(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
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
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.
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