bacon (no that is not a euphemism for anything)....it just went more pear shaped from there. The heavens opened and as I checked the radar on my phone I said to Rohan 'surely it can't rain all day'.

Famous.

Last.

Words.

Rain all day it did.
Torrential rain in fact.
More rain than has ever been recorded on one day at this time of year in the geelong region.
So much rain that we had to drive through a flooded patch of road to get to queenscliff. If it was not the lure of the triffids my all time fave aussie band (sans david mccomb - r.i.p you genius), then I would have curled up in a ball and hidden inside. Instead I curled up in my raincoat and headed for the lighthouse tent (after a quick diversion with carus thompson), where I spent a sensational two and a half hours as the triffids played their way through the whole born sandy devotional album, followed by some fave hits. Rob Snarski and the blackeyed susans (sans warren ellis- he's too cool and parisian for them now), mick harvey, alexander gow from oh mercy and my new fave on stage preacher, simon breed, made appearances on stage. It was 2 and a half hours of heaven.
Meanwhile the heavens kept pouring. We left the tent to search for food and took shelter in the dumpling tent, followed by donuts for desert. Such a healthy meal... Soon it was time for Henry Wagons and I marvelled at the fact that someone who more than slightly resembles Bill Oddie can be a sex symbol. Soon I was scared off by the drunk teenagers and the fact that I had lost all feeling in my fingers and toes and appeared to have the early stages of hypothermia.

Sunday dawned not bright and sunny, but grey and rainless and that was good enough for me. We began with Lannie Lane, who I hadn't seen before and would be happy to see again as long as she doesn't talk too much - every time she speaks I want to punch her in the face, but her singing voice is quite magical. Then david bridie and my friend the chocolate cake were on my menu. Rohan decided that david broke his marriage up so he had more material to write songs in minor keys about, but I figure that's a bit harsh. Far too soon we were heading home so rohan could face the beast that was exam marks that needed to be entered by monday....In 3 days I had seen a classic aussie band and my fave aussie band of all time - does life get any better than this?
I'm left with the thought that meredith is only 2 weeks away and surely it can't rain then too....can it?

soaking up the atmosphere

Thursday heralded the unofficial start of summer. It may be this Thursday that summer actually commences, but for me summer starts when the bands come out to play, and last Thursday night we headed to melb to see two of my fave Australian bands - You am I and Cold Chisel. I had done a crazy trip to Warrnambool the day before for work and dragged myself out of bed at 6 am to be on the road by 7 and back to Ballarat for work on Thursday. A trip down to Melbourne and I was feeling alert, but slightly alarmed - how long before I hit the wall of tiredness? A quick catch up with Ben at the mitre tavern (thanks for the free beer and pizza Ben!) and then I asked Ben if he would escort me from the premises in front of a bunch of suits - I've never been thrown out of a pub and thought it might be good to see what it was like...

I had shamefully signed up for the 'Cold Chisel fan club' (clearly I'm not so ashamed if I'm happy to admit it on here) which meant that I got presale tickets and ended up with seats that were only 10 rows from the stage or as Rohan described it 'close enough for mossy to sweat on us', that wouldn't be difficult, however, as the man is a ball of sweat. Bizarrely he seems to sweat more than Rohan and who thought that would be physically possible? (are you reading this Woody? I'm not lying and Rohan agrees!). The tickets said that the gig was at 7.30 pm and I figured this was so that Jimmy and co could grab their zimmerframes and get an early night (and after my one beer at the pub I was feeling like the early night was a very good idea). You am I hit the stage about 8 with timmy rogers looking quite the anorexic messiah in his all white outfit. By nine Chisel was on stage and I felt strangely at home - it was like being in the lady bay circa early 1990 - bogans as far as the eye could see and everyone singing khe sanh. It was a great gig - there was a whole lot of love in the room, mostly from grown men hugging each other with delight, but the boys on stage were in fine form. The beautiful don walker (and this may be the only time I use the word beautiful to describe don) was magic on the rinkytink and can that man write a quality lyric. We wandered back to the car through the gardens and I was glad to say that I'd seen a classic aussie band and I couldn't wait for the weekend when I was going to soak up the atmosphere at queenscliff and see my favourite band of all time - The Triffids! I ended up soaking that's for sure.....

i wake up in the morning

is there a better beginning to a song than the intro to wide open road by the triffids? something about the beat at the very start reaches right down through my chest and a little hand grabs hold of my heart and squeezes it tightly. love it.

so in taking a line from the song 'i wake up in the morning' and i think today of all the things i SHOULD be doing. marking, filling out timesheets, writing a conference presentation for thursday, collating feedback on a course and baking a cake for tomorrow's cup lunch. what am I doing? sitting at the table, clutching a freshly made coffee like its a lifeline and thinking of the sea.

i blame stanley. its the fault of that tiny little town on the northwest coast of tassie, perched beneath the towering presence of the  nut and surrounded on all sides by sea. the van diemen company headquarters sit high on the hill and the history in the place is so alive you can almost hear the clinking of chain in the crumbling cells. i figure i wouldn't have minded being a prisoner there, set high on the hill in a bluestone prison overlooking an endless expanse of blue sea....

Zen and the art of being a motorbike pillion...

I am a control freak.

This is no surprise to anyone who knows me well, but the end result of being a control freak is that I carry every bit of tension in my neck, shoulders, back, arms, everywhere really, and as time goes on I feel my shoulders hunch up towards my ears until I reach the point where I am tightly wound up, like one of those jack in a box on springs. Today I woke up and I needed someone to lift the lid and let my springs unfurl...

The sun was shining and so I decided that this meant spring had arrived early and therefore Rohan and I should hit the road on the motorbike. There was a twofold purpose to this - one, I could enjoy the sun and get a hit of bike riding that would make me look forward to our upcoming tassie trip even more, and two, I could get a bit of do-it-yourself chiropractic work by getting rohan to ride over some bumpy roads in the hope that my back would click back into place (sorry Anna! I know this is not ideal but in times of desperation I'll take what I can get).

I am by nature a worrier so the fact that I love being on the back of the bike is a surprise to most and especially to me. The rational part of my brain is aware of all the dangers of clinging onto rohan while riding and I have stored in the back of my brain the horrendous images and stories of bike riding adventures gone bad. All this I know. What I also know is that my rational brain is not in charge when I encase my head in my beautiful black $800 shoei helmet. When I pull on the bike gear I am as free as I can be.

For when I am a pillion, I cannot be in control. There is nothing I can do. I have to trust in rohan, the bike and the road. And trust I do. I give myself to the space inside my helmet and nothing else. The wind buffets around me and the sky and the road merge together into an endless sea before me. I close my eyes and words and ideas dance across my eyelids, tumbling in and out, but nothing stays long. I see gum trees flying past and sheep running from the noise of the bike rumbling up tiny, potholed country roads. We fly round bends, dip down into valleys and ride wherever the road may take us. It is this I love most. The journey, not the destination.

The destination brings its own pleasures when riding though. On cold days, I drag my gloves off and wrap my icy fingers around steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and I pick out sweet, sticky pastries in small country bakeries. On hot days, I roll off the bike, unpeeling my sweaty jacket and break breadsticks into pieces while munching on cheese and slurping on water.

My reverie is broken by Rohan's voice through the intercom 'Are you still awake?'....Geez what does he take me for? I fall asleep on the back of a bike once, and he's never let me forget it.

Today I am awake, and I suck in the air and soak up the sunshine. The cobwebs of winter are dismantling....

More leg falling off business

Saturday dawned sunny and full of promise so we decided to head to the royal institution as we hadn't made it there the day before. I checked the website for the correct tube and after a couple of changes we were at green park. Given that it was still pretty early we thought we may as well walk down to buckingham palace, no point being so close and not going to have a look. So we wandered down, took the required tourist snaps and then got out of there as it was already starting to fill up with tourists. We headed to RI and then realised one very important factor we hadn't considered before - RI isn't open on the weekends - grrrrr! Stupid post office on Friday turning all our plans pear shaped and sucking away the hours of our day...

What now? We decided to go to the natural history and science museum as we knew it was open for nerds seven days a week. Heading off on foot we walked from buckingham palace back to the science museum and spent a good few hours in there - with rohan in his own special sort of heaven. Home to watch the women's final of the tennis and then another quick walk down through kensington palace to see everyone lazing about in the summer sun....last day in london tomorrow - time goes so quickly!

The empire

Yesterday we decided to go see what the empire had collected and visit the British Museum. I also figured it might be easier to stay out of the way of the protestors, Kylie included, who were striking over changes to the pension system, but in my head I sang a little version of the internationale for them. We got to the museum at opening time which was nice and not so ridiculously busy. First stop the enlightment collection and by the end I felt not only enlightened but also a little bit overwhelmed by the amazing collection of things from so long ago. This only intensified when I went into the collection of stuff from Greece- how did they manage to get this stuff here? A visit pass the rosetta stone which was already surrounded by hordes of people and each time we came out of one room the throngs of people had multiplied a la the loaves and fishes. The strike had impacted here at the museum with some collections and rooms not open due to members of the public service taking strike action -probably just as well or my brain may have exploded/ imploded completely.

We wandered home for lunch and then headed down towards the Natural History museum. We never made it - got waylaid by random sighsteeing and tourist moments. As the time grew nearer for us to go to the cricket the skies darkened and it started to rain. We headed home for an interval, I lay down on the couch for a brief moment and woke up 2hours later when emery came home from work - about 20 minutes after the time the cricket had already started. Hmmm. The empire had exhausted me.

I still call Australia post home.

So in keeping in line with our one bag philosophy we thought we'd send home the couple of things we'd picked up here in London- mostly royal tennis tshirts for rohan and my brother, and a couple of cast off pieces of clothing from my sister (not you prada jacket - you stay with me at all times). Who knew posting something could be so hard? In the post office in Notting Hill I felt like a moron rather than a person with a phd. At first I couldn't work out why the post office clerks were so heavily guarded, hidden behind glass with tiny slide through slots and an annoying lift like contraption down the end where they slide through packages or give you the box that you've had to purchase without knowing if it will suit your purposes, by the end of my visit I realised they needed to be behind glass because I wanted to leap across and throttle them.

After first showing what we wanted to post, the man said a box would be in order. So we bought the box, left the queue, put our stuff in, wrapped it up with tape that rohan had got at the art supply store, joined the line again and got a different person. She told us that the box was too big to be sent normal post and we would have to pay either 100 pound or take it out of the box and put it into 2 smaller boxes and then we could send it normally. GRRRRRRRR. It was at this point I thought about murder.

Rohan being a much more temperate soul than myself decided to take over because I was about to have a stroke. He bought the bags, split up the stuff, addressed it, taped it up and went back up to the counter. The man wondered why we were sending it all seperately - why didn't we just put it in one box? Are you freaking kidding me?

Australia Post - I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the times that I've said terrible things about you or complained about the ramshackle line at Bakery Hill. I'd give my right teeth for a ramshackle line and the chirpy man who makes jokes whenever we go in there. So thanks to Rohan and no thanks to the british postal services our parcels have gone off into the abyss. I wonder if we will ever see them again?

catching up with an old friend

I'm beginning to lose track of the days! Yesterday we woke up in go slow mode and by the time we were shutting the door and saying hello to the painters who are working on the building it was nearly lunchtime! On the tube and we were heading to Camden, singing the waifs in our head the whole way. We wandered around camden, but didn't find any records with that old motown sound. We did however, find a great comic book store - who am I turning into? Normally it would be Rohan who would be coming out of a comic book store clutching items, but when I walked past a 3 pack of serenity in comic book form I couldn't put it down. Then I walked past a graphic novel version of Pride and Prejudice - well thats got to be a keeper. I'm all for different versions of the classics, such as Rohan's zombie version of Pride and Prej, so I thought the graphic novel would be a good addition to the collection. It had the added lure of a sticker saying it was a signed copy - that is almost as good as a sticker that says limited edition to me....

After Camden we took a cruise down the themes seeing all ye olde touristy sights, but if there is a boat to go on I will be there! Then it was home to the castle pub to catch up with kylie who we hadn't managed to see last time she was back in oz. A good catch up with an old friend- followed by pizza and gelato!

its raining, its pouring

Tuesday meant cricket! I was excited by the thought of going to the oval to see England take on Sri Lanka in the one day match and we headed off to the tube station, bypassing M & S on the way to get some food....due to the works at Tottenham we had to change to 3 different lines and double back to the oval - but we made it there without too much fuss. As we wandered to our seats I asked Rohan if no women actually like cricket in England, there were men, men and more men. I felt distinctly outnumbered. Were there any other women in this stadium at all? Thank god emery was going to be joining us. Taking our seats play hadn't started as there had been a slight shower of rain just before we arrived, so the announcers told us that play wouldn't start for another 30 minutes. As promised at 1.30 play commenced and about 25 mins later emery rang to say she was just walking in after leaving work early. Just as she came up the stairs to the stand, thunder rolled across the sky and the heavens opened. The rain pelted down and pooled at the corners of the covers. For the next 3 hours we sat huddled in the corner of the staircase trying to work out if the sky looked like it was clearing or was it just illumination from the ground lights? Should we abandon this and go home and make a curry? What were the chances of play resuming sometime in the next century?

Finally, they said that play would start at 5pm and there would be reduced overs. We trudged back down to our seats ready for the resumption of play. Unfortunately, what had occurred in that three hours was a transformation. A transformation fueled by pedigree (which is not in fact a brand of dog food as we thought but instead the logo of a brand of beer I cannot recall). In the time that the rain had fallen, so too had the beers down the gullets of the fans and things were looking distinctly dodgy. The guys sitting next to us began to regress, all grunting and inane comments, one man fell through the picket fence and onto the ground. As I remarked to emery, the problem with public events is that the public go to them. The cricket itself wasn't particularly inspiring and the three of us looked at each other and decided to call it quits. We figured it might be safer to get out before our cricket neighbours regressed so fully that they began walking on their hands.

A crowded tube ride home and we put on the bbc radio coverage, opened a bottle of red and had a home cooked lamb curry.

When it comes to cricket I think I'll take the aussie summer and the quiet beauty of Bellerieve.

do it yourself surgery

hmmmm I think the holiday walking has taken a toll on my poor feet. My big toe was bigger than normal, the nail a deep purplely black and it seemed only to be getting larger. In the time honoured tradition of McDonough's (ok just my dad really) - it was time for some do it yourself surgery. Rohan thinks I'm taking this Dr title a bit far now.

Anyway according to google (the source of all pertinent medical information) - I had a blister under my toenail which could be aided by releasing the build up fluid under the nail. But where to find a suitable medical tool?

I searched around emery's flat until I found a safety pin.

Perfect.

A bit of a dip under hot water (rohan is telling me this won't actually at all sterilise it), a piece of paper towel and surgery was ready to commence.

Pop. I won't go into the details.

Suffice to say, all is looking good now. But if my toe drops off at some point in the future - you'll all know why :)

jolly good shot old chap

After the excitement of finding out that I had transformed magically into dr. shaz we hit the footpaths and headed towards queens tennis club where rohan had a tennis match scheduled with piers playfair, a visitor from the new york club. After the friendly and jovial manner of the security guards at Hampton Court Palace, we couldn't believe the snobbery of those at Queens. They seemed slightly incredulous that convicts from Australia could be coming to play real tennis at their hallowed club. Once inside the woman on reception was just as frosty, claiming she knew nothing of this....hmmm we don't care if you know or not honey, it's happening. Luckily her shift was finishing and the new woman taking over was much more pleasant. She pointed us in the direction of the players bar and the tv room where we could get a drink and cool down before rohan played. Once at the bar we were again treated with suspicion. 'I can't serve you' the barman said - ohhh right, they don't serve our kind here. That is the kind dressed in summery clothes and carrying a backpack. Ah yes you can, we replied, we've been sent here by reception before our game. No, no insisted the barman, security will remove you, you're not meant to be here. We eventually talked him into serving us but we could see he still thought we'd scaled the walls to get in. When we finally met the tennis pro Andrew we told him this and he proudly marched us through the bar and barrelled up reception about the fact we were given the spanish inquisition. The courts themselves - 1889 were quite spiffy and Rohan enjoyed the change rooms which are used for all the racquet sports and have all the pictures of the past winners of the wimbledon warm up event on the walls. Rohan's not so eloquent description was that he had his butt in the same place as Bjorn Bjorg once sat. Downstairs he had a bit of a hit with a jolly old english chap called David while they waited for their respective opponents to arrive.

Finally Piers arrived and although from New York he too was an Englishman. Although a filthy rich venture capitalist, he was wearing his shirt inside out, which just goes to prove that although you have money, you may not be able to dress yourself. Or it proves that perhaps Piers normally has someone putting his shirt on for him.

Rohan and Piers had a jolly old time, with Piers beating Rohan - although he had a lower handicap and they had played off scratch. Piers told Rohan he'd thoroughly enjoyed playing him and if we were ever in New York to stop by the racquets club there for a hit - given that the membership fees there are 40grand a year it may be the only way Rohan will get in there. I however will not be allowed - men only darling. Rohan returned to the changerooms and to the homo eroticism that was a bunch of men standing around nude watching wimbledon on the tvs. This was all a bit much for Rohan, although perhaps he enjoyed the man whose job it is to hand you a towel as you get out of the shower?

Given the hot weather, all of London and the tube appeared to have gone mad, so we headed off on foot via waitroses, where we picked up one of those foil tray bbq's for the grand price of 2.99. Some meat, salad and potatoes in hand we went back to the flat and the three of us had a very aussie bbq with rohan cooking it on emery's little balcony. Emery had a bottle of veuve and we cracked that open to celebrate the arrival of Dr. McDonough - a perfect way to spend a hot summer night in London!

is there a doctor in the house?

Monday loomed and there were tennis matches on the horizon...but none of that wimbledon faff, we were off for real tennis. First stop was the court at Hampton Court Palace, where Henry the 8th played. We caught the tube past wimbledon and laughed at all the people in the queue....it makes the australian open line up look like a piece of cake and made me very glad that I've been able to score tickets to the open for the last few years - I'll be taking advantage of this come summer! Arriving at Hampton Court Palace at 8 am means there are no tourists, so we had an uninterrupted view of the palace and took some happy snaps. When we advised the security guard on the gate that we were there for a real tennis match he pointed us right then left in the direction of a security checkpoint. Rohan's name was on the list so we got waved through the checkpoints and into the bowels of the palace where the royal tennis court are. It was hard not to be overwhelmed by the sense of history at this court. The rumours are that Henry the 8th was playing tennis on this court when told about the death of Anne Boylen. The clubrooms were opened by Prince Edward and his own personal locker was in the changeroom where Rohan was getting changed. This was a great chance to see a side of the palace most tourists don't get the chance to see. I watched Rohan battle and win Robert, a local player and then we were winding our way out through the security checkpoints and joking with the guard who had let us in earlier that day - meanwhile the hordes of other pleb tourists lined up to enter the palace. Surely this is the way to travel!

After tennis we decided to make a quick stop at home for lunch, and as an email junkie I logged in. There it was, the email saying 'examination results'. I started to shake. Three years of my life on the line and here was the judgement. I went for one of the other messages first and read it - from one of my supervisors saying congratulations - I figured that was an easier way to get the news! Now, its official - I have passed! 2 examiners requested no changes at all, the third wanted some more paragraph breaks in one chapter - that I can do! Is there a doctor in the house? Why yes there is! I skipped down the sunny footpaths of London as we headed off to queens and the second tennis match of the day.....

Glory is the reward of valor and virtue...

Sunday morning and the sun was shining. More soda bread makes Sharon (not posh remember) happy. We hit the road, destination Blarney castle. In no time at all we were there and we'd beaten the tour buses - they arrived as we were leaving with every bad stereotype of bus tourists you can imagine - the dorky guy in a patchwork cap and an 'Ireland Rocks' t-shirt, the divorcee dressed in skimpy clothes and high heels, the bored teenager, the two old people who looked like they weren't sure if they were in Ireland or still in their loungeroom. hmmm I may be being too harsh.

Anyway we wandered around Blarney and up the stairs. Did I kiss the stone? Come on dear readers, surely you must know me well enough to know I'm not putting my lips on a stone that millions of people have kissed before me - god knows what I'd catch. I'll risk a lifetime of not having the gift of the gab in the certainty of not having a cold sore.

In the gift shop I discovered the family crest and motto 'glory is the reward of valor (or virtue)' - depends on which coaster you look at. Apparently the mcdonoughs (also known as mcdonaghs) are a literary breed....lots of famous poets and writers. God they better not read my dodgy brain dead writing or they'll realise I'm a disgrace to the family name - maybe I should have kissed that stone after all.

We then decided we wanted to visit 'donoughmore' before we left - maybe I'd find a long lost relative there as well. I found the signs and we took the road, but as we got closer and closer the signs disappeared and then the gps told us we were there, but it was a just a paddock.

No glory. No virtue. No valor.

Ring of terror....

Saturday began with me wandering in the to the franciscan friary for a bit of morning mass. Okay I'll be honest I didn't stay for it all, but just for a bit of morning has broken being sung in hearty tones and then we took off to explore the streets of Killarney. I'd already eaten enough soda bread to feed a small nation for breakfast, but I decided to make a visit to Cathleen's Country Kitchen where I got a fruit scone that I could have used to knock someone out with such was its weight, despite this it tasted ace and would keep me sustained on the journey through the ring of terror, I mean kerry.

We'd decided to tackle the ring of kerry as the guidebook promised us breathtaking views of rugged cliffs. What the guidebook didn't warn us about was the fact that the roads would be crowded with all manner of things we had to try and dodge, other cars, tourist buses, prams, bikes, dogs, triathalons and a persistent low lying cloud that meant visibility was nil.

Nah I lie a bit. Well not really. When we set off visibility was good and we did get to see some amazing scenery as we left killarney and climbed towards the coast. I was rambling eloquently (or not so eloquently as I hadn't been to Blarney yet) about the cuteness of an Irish road that was just a road with nothing on the sides, just the road and trees. Later I would be cursing this as I held onto my car seat in terror. As we climbed the sun disappeared, the rain came back and the cloud descended. I kept telling Rohan about the bits that were meant to be breathtaking views, but as we couldn't see the taillights of the car in front we figured we'd need to use our imagination to fill in the gaps. Still with no visibility I also couldn't see the places where we might hurtle off the edge to our death.

As we got near sneem we saw handwritten signs scrawled warning us of a triathalon - our suspicions that this wasn't an overly professional event was confirmed when we saw the riders - how had they managed to find so many people to not only impersonate the michelon tyre man but also get them to enter a race? Now we had the added bonus of trying to dodge them in amongst the buses, dogs, etc etc

Yet again I trusted the guidebook (why oh why do I do this?). It said no visit is complete without going to see Staigue Fort, one of the oldest and finest stone forts in Ireland. Once we were on the road we realised it was one car wide with trees everywhere - ahhh what happens if we meet another car? Its ok, rohan the voice of reason responded, if we meet another car we just reverse back until we find a little turnout, they pass and then we keep going. All good in theory until another car came hurtling towards us at the speed of light and then slammed on the breaks as it almost crashed into us. I think my fingerprints are still imprinted in the leather of the passat. Finally we made it to the fort and yes the guidebook was right. It was very cool and impressive, built in early AD, most likely by a wealthy landowner to keep out robbers. I figure the road would do that.

When we finally made it back to killarney alive, I decided we needed a drink so we left the car at the hotel and wandered into town. It seems thousands of other people had driven the ring of kerry and also needed a drink to calm their nerves. I was also slightly concerned by the busloads of men who seemed to be arriving and falling into the pubs. Then came the buses filled with women, surrounding one who was the hen, the others all trailing around her and in they went too. It seems like killarney may be a boys and girls bus trip paradise - I had a sense things were going to get messy in killarney tonight.

We took shelter in the lough inn where we had some hearty irish fare and I realised that clearly I am of Irish heritage, the mashed potatoes were as salty as my dad makes! Cabbage, bacon, soda bread....what more does one need in a meal?

The drought breakers hit Ireland.

Friday was sunny in London and Rohan and I wandered up to paddington station to catch the train out to heathrow so we could jet off to Cork for my first visit to Ireland. As I went through passport control the guy on the desk said the spelling of my name was not the posh form of sharon - apparently that would be sharan. I think he has a distinct misunderstanding of vowels, but instead I told him that it was fine and I would just spend the rest of my Friday weeping coz I wasn't posh. I think he thought I was serious as he kept patting me on the arm and apologising - I was probably more offended by the arm patting though....

We touched down in Ireland and it was pouring with rain - uh oh the weather jinxes strike again, everywhere we go we always take the rain with us. The hostesses on the plane advised that if we had a rain jacket we might like to put it on ...jacket schmaket we're from ballarat. We sailed through cork airport and got to the hertz desk where we got sent off with a little man in a van....the moment we arrived at the place to pick up our car the computer system crashed and the guys in the office went into meltdown apologising and saying 'oh god, we've got to get you out of here, you're only here for 2 days, you don't want to be spending it all in here with us'...i don't know i wouldn't have minded, they could keep talking, i would keep smiling each time they spoke and if they could have done an irish jig all would have been good. They continued to fight with the computers before turning and asking us if we had a match and some petrol. Thankfully that wasn't needed and soon we were zooming down the highway towards Killarney with Rohan very bemused to see a man standing in the middle of the highway selling newspapers in the rain. By the end of the weekend this seemed entirely normal to us.

It continued to pelt down with rain and on the radio they were saying 'jesus , whats with all this rain? we didn't expect this'.

The roads were flooding and things were looking grim, the poor Irish they didn't know that the drought breakers had hit town.

un jour....paris

The day began violently at 4.20 am when someone from oz decided to ring us on rohan's phone which had decided to reset its ring tone so that we all lay in our beds wondering who had a bloody phone going off....oh that would be us...so I guess we were awake now. Our crazy minicab driver hurled us through the city streets on the way to St.Pancras, we zoomed through check in and then we were in the eurostar cabin and being brought pain au chocolat and other pastries for breakfast - I like this first class train journey already! In no time at all we were alighting at gare du nord and the queues to get metro tickets were ludicrously long and so we headed out onto the street to find a different metro station where we could grab a carnet of tickets. Soon we were on the metro and heading for the palais royal to see the anish kapoor exhibition.....when we got there emery looked at her tickets and realised that the exhibition was being held at the grand palais! Pas de probleme - we just wandered around palais royal where they were setting up for a georgio armani thing and then headed off in search of aux lyonnais, the restaurant I had booked the previous day for lunch. Emery had seen it recommended in a number of guide books so we decided to go check it out. We wandered in and I used my very bad french to explain we had a booking, the waiting staff were fantastic here and the food was great too! Midway through lunch some little gypsy kids wandered into the restaurant and descended like flies on people's tables - the waiting staff who had been so mildmannered and gentle suddenly transformed and chased them round the restaurant, grabbing them by the scuff of the neck and dumping them on their bums on the street outside. The head waiter in a beautifully tailored shirt was spotted chasing one up the street and kicking him up the bum! After lunch we thought a walk in the paris sunshine would be the best way to get to the exhibition so we headed down towards the louvre and through the jardin des tuileries where people were lying in the sunshine or crowded round watching little wooden sailboats drift across the ponds - it seemed like a perfect paris afternoon. As we wandered past the tacky eiffel towers on sale, Rohan steadfastly ignored the man thrusting a survey (sure!) for him to sign (we'd like to keep our euros ourself!).

We arrived at grand palais and the queue stretched out for miles as it was the last day of the exhibition, as we arrived the sky turned dark and the rain began to fall....yay for having prebought tickets as we just wandered inside. It was amazing! People wandered around looking at the kapoor creation and I wandered underneath it feeling totally dwarfed by its size. In another queue to go inside and as I went through the turnstile door into the dark I was totally disoriented, bumping into the wall and then bursting out through the door into a heady pink glow and music- awesome!

We hung around people watching and loving that parisian woman chic! Then onto the metro and back to gare du nord, back on the train and a desperately needed cup of tea and petit fours! Home and fell into bed - strange how only after a couple of days here when I came back through the streets of London I felt like I was coming home!

.....mon premiere visite a paris! I still can't believe I was there....or that I'll be back in a couple of weeks for longer...

This morning we're up and getting ready to head off to Ireland for the weekend - I'm so looking forward to this!

Travelling with the time lord

We left tullamarine in the middle of the storm, howling wind and rain, and before the ash set in again-kind of made me glad to be getting out of there...I thought that flying out at 2.35 am would be good for avoiding jet lag coz I'd get to england at night time and could fall into bed. This is good in theory but it also means that by the time the plane was ready to take off I was ready to cry with fatigue...maybe this isn't the best way to start the trip? The first four hours on the plane I found myself wondering if I could spring for the cash to upgrade and fly business class (the answer to that will be no). After a crazy stop in KL where we had to get off the plane, go into the airport, back through screening and back onto the plane in 20 minutes we went to dubai and then here to London....so maybe it was fatigue that meant I got a tear in my eye when they said 'welcome to london' over the p.a. Home to emery's place and it was great to see her!

So for our first proper day in London we decided to nerd it up (clearly more than usual) and go to the Dr. Who experience being held at olympia. So we set off on foot hoping that we would find our way there... I knew I was heading in the right direction when I saw a guy clearly pretending to be David Tennant (and failing miserably) heading towards the venue....he turned out to be our tour host - showing that any out of work actor/ total geek can find a perfect job. The experience is totally cheesy but loads of fun - I enjoyed standing around the tardis and feeling the floor move, having 3d glasses on as daleks came to exterminate me...and then wandering around looking at costumes and parts of the set - total dr.who tragic heaven....rohan left clutching his sonic screwdriver wii mote that he bought at the merch stand. The time lord had delivered much happiness!

The sun disappeared for a while today so we decided to walk to kensington palace gardens where I hung out with some squirrels and enjoyed some sunshine when it did come back (I'll put up a cheesy squirrel photo soon!). Wandered into hyde park and then heard the torturous sounds of 'kings of leon' so I fled fearful that hearing them might do me some permanent damage. I was also tired and slightly bemused by the fact that I've been in London less than 15 hours and got asked for directions by English people multiple times today - this always seems to happen wherever we are...I reckon it's my 'walk with purpose' attitude....Now my legs are tired from walking with purpose and I'm starting to get sleepy.....crazy day trip to Paris tomorrow ...might need to get an early night I reckon!

hitting the skies rather than the road

So today is a whirlwind of last minute packing, planning and panicking before we take to the skies and head over to europe for four weeks. First stop is London where I'm looking forward to hanging out with emery, taking a crazy day trip to paris, a weekend in ireland and a bit of hobnobbing as rohan plays royal tennis at hampton court palace and at queens where he is taking on a venture capitalist from new york. All this before we head to portugal and to ISATT where I will meet all my academic crushes and hopefully not look like a complete idiot in front of them! 4 days of conference attendance and then its off to paris for a week and we're excited that joanne is able to come over from belgium to spend a summer sunday in paris with us :)

The rest of today will be spent seeing how we go with the one bag travelling philosophy.

According to one bag its the 'art and science of travelling light'.

Will we make it with just one cabin bag each? How much can we stuff in that cabin baggage and will we then get it past the people on the emirates check in desk?

stay tuned....i'll see you in europe!