I'm in South Africa! A new blog post, and a new continent. I arrived early doors yesterday morning, and with bleary eyes after the flight from Perth to Jo'burg (and from Jo'burg to Cape Town) I was welcomed to Africa by Tom. On our way back to Hout Bay (just outside Cape Town), we stopped off in the local market for my first beer on SA soil, as well as my first bit of food - a lovely prego roll. (Basically a steak sandwich with some nice sauces cooked into it. Lovely).
We arrived back at Tom's house (and my home for the next couple of months) to say hi to Linda and Georgia, and I just about had time to have a quick shower and throw on my Chelsea shirt before we headed back into Cape Town to watch Chelsea play Everton.
Tom is the chairman of the Cape Town Chelsea supporters club, and the members meet up to watch the games in a bar on the Waterfront. (Incidentally, the Waterfront is the most visited place in the whole of Africa - guess we got lucky to get a parking space!). It wasn't a great performance from Chelsea but the game itself wasn't too bad. The atmosphere in the bar we watched it in was also good, as the Cape Town Toffees had joined us to give a bit of rivalry and excitement to proceedings. So naturally, they were all giving it the big 'un when Louis Saha put Everton ahead, but were soon silenced when Salamon "Hasn't Got A" Kalou scuffed in an equaliser for the reigning FA Cup winners. 1-1 wasn't really a fair result (Chelsea deserved to go down by a few goals) but it was graciously accepted by both clubs, with handshakes at the end.
The supporters themselves were a good bunch and the rivalry between the two teams was only friendly banter. The 'predict a goal' competition (where you pay 2 rands to pick a minute, and whoever is closest to when the first goal is scored wins the pot) was won by Elton, an Everton fan, which helped keep the Toffees in good voice. Evidently one of their star performers (and favourites of the Cape Town Toffees) was Seamus Coleman. The name Seamus, for those of you who don't know, if pronounced "Shay-muss", but the CT Toffees kept saying it as though it rhymed with the word seabass. The frequent sounds of a few (with noticably strong SA accents) shouting "Come on Sea-mass!" was rather amusing.
After the game, we headed over to one of Tom and Linda's friends house for a small gathering. The women sat inside while the men and young children larked around in the pool. Deciding to class myself as a child (the oldest of which was otherwise 9), I joined in the general larking about. However, one of the games involved throwing each other off our woggles. (Or noodles, if you're politically incorrect). During a particularly heated exchange with the nine year old, where he was unable to get me off mine using sheer force, he decided to punch me in the face. Right in the mouth.
I've been lucky in my life to have previously avoided being punched in the face. Due to a combination of small stature and general cowardice, I've avoided being in fights mainly by either diffusing the situation with words, or simply running away. So when involved in a harmless game in the swimming pool with a child of half my age, I wasn't expecting a punch. It all happened in slow motion. I had been underwater, and bobbed my head up for a split second to breathe. I saw his face, filled with anger and fury, and I saw his fist moving towards my face. I tried to avoid it, but I didn't react quickly enough, and his right hand made contact with my top lip. I was stunned by this unprovoked blow, and immediately let go of my woggle, which he happily grabbed.
I said "Ow". He started laughing. I realised that as much as I wanted to smack him one back, it probably wouldn't go down well with his dad about 5 yards away. So I got out of the pool.
By this stage I was absolutely knackered. I'd been on the go since 9am the previous morning in Perth (which had a major time difference to SA), and other than a few uncomfortable hours of plane sleep, I hadn't been able to get any rest since that morning in the YHA. So after the gathering finished and we set off home, I went straight to bed, and slept for a solid 15 hours. Probably a new personal best.
So that was my first day in South Africa.
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Friday, 28 January 2011
My Aussie Highlights
I'm about to leave Australia. I've really enjoyed it - it's a great country, with great people. Each place I've been to has been almost totally different from the place before, which has made this leg of my trip incredibly diverse, interesting and fun. I've been lucky enough to do the things that I've wanted to for the last month, and I've been very lucky that Australia has offered these things to me. While it may seem quite a corny thing to say, when I look back at my month in Oz, I honestly wouldn't change any of it, as it's been one of the best months of my life. I don't know if I've changed as a person, but I've probably taken a lot out of this in terms of trying new things on my own, and lots of great stories (and showing off) that I'll be able to do. So in the spirit of showing off my experiences (isn't what this blog's all about?), here's my Top 5 Australian moments.
5. Beating the Aussies on Australia Day
This was mainly a good day because England beat Australia in the cricket, but it was genuinely a great thing to be in Australia on Australia Day. To be part of the real celebration of everything Australian was a great experience, and it's a shame that England isn't like that on St George's Day. But anyway, it was good fun.
4. My first day with the Barmy Army
I've been a cricket fan for yonks, but Day 2 of the Sydney test was my first time I've been sitting in with the Barmy Army, and it was brilliant. England's good performance (as well as my fashion decision about the pink neckerchief) meant that this was a good day. And I got read out on the BBC.
3. Going to Stanley with Colette and Rachel
I had a great time with Colette and Rachel in Tas, and this trip was probably my favourite bit. It was so enjoyable both because of the cool things we did, and because I was lucky enough to spend it with some great people. I had a lovely time in Stanley (as I did for the rest of my time in Tassie) but the trip to Stanley was my favourite. Honourable mentions to go my first Chicken Parmi (which was gorge), but the crowning moment has to be me winning at both Scrabble and Monopoly.
2. My second road trip around Tas
As a road trip, it didn't really work because the bus broke down. As a tour, it didn't really work because we didn't do much. But as an experience, it was great. Much of life is down to the people you meet, and the other people on the tour were pretty cool. My favourite bit was going for a walk along the beach late at night with everyone else in bed looking for pengiuns. And it indirectly led to me meeting three England cricketers in a bar, so it was good.
1. The day England won the Ashes
Easily my favourite day in Australia; maybe even my favourite day full stop. It started with a brilliant atmosphere in the SCG watching England win the Ashes in the morning, and continued to a brilliant atmosphere in The Retro celebrating England winning the Ashes in the evening. It was just pretty awesome, on pretty much every level.
Thanks Australia. I'm going to miss you. But don't worry, I'll be back before too long.
5. Beating the Aussies on Australia Day
This was mainly a good day because England beat Australia in the cricket, but it was genuinely a great thing to be in Australia on Australia Day. To be part of the real celebration of everything Australian was a great experience, and it's a shame that England isn't like that on St George's Day. But anyway, it was good fun.
4. My first day with the Barmy Army
I've been a cricket fan for yonks, but Day 2 of the Sydney test was my first time I've been sitting in with the Barmy Army, and it was brilliant. England's good performance (as well as my fashion decision about the pink neckerchief) meant that this was a good day. And I got read out on the BBC.
3. Going to Stanley with Colette and Rachel
I had a great time with Colette and Rachel in Tas, and this trip was probably my favourite bit. It was so enjoyable both because of the cool things we did, and because I was lucky enough to spend it with some great people. I had a lovely time in Stanley (as I did for the rest of my time in Tassie) but the trip to Stanley was my favourite. Honourable mentions to go my first Chicken Parmi (which was gorge), but the crowning moment has to be me winning at both Scrabble and Monopoly.
2. My second road trip around Tas
As a road trip, it didn't really work because the bus broke down. As a tour, it didn't really work because we didn't do much. But as an experience, it was great. Much of life is down to the people you meet, and the other people on the tour were pretty cool. My favourite bit was going for a walk along the beach late at night with everyone else in bed looking for pengiuns. And it indirectly led to me meeting three England cricketers in a bar, so it was good.
1. The day England won the Ashes
Easily my favourite day in Australia; maybe even my favourite day full stop. It started with a brilliant atmosphere in the SCG watching England win the Ashes in the morning, and continued to a brilliant atmosphere in The Retro celebrating England winning the Ashes in the evening. It was just pretty awesome, on pretty much every level.
Thanks Australia. I'm going to miss you. But don't worry, I'll be back before too long.
Perth Wow!
I'm about to leave Perth. I didn't really spend a lot of time in it, so I can't give a particularly insightful review of it. So here's my opinion of Perth. It's very hot.
Checking out of Aussie hostels takes place at 10am. My flight from Adelaide to Perth was at 9pm. So I had to kill time for 11 hours while lugging my luggage about. Luckily, there are worse cities worldwide to be stranded in for a day than Adelaide, so I wandered around a few shops, ate a Chicken and Bacon Ranch Footlong in Subway (I finally had money for food!) and sat in one of the many parks, whiling away the time. And it wasn't too bad. While I was hampered by the fact that I had to keep hold of my three bags (main bag, laptop bag and overspill bag), I still managed to find an internet cafe where I could print out my boarding passes and documents for the days ahead, and I was also able to smash some top scores on Tap Tap Revenge. For those of you who understand Tap Tap, I'm just going to say this. Cascada's 'Evacuate the Dancefloor' (on Extreme). 1,081,662 points. 834 hit streak. The perfect game. Don't believe me? Here's a screenshot...
Anyway, the three hour flight to Perth from Adelaide left at 9.15, and arrived at 9.25. Confused? I was. Then I was told that there is a three hour time difference from Perth to the east coast of Aus. This only further upset my mind when trying to work out time compared to time back home. In Sydney and Hobart, it's an 11 hour difference, so it's just been a case of adding 1 to the time. Easy enough. Adelaide was more of a challenge, as it was adding 1 and a half. But in Perth, I have to take away 8. That was too much of a challenge for this Maths D Student (admittedly at A level after picking up an A* at GCSE...) so I had to keep using the inbuilt world clock on my phone.
So my flight arrived on Thursday evening in Perth. I checked in at about 10ish at night. Due to the flights that have been booked, I had to then check out at 10am the next morning, and wait around until 2345 for my flight. Which is what I'm doing now, in Perth airport, waiting for my flight to Johannesburg, South Africa.
So all of that meant I had only one day to explore Perth. I didn't really know much about Perth - much of my experience of it has been playing games on the Perth Wow website (as it wasn't blocked by the school's firewall). After checking out at about half nine, I had a look at a few maps and tourist brochures of things to do in the city. I had a few plans of things to do. I stepped out of the hotel, and was hit by a solid wall of heat. It was in a word, ridonculously hot. After only a few yards down the road, I was uncomfortable. It was too hot to even think straight, and the humidity made it hard to even breathe. I did the only sensible thing, and found somewhere air conditioned. Luckily, this place also did a full English breakfast, so I treated myself. I'd give it a 6 out of 10 - it did a job, but the beans didn't taste right. (And there is no place for scrambled eggs in a full English - it's fried eggs or no eggs).
I had a walk around Perth's shopping precinct, and then decided to take a walk down to the Swan River. (I realised that the Swan River is the main feature of Perth, so I wore my Graeme Swann tshirt just to fit in with the locals). It was partly a walk down to the river, but mostly a walk to the WACA (Perth's cricket ground). I've been to cricket grounds all over Australia now, and it would be churlish for me to come all the way over to Western Australia and not go for a look at the WACA. Sadly it was all locked up, but I had a little peek through the gates. I couldn't really see much, so I can't really offer an opinion of the WACA. Sorry. But I can tell you that it was hot (and I did feel the Fremantle Doctor - if you don't know what that is look it up).
After all of the heat and the walking (to get to the WACA it was an hour's round trip of walking - which when wearing flip flops really does take it out on the insides of the big toes), I was feeling all sticky and uncomfortable. Luckily, the Perth YHA (where I'd stayed for my one night in Perth) was pretty swanky for a backpackers hostel and had a swimming pool, so I was able to cool down nicely. And then, I got the bus to the airport, which is where I am now.
It's a bit of a shame that I couldn't spend longer in Perth. It all felt rushed - from having to quietly sneak into my room when I arrived so I didn't wake up my 3 roommates (who had left before I woke up so I didn't even get to see what they looked like), to having to get up when I didn't want to so I could meet the check out deadline, to not really being able to go too far away from the hotel just in case something happened. It wasn't really how I wanted to experience Perth. Which is why my review of Perth is basically of not being able to see into a locked cricket ground, and it being very hot. Which is a shame.
Checking out of Aussie hostels takes place at 10am. My flight from Adelaide to Perth was at 9pm. So I had to kill time for 11 hours while lugging my luggage about. Luckily, there are worse cities worldwide to be stranded in for a day than Adelaide, so I wandered around a few shops, ate a Chicken and Bacon Ranch Footlong in Subway (I finally had money for food!) and sat in one of the many parks, whiling away the time. And it wasn't too bad. While I was hampered by the fact that I had to keep hold of my three bags (main bag, laptop bag and overspill bag), I still managed to find an internet cafe where I could print out my boarding passes and documents for the days ahead, and I was also able to smash some top scores on Tap Tap Revenge. For those of you who understand Tap Tap, I'm just going to say this. Cascada's 'Evacuate the Dancefloor' (on Extreme). 1,081,662 points. 834 hit streak. The perfect game. Don't believe me? Here's a screenshot...
Anyway, the three hour flight to Perth from Adelaide left at 9.15, and arrived at 9.25. Confused? I was. Then I was told that there is a three hour time difference from Perth to the east coast of Aus. This only further upset my mind when trying to work out time compared to time back home. In Sydney and Hobart, it's an 11 hour difference, so it's just been a case of adding 1 to the time. Easy enough. Adelaide was more of a challenge, as it was adding 1 and a half. But in Perth, I have to take away 8. That was too much of a challenge for this Maths D Student (admittedly at A level after picking up an A* at GCSE...) so I had to keep using the inbuilt world clock on my phone.
So my flight arrived on Thursday evening in Perth. I checked in at about 10ish at night. Due to the flights that have been booked, I had to then check out at 10am the next morning, and wait around until 2345 for my flight. Which is what I'm doing now, in Perth airport, waiting for my flight to Johannesburg, South Africa.
So all of that meant I had only one day to explore Perth. I didn't really know much about Perth - much of my experience of it has been playing games on the Perth Wow website (as it wasn't blocked by the school's firewall). After checking out at about half nine, I had a look at a few maps and tourist brochures of things to do in the city. I had a few plans of things to do. I stepped out of the hotel, and was hit by a solid wall of heat. It was in a word, ridonculously hot. After only a few yards down the road, I was uncomfortable. It was too hot to even think straight, and the humidity made it hard to even breathe. I did the only sensible thing, and found somewhere air conditioned. Luckily, this place also did a full English breakfast, so I treated myself. I'd give it a 6 out of 10 - it did a job, but the beans didn't taste right. (And there is no place for scrambled eggs in a full English - it's fried eggs or no eggs).
I had a walk around Perth's shopping precinct, and then decided to take a walk down to the Swan River. (I realised that the Swan River is the main feature of Perth, so I wore my Graeme Swann tshirt just to fit in with the locals). It was partly a walk down to the river, but mostly a walk to the WACA (Perth's cricket ground). I've been to cricket grounds all over Australia now, and it would be churlish for me to come all the way over to Western Australia and not go for a look at the WACA. Sadly it was all locked up, but I had a little peek through the gates. I couldn't really see much, so I can't really offer an opinion of the WACA. Sorry. But I can tell you that it was hot (and I did feel the Fremantle Doctor - if you don't know what that is look it up).
After all of the heat and the walking (to get to the WACA it was an hour's round trip of walking - which when wearing flip flops really does take it out on the insides of the big toes), I was feeling all sticky and uncomfortable. Luckily, the Perth YHA (where I'd stayed for my one night in Perth) was pretty swanky for a backpackers hostel and had a swimming pool, so I was able to cool down nicely. And then, I got the bus to the airport, which is where I am now.
It's a bit of a shame that I couldn't spend longer in Perth. It all felt rushed - from having to quietly sneak into my room when I arrived so I didn't wake up my 3 roommates (who had left before I woke up so I didn't even get to see what they looked like), to having to get up when I didn't want to so I could meet the check out deadline, to not really being able to go too far away from the hotel just in case something happened. It wasn't really how I wanted to experience Perth. Which is why my review of Perth is basically of not being able to see into a locked cricket ground, and it being very hot. Which is a shame.
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Oh Adelaide! Is Wonderful!
Before I talk about the cricket (and don’t worry non-cricket fans, this will be the last cricket blog I do), I’ll talk about why I ended up going to watch cricket in Australia on Australia Day.
Four years ago, England were playing against Australia. They’d just lost the Ashes 5-0, and had been similarly heavily beaten in the first few ODIs. Surprising, seeing as England were fielding such greats as Sajid Mahmood, Mal Loye and Paul Nixon. Australia had won the first few ODIs convincingly, and they then played against England on Australia Day. The Australia Day game is a massive thing out here; it’s a celebration of all things Aussie, and a chance for everyone to stick on their giant flags and as much green and gold face paint as possible. On Aussie Day 2007, England were, for want of a better word, absolutely merked. It wasn’t even a contest. After being bowled out for not many, Australia then chased it down to record a win of mind-blowing ease. While I didn’t watch the game (I was still in bed due to time difference), I did see the post-match interviews, where a number of Aussies claimed that England were a disgrace for playing so poorly on Australia Day, and they weren’t fit to even line up against their boys. This rankled with me a touch. While England amazingly recovered to win the series, the chip on my shoulder from that day has stayed with me ever since. So when England were due to play Australia on Australia Day this year, I knew that I needed to go. And I knew that only an England win could erase the pain of four years ago.
So I went to the Adelaide Oval yesterday. And didn’t England go and blooming smash the Aussies!
As a Chelsea fan, I take great delight in the misfortunes of rival clubs. One of my favourite things in football is when they show the crowd after an Arsenal, Man United, or Liverpool defeat (for one team this happens more than the others) and it shows small children in Arsenal, Man United or Liverpool shirts crying. I revel in their pain. You could say that I hate those clubs. However, as a cricket fan, I don’t hate the Aussies – in fact I quite like them. Yes, I dislike a few of their players, but I don’t actively laugh in the faces of crying Australian children. But yesterday, on the day where all Australians celebrate being Australian, I did enjoy seeing England crash the party. Fireworks, that were meant to celebrate how brilliant Aussies are were actually celebrating Chris Tremlett bowling the final over.
My day at the cricket was unusual. Normally, I spend much of the day flicking through Twitter on my phone and adding valuable insights / pointless banalities live from the ground to my 150 odd followers. But I’ve used up all of my data this month, so I couldn’t. As I often go to cricket on my own (sad face) using Twitter to see what others are saying and to chat about the cricket is a good way of making me feel like I have some friends. But not today. I couldn’t even go on Facebook and reassure myself about my popularity by looking at my statuses people have commented on. So I had to talk to actual people. As it was Australia day, the English were few and far between. Any English that were there weren’t openly “out”, as they would massively stand out amongst the massive displays of Aussie patriotism. However, I was there to support England, so I had my England shirt on, and I was the only person in my area to belt out “God save the Queen” when it was played before the game. After signing it (and listening to the Aussies sing “Advance Australia Fair”), a few Englanders came over to me. Safety in numbers I think. So we had a nice time watching England dominate, and by the end, with loads of Aussies streaming out, we were the only people there (slight exaggeration).
So my phone worries weren’t too bad. Especially when compared to my other thing I was lacking – money. In other, older posts, I’ve spoken about how I have to go and queue up in a bank to get some money out, as my card doesn’t work in ATMs (and certain shops – Hungry Jack’s being a prime example). I’ve also spoken about the ridiculous times that Australian banks operate, and opening at 10.30 and closing at 4 is quite frankly stupid. After going to the beach the other day (and knowing that after buying fish & chips and a tram ticket I only had $1.75 left in cash) I went straight to the local Commonwealth Bank at about 4.15, making sure I had plenty of time before the (I thought) 5.00 close. I arrived to find a locked door. And Australia Day being a bank holiday, they were closed again the next day. So I had $1.75 to buy me food and drink (as well as any bus tickets or general expense) for the next day. Another thing about Australia Day – every shop is closed. Every one (even McDonalds). So even if my $1.75 was able to buy me anything, I couldn’t go into a shop to spend it. So basically, the day of the 26th of January 2011 was spent as a fast by me. There were times when it was hard. At the cricket they had all sorts of food stalls, and smelling chips, burgers, and even curries (that was the hardest stall to walk past) certainly got me salivating. But because it was so hot, I didn’t actually feel too bad. Water-wise, I have a giant 2 litre bottle which I’ve been filling up from taps for free, so that wasn’t an issue. Somehow, I managed to walk there and back, as well as spending the day at the cricket, without eating a thing. I did well. And I’ve now had some cornflakes this morning, so I made it! (Mum, if you’re worried by that last paragraph, I’ve just been to the bank, so now I have money to buy as many burgers as I like)
I’m writing this blog in the Adelaide Travellers Inn; about 10 minutes before I have to check out. It’s been good in Adelaide. I’ve really liked how it’s both a big city with loads of stuff going on, and quite small and accessible. You can literally walk anywhere. Where I’ve been staying is right in the south east of the city, and it’s only a 25/30 minute walk right over to the other side. There are parks everywhere – which is really nice as well. Overall, I’ve had a great time in Adelaide, and will be sorry to leave it. Next stop Perth!
(And as the group of England fans were singing last night – “Oh Adelaide! Is wonderful! Oh Adelaide is wonderful! We won the test, the 20 and the one day! Oh Adelaide is wonderful!)
Will
Four years ago, England were playing against Australia. They’d just lost the Ashes 5-0, and had been similarly heavily beaten in the first few ODIs. Surprising, seeing as England were fielding such greats as Sajid Mahmood, Mal Loye and Paul Nixon. Australia had won the first few ODIs convincingly, and they then played against England on Australia Day. The Australia Day game is a massive thing out here; it’s a celebration of all things Aussie, and a chance for everyone to stick on their giant flags and as much green and gold face paint as possible. On Aussie Day 2007, England were, for want of a better word, absolutely merked. It wasn’t even a contest. After being bowled out for not many, Australia then chased it down to record a win of mind-blowing ease. While I didn’t watch the game (I was still in bed due to time difference), I did see the post-match interviews, where a number of Aussies claimed that England were a disgrace for playing so poorly on Australia Day, and they weren’t fit to even line up against their boys. This rankled with me a touch. While England amazingly recovered to win the series, the chip on my shoulder from that day has stayed with me ever since. So when England were due to play Australia on Australia Day this year, I knew that I needed to go. And I knew that only an England win could erase the pain of four years ago.
So I went to the Adelaide Oval yesterday. And didn’t England go and blooming smash the Aussies!
As a Chelsea fan, I take great delight in the misfortunes of rival clubs. One of my favourite things in football is when they show the crowd after an Arsenal, Man United, or Liverpool defeat (for one team this happens more than the others) and it shows small children in Arsenal, Man United or Liverpool shirts crying. I revel in their pain. You could say that I hate those clubs. However, as a cricket fan, I don’t hate the Aussies – in fact I quite like them. Yes, I dislike a few of their players, but I don’t actively laugh in the faces of crying Australian children. But yesterday, on the day where all Australians celebrate being Australian, I did enjoy seeing England crash the party. Fireworks, that were meant to celebrate how brilliant Aussies are were actually celebrating Chris Tremlett bowling the final over.
My day at the cricket was unusual. Normally, I spend much of the day flicking through Twitter on my phone and adding valuable insights / pointless banalities live from the ground to my 150 odd followers. But I’ve used up all of my data this month, so I couldn’t. As I often go to cricket on my own (sad face) using Twitter to see what others are saying and to chat about the cricket is a good way of making me feel like I have some friends. But not today. I couldn’t even go on Facebook and reassure myself about my popularity by looking at my statuses people have commented on. So I had to talk to actual people. As it was Australia day, the English were few and far between. Any English that were there weren’t openly “out”, as they would massively stand out amongst the massive displays of Aussie patriotism. However, I was there to support England, so I had my England shirt on, and I was the only person in my area to belt out “God save the Queen” when it was played before the game. After signing it (and listening to the Aussies sing “Advance Australia Fair”), a few Englanders came over to me. Safety in numbers I think. So we had a nice time watching England dominate, and by the end, with loads of Aussies streaming out, we were the only people there (slight exaggeration).
So my phone worries weren’t too bad. Especially when compared to my other thing I was lacking – money. In other, older posts, I’ve spoken about how I have to go and queue up in a bank to get some money out, as my card doesn’t work in ATMs (and certain shops – Hungry Jack’s being a prime example). I’ve also spoken about the ridiculous times that Australian banks operate, and opening at 10.30 and closing at 4 is quite frankly stupid. After going to the beach the other day (and knowing that after buying fish & chips and a tram ticket I only had $1.75 left in cash) I went straight to the local Commonwealth Bank at about 4.15, making sure I had plenty of time before the (I thought) 5.00 close. I arrived to find a locked door. And Australia Day being a bank holiday, they were closed again the next day. So I had $1.75 to buy me food and drink (as well as any bus tickets or general expense) for the next day. Another thing about Australia Day – every shop is closed. Every one (even McDonalds). So even if my $1.75 was able to buy me anything, I couldn’t go into a shop to spend it. So basically, the day of the 26th of January 2011 was spent as a fast by me. There were times when it was hard. At the cricket they had all sorts of food stalls, and smelling chips, burgers, and even curries (that was the hardest stall to walk past) certainly got me salivating. But because it was so hot, I didn’t actually feel too bad. Water-wise, I have a giant 2 litre bottle which I’ve been filling up from taps for free, so that wasn’t an issue. Somehow, I managed to walk there and back, as well as spending the day at the cricket, without eating a thing. I did well. And I’ve now had some cornflakes this morning, so I made it! (Mum, if you’re worried by that last paragraph, I’ve just been to the bank, so now I have money to buy as many burgers as I like)
I’m writing this blog in the Adelaide Travellers Inn; about 10 minutes before I have to check out. It’s been good in Adelaide. I’ve really liked how it’s both a big city with loads of stuff going on, and quite small and accessible. You can literally walk anywhere. Where I’ve been staying is right in the south east of the city, and it’s only a 25/30 minute walk right over to the other side. There are parks everywhere – which is really nice as well. Overall, I’ve had a great time in Adelaide, and will be sorry to leave it. Next stop Perth!
(And as the group of England fans were singing last night – “Oh Adelaide! Is wonderful! Oh Adelaide is wonderful! We won the test, the 20 and the one day! Oh Adelaide is wonderful!)
Will
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Eoin Morgan doesn't like trams
(Note, this blog contains an awful lot of name-dropping)
Today I was walking down Halifax Street (just around the corner from where I’m staying), when someone shouted really loudly “Will!” at me. Three girls were on the other side of the road, and I turned to look at them, wondering who they were and how they recognised me. After a long stare, where I racked my brains to figure out how anyone I’d know would be in Adelaide, they burst out laughing in fits of giggles. As I walked off, nonplussed, I realised that they’d been randomly shouting names at people hoping to get a response. They must have fluked getting my name right. This was confirmed as I heard them shout “Paul!” at someone walking behind me.
So now that story’s out of the way (which is a pity, as I was saving it for Parkinson), I can talk about what else I did today. In order to get my bearings (and work out how I was going to get there tomorrow), I got the bus to the Adelaide Oval, which is a pretty simple journey. While part of the reason for my reccy was to work out how to get there, I also went with my Ashes programme and pen, hoping to get a few England players autographs. While the perhaps over officious stewarding at the nets may have put some off, I was able to get the scribbles of all of the England Ashes squad who were still out in Australia. Well, all except Eoin Morgan, who jumped into the bus before I had a chance to thrust my book in his face with an expectant smile and an outstretched pen.
Part of my role as cricket blogger and journalist is to bring you some of the hottest gossip direct from the England camp. So here are some of my exchanges with the players, just so you can get a flavour of what it feels like to be part of an international cricket team. (And so I can show off)
(To Kevin Pietersen) Me: “Kev, are you playing tomorrow?” (he was injured for the game the other day)
KP: “I hope so”
(To Graeme Swann) Me: “Graeme, how’s your back?” (Swanny has a really bad back injury which is meaning he’s having to fly home and miss the rest of the series)
Swanny: “Dreadful”
Me: “I want to give you a hug, but it would probably just make it worse”
Swanny: “Yep”
(To Jonathan Trott) Me: “Trotty, can you sign this”
Trotty: “Sure, no problem”
Me: “Great thanks” (I walk off)
Trott: (running after me) “Hey, do you want me to sign it or not?”
Me: “You already have”
Trotty: “Oh, right”.
Hard hitting stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree. In amongst all of that excitement, I also managed to get the rest of the squad, as well as Andy Flower (the coach), who’s a lovely man. As all of the players had been signing their names on their individual player profile bit on the programme, as coach, Flower had no such page. So I got him to sign over the picture of England winning the 2009 Ashes. He remarked about what a great picture it was, and we shared a few words about cricket (rather than the “Can you sign this” “Sure” “Thanks” exchange that normally goes on). Great stuff.
After England packed up and went home, I decided to go back to the beach in Glenelg. Today, unlike yesterday, I packed swim shorts and a towel, so I could properly enjoy the beach experience. While on the bus there, I checked Twitter (as I often do – follow me at twitter.com/willatkins or twitter.com/shortmidwicket) where I saw that Steve Finn had tweeted that he was too on the way to Glenelg.
(This paragraph is going to be very name-droppy) Steve Finn’s a great bowler, and a nice guy too. I’ve been lucky enough to meet him on a number of occasions, at various functions in various countries. I’ve written before about how he seems to recognise my face, but not know where from. I’d even met him this morning, where I got him to sign my programme. I can only imagine that Finny sees me as somewhat of a stalker. As I had also said, I was already on my way to Glenelg when I read his tweet. When I’d set off, I had no idea that he was also going to be there. Glenelg’s a pretty small beach town. I’d almost certainly find an England cricketer if I was looking for one there. But as I said before, Finny probably sees me as a stalker. If he remembered that I’d met him that morning, and then conveniently appeared in the same small town as him, he’d probably be very freaked out. So while earlier I wanted to bump into England cricketers, now I wanted to avoid them. Even though I wasn’t deliberately being a stalker, from his perspective, it would seem as though I was being one.
Anyway, after all of this was going off, I set down my towel, went for a dip in the warm sea, then came back to read my book on the beach for a bit. After I felt that I’d been in the sun for long enough, I went back into town to go and have some fish and chips. I’d planned to go to this really cool resort thing where they had water slides, arcades, and crazy golf after my meal. Sitting down after ordering, I again checked Twitter. Finn had just posted pictures of him, Jonathan Trott, and Eoin Morgan playing crazy golf at the place where I was about to go. Now me turning up there wouldn’t appear stalkerish at all…
My fish and chips came, and I ate it. In this time, I decided that I would get the tram back and not bother with the crazy golf, as a) general stalky behaviour probably isn’t a great idea and b) I didn’t have enough money anyway. So as I finished off my last chip, and went to give the waitress a tip (a money tip, not some advice), guess who I saw wander past. It was only flipping Steve Finn! Glenelg town is basically a large square, with restaurants with tables around the outside. To get out of the square, you can go down various lanes. The restaurant I was eating at was next to one of the lanes, and to get out of the crazy golf resort you come down the lane, before coming back into the square. (Confusing?) Literally just as I’d finished, past me came Morgan, Finn and Trott. Remembering that I had everyone else’s autographs but Moggy’s, I called out to him (not as desperate as it sounds) and he was happy to complete my collection. While I flicked through my programme, and handed it to Eoin, I felt someone feeling my back. It was Jonathan Trott. I was wearing my new edition Barmy Army shirt, which says “Cook conquers Australia again”. I turned around in surprise, where Trott complemented me on my shirt saying “I haven’t seen that one before. It’s cool”. In one of my earlier blogs I wrote about how I made an absolute dick out of myself in front of Trott, and here he was complimenting my shirt. I said something cool, suave and funny, which made him laugh. This was going much better. I cooly thanked Morgan for the autograph, flicked a couple of coins into the tip jar, and walked across the square and into the waiting tram (while nodding at Finn).
That situation couldn’t have gone much better. I’d just looked cool in front of some England cricketers. So imagine my surprise when they followed me onto the tram, and asked me if it went back into the city. I told them it did, and made space around me for my new mates to sit down. On the 25 minute tram back into Adelaide we’d laugh, chat, and I’d be offered VIP access to the England dressing room for tomorrow’s game. Sadly, that bit didn’t happen. Finn and Trott seemed keen to “explore Adelaide” by getting the tram, but Morgan said that “I can’t be f*cked. Let’s just get a taxi”, and walked back off the tram. Finn and Trott tried to convince him otherwise, but Moggy’s insistence paid off, and they wandered over to the nearby taxi rank. I didn’t mind. I’d had my fun.
And it was on the way back from the tram stop that the girls shouted at me. See, that story did have a purpose. Anyway, before I end for another day, I’ve noticed that there hasn’t been many comments recently. So comment on this one, otherwise it’ll upset me.
TTFN for now! Will
Today I was walking down Halifax Street (just around the corner from where I’m staying), when someone shouted really loudly “Will!” at me. Three girls were on the other side of the road, and I turned to look at them, wondering who they were and how they recognised me. After a long stare, where I racked my brains to figure out how anyone I’d know would be in Adelaide, they burst out laughing in fits of giggles. As I walked off, nonplussed, I realised that they’d been randomly shouting names at people hoping to get a response. They must have fluked getting my name right. This was confirmed as I heard them shout “Paul!” at someone walking behind me.
So now that story’s out of the way (which is a pity, as I was saving it for Parkinson), I can talk about what else I did today. In order to get my bearings (and work out how I was going to get there tomorrow), I got the bus to the Adelaide Oval, which is a pretty simple journey. While part of the reason for my reccy was to work out how to get there, I also went with my Ashes programme and pen, hoping to get a few England players autographs. While the perhaps over officious stewarding at the nets may have put some off, I was able to get the scribbles of all of the England Ashes squad who were still out in Australia. Well, all except Eoin Morgan, who jumped into the bus before I had a chance to thrust my book in his face with an expectant smile and an outstretched pen.
Part of my role as cricket blogger and journalist is to bring you some of the hottest gossip direct from the England camp. So here are some of my exchanges with the players, just so you can get a flavour of what it feels like to be part of an international cricket team. (And so I can show off)
(To Kevin Pietersen) Me: “Kev, are you playing tomorrow?” (he was injured for the game the other day)
KP: “I hope so”
(To Graeme Swann) Me: “Graeme, how’s your back?” (Swanny has a really bad back injury which is meaning he’s having to fly home and miss the rest of the series)
Swanny: “Dreadful”
Me: “I want to give you a hug, but it would probably just make it worse”
Swanny: “Yep”
(To Jonathan Trott) Me: “Trotty, can you sign this”
Trotty: “Sure, no problem”
Me: “Great thanks” (I walk off)
Trott: (running after me) “Hey, do you want me to sign it or not?”
Me: “You already have”
Trotty: “Oh, right”.
Hard hitting stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree. In amongst all of that excitement, I also managed to get the rest of the squad, as well as Andy Flower (the coach), who’s a lovely man. As all of the players had been signing their names on their individual player profile bit on the programme, as coach, Flower had no such page. So I got him to sign over the picture of England winning the 2009 Ashes. He remarked about what a great picture it was, and we shared a few words about cricket (rather than the “Can you sign this” “Sure” “Thanks” exchange that normally goes on). Great stuff.
After England packed up and went home, I decided to go back to the beach in Glenelg. Today, unlike yesterday, I packed swim shorts and a towel, so I could properly enjoy the beach experience. While on the bus there, I checked Twitter (as I often do – follow me at twitter.com/willatkins or twitter.com/shortmidwicket) where I saw that Steve Finn had tweeted that he was too on the way to Glenelg.
(This paragraph is going to be very name-droppy) Steve Finn’s a great bowler, and a nice guy too. I’ve been lucky enough to meet him on a number of occasions, at various functions in various countries. I’ve written before about how he seems to recognise my face, but not know where from. I’d even met him this morning, where I got him to sign my programme. I can only imagine that Finny sees me as somewhat of a stalker. As I had also said, I was already on my way to Glenelg when I read his tweet. When I’d set off, I had no idea that he was also going to be there. Glenelg’s a pretty small beach town. I’d almost certainly find an England cricketer if I was looking for one there. But as I said before, Finny probably sees me as a stalker. If he remembered that I’d met him that morning, and then conveniently appeared in the same small town as him, he’d probably be very freaked out. So while earlier I wanted to bump into England cricketers, now I wanted to avoid them. Even though I wasn’t deliberately being a stalker, from his perspective, it would seem as though I was being one.
Anyway, after all of this was going off, I set down my towel, went for a dip in the warm sea, then came back to read my book on the beach for a bit. After I felt that I’d been in the sun for long enough, I went back into town to go and have some fish and chips. I’d planned to go to this really cool resort thing where they had water slides, arcades, and crazy golf after my meal. Sitting down after ordering, I again checked Twitter. Finn had just posted pictures of him, Jonathan Trott, and Eoin Morgan playing crazy golf at the place where I was about to go. Now me turning up there wouldn’t appear stalkerish at all…
My fish and chips came, and I ate it. In this time, I decided that I would get the tram back and not bother with the crazy golf, as a) general stalky behaviour probably isn’t a great idea and b) I didn’t have enough money anyway. So as I finished off my last chip, and went to give the waitress a tip (a money tip, not some advice), guess who I saw wander past. It was only flipping Steve Finn! Glenelg town is basically a large square, with restaurants with tables around the outside. To get out of the square, you can go down various lanes. The restaurant I was eating at was next to one of the lanes, and to get out of the crazy golf resort you come down the lane, before coming back into the square. (Confusing?) Literally just as I’d finished, past me came Morgan, Finn and Trott. Remembering that I had everyone else’s autographs but Moggy’s, I called out to him (not as desperate as it sounds) and he was happy to complete my collection. While I flicked through my programme, and handed it to Eoin, I felt someone feeling my back. It was Jonathan Trott. I was wearing my new edition Barmy Army shirt, which says “Cook conquers Australia again”. I turned around in surprise, where Trott complemented me on my shirt saying “I haven’t seen that one before. It’s cool”. In one of my earlier blogs I wrote about how I made an absolute dick out of myself in front of Trott, and here he was complimenting my shirt. I said something cool, suave and funny, which made him laugh. This was going much better. I cooly thanked Morgan for the autograph, flicked a couple of coins into the tip jar, and walked across the square and into the waiting tram (while nodding at Finn).
That situation couldn’t have gone much better. I’d just looked cool in front of some England cricketers. So imagine my surprise when they followed me onto the tram, and asked me if it went back into the city. I told them it did, and made space around me for my new mates to sit down. On the 25 minute tram back into Adelaide we’d laugh, chat, and I’d be offered VIP access to the England dressing room for tomorrow’s game. Sadly, that bit didn’t happen. Finn and Trott seemed keen to “explore Adelaide” by getting the tram, but Morgan said that “I can’t be f*cked. Let’s just get a taxi”, and walked back off the tram. Finn and Trott tried to convince him otherwise, but Moggy’s insistence paid off, and they wandered over to the nearby taxi rank. I didn’t mind. I’d had my fun.
And it was on the way back from the tram stop that the girls shouted at me. See, that story did have a purpose. Anyway, before I end for another day, I’ve noticed that there hasn’t been many comments recently. So comment on this one, otherwise it’ll upset me.
TTFN for now! Will
Monday, 24 January 2011
Where's the beach?
This is the second of the two-parter. Go ahead and read the first part. It’s just down there.
After writing yesterday’s blog, I was very tired (something I alluded to in the earlier blog). Knowing that going to sleep wouldn’t be a good idea, and with England losing heavily in the cricket, I decided to go for a walk in the area near the hotel. Adelaide is a city surrounded by big parks (something I found out on Google maps), so it was only a 5 minute walk to find the local football pitch. Hoping there would be some locals around playing some sort of sport (so I’d be able to join in), I wandered around the various parks (there’s loads of them all sort of linked together in a belt around the city) but sadly there was nobody around for me to join in with (except some kids playing tennis. I don’t play tennis, despite my superb performances for Aldercombe in house tennis last year). Walking back to my digs, I saw through an estate agents window (I don’t know why it was on either) that the cricket was actually quite close, and could be a tight finish. I then walked back into the main part of town to the pub I’d been at earlier, to watch the climax of a game that wasn’t actually that close at all.
While drinking my ludicrously expensive cider and sitting quietly in the corner, England took a wicket, which I celebrated by clenching my first and saying something like “Go on Yardy lad”. A pretty standard wicket taking celebration. However, my behaviour was noted by a group of blokes who I could only describe as ‘drunk Aussies’. They then starting audibly sledging me, with every run Australia scored being used as a taunt. While it was all good-humoured, combined with another inept performance from England, meant that it wasn’t my happiest experience of watching cricket. But oh well!
This morning I woke up, and went to try and find the British Embassy. My passport doesn’t have too long left, and what with flying to South Africa at the end of the week, I just wanted to confirm that everything would be fine. However, the address given to me via the internet, and confirmed on Google Maps actually turned out to be a sandwich shop. While they did do a nice chocolate and honey flavoured milkshake, they weren’t able to give me any advice regarding my passport. So instead, I went for a walk along the river, and got the bus to Glenelg.
Glenelg is basically a beach resort, and in a word, it’s lovely. The beach was pretty much empty, so I was able to leave all of my bits and pieces in my shoe, and go for a dip in the sea. Last week, I went for a swim off Tasmania, where the water was approximately -30 Celsius. However, the sea in South Australia is fantastic; clear, blue and warm. After a walk up the beach, I went into the town, which is really nice. There was a nice parky bit to sit (if the beach wasn’t for you), as well as a really cool resort type thing, where you can buy tokens and go on water slides, crazy golf or arcade games. (I didn’t do it today, but will be back to have a go!). There were also a few restaurants, and I saw a really cheap deal for fish and chips, so I thought I’d have some of that. And it was probably the best fish and chips I’ve ever had; the chips especially were incredible. To get to Glenelg, I had to get a 50 minute long bus through various suburbs, which was slightly tortuous. However, to get back, I found there are trams going directly into the heart of Adelaide, which was both much quicker and much cheaper. I’ll definitely be going back at some stage this week; it was awesome.
So that’s what I got up to today. Who knows what I’ll be up to tomorrow? Until then, Will
After writing yesterday’s blog, I was very tired (something I alluded to in the earlier blog). Knowing that going to sleep wouldn’t be a good idea, and with England losing heavily in the cricket, I decided to go for a walk in the area near the hotel. Adelaide is a city surrounded by big parks (something I found out on Google maps), so it was only a 5 minute walk to find the local football pitch. Hoping there would be some locals around playing some sort of sport (so I’d be able to join in), I wandered around the various parks (there’s loads of them all sort of linked together in a belt around the city) but sadly there was nobody around for me to join in with (except some kids playing tennis. I don’t play tennis, despite my superb performances for Aldercombe in house tennis last year). Walking back to my digs, I saw through an estate agents window (I don’t know why it was on either) that the cricket was actually quite close, and could be a tight finish. I then walked back into the main part of town to the pub I’d been at earlier, to watch the climax of a game that wasn’t actually that close at all.
While drinking my ludicrously expensive cider and sitting quietly in the corner, England took a wicket, which I celebrated by clenching my first and saying something like “Go on Yardy lad”. A pretty standard wicket taking celebration. However, my behaviour was noted by a group of blokes who I could only describe as ‘drunk Aussies’. They then starting audibly sledging me, with every run Australia scored being used as a taunt. While it was all good-humoured, combined with another inept performance from England, meant that it wasn’t my happiest experience of watching cricket. But oh well!
This morning I woke up, and went to try and find the British Embassy. My passport doesn’t have too long left, and what with flying to South Africa at the end of the week, I just wanted to confirm that everything would be fine. However, the address given to me via the internet, and confirmed on Google Maps actually turned out to be a sandwich shop. While they did do a nice chocolate and honey flavoured milkshake, they weren’t able to give me any advice regarding my passport. So instead, I went for a walk along the river, and got the bus to Glenelg.
Glenelg is basically a beach resort, and in a word, it’s lovely. The beach was pretty much empty, so I was able to leave all of my bits and pieces in my shoe, and go for a dip in the sea. Last week, I went for a swim off Tasmania, where the water was approximately -30 Celsius. However, the sea in South Australia is fantastic; clear, blue and warm. After a walk up the beach, I went into the town, which is really nice. There was a nice parky bit to sit (if the beach wasn’t for you), as well as a really cool resort type thing, where you can buy tokens and go on water slides, crazy golf or arcade games. (I didn’t do it today, but will be back to have a go!). There were also a few restaurants, and I saw a really cheap deal for fish and chips, so I thought I’d have some of that. And it was probably the best fish and chips I’ve ever had; the chips especially were incredible. To get to Glenelg, I had to get a 50 minute long bus through various suburbs, which was slightly tortuous. However, to get back, I found there are trams going directly into the heart of Adelaide, which was both much quicker and much cheaper. I’ll definitely be going back at some stage this week; it was awesome.
So that’s what I got up to today. Who knows what I’ll be up to tomorrow? Until then, Will
MONA and the Mountain
Today’s blog is a two-parter. If the other part isn’t up yet, it will be soon. Keep an eye out!
Yesterday’s blog was written in a sleepy haze. I mainly wrote that blog in an attempt to stay awake for as long as possible, as by that time (about 5/6 pm) I was massively flagging. I knew that it would be better in the long run if I went to sleep at an appropriate time, rather than taking an afternoon nap which would only set me further back, so I tried to write a blog. In amongst the untidy grammar and poor spellings (I blame my lack of sleep rather than my normal lack of proof reading) I wrote something about my first impressions of Adelaide. I mostly stand by what I wrote. But in writing about Adelaide, I neglected to write about my last day in Hobart! What a nightmare! So here’s what I got up to in the Bart.
As it was my last day, it was felt that I should do something nice with it. So Colette and I walked down to Salamanca Market (infamous throughout Tassie as being the best market around) and while Colette went to get her motorbike fixed (long story) I wandered up and down, looking at the various stalls. Salamanca is a very artsy and cultured place (it’s where MOFO was in one of the earlier blogs), so it was no surprise that there was a lot of pictures, photographs, and pottery (as well as plenty of other things not beginning with p that are related to art) on sale, as well as other general market stuff, like fruit and sweets. Unlike Redhill Market, however, there weren’t any stalls offering fascias for old Nokia mobiles.
It was a real destination, and it seemed like the whole of the city had come out to make a day of it, which was great. There were loads of things going on – singers, guitarists, even a violinist playing Lady Gaga’s Alejandro. My favourite, however, were two blokes doing keepy uppies and other random skills with bean bags, and were collecting money to enter the World Footbag Competition. I gave them 50 cents for their trouble, because they really were quite good. Colette then came back from the garage (bike all sorted) and we went to have a milkshake and a bacon sandwich in a café. After our race back to her house (she went by bike, I went by foot), which I won, we (along with Rachel, and their friend Annie) decided to go up Mount Wellington.
Mount Wellington is the biggest mountain in Tasmania, and looks down on Hobart and the surrounding towns from miles above. While in some places the mountains are obvious and always in view, I only saw Mount Wellington for the first time about 5 days into my stay in Hobart, as it often becomes obscured by clouds. While this sometimes gives it the impression of not being there, it also makes it far more impressive when it does appear across the skyline. It’s 1400 metres about sea level at the top, and takes 20-odd km to walk up. Luckily enough, we had a car, so we simply drove up. It only takes about 20/25 minutes from bottom to top up a trail, so that was all easy.
When we reached the top, we found we were literally amongst the clouds. And by literally amongst the clouds, I mean that we were actually standing in a cloud. While this was annoying because we couldn’t get the picture postcard view from the top of the mountain, I just found it pretty cool to be standing in the middle of a cloud.
We had planned to go out for a pizza after going up the mountain, but Rachel realised that MONA was opening that night. MONA (Museum Of New Art) is a multi-million dollar new museum set up by a billionaire art collector. Built into the side of a river, it’s a stunning place, and has become world renowned as the hottest new centre for modern art. While it actually opened on Friday (for the VIPs), Saturday was its first night open to us plebs, and it was felt that it was something I just shouldn’t miss out on going to see. So instead of stopping for a pizza, we got a takeaway, and headed just out of Hobart to MONA. There were live musicians, acts, and all sorts of great stuff going on, which was to finish at around 10ish. We had decided to go at around 8, but due to the takeaway forgetting Rachel’s order, we only got there at about 9.10. Sadly, the actual museum with all of the art in had closed at 9. Annoying. Luckily, on my side, I had Colette, who spoke nicely to a number of members of staff, trying to blag our way in. And eventually, amazingly, we got in, as the only public inside the museum!
It was great to be in there so exclusively; I definitely felt like some sort of art celebrity who had special privileges. And it was great. It was all about pushing the boundaries of what people consider art, or what people consider acceptable. As we were told to be quick, we rushed through the first room, where we were met by a security guard who didn’t believe that we were allowed in after hours, and told us to leave. From what I saw, it was an amazing place, and I know Colette and Rachel were coming back the next night to see it, so I hope the rest was just as good (I’m sure it was). Back outside, we then saw a couple of the acts performing – a French group who make fire go off in time to music (it was really spectacular and had to be seen to be believed), as well as another band who’s name I forgot, and DJ Kentaro. For those of you who are DJ enthusiasts, DJ Kentaro may mean something to you, as he’s the youngest winner of the World DJ Championships, and has won it an unprecedented 3 times. (I know this because the programme said so). After he mixed up some tunes, we got the shuttle bus back, and I did my packing at around 11.30 (knowing I’d need to be up at 4. There’s nothing like organisation!) before going to bed, ready to wave Hobart goodbye!
So that was my last day in Hobart, stick around for my first full day in Adelaide!
Until then, WIll
Yesterday’s blog was written in a sleepy haze. I mainly wrote that blog in an attempt to stay awake for as long as possible, as by that time (about 5/6 pm) I was massively flagging. I knew that it would be better in the long run if I went to sleep at an appropriate time, rather than taking an afternoon nap which would only set me further back, so I tried to write a blog. In amongst the untidy grammar and poor spellings (I blame my lack of sleep rather than my normal lack of proof reading) I wrote something about my first impressions of Adelaide. I mostly stand by what I wrote. But in writing about Adelaide, I neglected to write about my last day in Hobart! What a nightmare! So here’s what I got up to in the Bart.
As it was my last day, it was felt that I should do something nice with it. So Colette and I walked down to Salamanca Market (infamous throughout Tassie as being the best market around) and while Colette went to get her motorbike fixed (long story) I wandered up and down, looking at the various stalls. Salamanca is a very artsy and cultured place (it’s where MOFO was in one of the earlier blogs), so it was no surprise that there was a lot of pictures, photographs, and pottery (as well as plenty of other things not beginning with p that are related to art) on sale, as well as other general market stuff, like fruit and sweets. Unlike Redhill Market, however, there weren’t any stalls offering fascias for old Nokia mobiles.
It was a real destination, and it seemed like the whole of the city had come out to make a day of it, which was great. There were loads of things going on – singers, guitarists, even a violinist playing Lady Gaga’s Alejandro. My favourite, however, were two blokes doing keepy uppies and other random skills with bean bags, and were collecting money to enter the World Footbag Competition. I gave them 50 cents for their trouble, because they really were quite good. Colette then came back from the garage (bike all sorted) and we went to have a milkshake and a bacon sandwich in a café. After our race back to her house (she went by bike, I went by foot), which I won, we (along with Rachel, and their friend Annie) decided to go up Mount Wellington.
Mount Wellington is the biggest mountain in Tasmania, and looks down on Hobart and the surrounding towns from miles above. While in some places the mountains are obvious and always in view, I only saw Mount Wellington for the first time about 5 days into my stay in Hobart, as it often becomes obscured by clouds. While this sometimes gives it the impression of not being there, it also makes it far more impressive when it does appear across the skyline. It’s 1400 metres about sea level at the top, and takes 20-odd km to walk up. Luckily enough, we had a car, so we simply drove up. It only takes about 20/25 minutes from bottom to top up a trail, so that was all easy.
When we reached the top, we found we were literally amongst the clouds. And by literally amongst the clouds, I mean that we were actually standing in a cloud. While this was annoying because we couldn’t get the picture postcard view from the top of the mountain, I just found it pretty cool to be standing in the middle of a cloud.
We had planned to go out for a pizza after going up the mountain, but Rachel realised that MONA was opening that night. MONA (Museum Of New Art) is a multi-million dollar new museum set up by a billionaire art collector. Built into the side of a river, it’s a stunning place, and has become world renowned as the hottest new centre for modern art. While it actually opened on Friday (for the VIPs), Saturday was its first night open to us plebs, and it was felt that it was something I just shouldn’t miss out on going to see. So instead of stopping for a pizza, we got a takeaway, and headed just out of Hobart to MONA. There were live musicians, acts, and all sorts of great stuff going on, which was to finish at around 10ish. We had decided to go at around 8, but due to the takeaway forgetting Rachel’s order, we only got there at about 9.10. Sadly, the actual museum with all of the art in had closed at 9. Annoying. Luckily, on my side, I had Colette, who spoke nicely to a number of members of staff, trying to blag our way in. And eventually, amazingly, we got in, as the only public inside the museum!
It was great to be in there so exclusively; I definitely felt like some sort of art celebrity who had special privileges. And it was great. It was all about pushing the boundaries of what people consider art, or what people consider acceptable. As we were told to be quick, we rushed through the first room, where we were met by a security guard who didn’t believe that we were allowed in after hours, and told us to leave. From what I saw, it was an amazing place, and I know Colette and Rachel were coming back the next night to see it, so I hope the rest was just as good (I’m sure it was). Back outside, we then saw a couple of the acts performing – a French group who make fire go off in time to music (it was really spectacular and had to be seen to be believed), as well as another band who’s name I forgot, and DJ Kentaro. For those of you who are DJ enthusiasts, DJ Kentaro may mean something to you, as he’s the youngest winner of the World DJ Championships, and has won it an unprecedented 3 times. (I know this because the programme said so). After he mixed up some tunes, we got the shuttle bus back, and I did my packing at around 11.30 (knowing I’d need to be up at 4. There’s nothing like organisation!) before going to bed, ready to wave Hobart goodbye!
So that was my last day in Hobart, stick around for my first full day in Adelaide!
Until then, WIll
Sunday, 23 January 2011
First Impressions of Adelaide
Hello from Adelaide! Today started bright and early (actually, it wasn’t at all bright) at 4 am, as I had a flight from Hobart to first Melbourne, and then Adelaide.
After saying my farewells to Colette and Rachel, I got onto Qantas flight QF1010 from Hobart Airport, and flew off into the sky. It was a real shame to leave Hobart, as I was enjoying my time there. Whereas somewhere like Sydney was a great place to go and visit for a couple of weeks, and seemed like a holiday, after my two weeks in Hobart, it felt as though I’d been living there for weeks. I’d learned my way around, knew all of the best places to go, and felt like part of the furniture.
Part of the reason I’d felt so at home was staying with Colette and Rachel. They had made me feel incredibly welcome, and gave me all of the opportunities to really enjoy the rich options that Hobart had to offer. They were the perfect hosts, and I wish them both all the best going forward.
The flight to Melbourne got in at around 7 am, and I spent a couple of hours in the departure lounge waiting for the next flight. Despite what you may think, as big a place as Australia is, it doesn’t actually take too long to fly from city to city. It’s 40 minutes from Hobart to Melbourne, and then 50 minutes from there to Adelaide. So weirdly, I spent longer on Football Manager on the laptop in Melbourne Airport then I actually spent in the air! Having been to Melbourne 4 years ago, and having loved it, it was a shame that my stay in Victoria’s capital was so short. But sadly there wasn’t space in my itenirary for it, and I also wanted to go to new cities I’d never been to before. Which is why I’m now in Adelaide (and will soon be in Perth!)
So having spent the day in Adelaide, what are my thoughts about it? Well, they call Adelaide the city of churches, and it’s pretty obvious why. Everywhere you go, there are churches on every corner. I don’t think it’s an overly religious place, but as all of the churches are aesthetically beautiful, they may well just have been built for design reasons. All of these old churches gives Adelaide a great historical vibe, which is mixed with some new buildings as well. There’s also a really nice park (sort of like Hyde Park in London, as there are plenty of grassy areas to sit on, as well as a clear blue lake) where I spent some time; mainly to get out of the heat of the sun, which is unforgiving. Very different to the Antarctic conditions of Hobart!
With England currently playing in a One Dayer v Australia, my natural first place to go and find was a pub where it would be showing. Luckily enough I stumbled across “The Elephant” pub, meant to be a ‘traditional’ English pub, which happened to have some big screens (and air con). After a drink there, I’ve wandered back to my digs (The Adelaide Travellers Backpackers Inn), where I’ve found there’s a TV here with it on!
So I’m off to watch it!
Until next time, Will
After saying my farewells to Colette and Rachel, I got onto Qantas flight QF1010 from Hobart Airport, and flew off into the sky. It was a real shame to leave Hobart, as I was enjoying my time there. Whereas somewhere like Sydney was a great place to go and visit for a couple of weeks, and seemed like a holiday, after my two weeks in Hobart, it felt as though I’d been living there for weeks. I’d learned my way around, knew all of the best places to go, and felt like part of the furniture.
Part of the reason I’d felt so at home was staying with Colette and Rachel. They had made me feel incredibly welcome, and gave me all of the opportunities to really enjoy the rich options that Hobart had to offer. They were the perfect hosts, and I wish them both all the best going forward.
The flight to Melbourne got in at around 7 am, and I spent a couple of hours in the departure lounge waiting for the next flight. Despite what you may think, as big a place as Australia is, it doesn’t actually take too long to fly from city to city. It’s 40 minutes from Hobart to Melbourne, and then 50 minutes from there to Adelaide. So weirdly, I spent longer on Football Manager on the laptop in Melbourne Airport then I actually spent in the air! Having been to Melbourne 4 years ago, and having loved it, it was a shame that my stay in Victoria’s capital was so short. But sadly there wasn’t space in my itenirary for it, and I also wanted to go to new cities I’d never been to before. Which is why I’m now in Adelaide (and will soon be in Perth!)
So having spent the day in Adelaide, what are my thoughts about it? Well, they call Adelaide the city of churches, and it’s pretty obvious why. Everywhere you go, there are churches on every corner. I don’t think it’s an overly religious place, but as all of the churches are aesthetically beautiful, they may well just have been built for design reasons. All of these old churches gives Adelaide a great historical vibe, which is mixed with some new buildings as well. There’s also a really nice park (sort of like Hyde Park in London, as there are plenty of grassy areas to sit on, as well as a clear blue lake) where I spent some time; mainly to get out of the heat of the sun, which is unforgiving. Very different to the Antarctic conditions of Hobart!
With England currently playing in a One Dayer v Australia, my natural first place to go and find was a pub where it would be showing. Luckily enough I stumbled across “The Elephant” pub, meant to be a ‘traditional’ English pub, which happened to have some big screens (and air con). After a drink there, I’ve wandered back to my digs (The Adelaide Travellers Backpackers Inn), where I’ve found there’s a TV here with it on!
So I’m off to watch it!
Until next time, Will
Friday, 21 January 2011
Random Acts of Kindness
Today I went to the cricket. I don't want to talk about it. If you want to read my thoughts as it happened, you can read my tweets, which went through hope, belief, annoyance, anger, upset, despondency to despair.
As I walked out of the Bellerive Oval, I realised that I was the only English fan amongst a sea of gloating Aussies. There had been a couple of Englanders earlier, but they were few and far between, and they'd also left long before the end (rather than me, who stuck it out to the bitter end). A free bus service is offered after games at Bellerive, so I spotted one that said "Kingston via Rosny Park and via Hobart". Knowing I wanted to go to Hobart, and knowing that only last week I'd got the same bus from the same venue to Hobart, I got on the bus, with the assumption (which I'm sure you can see why I made) that this bus would go to Hobart. So as the bus travelled through the main city, past the previous bus stop, and indeed out of the city limits, I was suprised, upset and annoyed. Typical. England have lost embarrasingly, and now I've stupidly got the wrong bus. Colette, who came with me, only to leave early because it was too cold (it was that sort of night) would be in bed. So I'd be in some strange town with no way of getting home. Great.
As the bus travelled the 15km from Hobart to Kingston, I thought of my options. I could walk, but it would be miles in the dark down a motorway. I could get another bus from there back to Hobart, but I wouldn't know what bus to get, where the bus stop was, or if there were even any on. I could get a cab, but money's a bit tight. I could ring Colette, but she'd probably either be asleep or not answer, or be asleep and be annoyed that she has to come and bail me out. Or, I could wait for everyone to get off the bus, and ask the driver if I could stay on (assuming he has to take the bus back to Bellerive) and jump out at Hobart. The last one seemed pretty foolproof, so that was my plan.
We arrived in Kingston. People started to get off. But not everyone. Evidently, this bus wasn't terminating at the place it advertised. As it had also suggested we'd stop in Hobart and Rosny Park (which didn't happen), I guessed the bus driver had put up the wrong sign.
I stepped away from the bus to look at my options. I was in a small suburban town, with not a huge deal going on in it. A few cars drove past, but no real movement otherwise, other than the people who'd just got off the bus. I had a look at the bus stop we'd alighted at, hoping it would give some information. "No buses going at this time of night, mate" came an Aussie drawl. "Oh, right" said I, disappointedly. "You English?" came a question from one of the other blokes (there were three of them waiting by this bus stop). "Erm" (while I paused to think what the best response to this question would be, before deciding on a "yes") said I. "You at the cricket? Did you come over for the Ashes?". After I gave affirmatives to both of those questions, they congratulated me on my countries success (I obviously had a lot to do with the Ashes victory), and asked me what I was doing in Kingston.
I explained the situation about the bus, before I was asked where I was staying. When they found out I was in Hobart, they said they'd sort out a taxi for me. Without me knowing what was happening, they were all digging out their wallets, and handing me some loose change and notes. A taxi, which conveniently came down the road at the precise time, was flagged by the three blokes, who told the cabby where to take me, and not to "cut off my head" (If you hadn't guessed, these blokes were absolutely steaming).
I shook hands with them all for their completely random act of kindness, and the main guy said "when you get back tonight and write your blog about your day, tell them that I scored 201 not out at the weekend for my club". So to the guy who's name I never discovered, and who hailed and paid for a taxi home, that's for you. You did tell me the name of your club, but sadly I forgot it. But what I won't forget is that sometimes even total strangers can perform random acts of kindess, and that everyone should have a go at doing something totally out of the blue for people you don't know, as the world will be a better place. And that's a much happier place to end today's blog than England losing by 47 runs.
As I walked out of the Bellerive Oval, I realised that I was the only English fan amongst a sea of gloating Aussies. There had been a couple of Englanders earlier, but they were few and far between, and they'd also left long before the end (rather than me, who stuck it out to the bitter end). A free bus service is offered after games at Bellerive, so I spotted one that said "Kingston via Rosny Park and via Hobart". Knowing I wanted to go to Hobart, and knowing that only last week I'd got the same bus from the same venue to Hobart, I got on the bus, with the assumption (which I'm sure you can see why I made) that this bus would go to Hobart. So as the bus travelled through the main city, past the previous bus stop, and indeed out of the city limits, I was suprised, upset and annoyed. Typical. England have lost embarrasingly, and now I've stupidly got the wrong bus. Colette, who came with me, only to leave early because it was too cold (it was that sort of night) would be in bed. So I'd be in some strange town with no way of getting home. Great.
As the bus travelled the 15km from Hobart to Kingston, I thought of my options. I could walk, but it would be miles in the dark down a motorway. I could get another bus from there back to Hobart, but I wouldn't know what bus to get, where the bus stop was, or if there were even any on. I could get a cab, but money's a bit tight. I could ring Colette, but she'd probably either be asleep or not answer, or be asleep and be annoyed that she has to come and bail me out. Or, I could wait for everyone to get off the bus, and ask the driver if I could stay on (assuming he has to take the bus back to Bellerive) and jump out at Hobart. The last one seemed pretty foolproof, so that was my plan.
We arrived in Kingston. People started to get off. But not everyone. Evidently, this bus wasn't terminating at the place it advertised. As it had also suggested we'd stop in Hobart and Rosny Park (which didn't happen), I guessed the bus driver had put up the wrong sign.
I stepped away from the bus to look at my options. I was in a small suburban town, with not a huge deal going on in it. A few cars drove past, but no real movement otherwise, other than the people who'd just got off the bus. I had a look at the bus stop we'd alighted at, hoping it would give some information. "No buses going at this time of night, mate" came an Aussie drawl. "Oh, right" said I, disappointedly. "You English?" came a question from one of the other blokes (there were three of them waiting by this bus stop). "Erm" (while I paused to think what the best response to this question would be, before deciding on a "yes") said I. "You at the cricket? Did you come over for the Ashes?". After I gave affirmatives to both of those questions, they congratulated me on my countries success (I obviously had a lot to do with the Ashes victory), and asked me what I was doing in Kingston.
I explained the situation about the bus, before I was asked where I was staying. When they found out I was in Hobart, they said they'd sort out a taxi for me. Without me knowing what was happening, they were all digging out their wallets, and handing me some loose change and notes. A taxi, which conveniently came down the road at the precise time, was flagged by the three blokes, who told the cabby where to take me, and not to "cut off my head" (If you hadn't guessed, these blokes were absolutely steaming).
I shook hands with them all for their completely random act of kindness, and the main guy said "when you get back tonight and write your blog about your day, tell them that I scored 201 not out at the weekend for my club". So to the guy who's name I never discovered, and who hailed and paid for a taxi home, that's for you. You did tell me the name of your club, but sadly I forgot it. But what I won't forget is that sometimes even total strangers can perform random acts of kindess, and that everyone should have a go at doing something totally out of the blue for people you don't know, as the world will be a better place. And that's a much happier place to end today's blog than England losing by 47 runs.
Thursday, 20 January 2011
Luke Wright's Autograph Bus
So what have I been up to the last couple of days? Well, it's been a couple of 'take it easy' days after the exploits of the weekend and then the other trip. As it has now been decided that I'm leaving Hobart on Sunday morning, I donned my apron (not literally, I didn't wear one) to cook dinner for Colette and Rachel. After flicking through the Jamie Oliver cookbook, I decided upon scallops with asparagus and leeks, which looked both quite nice and easy to do. So Colette and I went off to Woolworths (that's a supermarket where they sell food, not like the English Woolies that sold pic n mix) to get the ingredients. After deciding to get nice fresh scallops (because it would just be nicer all round) we went down to the quay to have a look in one of the floating fish shops. Only to be told that there weren't any scallops, as they were out of season. Oh well. I did prawns instead.
After cooking, and eating the dinner, we settled down to watch a Danish TV show called 'Anna Pihl'. Basically, it's a bit like the Bill, only better. It's also in Danish, so if you want to watch it, you'll need to get a DVD with subtitles. Or learn Danish. (I recommend the first one, that's what we did).
Tomorrow England are playing Australia in Hobart in an ODI. So as such, both teams would be training at the ground today, in preparation. I've already mentioned my poor attempt when meeting Strauss, Collingwood and Trott the other day, but today I was better prepared. I had little banterous gambits to say to the players, and my cool Graeme Swann t-shirt on. I was set.
As I arrived at Bellerive, I realised I had nothing to get signed. In the past I'd get them to sign a random scrap of paper, but I'd only lose it or something. In preparation for tomorrow's game they were setting up a merch tent, and I asked them kindly if I could have a mini bat. While probably against the rules (and a bit cash in hand), I ended up getting an mini bat with the Australian logo (didn't have any other choice) and a Sharpie for people to write on it with. Just as I finished giving her my money (and literally 1 minute after getting to the ground) I saw a bleach haired bloke getting into a minivan. It was Luke Wright.
Regular readers of my blog, listeners of my podcast, or people who talk to me about cricket know I don't much care for Luke Wright. In fact, I actively dislike him. He's not a bad man, but I just don't want him to play for my country. So as I saw him getting into the bus, for a split second, I thought about just ignoring him. Signing autographs would only encourage him to keep playing cricket - something I don't want him to do. But I thought better of it, and shouted "Luke!" at him. I gave him my lovely new mini bat, handed him my Sharpie, and asked him to sign it. I then looked into the bus. 7 or 8 England players were sitting there, ready to go back to the hotel after finishing training. I passed the bat around the bus, and got their scrawlings on the bat. Yardy. Tredwell. Davies. Bell. I also gave it to bowling coach David Saker, who said "nah mate, you don't want me on there". "Nice shirt, by the way" he continued, pointing at my custom made tshirt of Graeme Swann. "Cheers" said I. This was going much better than the other day.
The first bus drove off into the Hobart afternoon, and then a few more players started coming out. As the only England fan (and probably the only person above the age of about 13) there, I was straight in and first up to them all. Pietersen. Bresnan. Trott. And even Graeme Swann. (He didn't seem to notice I was wearing a shirt with his face on it). The other day when I met Straussy, I was told to remind him, Finny and Moggy that they haven't done their Middlesex questionnaires. Finny and Mogs came out together, so I jokingly let them know that Lorraine wanted them in. Finn sort of seemed to recognise my face (but had no idea where from), Morgs had no idea, but both smiled, signed my bat, and got onto the next bus. Strauss came out last, and when I told him about the unfinished questionnaires, laughed and told me "Let Lorraine know I will do them... in about 3 months though!". So - Lorraine - Straussy will do them, but in about three months. I tried.
With all this excitement going on, I'm amazed I found time to do anything else. But I did - I was the sole representative of England in what someone dubbed "The Ashes rematch". There I was, 1 Englishman against 6 Aussies, and I bravely fought hard for the three lions. Admittedly, my opponents ranged from about 12-15, but some of them were useful. Those of you who have seen me play cricket will know I can be a bit inconsistent, but something about that foam ball and plastic bat meant I was bowling like Laker and batting like Bradman. Unfortunate to be given out lbw (was always going to miss leg stump), I then wreaked havoc amongst my young adversaries, with the finest display of left arm spin in Australia since Ashley Giles. I was also sledging with the best of them, giving each of them a send-off, and greeting each of my boundaries with "and that's a great shot from Alastair Cook". After a while, they decided to stop playing, and wouldn't give me a game. I don't know why.
While all the England players were filing out, the Aussies were filing in. This got the group of young Aussie fans very excited, but while they went for Pup and the others, I noticed someone in an England shirt. Matt Prior, who was only called into the squad yesterday, had been doing interviews while everyone else left, so he'd been left behind. So I went over and had a chat. I don't really remember what was said, but I remember him remarking that I was taller than him, and I remember saying "if only I could grow a beard like that" to him. Which is fair enough, because he's got a beard I can only aspire to grow. After a car (which had been sent back for him) arrived, I wandered over to watch the Aussies train.
Without going into details, they did some fielding practice, then they had a net session. And I got some random autographs and pictures with some of them (despite them not really understanding why a guy in a Graeme Swann shirt wanted a picture with them). For the record, the nicest Aussie was oddly Shane Watson, a man who I've been calling Twatto for the past few years. I'll stop that now, because he was cool. Incidentally, my least favourite Aussie is now Doug "The Rug" Bollinger, because he turned me down 5 times for an autograph. Racist.
Here's some pics.
Me and bearded hero Matty Prior
Some nice Aussie fielding
Watson started belting balls at me. Never been so scared in all my life.
That's all for today blog fans. S'thee later! Will
After cooking, and eating the dinner, we settled down to watch a Danish TV show called 'Anna Pihl'. Basically, it's a bit like the Bill, only better. It's also in Danish, so if you want to watch it, you'll need to get a DVD with subtitles. Or learn Danish. (I recommend the first one, that's what we did).
Tomorrow England are playing Australia in Hobart in an ODI. So as such, both teams would be training at the ground today, in preparation. I've already mentioned my poor attempt when meeting Strauss, Collingwood and Trott the other day, but today I was better prepared. I had little banterous gambits to say to the players, and my cool Graeme Swann t-shirt on. I was set.
As I arrived at Bellerive, I realised I had nothing to get signed. In the past I'd get them to sign a random scrap of paper, but I'd only lose it or something. In preparation for tomorrow's game they were setting up a merch tent, and I asked them kindly if I could have a mini bat. While probably against the rules (and a bit cash in hand), I ended up getting an mini bat with the Australian logo (didn't have any other choice) and a Sharpie for people to write on it with. Just as I finished giving her my money (and literally 1 minute after getting to the ground) I saw a bleach haired bloke getting into a minivan. It was Luke Wright.
Regular readers of my blog, listeners of my podcast, or people who talk to me about cricket know I don't much care for Luke Wright. In fact, I actively dislike him. He's not a bad man, but I just don't want him to play for my country. So as I saw him getting into the bus, for a split second, I thought about just ignoring him. Signing autographs would only encourage him to keep playing cricket - something I don't want him to do. But I thought better of it, and shouted "Luke!" at him. I gave him my lovely new mini bat, handed him my Sharpie, and asked him to sign it. I then looked into the bus. 7 or 8 England players were sitting there, ready to go back to the hotel after finishing training. I passed the bat around the bus, and got their scrawlings on the bat. Yardy. Tredwell. Davies. Bell. I also gave it to bowling coach David Saker, who said "nah mate, you don't want me on there". "Nice shirt, by the way" he continued, pointing at my custom made tshirt of Graeme Swann. "Cheers" said I. This was going much better than the other day.
The first bus drove off into the Hobart afternoon, and then a few more players started coming out. As the only England fan (and probably the only person above the age of about 13) there, I was straight in and first up to them all. Pietersen. Bresnan. Trott. And even Graeme Swann. (He didn't seem to notice I was wearing a shirt with his face on it). The other day when I met Straussy, I was told to remind him, Finny and Moggy that they haven't done their Middlesex questionnaires. Finny and Mogs came out together, so I jokingly let them know that Lorraine wanted them in. Finn sort of seemed to recognise my face (but had no idea where from), Morgs had no idea, but both smiled, signed my bat, and got onto the next bus. Strauss came out last, and when I told him about the unfinished questionnaires, laughed and told me "Let Lorraine know I will do them... in about 3 months though!". So - Lorraine - Straussy will do them, but in about three months. I tried.
With all this excitement going on, I'm amazed I found time to do anything else. But I did - I was the sole representative of England in what someone dubbed "The Ashes rematch". There I was, 1 Englishman against 6 Aussies, and I bravely fought hard for the three lions. Admittedly, my opponents ranged from about 12-15, but some of them were useful. Those of you who have seen me play cricket will know I can be a bit inconsistent, but something about that foam ball and plastic bat meant I was bowling like Laker and batting like Bradman. Unfortunate to be given out lbw (was always going to miss leg stump), I then wreaked havoc amongst my young adversaries, with the finest display of left arm spin in Australia since Ashley Giles. I was also sledging with the best of them, giving each of them a send-off, and greeting each of my boundaries with "and that's a great shot from Alastair Cook". After a while, they decided to stop playing, and wouldn't give me a game. I don't know why.
While all the England players were filing out, the Aussies were filing in. This got the group of young Aussie fans very excited, but while they went for Pup and the others, I noticed someone in an England shirt. Matt Prior, who was only called into the squad yesterday, had been doing interviews while everyone else left, so he'd been left behind. So I went over and had a chat. I don't really remember what was said, but I remember him remarking that I was taller than him, and I remember saying "if only I could grow a beard like that" to him. Which is fair enough, because he's got a beard I can only aspire to grow. After a car (which had been sent back for him) arrived, I wandered over to watch the Aussies train.
Without going into details, they did some fielding practice, then they had a net session. And I got some random autographs and pictures with some of them (despite them not really understanding why a guy in a Graeme Swann shirt wanted a picture with them). For the record, the nicest Aussie was oddly Shane Watson, a man who I've been calling Twatto for the past few years. I'll stop that now, because he was cool. Incidentally, my least favourite Aussie is now Doug "The Rug" Bollinger, because he turned me down 5 times for an autograph. Racist.
Here's some pics.
Me and bearded hero Matty Prior
Some nice Aussie fielding
Watson started belting balls at me. Never been so scared in all my life.
That's all for today blog fans. S'thee later! Will
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
My new mates
I've met plenty of famous people in the past. Peter Beale off of Eastenders. Raef off of the Apprentice. Sue Atkins off of Channel 4 (potentially!). Normally I handle it all well, cooly with no problems. I just wander up, shake their hand and ask for an autograph / picture / when dinner will be ready. No biggie.
But last night, I was coming out of the bar having bought a drink to the outside bit of this pub. I was chatting to Kate (off of the earlier blog), when I spotted someone I recognised. I immediately fell apart, and started babbling. "Oh my god, that's England". "What?" said Kate. "Cricket. England. Them. There" (as well as other incomprehensible words) said me. "What?" repeated Kate.
I didn't know what to do. Sitting in the same bar as me were Andrew Strauss, Paul Collingwood, and Jonathan Trott. Three men I'd call Ashes winning heroes. Leaving the confused Kate still wondering what had happened to me, I put my drink down, and wandered over to them. This was my first mistake.
Because everything had happened so quickly, I hadn't worked out a plan. Had I thought about it, I would have come up with some witty opening gambit, which would have got me in an underway. As it was, I walked up to Jonathan Trott with my hand outstretched, and said "I'm so starstruck". Brilliant.
Trott, who was on Facebook on his iPhone look confused and went "Oh, right". Good. Paul Collingwood, (who on the back of this moment is now my favourite ever person) realised my nerves, and warmly shook my hand, smiled and said something which I don't remember but just seemed right. After also shaking hands with Strauss (who just seemed pleased to be recognised) I shakily passed my camera to a nearby passerby, and posed for a picture. After mumbling some sort of thanks about the picture, apologising for taking up their time, and wishing them good luck for random events in the future ("good luck for Friday, and the rest of the series. And for the World Cup. And for the test series in the summer). I wandered away, completely in a daze, and sat down with everyone else.
Everyone has stories of when they meet their heroes. In their own heads it will go great, with phone numbers being swapped, and free tickets given out. But these things don't often go the way it's planned. (After I composed myself enough to resume a conversation, Kate said a similar thing had happened when she met Linkin Park). While I didn't make a total fool of myself, it probably didn't go the way I planned. But whatever. I met, and got handshakes off Trott, Collingwood and Strauss. And I don't really care how it happened. Here's the proof.
But last night, I was coming out of the bar having bought a drink to the outside bit of this pub. I was chatting to Kate (off of the earlier blog), when I spotted someone I recognised. I immediately fell apart, and started babbling. "Oh my god, that's England". "What?" said Kate. "Cricket. England. Them. There" (as well as other incomprehensible words) said me. "What?" repeated Kate.
I didn't know what to do. Sitting in the same bar as me were Andrew Strauss, Paul Collingwood, and Jonathan Trott. Three men I'd call Ashes winning heroes. Leaving the confused Kate still wondering what had happened to me, I put my drink down, and wandered over to them. This was my first mistake.
Because everything had happened so quickly, I hadn't worked out a plan. Had I thought about it, I would have come up with some witty opening gambit, which would have got me in an underway. As it was, I walked up to Jonathan Trott with my hand outstretched, and said "I'm so starstruck". Brilliant.
Trott, who was on Facebook on his iPhone look confused and went "Oh, right". Good. Paul Collingwood, (who on the back of this moment is now my favourite ever person) realised my nerves, and warmly shook my hand, smiled and said something which I don't remember but just seemed right. After also shaking hands with Strauss (who just seemed pleased to be recognised) I shakily passed my camera to a nearby passerby, and posed for a picture. After mumbling some sort of thanks about the picture, apologising for taking up their time, and wishing them good luck for random events in the future ("good luck for Friday, and the rest of the series. And for the World Cup. And for the test series in the summer). I wandered away, completely in a daze, and sat down with everyone else.
Everyone has stories of when they meet their heroes. In their own heads it will go great, with phone numbers being swapped, and free tickets given out. But these things don't often go the way it's planned. (After I composed myself enough to resume a conversation, Kate said a similar thing had happened when she met Linkin Park). While I didn't make a total fool of myself, it probably didn't go the way I planned. But whatever. I met, and got handshakes off Trott, Collingwood and Strauss. And I don't really care how it happened. Here's the proof.
Our East Coast Adventure
Hello! Sorry for the lack of posts over the past few days. I know some of you have been on tenterhooks waiting (you know who you are) so here is a blog. Enjoy.
Jump Tours are a company that do tours around Tasmania, and one of the tours they do is the "East Coast Adventure". This leaves Hobart early doors on Monday morning, before taking in some of the sights of Tassie. However, the reason it leaves Hobart so early is so it can get to Launceston (up north) (where the tour actually starts), and it then works it's way back down Tas until reaching Hobart on Tuesday evening. So it starts and finishes in Hobart. This wasn't made massively clear when booking, and messed up the plans of a few people. But anyway, we got moving out of Hobart, and then something which would prove to mess up more plans; the bus broke down.
It didn't break down initially. But 5 minutes out of Hobart, we had pulled into a petrol station to allow the radiator to "cool down". After spluttering our way to Launceston (normally a 2 hour journey, but took 3 1/2 hours) we picked up other members of the tour, and set off. The bus had been struggling all along, and when we got to a small town in the middle of nowhere, it had enough. We pulled over, everyone got out, and we had a wait by the side of the road. Luckily, we'd stopped in a town. Unluckily, all that was in this town was a petrol station, a small shop, and the house of the person who probably owned both. And that was it. After being told it would be a bit of a wait, we all decided to do the only possible thing in this town; a trail up a mountain. We had no idea how tall this mountain was, but we were going to conquer it. After a solid hour of trekking up this moutainous road, we heard traffic behind us. It was our bus! We all climbed back aboard, and after being told that the mountain was 26km high (we'd got about 1 km up it) we got back onto the road. While the bus had been fixed, it was more of a short-term fix, and wouldn't last to long. So we headed back to Launceston where there was a replacement bus for us to change over into. As you can imagine, the first bus had seen better days - both as a piece of machinery, and as a nice place to be. The second bus was bigger, taller and had aircon. So without too much argument we set off on the tour route through the mountains.
Due to the long delay, we weren't able to go and do a cheese tasting at the cheese factory. But we went to the town of Legerwood, where Tasmanians who died in the First World War have been honoured. Originally, 9 oak trees were planted in their name (9 Tassies died), but they became a bit of a nuisance. The council wanted to cut them down, but a local chainsaw artist saved the day by carving wooden statues of the dead. It looked quite cool. Sadly, due to sudden time constraints, there was the option of either looking at the sculptures or getting some lunch. I was hungry.
After there we headed onto Binalong Bay in the Bay of Fires. Binalong was called one of the Lonely Planet's Top 10 beaches of 2009, so obviously it was a good place to go and see. The beach itself was beatiful, with sand dunes and a lagoon one side, and the sea at the other. So we got changed into our swimming stuff, and ran into the sea. And then ran out again. Stu, our tour guide, said that the water would likely be in it's high teens. It very clearly wasn't. I think I lasted about 10 seconds before I had enough of the icy waves; nobody lasted more than 30. But at least I can say I went swimming at Binalong Bay.
We then got to the town of Bicheno, where our hostel was (where we were staying). The town is where penguins come in from the sea at night, and tourists can pay $25 to go for a tour where they take you to the best places to see them. After dinner (and probably long after the penguins had been tucked up in their burrows) a few of us decided to brave it, and see if we could see anything for nothing. The fact that we didn't know where we were going didn't help. We eventually found the beach, but only the rocky bit. So we spent a long time jumping from rock to rock, until we found some sand. And then we had to go back onto more rocks, to get onto the actual beach. And again. After a while, we stumbled across two locals who told us to get to a path and go round further, because we weren't going to see any penguins where we were. So up we went on this track through various hedges, until we saw something in front of us. It was a penguin! Immediately we got our cameras out, before we remembered that we weren't allowed to take pictures of it (bright lights startle it). So for some reason, Kate and I half walked after, half chased this poor, frightened penguin further down the track, until it reached a rock, which it dived under for cover. I took a picture of the rock, but it was too late. After this shock sighting, came the inevitable question. Was it actually a penguin? Someone piped up saying it was "probably a rabbit", but I'm standing by the fact that it was a penguin. And ultimately, none of you would know any different, so I'm sticking by the penguin story.
After finding a nice, wide rock far enough away from the sea that we wouldn't get wet, we sat and chatted. It's great meeting people on tours like this, as everyone has a story of how they got to here, why they're here, and where they're going next. On our penguin search party we had Benedict, a German student studying in Australia; Brenda, on a uni exchange from Lancaster to Adelaide, Kate from Glastonbury who is seeing the world, and Harriet who lives outside Hobart. And me. (You should know my story, it's all in the blogs). After spending time out in the bright moonlight, we headed back to the hostel, and promptly woke everyone up with our noisy clattering around (everyone else in my room had gone to bed long ago).
Day 2 started with an optional wildlife park visit. I fancied it, so I went along with 8 others. I fed kangaroos (very cute), saw eagles, geese and pelicans, but my favourite animal (and possibly my favourite ever animal) was the Tasmanian Devil. The Tassie Devil, made famous of course by Taz the Tasmanian Devil, is a lovely little animal that looks very cute. It has a bad reputation for attacking and eating anything, but it's quite sweet (I think). I saw a few Tassie Devils at the park; two were sleeping happily in the sun, and one little feller was running round and round and performing for the crowd. It was made really special by the fact that I was the only one in the crowd. He was a lovely little thing. I would have picked him up and given him a hug, had he not probably mauled me if I did. Sadly, the once huge numbers of Tassie Devils in the wild are massively dropping. A Facial Tumour (which is a type of cancer) has been steadily killing Devils over the past few years. Devils love biting each other on the face, either as a sign of endearment, or when fighting for food, and this passes the tumour on from one to the other. Scientists think that by the end of 2011 (this year) there won't be anymore Tasmanian Devils in the wild. This makes me sad. So dig deep and do what you can for the Tassie Devils!
The Wildlife park finished, the rest of the tour-ists woke up and got on for our trip to Wineglass Bay. Wineglass Bay is famous amongst all Tassies, and is in the middle of a national park. So there are no roads to it. To get there, we had to walk up one side of the mountain, and then down it. And to get back to the bus, we had to walk up the other side of the mountain, and then down it again. So all in all, about a 2 1/2 round trip. It was absolutely knackering. We had three hours from start to finish to spend (from leaving the bus to being back on it) so we only had about 30 minutes to spend on the beach itself. After posing for all of the pictures from the lookout and other random times on the way down, we finally made it, and raced into the sea. One positive about this was that it was warmer than the previous day. Sadly, not by much. After sticking it out for about 10 minutes (props to Brenda and Benedict for lasting longer) I had enough and came out to dry off. And then we tackled the horrific walk back. It wasn't fun. But we got through it (somehow).
And then, that was sort of the end of the trip. Our drive back from Wineglass did include a stop in the town of Ross, but that was probably the quietest place in the history of tourism. There were two bakeries, so I had a Cornish Pasty. There wasn't anything else to do there. We got back to Hobart later in the evening, and a few of us arranged to meet up later on.
I enjoyed the trip, and am glad I went on it. Like most of these things, much of it's about the people you meet on it, and I was lucky that there were some great people to share the (albiet short) time with. We met up later to go have fish and chips, and go to MOFO, and we then went on to a bar to have a couple of drinks (I'll talk about what happened at the bar in a new, exciting blog!). And we all now head our separate ways around Australia and around the world!
Until next time, (literally, about 5 minutes until I write a new blog) - Will
Jump Tours are a company that do tours around Tasmania, and one of the tours they do is the "East Coast Adventure". This leaves Hobart early doors on Monday morning, before taking in some of the sights of Tassie. However, the reason it leaves Hobart so early is so it can get to Launceston (up north) (where the tour actually starts), and it then works it's way back down Tas until reaching Hobart on Tuesday evening. So it starts and finishes in Hobart. This wasn't made massively clear when booking, and messed up the plans of a few people. But anyway, we got moving out of Hobart, and then something which would prove to mess up more plans; the bus broke down.
It didn't break down initially. But 5 minutes out of Hobart, we had pulled into a petrol station to allow the radiator to "cool down". After spluttering our way to Launceston (normally a 2 hour journey, but took 3 1/2 hours) we picked up other members of the tour, and set off. The bus had been struggling all along, and when we got to a small town in the middle of nowhere, it had enough. We pulled over, everyone got out, and we had a wait by the side of the road. Luckily, we'd stopped in a town. Unluckily, all that was in this town was a petrol station, a small shop, and the house of the person who probably owned both. And that was it. After being told it would be a bit of a wait, we all decided to do the only possible thing in this town; a trail up a mountain. We had no idea how tall this mountain was, but we were going to conquer it. After a solid hour of trekking up this moutainous road, we heard traffic behind us. It was our bus! We all climbed back aboard, and after being told that the mountain was 26km high (we'd got about 1 km up it) we got back onto the road. While the bus had been fixed, it was more of a short-term fix, and wouldn't last to long. So we headed back to Launceston where there was a replacement bus for us to change over into. As you can imagine, the first bus had seen better days - both as a piece of machinery, and as a nice place to be. The second bus was bigger, taller and had aircon. So without too much argument we set off on the tour route through the mountains.
Due to the long delay, we weren't able to go and do a cheese tasting at the cheese factory. But we went to the town of Legerwood, where Tasmanians who died in the First World War have been honoured. Originally, 9 oak trees were planted in their name (9 Tassies died), but they became a bit of a nuisance. The council wanted to cut them down, but a local chainsaw artist saved the day by carving wooden statues of the dead. It looked quite cool. Sadly, due to sudden time constraints, there was the option of either looking at the sculptures or getting some lunch. I was hungry.
After there we headed onto Binalong Bay in the Bay of Fires. Binalong was called one of the Lonely Planet's Top 10 beaches of 2009, so obviously it was a good place to go and see. The beach itself was beatiful, with sand dunes and a lagoon one side, and the sea at the other. So we got changed into our swimming stuff, and ran into the sea. And then ran out again. Stu, our tour guide, said that the water would likely be in it's high teens. It very clearly wasn't. I think I lasted about 10 seconds before I had enough of the icy waves; nobody lasted more than 30. But at least I can say I went swimming at Binalong Bay.
We then got to the town of Bicheno, where our hostel was (where we were staying). The town is where penguins come in from the sea at night, and tourists can pay $25 to go for a tour where they take you to the best places to see them. After dinner (and probably long after the penguins had been tucked up in their burrows) a few of us decided to brave it, and see if we could see anything for nothing. The fact that we didn't know where we were going didn't help. We eventually found the beach, but only the rocky bit. So we spent a long time jumping from rock to rock, until we found some sand. And then we had to go back onto more rocks, to get onto the actual beach. And again. After a while, we stumbled across two locals who told us to get to a path and go round further, because we weren't going to see any penguins where we were. So up we went on this track through various hedges, until we saw something in front of us. It was a penguin! Immediately we got our cameras out, before we remembered that we weren't allowed to take pictures of it (bright lights startle it). So for some reason, Kate and I half walked after, half chased this poor, frightened penguin further down the track, until it reached a rock, which it dived under for cover. I took a picture of the rock, but it was too late. After this shock sighting, came the inevitable question. Was it actually a penguin? Someone piped up saying it was "probably a rabbit", but I'm standing by the fact that it was a penguin. And ultimately, none of you would know any different, so I'm sticking by the penguin story.
After finding a nice, wide rock far enough away from the sea that we wouldn't get wet, we sat and chatted. It's great meeting people on tours like this, as everyone has a story of how they got to here, why they're here, and where they're going next. On our penguin search party we had Benedict, a German student studying in Australia; Brenda, on a uni exchange from Lancaster to Adelaide, Kate from Glastonbury who is seeing the world, and Harriet who lives outside Hobart. And me. (You should know my story, it's all in the blogs). After spending time out in the bright moonlight, we headed back to the hostel, and promptly woke everyone up with our noisy clattering around (everyone else in my room had gone to bed long ago).
Day 2 started with an optional wildlife park visit. I fancied it, so I went along with 8 others. I fed kangaroos (very cute), saw eagles, geese and pelicans, but my favourite animal (and possibly my favourite ever animal) was the Tasmanian Devil. The Tassie Devil, made famous of course by Taz the Tasmanian Devil, is a lovely little animal that looks very cute. It has a bad reputation for attacking and eating anything, but it's quite sweet (I think). I saw a few Tassie Devils at the park; two were sleeping happily in the sun, and one little feller was running round and round and performing for the crowd. It was made really special by the fact that I was the only one in the crowd. He was a lovely little thing. I would have picked him up and given him a hug, had he not probably mauled me if I did. Sadly, the once huge numbers of Tassie Devils in the wild are massively dropping. A Facial Tumour (which is a type of cancer) has been steadily killing Devils over the past few years. Devils love biting each other on the face, either as a sign of endearment, or when fighting for food, and this passes the tumour on from one to the other. Scientists think that by the end of 2011 (this year) there won't be anymore Tasmanian Devils in the wild. This makes me sad. So dig deep and do what you can for the Tassie Devils!
The Wildlife park finished, the rest of the tour-ists woke up and got on for our trip to Wineglass Bay. Wineglass Bay is famous amongst all Tassies, and is in the middle of a national park. So there are no roads to it. To get there, we had to walk up one side of the mountain, and then down it. And to get back to the bus, we had to walk up the other side of the mountain, and then down it again. So all in all, about a 2 1/2 round trip. It was absolutely knackering. We had three hours from start to finish to spend (from leaving the bus to being back on it) so we only had about 30 minutes to spend on the beach itself. After posing for all of the pictures from the lookout and other random times on the way down, we finally made it, and raced into the sea. One positive about this was that it was warmer than the previous day. Sadly, not by much. After sticking it out for about 10 minutes (props to Brenda and Benedict for lasting longer) I had enough and came out to dry off. And then we tackled the horrific walk back. It wasn't fun. But we got through it (somehow).
And then, that was sort of the end of the trip. Our drive back from Wineglass did include a stop in the town of Ross, but that was probably the quietest place in the history of tourism. There were two bakeries, so I had a Cornish Pasty. There wasn't anything else to do there. We got back to Hobart later in the evening, and a few of us arranged to meet up later on.
I enjoyed the trip, and am glad I went on it. Like most of these things, much of it's about the people you meet on it, and I was lucky that there were some great people to share the (albiet short) time with. We met up later to go have fish and chips, and go to MOFO, and we then went on to a bar to have a couple of drinks (I'll talk about what happened at the bar in a new, exciting blog!). And we all now head our separate ways around Australia and around the world!
Until next time, (literally, about 5 minutes until I write a new blog) - Will
Sunday, 16 January 2011
Road Trip! (Part One)
I've just got back from the road trip. It was further than I thought, but good fun. Getting up early on Saturday morning, however, wasn't fun, and after packing up what I thought I'd need and bundling it all into the car, we set off.
Our destination was Stanley - a town on the north-west tip of Tasmania. We started in Hobart, the city on the south-east tip of Tasmania. From looking at maps of Australia, Tassie's just a small little island off the south coast, so going from one end to the other shouldn't take long. I suppose I was thinking of it like looking at the Isle of Man in comparison to England. Sadly, Australia's a little bit bigger than England. After setting off at 8am on Saturday morning, we eventually arrived in the picturesque town of Stanley at about 3 in the afternoon. Admitedly this was with a few stops along the way for ice cream and lunch, but it was a bit of a trek, and it was good to eventually get there.
The journey itself I could talk about, as it was visually stunning driving through the heart of a beautiful state, but after a few hours, all of the trees, waterfalls and rock formations blend into one. Also, I slept through much of it, so I don't really remember many details. We did stop off in the coastal town of Burnie, which I was awake for and remember vividly (well, it was only yesterday). It was an old fashioned kind of quiet beach town, but there were some modern buildings and really good restaurants. We plumped for a fish restaurant right on the beach, and I had my new favourite Tassie meal of battered breadcrumbed scallops, on a Caesar salad. See, healthy. Ish. I then went for a nice walk along the beach while Colette and Rachel read the papers. My previous Aussie beach experience was Bondi in Sydney, where there must have been hundreds of thousands of people (slight exaggeration, but there were a few). Burnie beach was so empty that the lifeguards were playing cricket, as there wasn't actually anyone's life that needed saving. Sadly when I wandered out onto the beach they finished up, which was a shame as I would have no doubt shown skills which saw England win the Ashes (and by skills I mean really bad left arm spin and inconsistent slogging).
Anyway, as we approached Stanley, there was something that dominated the view in for the last few hours. The Nut is a massive rock that sits right on the coast, and due to some geographic reason that I don't know, has risen to miles higher than anything else nearby, and dominates the skyline like Olympus. (Here's the picture of it on Wikipedia)So the only sane thing to do within the first 10 minutes of arriving in Stanley was to climb it. Despite my calls for us to go up by the cable car, I was coerced into scaling the steep sides of it, and reaching the top of the 145 metre rock. Words don't really do the views from it justice, so here are some pictures.
After going up the Nut, and doing a tour of the top (giving us great views over loads of small towns and beaches), we were alerted to two small wallabies. Naww cute! They're the first actual interesting piece of wildlife (other than like insects) that I've seen in Aus, so I had to take loads of pictures. There were two of them - a large mum and a small baby. If you see my Facebook album, you'll see me with a Tasmanian Devil. I'm stroking it and it seems quite placid. That's because it's not real - an actual Tassie devil would have my hand off. But the model in The Nut gift shop was a nice photo opportunity!
As we were out in the middle of nowhere, we had to make our own entertainment. After walking to the local pub, Rachel broke out her favourite game, Scrabble Scramble. I played a bit of Scrabble with Colette and Rachel in Sydney (they play religiously), and Rachel is a Scrabble ninja. While I'd be coming out with 'Nap' or 'Pan', she'd come out with some seven letter masterpieces, almost always on triple word scores. Scrabble Scramble is a quickfire game, you roll these letter dices, and you have a minute to make words out of the letters you're given. First to 200 wins. So when Rachel was miles ahead of Colette and I, and with victory in sight, there was no real surprise. Until, from nowhere, I found 'Heard' on a triple word score. I was suddenly given 51 points, and catapulted to 195 points. Rachel couldn't overtake me, before I got the five points needed for a famous victory. After a lovely pub dinner of chicken parmigianni (the meal of Australia - chicken breast with deep fried cheese on it and smothered in tomato sauce with chips) we returned back to our cabin for the night to play Monopoly.
Monopoly is where I come into my own. While I may have fluked my first ever Scrabble win earlier, I am unbeaten at Monopoly. The plan was to play a couple of hours then, and to keep going each night this week. The game lasted 90 minutes. I destroyed them. My tactics were superb, buying the stations early, before trading my way to a few sets, sticking on some houses (which became hotels very quickly after) and watching the money roll in. Colette was the first to fall, and after I swept up her money and properties, Rachel didn't last much longer. Her resistance was better, mainly as she had a couple of houses on the purples, but resistance was futile. Only 90 minutes and £60,000 (I counted it all up just to check) after starting, I wrapped up a convincing win, to cement my position as the King of Monopoly. If anyone wants to challenge my status, pick a time, pick a place. Because I'll beat you.
Sunday morning, and we went for a nice walk down the beach. After playing a bit of catch with Colette, as well as taking some pictures from the sea, we set back off for home. The journey back seemed longer if anything (as I didn't sleep through it) but I was able to listen to the cricket on the radio (and have a KFC) so it wasn't too bad. After getting home, Colette and Rachel went straight out to see an act they like at MOFO, leaving me to stay home and watch the cricket!
Come on England! Will
(I wanted to put some pictures up on the blog, but Blogger won't let me upload. So here's the link to my Facebook album, as they're all up there anyway!)
Our destination was Stanley - a town on the north-west tip of Tasmania. We started in Hobart, the city on the south-east tip of Tasmania. From looking at maps of Australia, Tassie's just a small little island off the south coast, so going from one end to the other shouldn't take long. I suppose I was thinking of it like looking at the Isle of Man in comparison to England. Sadly, Australia's a little bit bigger than England. After setting off at 8am on Saturday morning, we eventually arrived in the picturesque town of Stanley at about 3 in the afternoon. Admitedly this was with a few stops along the way for ice cream and lunch, but it was a bit of a trek, and it was good to eventually get there.
The journey itself I could talk about, as it was visually stunning driving through the heart of a beautiful state, but after a few hours, all of the trees, waterfalls and rock formations blend into one. Also, I slept through much of it, so I don't really remember many details. We did stop off in the coastal town of Burnie, which I was awake for and remember vividly (well, it was only yesterday). It was an old fashioned kind of quiet beach town, but there were some modern buildings and really good restaurants. We plumped for a fish restaurant right on the beach, and I had my new favourite Tassie meal of battered breadcrumbed scallops, on a Caesar salad. See, healthy. Ish. I then went for a nice walk along the beach while Colette and Rachel read the papers. My previous Aussie beach experience was Bondi in Sydney, where there must have been hundreds of thousands of people (slight exaggeration, but there were a few). Burnie beach was so empty that the lifeguards were playing cricket, as there wasn't actually anyone's life that needed saving. Sadly when I wandered out onto the beach they finished up, which was a shame as I would have no doubt shown skills which saw England win the Ashes (and by skills I mean really bad left arm spin and inconsistent slogging).
Anyway, as we approached Stanley, there was something that dominated the view in for the last few hours. The Nut is a massive rock that sits right on the coast, and due to some geographic reason that I don't know, has risen to miles higher than anything else nearby, and dominates the skyline like Olympus. (Here's the picture of it on Wikipedia)So the only sane thing to do within the first 10 minutes of arriving in Stanley was to climb it. Despite my calls for us to go up by the cable car, I was coerced into scaling the steep sides of it, and reaching the top of the 145 metre rock. Words don't really do the views from it justice, so here are some pictures.
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After going up the Nut, and doing a tour of the top (giving us great views over loads of small towns and beaches), we were alerted to two small wallabies. Naww cute! They're the first actual interesting piece of wildlife (other than like insects) that I've seen in Aus, so I had to take loads of pictures. There were two of them - a large mum and a small baby. If you see my Facebook album, you'll see me with a Tasmanian Devil. I'm stroking it and it seems quite placid. That's because it's not real - an actual Tassie devil would have my hand off. But the model in The Nut gift shop was a nice photo opportunity!
As we were out in the middle of nowhere, we had to make our own entertainment. After walking to the local pub, Rachel broke out her favourite game, Scrabble Scramble. I played a bit of Scrabble with Colette and Rachel in Sydney (they play religiously), and Rachel is a Scrabble ninja. While I'd be coming out with 'Nap' or 'Pan', she'd come out with some seven letter masterpieces, almost always on triple word scores. Scrabble Scramble is a quickfire game, you roll these letter dices, and you have a minute to make words out of the letters you're given. First to 200 wins. So when Rachel was miles ahead of Colette and I, and with victory in sight, there was no real surprise. Until, from nowhere, I found 'Heard' on a triple word score. I was suddenly given 51 points, and catapulted to 195 points. Rachel couldn't overtake me, before I got the five points needed for a famous victory. After a lovely pub dinner of chicken parmigianni (the meal of Australia - chicken breast with deep fried cheese on it and smothered in tomato sauce with chips) we returned back to our cabin for the night to play Monopoly.
Monopoly is where I come into my own. While I may have fluked my first ever Scrabble win earlier, I am unbeaten at Monopoly. The plan was to play a couple of hours then, and to keep going each night this week. The game lasted 90 minutes. I destroyed them. My tactics were superb, buying the stations early, before trading my way to a few sets, sticking on some houses (which became hotels very quickly after) and watching the money roll in. Colette was the first to fall, and after I swept up her money and properties, Rachel didn't last much longer. Her resistance was better, mainly as she had a couple of houses on the purples, but resistance was futile. Only 90 minutes and £60,000 (I counted it all up just to check) after starting, I wrapped up a convincing win, to cement my position as the King of Monopoly. If anyone wants to challenge my status, pick a time, pick a place. Because I'll beat you.
Sunday morning, and we went for a nice walk down the beach. After playing a bit of catch with Colette, as well as taking some pictures from the sea, we set back off for home. The journey back seemed longer if anything (as I didn't sleep through it) but I was able to listen to the cricket on the radio (and have a KFC) so it wasn't too bad. After getting home, Colette and Rachel went straight out to see an act they like at MOFO, leaving me to stay home and watch the cricket!
Come on England! Will
(I wanted to put some pictures up on the blog, but Blogger won't let me upload. So here's the link to my Facebook album, as they're all up there anyway!)
Friday, 14 January 2011
MOFO 2011
Today I planned to go to Seven Mile Beach, which is just over the water. Basically, if you haven't worked out what it is, it's a beach that's seven miles long. Makes sense. Sadly, it was raining this morning, so I waited a bit for the rain to go down (I had a Facebook chat with Emma - and as she so enjoyed her last namecheck here's another one!). Eventually the rain subsided enough for me to put on my shorts and flip flops (or thongs as they're called over here...) and walk down to the bus stop.
For those of you who're unfamiliar with the bus service of Hobart (I'm guessing most of you), there isn't a great deal of regularity to them. Unpredictable is a good word to describe it. I went down at around half two to the main bus terminal, and picked up a tourist information leaflet giving me all of the times of buses going to Seven Mile Beach. There had been 3 in the past 15 minutes, and now wasn't another one of 50 minutes. So I sat and waited. However, after a fairly brief wait (luckily it wasn't too long), I noticed that on my bus timetable, there were no return buses scheduled from SMB to Hobart for the rest of the day. So if I went to SMB, I wouldn't be able to get back. Lucky I checked!
This evening Hobart was really vibrant and packed - a new thing called MONA FOMA was opening. MONA FOMA (MOFO) is difficult to describe, it's kind of like a music and art and culture festival type thing that's happening in Hobart, and it's all free. So after having a fantastic dinner at Fish Frenzy (deep fried scallops are recommended) we (Colette, Rachel and I) headed off to the place where it was being held.
Writing about MONA FOMA is a challenge. It was kind of cool, but also kind of modern arty. The main attractions tonight (it changes every day for the 3 week run) were a giant beach ball thing that we were encouraged to keep up in the air, while some bloke sat on a stage pressing buttons on his laptop, (which made noises like Mr Blobby) everytime the crowd pushed the ball into the air. On the programme it said something about "the world is a globe, so our ball is a representation of the earth and its inhabitants, and how we can all make a musical instrument out of ourselves". Hmm...
As we walked into the indoor bit, was what looked like an odd shaped bouncy castle. Punters were meant to queue up to have a go inside, but instead of bouncing around, they had to put on zig-zag boiler suits, and pose inside the inflatable. This is apparently "art". While I fancied having a go just to see what it was about, the queue was massive, so I didn't bother. After walking past some ping-pong tables (no idea what they were doing there but whatever) we then went into the "main stage" room.
There were six percussion sets all around the room, and six percussionists moving seamlessly from drum to cymbal to another drum, back to the cymbal and then onto another drum (etc). This was really quite impressive and cool - they were all following music and keeping to the rhythm and beat all the way through. It wasn't a 'song', but it was just a solid piece of music which sort of ebbed and flowed. As I said, very impressive and very cool. However, they started at 8, and their one song went on until half 9. While I was tempted to shout "do you know anything by Phil Collins", it wasn't that sort of event.
Which brings me onto the people there. I don't want to generalise or stereotype, so I'll just call the people there 'kooky'. No offence to them, I'm sure they're all lovely people, but they're not my type of people. And MONA FOMA was sort of like that; interesting and intriguing, but not my sort of place. It's all free, and only a 10 minute walk away, so I might pop along to another day. But tomorrow there's a naked ballet, followed by hymns from Chinese monks. I don't know if it's my sort of thing.
Sadly this will be the last blog for a bit. Colette and Rachel have arranged to take me up north (of Tasmania), which is a 5 hour drive away. So we're spending the night up there and are going on a road trip, which leaves early tomorrow morning! So that's what we're up to this weekend. I've also booked to go on an 'East Coast Adventure' which leaves on Monday, which involves all kinds of cool stuff, and me spending a couple of nights away from my laptop. So I'll take loads of photos and you can expect a bumper blog when I get back to virtual reality!
Peace out, Will
For those of you who're unfamiliar with the bus service of Hobart (I'm guessing most of you), there isn't a great deal of regularity to them. Unpredictable is a good word to describe it. I went down at around half two to the main bus terminal, and picked up a tourist information leaflet giving me all of the times of buses going to Seven Mile Beach. There had been 3 in the past 15 minutes, and now wasn't another one of 50 minutes. So I sat and waited. However, after a fairly brief wait (luckily it wasn't too long), I noticed that on my bus timetable, there were no return buses scheduled from SMB to Hobart for the rest of the day. So if I went to SMB, I wouldn't be able to get back. Lucky I checked!
This evening Hobart was really vibrant and packed - a new thing called MONA FOMA was opening. MONA FOMA (MOFO) is difficult to describe, it's kind of like a music and art and culture festival type thing that's happening in Hobart, and it's all free. So after having a fantastic dinner at Fish Frenzy (deep fried scallops are recommended) we (Colette, Rachel and I) headed off to the place where it was being held.
Writing about MONA FOMA is a challenge. It was kind of cool, but also kind of modern arty. The main attractions tonight (it changes every day for the 3 week run) were a giant beach ball thing that we were encouraged to keep up in the air, while some bloke sat on a stage pressing buttons on his laptop, (which made noises like Mr Blobby) everytime the crowd pushed the ball into the air. On the programme it said something about "the world is a globe, so our ball is a representation of the earth and its inhabitants, and how we can all make a musical instrument out of ourselves". Hmm...
As we walked into the indoor bit, was what looked like an odd shaped bouncy castle. Punters were meant to queue up to have a go inside, but instead of bouncing around, they had to put on zig-zag boiler suits, and pose inside the inflatable. This is apparently "art". While I fancied having a go just to see what it was about, the queue was massive, so I didn't bother. After walking past some ping-pong tables (no idea what they were doing there but whatever) we then went into the "main stage" room.
There were six percussion sets all around the room, and six percussionists moving seamlessly from drum to cymbal to another drum, back to the cymbal and then onto another drum (etc). This was really quite impressive and cool - they were all following music and keeping to the rhythm and beat all the way through. It wasn't a 'song', but it was just a solid piece of music which sort of ebbed and flowed. As I said, very impressive and very cool. However, they started at 8, and their one song went on until half 9. While I was tempted to shout "do you know anything by Phil Collins", it wasn't that sort of event.
Which brings me onto the people there. I don't want to generalise or stereotype, so I'll just call the people there 'kooky'. No offence to them, I'm sure they're all lovely people, but they're not my type of people. And MONA FOMA was sort of like that; interesting and intriguing, but not my sort of place. It's all free, and only a 10 minute walk away, so I might pop along to another day. But tomorrow there's a naked ballet, followed by hymns from Chinese monks. I don't know if it's my sort of thing.
Sadly this will be the last blog for a bit. Colette and Rachel have arranged to take me up north (of Tasmania), which is a 5 hour drive away. So we're spending the night up there and are going on a road trip, which leaves early tomorrow morning! So that's what we're up to this weekend. I've also booked to go on an 'East Coast Adventure' which leaves on Monday, which involves all kinds of cool stuff, and me spending a couple of nights away from my laptop. So I'll take loads of photos and you can expect a bumper blog when I get back to virtual reality!
Peace out, Will
Thursday, 13 January 2011
Cadbury-tastic
I've spent the last couple of days of getting up and 12 and not doing much. However, I realised that I could get up at 12 and not do much in England (and I do), so I decided to get up early and go and do something. I decided to go to the Cadbury chocolate factory.
For those of you who don't know, Cadbury make chocolate. Lots of it. Dairy Milk, Bourneville, Freddos, Buttons - pretty much everything. (Except my favourite chocolate, Galaxy). The factory, set up in 1922, produces an awful lot of chocolate, and is the largest chocolate factory in the southern hemisphere.
The factory, about a 50 minute bus ride out of Hobart (although we could have made it in 20 if the bus driver didn't insist on pulling into every minor road just to see if anyone wanted to get on or off - nobody did as we were all going to the chocolate factory) completely dominates the town of Claremont. The roads are all named after chocolate bars. Cadbury owns all of the local houses, and lets it's workers live in them. The air even smells of chocolate - the first thing you step off the bus and do is sniff the cocoa filled air. Makes a change from the normal pollution of other factories!
I'd expected (or hoped) for it to not be dissimiliar to Willy Wonka's Factory. While I wasn't expecting singing Oompa Loompas wandering around, I at least thought I'd see a river of chocolate that I'd be able to dip my hand into and have a taste. Sadly that was not the case. After being assigned a tour which would be half an hour after I arrived, I was shown into the "visitors waiting area". Which was shared with the factory worker's canteen. And seemingly twinned with a Russian gulag. Unfriendly was the word that sprang to mind. Magical it was not.
The tours of the chocolate making bits were well-known and well-loved amongst Tasmanians, and Rachel certainly recommended it when we spoke about it. However, when I began my 12.00 tour, it turned out that Cadbury's no longer ran tours of the chocolate making due to health and safety concerns. So what we got was a 10 minute talk about the cocoa plant, a 5 minute DVD about the history of Cadbury and a taste of some chocolate making ingredients (as well as plenty of the final product). And that was it.
I'd hoped for more of Cadbury's chocolate factory. I wanted to see vats of melted chocolate waiting to be made into bars. I wanted to see all the chunks of chocolate being put into packages. I wanted to see the journey of the humble cocoa bean from it's tree to it's final destination as a Dairy Milk. We were told that there was actually very little of that that goes on at Cadbury Tasmania any more, as it's cheaper to do it in Singapore and Papua New Guinea.
I don't want to moan about my morning in Cadbury World (because sadly that was as long as it lasted, a morning). The staff were friendly, passionate and informative. The talk about how chocolate is made has given me loads of pointless pub-quiz-ready chocolate knowledge. And there was a lot of free chocolate being given out! Everyone was given a big (200g) bar of Dairy Milk on entry, as well as other bars here and there along our tour. And after the tour I went into the factory outlet (where they sell chocolate very cheaply) and bought loads. A message to friends and family - I bought you all some presents in the Cadbury shop, but then realised that it will have gone off by the time I get home. So I decided to eat it all myself. Yum. (Does chocolate go off?)
My chocolate eating made me the target of a parent's anger. As you will know, my mum is an internationally acclaimed Parent Coach and author (of Raising Happy Children for Dummies, one in the famous black and yellow series). So I sometimes find it interesting to listen to how parents deal with their kids. After we were all given the big bar of chocolate when we entered, we all then went into the canteen / prison recreation room to sit and wait for our tour. Most people (ie everyone else) put their big bar of chocolate sensibly in their bags for later. I, however, got mine out, and started wolfing it down. One small child nearby clearly wanted some chocolate, but his mum wouldn't let him have any. So he pointed at me (with a mouth covered in chocolate) and said loudly "but that boy is having his chocolate" (Boy? I'm 18! Have some respect...). To which his mum remarked "well, he shouldn't be". So there I was, the son of a parent coach, and a bad example to a child. This should have made me feel guilty, but I kept eating.
I'm not really sure what the target demographic for a chocolate factory is, but it probably isn't "teenager". The only people that were there today were 'families' (two parents and a couple of young children) and 'the elderly'. And a couple of Americans (but to be fair, it is a chocolate factory, there was always going to be a few Americans knocking about). As I was wearing my Caterham School hoody (representing), one of the members of the elderly approached me as I was waiting for the bus, and announced that she was from Kenley. For those of you who don't know, Kenley is literally just up the road from Caterham. After saying "oh, isn't it a small world" a number of times (and exhausting all of the ways of saying "what a coincidence") I had finished with our exchange, but sadly she wanted it to continue for a while. Despite the bus arriving, me putting on headphones and obviously disinterested in her ramblings, she kept trying to get my attention, despite the fact we were now sitting at opposite ends of the bus. Just to point out, I wasn't being rude or anything. I'd spoken to her sister (she was also there). I'd made small talk about Kenley, Croydon, and how small a world it was. I'd given some chat about the Queensland floods. I'd said where I'd been, and where I was going next. But she kept going, until she reached the reason for her conversation. She invited me out to her holiday home on the Gold Coast. No offence love, but I'm not interested. That's a bit wierd. I politely declined, ran further towards the back of the bus, and sang along audibly to my iPod so she wouldn't disturb me further. Even above the strains of The Flood by Take That, I heard her ask me whether I'd be picking up an Aussie accent during my time out here. I ignored her.
Anyway, thanks for reading today's blog. Here are a couple of pictures of what I saw at Cadbury Tasmania!
I can feel it, calling in the air tonight...
And to finish - great results from Ipswich and Blackpool! Sea, sea, seasiders! Will
For those of you who don't know, Cadbury make chocolate. Lots of it. Dairy Milk, Bourneville, Freddos, Buttons - pretty much everything. (Except my favourite chocolate, Galaxy). The factory, set up in 1922, produces an awful lot of chocolate, and is the largest chocolate factory in the southern hemisphere.
The factory, about a 50 minute bus ride out of Hobart (although we could have made it in 20 if the bus driver didn't insist on pulling into every minor road just to see if anyone wanted to get on or off - nobody did as we were all going to the chocolate factory) completely dominates the town of Claremont. The roads are all named after chocolate bars. Cadbury owns all of the local houses, and lets it's workers live in them. The air even smells of chocolate - the first thing you step off the bus and do is sniff the cocoa filled air. Makes a change from the normal pollution of other factories!
I'd expected (or hoped) for it to not be dissimiliar to Willy Wonka's Factory. While I wasn't expecting singing Oompa Loompas wandering around, I at least thought I'd see a river of chocolate that I'd be able to dip my hand into and have a taste. Sadly that was not the case. After being assigned a tour which would be half an hour after I arrived, I was shown into the "visitors waiting area". Which was shared with the factory worker's canteen. And seemingly twinned with a Russian gulag. Unfriendly was the word that sprang to mind. Magical it was not.
The tours of the chocolate making bits were well-known and well-loved amongst Tasmanians, and Rachel certainly recommended it when we spoke about it. However, when I began my 12.00 tour, it turned out that Cadbury's no longer ran tours of the chocolate making due to health and safety concerns. So what we got was a 10 minute talk about the cocoa plant, a 5 minute DVD about the history of Cadbury and a taste of some chocolate making ingredients (as well as plenty of the final product). And that was it.
I'd hoped for more of Cadbury's chocolate factory. I wanted to see vats of melted chocolate waiting to be made into bars. I wanted to see all the chunks of chocolate being put into packages. I wanted to see the journey of the humble cocoa bean from it's tree to it's final destination as a Dairy Milk. We were told that there was actually very little of that that goes on at Cadbury Tasmania any more, as it's cheaper to do it in Singapore and Papua New Guinea.
I don't want to moan about my morning in Cadbury World (because sadly that was as long as it lasted, a morning). The staff were friendly, passionate and informative. The talk about how chocolate is made has given me loads of pointless pub-quiz-ready chocolate knowledge. And there was a lot of free chocolate being given out! Everyone was given a big (200g) bar of Dairy Milk on entry, as well as other bars here and there along our tour. And after the tour I went into the factory outlet (where they sell chocolate very cheaply) and bought loads. A message to friends and family - I bought you all some presents in the Cadbury shop, but then realised that it will have gone off by the time I get home. So I decided to eat it all myself. Yum. (Does chocolate go off?)
My chocolate eating made me the target of a parent's anger. As you will know, my mum is an internationally acclaimed Parent Coach and author (of Raising Happy Children for Dummies, one in the famous black and yellow series). So I sometimes find it interesting to listen to how parents deal with their kids. After we were all given the big bar of chocolate when we entered, we all then went into the canteen / prison recreation room to sit and wait for our tour. Most people (ie everyone else) put their big bar of chocolate sensibly in their bags for later. I, however, got mine out, and started wolfing it down. One small child nearby clearly wanted some chocolate, but his mum wouldn't let him have any. So he pointed at me (with a mouth covered in chocolate) and said loudly "but that boy is having his chocolate" (Boy? I'm 18! Have some respect...). To which his mum remarked "well, he shouldn't be". So there I was, the son of a parent coach, and a bad example to a child. This should have made me feel guilty, but I kept eating.
I'm not really sure what the target demographic for a chocolate factory is, but it probably isn't "teenager". The only people that were there today were 'families' (two parents and a couple of young children) and 'the elderly'. And a couple of Americans (but to be fair, it is a chocolate factory, there was always going to be a few Americans knocking about). As I was wearing my Caterham School hoody (representing), one of the members of the elderly approached me as I was waiting for the bus, and announced that she was from Kenley. For those of you who don't know, Kenley is literally just up the road from Caterham. After saying "oh, isn't it a small world" a number of times (and exhausting all of the ways of saying "what a coincidence") I had finished with our exchange, but sadly she wanted it to continue for a while. Despite the bus arriving, me putting on headphones and obviously disinterested in her ramblings, she kept trying to get my attention, despite the fact we were now sitting at opposite ends of the bus. Just to point out, I wasn't being rude or anything. I'd spoken to her sister (she was also there). I'd made small talk about Kenley, Croydon, and how small a world it was. I'd given some chat about the Queensland floods. I'd said where I'd been, and where I was going next. But she kept going, until she reached the reason for her conversation. She invited me out to her holiday home on the Gold Coast. No offence love, but I'm not interested. That's a bit wierd. I politely declined, ran further towards the back of the bus, and sang along audibly to my iPod so she wouldn't disturb me further. Even above the strains of The Flood by Take That, I heard her ask me whether I'd be picking up an Aussie accent during my time out here. I ignored her.
Anyway, thanks for reading today's blog. Here are a couple of pictures of what I saw at Cadbury Tasmania!
I can feel it, calling in the air tonight...
And to finish - great results from Ipswich and Blackpool! Sea, sea, seasiders! Will
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
Matty Prior's Number One Fan
Hello to all expecting / hoping for a blog yesterday. I made a lovely video, edited it and it looked great. But sadly it didn't want to upload to Blogger, so I gave up.
Yesterday I went to see some cricket (shock, horror). The KFC Big Bash is the biggest domestic cricket tournament over here in Australia, and luckily enough for me, Tasmania were playing Victoria at the Bellerive Oval last night, which is only 20 mins away. With tickets being only 8 bucks (because the ticket lady thought I was still a child) I thought I'd pop along to see what it's all about.
While I have no real preference between the Tassie Tigers or the Vics Bushrangers, I don't like watching sport as a neutral, so I decided to choose a team to support to keep me interested. Tasmania had Essex's own Ryan "Ten Inch" ten Doeschate, the "Flying Doormat" Rana Naved, and Mark "Hefty" Cosgrove. However, Victoria had Dirk "The Diggler" Nannes, as well as Matt "England's Ashes Winning Hero" Prior, who was making his Big Bash dayboo. So I put on my England shirt and decided to support the Bushrangers. Go Vics! (If those names mean nothing to you, don't worry)
The Bellerive Oval is reknowned as being one of the most beautiful grounds in world cricket, and when I got there, I could certainly see why. It all seems so small, and from someone who regularly goes to Lord's (and was at the SCG last week), I'm not really used to small cricket grounds. But Bellerive really is dinky. While there is one normal sized stand at one end (and the modern pavilion at the other), square of the wicket (to the sides) are two stands with about 10 rows in them. For those of you who know - remember Coney Hall's one stand? That's about double the length and height of those two. And if it were even possible, they haven't even bothered making a new stand next to those, with a grassy hill taking up a good quarter of the perimeter. But I like it, everyone's really close to the action and feels part of the match.
After a rain delay reduced the match to fifteen a side (F15 doesn't really have the same ring to it), luckily there was no further precipation. For the game itself? Tas won the toss and stuck the Vics in to bat. Struggling with the conditions, Vics lost some early wickets, and were always behind where they should have been. Thanks mainly to Matt "Ashes Winning Hero" Prior's quickfire 50, they got to 107/8. Below par. Tas then went on to chase it down comfortably, and got there after only 11 overs. It was a thumping.
I said earlier how I was supporting the Vics. Mainly I was supporting Matty Prior. Maybe I should have thought about how everyone else in the ground was supporting Tas, and that Prior was part of an England side which had just humiliated the Aussies, so he was public enemy number one. After clapping and cheering the Vics before Prior came out to bat (on my own), I was certainly the only one who cheered his entry, with everyone else booing him. However, every run he scored, I was up applauding. I was sitting (standing because the ground was wet) on the hill, under the big screen, and when Prior hit one of his numerous boundaries (including one six that went out of the ground - sounds impressive but seriously even I could probably tonk one over the "main stand") he'd look to the screen to see how far he'd hit it. He would almost certainly have seen me with my England shirt and pink Middlesex flag giving him what appeared to be a standing ovation after every shot. So when he reached his half century (to near silence from the crowd), he first waved his bat in thanks to the Vics dressing room, and then over to the hill. To me. (Probably).
Maybe he was just being polite and waving to the crowd. But deep down, he knows. I know. That Matt Prior, who only the other day was celebrating an Ashes triumph at the SCG, waved his bat to thank his most loyal supporter, who'd flown all the way across the world, just to see him bat in this twenty20 game at the smallest ground in the world. I felt honoured. Touched. Matty P (because that's what I'd call him) would come across after the game to see me, and invite me out for drinks. He'd give me tickets to every Vics game in the Big Bash, as well as flights out to them. He'd give me his phone number, and say that we should go out back in England with Swanny, Jimmy and Straussy. While I was daydreaming, Prior took a big swipe at his next ball, missed it, and was bowled. He didn't acknowledge the hill as he walked off. Maybe not, then.
After the game finished, I was meant to get a $30-40 taxi back from Bellerive to Hobart (other side of the harbour). However, after wandering back and forth looking for a vacant cab, I saw a bus with the sign "Hobart City" on it. I jumped on, and it took me to Hobart City. I have no idea if I should have paid. I didn't. But one way or another, it took me back into Hobart, and I walked the 10 minutes back home.
Hope that epic made up for not having a blog yesterday. I have been thinking of doing a question and answer thing on here (just to keep me occupied when there isn't cricket on), so if you have a question you want to ask me just write it in the comment section below, and I'll answer them!
Stay safe, Will
Yesterday I went to see some cricket (shock, horror). The KFC Big Bash is the biggest domestic cricket tournament over here in Australia, and luckily enough for me, Tasmania were playing Victoria at the Bellerive Oval last night, which is only 20 mins away. With tickets being only 8 bucks (because the ticket lady thought I was still a child) I thought I'd pop along to see what it's all about.
While I have no real preference between the Tassie Tigers or the Vics Bushrangers, I don't like watching sport as a neutral, so I decided to choose a team to support to keep me interested. Tasmania had Essex's own Ryan "Ten Inch" ten Doeschate, the "Flying Doormat" Rana Naved, and Mark "Hefty" Cosgrove. However, Victoria had Dirk "The Diggler" Nannes, as well as Matt "England's Ashes Winning Hero" Prior, who was making his Big Bash dayboo. So I put on my England shirt and decided to support the Bushrangers. Go Vics! (If those names mean nothing to you, don't worry)
The Bellerive Oval is reknowned as being one of the most beautiful grounds in world cricket, and when I got there, I could certainly see why. It all seems so small, and from someone who regularly goes to Lord's (and was at the SCG last week), I'm not really used to small cricket grounds. But Bellerive really is dinky. While there is one normal sized stand at one end (and the modern pavilion at the other), square of the wicket (to the sides) are two stands with about 10 rows in them. For those of you who know - remember Coney Hall's one stand? That's about double the length and height of those two. And if it were even possible, they haven't even bothered making a new stand next to those, with a grassy hill taking up a good quarter of the perimeter. But I like it, everyone's really close to the action and feels part of the match.
After a rain delay reduced the match to fifteen a side (F15 doesn't really have the same ring to it), luckily there was no further precipation. For the game itself? Tas won the toss and stuck the Vics in to bat. Struggling with the conditions, Vics lost some early wickets, and were always behind where they should have been. Thanks mainly to Matt "Ashes Winning Hero" Prior's quickfire 50, they got to 107/8. Below par. Tas then went on to chase it down comfortably, and got there after only 11 overs. It was a thumping.
I said earlier how I was supporting the Vics. Mainly I was supporting Matty Prior. Maybe I should have thought about how everyone else in the ground was supporting Tas, and that Prior was part of an England side which had just humiliated the Aussies, so he was public enemy number one. After clapping and cheering the Vics before Prior came out to bat (on my own), I was certainly the only one who cheered his entry, with everyone else booing him. However, every run he scored, I was up applauding. I was sitting (standing because the ground was wet) on the hill, under the big screen, and when Prior hit one of his numerous boundaries (including one six that went out of the ground - sounds impressive but seriously even I could probably tonk one over the "main stand") he'd look to the screen to see how far he'd hit it. He would almost certainly have seen me with my England shirt and pink Middlesex flag giving him what appeared to be a standing ovation after every shot. So when he reached his half century (to near silence from the crowd), he first waved his bat in thanks to the Vics dressing room, and then over to the hill. To me. (Probably).
Maybe he was just being polite and waving to the crowd. But deep down, he knows. I know. That Matt Prior, who only the other day was celebrating an Ashes triumph at the SCG, waved his bat to thank his most loyal supporter, who'd flown all the way across the world, just to see him bat in this twenty20 game at the smallest ground in the world. I felt honoured. Touched. Matty P (because that's what I'd call him) would come across after the game to see me, and invite me out for drinks. He'd give me tickets to every Vics game in the Big Bash, as well as flights out to them. He'd give me his phone number, and say that we should go out back in England with Swanny, Jimmy and Straussy. While I was daydreaming, Prior took a big swipe at his next ball, missed it, and was bowled. He didn't acknowledge the hill as he walked off. Maybe not, then.
After the game finished, I was meant to get a $30-40 taxi back from Bellerive to Hobart (other side of the harbour). However, after wandering back and forth looking for a vacant cab, I saw a bus with the sign "Hobart City" on it. I jumped on, and it took me to Hobart City. I have no idea if I should have paid. I didn't. But one way or another, it took me back into Hobart, and I walked the 10 minutes back home.
Hope that epic made up for not having a blog yesterday. I have been thinking of doing a question and answer thing on here (just to keep me occupied when there isn't cricket on), so if you have a question you want to ask me just write it in the comment section below, and I'll answer them!
Stay safe, Will
Monday, 10 January 2011
Australia's Oldest... 1825
Australia's not a very old country. Sure, there are Aboriginies and stuff, but on the whole, the first people to come over here to settle were convicts, sent down from the motherland. (That's the UK, not Russia). Yesterday, as Rachel was busy studying and we needed to get out of her hair, Colette and I went to visit one of the oldest towns in Australia. We crossed the oldest bridge in Australia, walked around the oldest prison in Australia and saw the oldest church in Australia. The fact that all three things were built in the 1820s shows how young a country Oz really is. My house is nearly doubly as old!
We wandered around the prison of Richmond, where English convicts, who were tried for such trivial matters as "stealing a loaf of bread", "insolence" and "suspected of stealing a shirt" and sent on a boat Down Under would be locked up. My favourite crime committed which warranted punishment was an Irish gentleman, who was arrested in Dublin for "being drunk in church". He was sentenced to being sent to Australia, and serving 6 months digging roads. If this law was applied thoroughly in Ireland, there wouldn't be many freemen left, but they would have great transport links.
After doing all of the prisony stuff (trying on handcuffs, locking ourselves to the wall, shutting ourselves in solitary confinement for a few minutes) and reading all of the signs around the prison, we left Richmond Gaol (I don't know why they spelt it like that either). Normally I'm not a big fan of museums and that (yes, I did History A level), but I found this really interesting. There's another (much bigger) convict prison in nearby Port Arthur which we'll be visiting soon, so you can await that blog with trepidation!
Richmond's a small little village with not a great deal going on, but we walked under Australia's oldest bridge and had a little picnic of a sandwich, a peach and some grapes. Colette and I had a great chat - unsurprising as I haven't seen her in the past four years and a lot has changed in her life since then. As well as the picnic, many pictures of me were taken. Colette, with her very flashy camera, has been in Japanese tourist mode with me around, and has been taking pictures of me at every possible situation. Will in solitary confinement. Will in handcuffs. Will in the stocks. (These weren't at the prison, she's not a very kind host). Mostly, however, she takes pictures 'naturally', which means sneaking up on me when I'm not expecting it, and taking random pictures of me. This means she now has loads of pictures of me scratching my arse and picking my nose. But, whatever.
TTFN for now! Will
We wandered around the prison of Richmond, where English convicts, who were tried for such trivial matters as "stealing a loaf of bread", "insolence" and "suspected of stealing a shirt" and sent on a boat Down Under would be locked up. My favourite crime committed which warranted punishment was an Irish gentleman, who was arrested in Dublin for "being drunk in church". He was sentenced to being sent to Australia, and serving 6 months digging roads. If this law was applied thoroughly in Ireland, there wouldn't be many freemen left, but they would have great transport links.
After doing all of the prisony stuff (trying on handcuffs, locking ourselves to the wall, shutting ourselves in solitary confinement for a few minutes) and reading all of the signs around the prison, we left Richmond Gaol (I don't know why they spelt it like that either). Normally I'm not a big fan of museums and that (yes, I did History A level), but I found this really interesting. There's another (much bigger) convict prison in nearby Port Arthur which we'll be visiting soon, so you can await that blog with trepidation!
Richmond's a small little village with not a great deal going on, but we walked under Australia's oldest bridge and had a little picnic of a sandwich, a peach and some grapes. Colette and I had a great chat - unsurprising as I haven't seen her in the past four years and a lot has changed in her life since then. As well as the picnic, many pictures of me were taken. Colette, with her very flashy camera, has been in Japanese tourist mode with me around, and has been taking pictures of me at every possible situation. Will in solitary confinement. Will in handcuffs. Will in the stocks. (These weren't at the prison, she's not a very kind host). Mostly, however, she takes pictures 'naturally', which means sneaking up on me when I'm not expecting it, and taking random pictures of me. This means she now has loads of pictures of me scratching my arse and picking my nose. But, whatever.
TTFN for now! Will
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Tidying up for Tas
While I was writing yesterday's blog, I was rudely interrupted by numerous requests for a Skype. It was from Emma, who had organised for everyone who was round at Chris's to let me know how much I am missed. Thanks guys. Supposedly a good time was had by all, and it was a shame to miss it. Maybe next time.
After the exploits of the previous night, every part of my body was telling me to stay in bed for as long as possible. However, I somehow managed to drag myself up at around 7.30, as I had a lot to do. As I'd been staying in someone else's house (and someone I didn't know - not that I was squatting or anything but they're friends of a friend) I needed to make the house as tidy and lovely as when I arrived. While I hadn't ruined their house over the past week, those who know me will know that at times I can be a touch untidy. For example, I'd walk into the house, dump my bags on the sitting room floor, take my shoes off in one part of the house, my socks off in another, empty my pockets onto different worksurfaces, sunglasses on top of the computer, and rifle through my suitcase (throwing all of my clothes onto the bedroom floor). And that's not forgetting the many glasses of water that I left next to my bed in case of nighttime thirst.
So for a week I'd lived like this and it'd been fine. But my flight was at 2.15, and I'd need to be at the airport for about 12ish, so would need everything tidy and sorted as early as possible. So I got up really early. I had been left a checklist, which I triple checked everything, and once satisfied everything had been done, I was ready to go.
In one of the other blogs I mentioned that I can be at times a bit OCD about being on time. I must always be early - in fact, so early, that even if the slightest thing goes wrong, I have so much breathing space that I could have been put onto an earlier flight. After lugging my heavy suitcase through the backstreets of Balmain and onto a bus, I realised that this would be the last time I took this route (it was the same route I'd taken all through the week to go to the cricket). I'd miss Balmain. I'd miss Sydney. It had given me the most amazing memories, right from my first night with New Year's Fireworks, to the last night celebrating an Ashes win with the Barmy Army. It's a brilliant city, and I'll almost certainly be back (maybe in a few years for when we win the Ashes again?). The train I got towards the airport passed by the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, more of Sydney's world famous landmarks, and it was nice to see them up close before I left.
Sometimes getting a flight can be a nightmare. Ardous queuing to check-in, ardous queuing for a security check which could lead to over-zealous frisking, and an ardous wait in the departure lounge to get on a cramped, uncomfortable flight in a small chair where your ears will pop and you can't get to sleep. My airport adventure wasn't that. At all. After getting to Sydney's domestic terminal, I arrived in the Qantas zone to see loads of self check-in terminals. I typed in my name and my destination, and it printed out a ticket. I then took that ticket to the bag-drop, where I placed my bag on the scales, it gave me a tag to put on the bag, and then it wheeled the bag away. I then strolled up to the queueless security scan, where I was told to "not bother" emptying my pockets, and I went and sat down in a nice Italian restaurant (I didn't eat anything, but it had comfy seats) and messed around on the laptop. A bit later (as I said, I was quite early), my flight was called, I walked onto the plane, found there was nobody next to me, so I stretched out and fell asleep. That's how air travel should be!
I arrived in Hobart (Tasmania) to find Colette waiting for me. After we arrived back at her and Rachel's house (this time it was actually their house and not someone else's) and I was given the tour and had dinner cooked for me, we went on a walk where I was shown some of the highlights and landmarks of Hobart. It was great to see a lot of the stuff there (it reminded me a lot of Portsmouth for some reason), and to spend time with Colette and Rachel, who I get on really well with. After all of that, I was knackered, so I went to bed. Then I woke up and wrote this blog.
Until next time, Will
After the exploits of the previous night, every part of my body was telling me to stay in bed for as long as possible. However, I somehow managed to drag myself up at around 7.30, as I had a lot to do. As I'd been staying in someone else's house (and someone I didn't know - not that I was squatting or anything but they're friends of a friend) I needed to make the house as tidy and lovely as when I arrived. While I hadn't ruined their house over the past week, those who know me will know that at times I can be a touch untidy. For example, I'd walk into the house, dump my bags on the sitting room floor, take my shoes off in one part of the house, my socks off in another, empty my pockets onto different worksurfaces, sunglasses on top of the computer, and rifle through my suitcase (throwing all of my clothes onto the bedroom floor). And that's not forgetting the many glasses of water that I left next to my bed in case of nighttime thirst.
So for a week I'd lived like this and it'd been fine. But my flight was at 2.15, and I'd need to be at the airport for about 12ish, so would need everything tidy and sorted as early as possible. So I got up really early. I had been left a checklist, which I triple checked everything, and once satisfied everything had been done, I was ready to go.
In one of the other blogs I mentioned that I can be at times a bit OCD about being on time. I must always be early - in fact, so early, that even if the slightest thing goes wrong, I have so much breathing space that I could have been put onto an earlier flight. After lugging my heavy suitcase through the backstreets of Balmain and onto a bus, I realised that this would be the last time I took this route (it was the same route I'd taken all through the week to go to the cricket). I'd miss Balmain. I'd miss Sydney. It had given me the most amazing memories, right from my first night with New Year's Fireworks, to the last night celebrating an Ashes win with the Barmy Army. It's a brilliant city, and I'll almost certainly be back (maybe in a few years for when we win the Ashes again?). The train I got towards the airport passed by the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, more of Sydney's world famous landmarks, and it was nice to see them up close before I left.
Sometimes getting a flight can be a nightmare. Ardous queuing to check-in, ardous queuing for a security check which could lead to over-zealous frisking, and an ardous wait in the departure lounge to get on a cramped, uncomfortable flight in a small chair where your ears will pop and you can't get to sleep. My airport adventure wasn't that. At all. After getting to Sydney's domestic terminal, I arrived in the Qantas zone to see loads of self check-in terminals. I typed in my name and my destination, and it printed out a ticket. I then took that ticket to the bag-drop, where I placed my bag on the scales, it gave me a tag to put on the bag, and then it wheeled the bag away. I then strolled up to the queueless security scan, where I was told to "not bother" emptying my pockets, and I went and sat down in a nice Italian restaurant (I didn't eat anything, but it had comfy seats) and messed around on the laptop. A bit later (as I said, I was quite early), my flight was called, I walked onto the plane, found there was nobody next to me, so I stretched out and fell asleep. That's how air travel should be!
I arrived in Hobart (Tasmania) to find Colette waiting for me. After we arrived back at her and Rachel's house (this time it was actually their house and not someone else's) and I was given the tour and had dinner cooked for me, we went on a walk where I was shown some of the highlights and landmarks of Hobart. It was great to see a lot of the stuff there (it reminded me a lot of Portsmouth for some reason), and to spend time with Colette and Rachel, who I get on really well with. After all of that, I was knackered, so I went to bed. Then I woke up and wrote this blog.
Until next time, Will
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Celebrating the Ashes
The Ashes have been won. England performed superbly throughout the 6 weeks of the Ashes tests, and thoroughly deserved to win the series in the convincing manner in which they did.
My day began early - as gates opened at the SCG at 8.30, I'd need to be there in plenty of time to get into the queue in order to get good seats. And I did - in the Barmy Army section, right near the front of the stand. Don't believe me? Here's some proof...
The arrow and circle, if you haven't already worked it out, are pointing towards me. That's when the England team all raced into the crowd - literally yards away from where I was sitting. Apparently I got into the Telegraph today; I haven't seen the picture but I'm guessing it's when I was there.
The SCG had a party atmosphere, with songs, dances and all sorts, and as the wickets fell this only increased. I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to the bloke who sat next to me in flip flops, as when Jimmy Anderson took the catch to take Peter Siddle, I jumped up and down repeatedly on his foot. Sorry. Every England player got a song and a request to "give us a wave", and there was special status for Paul Collingwood, who retired after the game.
But after not too long, the urn was back in English hands (again), and paraded around the pitch by the triumphant players. Andrew Strauss, not known for his outlandish behaviour, suddenly dove into the crowd right next to where I was (hence that picture) and the rest of the team joined in. Great stuff boys.
While the team went back to celebrate in their dressing room, everyone else went their separate ways. The match had ended at 11.57, too early even for the hardy Barmy Army to start celebrating properly. I got the buses back to Balmain, and sat in the empty house. It was weird being alone on a day like that, as most other people had a few friends who they could go and have a couple of drinks and celebrate with. I was on my own, in a neighbourhood far from the celebrations, with no one else for company.
The official Barmy Army end of tour party was to be held at the Retro club in the middle of Sydney that evening. While I wanted to go at the beginning of the day, the long time spent on my own had made me think. I don't know anyone. What if it's no good. What if I'm just sitting there on my own in the corner. Reasons stopping me going clouded my head all day. Excuses would start forming - it looks like it's going to rain. I shouldn't go. It might be difficult to get home after. I shouldn't go. I need to get up early to tidy the house. I shouldn't go.
However, I got the bus to central Syndey anyway, with the thought that I could just wander around Sydney for a bit and then come home. I didn't look up directions to the club, almost to try and stop myself from going. At least if I went to Sydney, wandered around, declared myself unable to find it and came home, I could tell everyone that I at least tried. So after wandering around aimlessly for a while, I succumbed, and got out Google Maps on my phone and looked it up. I told myself that if I got there and it didn't look very nice, I'd keep walking. I got there. It didn't look very nice. I realised that this is a once in a lifetime thing to win the Ashes in Sydney and be able to celebrate it. I walked in.
What happened after walking in was a bit of a blur. I remember the drinks being very expensive, but they certainly got their money's worth from the Barmy Army. It was packed full of everyone; every type of cricket fan - every type of person. There were four floors in Retro - first floor a quiet bar, the second a loud noisy one with people singing, as well as the main club, the third a 70's/80's club, and the fourth a VIP floor. Only those with blue wristbands would be allowed into the VIP section. I assumed this would just be for the elite members of the Barmy Army and a few of their friends. Nothing too exciting.
While I thought that I'd just be sitting quietly in the corner, I wasn't. I was singing along with every song in the loud bar, and dancing in the main club. It's weird going to a club on your own - my only other experience has been with friends, so you're able to dance, chat and stay with them. Here I had noone - I had to go out and make friends. My plan was to find really drunk people, and get involved with them. And it worked. I had a brilliant time.
At some point during the evening, the DJ announced that the England team were in the building. A few whispers went around, nobody knew what was going on. Then everyone remembered - the VIP section. The England team were in the VIP section? A mad rush for the stairs. Everyone tried to blag their way in. Sorry, no blue wristband, no entry. "But I'm Eoin Morgan's cousin, he's got my wristband in there for me, just let me in and I'll get it off him". Sorry, no blue wristband, no entry.
Later on, Steve Finn came down to see the Barmy Army, who had now congregated quite a few people in the loud noisy bar. I've met Finny a couple of times, and I vaguely hoped he'd recognise me. (Alcohol was playing a large role in my decision making at this stage). Already mobbed by fans, I pushed my way through the throng of people to get to Finny. There was so much I wanted to say to Finny. I wanted to say that I've been working for Middlesex this year on work experience. I wanted to say that we'd met up at T20 finals day, and we'd chatted about my impending role as Pinky the Panther. I wanted to say that we'd met up again, at Fletch's birthday party, where we'd talked about our earlier meetings. I wanted to say all of that. What I actually did was throw my arms around him and shout "Wheeeey Finny!". He sort of returned the compliment with the least passionate hug ever. I don't think he remembered me.
While everyone crowded around Finny, standing nearby was someone who hadn't got any attention, but I recognised as well. It was Sam Robson, the young Middlesex batsman. Acting with more dignity, I went to him, shook his hand, and we had a small chat. I think he was quite pleased and surprised that someone had recognised him! He'd got into the England VIP party by means of being best mates with Finny. I asked if he could get me in, he laughed (I don't know why, I was deadly serious) and we shook hands before he returned with Finny to the exclusive bash.
Much sprinkling was done, as well as raucous singing. People (for some reason) thought I looked like Jimmy Anderson, so kept pointing at me and singing his song. People also kept requesting me to sprinkle (as I'd shown great sprinkling technique), so I probably sprinkled to pretty much every song of the night.
All the way through the evening there were people taking pictures. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but after a quick google this morning, I found they were press photographers. I'd been papped! Here's the article with some of the pictures - and the weird thing is that they only took pictures of the drunkest people. The people I'd been dancing with all evening! My favourite was the guy in the Dennis the Menace shirt and the flag, as he kept hi-fiving me, and we shouted "Come on England!" at each other. Also pictured is the bloke with the whiteboard who kept writing slogans on his board. I have numerous pictures of me with him on my phone. It feels weird that a party I went to, and people I spent the night with, were papped and it was felt newsworthy!
Anyway, this is the article about it all.
At some point in the evening, I stumbled out of the club, fell into a taxi, and somehow arrived back home. I'm going to need to wrap this up quickly, as I have a plane to catch soon and this blog's taken longer than first thought! I'm off to Tasmania now, which I'm looking forward to; but I'm going to miss Sydney. The week I've spent here has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and I'll certainly be back!
Until then, "We are the army, the Barmy Army...."
Will
My day began early - as gates opened at the SCG at 8.30, I'd need to be there in plenty of time to get into the queue in order to get good seats. And I did - in the Barmy Army section, right near the front of the stand. Don't believe me? Here's some proof...
The arrow and circle, if you haven't already worked it out, are pointing towards me. That's when the England team all raced into the crowd - literally yards away from where I was sitting. Apparently I got into the Telegraph today; I haven't seen the picture but I'm guessing it's when I was there.
The SCG had a party atmosphere, with songs, dances and all sorts, and as the wickets fell this only increased. I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to the bloke who sat next to me in flip flops, as when Jimmy Anderson took the catch to take Peter Siddle, I jumped up and down repeatedly on his foot. Sorry. Every England player got a song and a request to "give us a wave", and there was special status for Paul Collingwood, who retired after the game.
But after not too long, the urn was back in English hands (again), and paraded around the pitch by the triumphant players. Andrew Strauss, not known for his outlandish behaviour, suddenly dove into the crowd right next to where I was (hence that picture) and the rest of the team joined in. Great stuff boys.
While the team went back to celebrate in their dressing room, everyone else went their separate ways. The match had ended at 11.57, too early even for the hardy Barmy Army to start celebrating properly. I got the buses back to Balmain, and sat in the empty house. It was weird being alone on a day like that, as most other people had a few friends who they could go and have a couple of drinks and celebrate with. I was on my own, in a neighbourhood far from the celebrations, with no one else for company.
The official Barmy Army end of tour party was to be held at the Retro club in the middle of Sydney that evening. While I wanted to go at the beginning of the day, the long time spent on my own had made me think. I don't know anyone. What if it's no good. What if I'm just sitting there on my own in the corner. Reasons stopping me going clouded my head all day. Excuses would start forming - it looks like it's going to rain. I shouldn't go. It might be difficult to get home after. I shouldn't go. I need to get up early to tidy the house. I shouldn't go.
However, I got the bus to central Syndey anyway, with the thought that I could just wander around Sydney for a bit and then come home. I didn't look up directions to the club, almost to try and stop myself from going. At least if I went to Sydney, wandered around, declared myself unable to find it and came home, I could tell everyone that I at least tried. So after wandering around aimlessly for a while, I succumbed, and got out Google Maps on my phone and looked it up. I told myself that if I got there and it didn't look very nice, I'd keep walking. I got there. It didn't look very nice. I realised that this is a once in a lifetime thing to win the Ashes in Sydney and be able to celebrate it. I walked in.
What happened after walking in was a bit of a blur. I remember the drinks being very expensive, but they certainly got their money's worth from the Barmy Army. It was packed full of everyone; every type of cricket fan - every type of person. There were four floors in Retro - first floor a quiet bar, the second a loud noisy one with people singing, as well as the main club, the third a 70's/80's club, and the fourth a VIP floor. Only those with blue wristbands would be allowed into the VIP section. I assumed this would just be for the elite members of the Barmy Army and a few of their friends. Nothing too exciting.
While I thought that I'd just be sitting quietly in the corner, I wasn't. I was singing along with every song in the loud bar, and dancing in the main club. It's weird going to a club on your own - my only other experience has been with friends, so you're able to dance, chat and stay with them. Here I had noone - I had to go out and make friends. My plan was to find really drunk people, and get involved with them. And it worked. I had a brilliant time.
At some point during the evening, the DJ announced that the England team were in the building. A few whispers went around, nobody knew what was going on. Then everyone remembered - the VIP section. The England team were in the VIP section? A mad rush for the stairs. Everyone tried to blag their way in. Sorry, no blue wristband, no entry. "But I'm Eoin Morgan's cousin, he's got my wristband in there for me, just let me in and I'll get it off him". Sorry, no blue wristband, no entry.
Later on, Steve Finn came down to see the Barmy Army, who had now congregated quite a few people in the loud noisy bar. I've met Finny a couple of times, and I vaguely hoped he'd recognise me. (Alcohol was playing a large role in my decision making at this stage). Already mobbed by fans, I pushed my way through the throng of people to get to Finny. There was so much I wanted to say to Finny. I wanted to say that I've been working for Middlesex this year on work experience. I wanted to say that we'd met up at T20 finals day, and we'd chatted about my impending role as Pinky the Panther. I wanted to say that we'd met up again, at Fletch's birthday party, where we'd talked about our earlier meetings. I wanted to say all of that. What I actually did was throw my arms around him and shout "Wheeeey Finny!". He sort of returned the compliment with the least passionate hug ever. I don't think he remembered me.
While everyone crowded around Finny, standing nearby was someone who hadn't got any attention, but I recognised as well. It was Sam Robson, the young Middlesex batsman. Acting with more dignity, I went to him, shook his hand, and we had a small chat. I think he was quite pleased and surprised that someone had recognised him! He'd got into the England VIP party by means of being best mates with Finny. I asked if he could get me in, he laughed (I don't know why, I was deadly serious) and we shook hands before he returned with Finny to the exclusive bash.
Much sprinkling was done, as well as raucous singing. People (for some reason) thought I looked like Jimmy Anderson, so kept pointing at me and singing his song. People also kept requesting me to sprinkle (as I'd shown great sprinkling technique), so I probably sprinkled to pretty much every song of the night.
All the way through the evening there were people taking pictures. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but after a quick google this morning, I found they were press photographers. I'd been papped! Here's the article with some of the pictures - and the weird thing is that they only took pictures of the drunkest people. The people I'd been dancing with all evening! My favourite was the guy in the Dennis the Menace shirt and the flag, as he kept hi-fiving me, and we shouted "Come on England!" at each other. Also pictured is the bloke with the whiteboard who kept writing slogans on his board. I have numerous pictures of me with him on my phone. It feels weird that a party I went to, and people I spent the night with, were papped and it was felt newsworthy!
Anyway, this is the article about it all.
At some point in the evening, I stumbled out of the club, fell into a taxi, and somehow arrived back home. I'm going to need to wrap this up quickly, as I have a plane to catch soon and this blog's taken longer than first thought! I'm off to Tasmania now, which I'm looking forward to; but I'm going to miss Sydney. The week I've spent here has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and I'll certainly be back!
Until then, "We are the army, the Barmy Army...."
Will
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