I'm Off To See The Wizard...

I'm hardly an intrepid explorer when it comes to travel. As a kid, the most glamourous place I stayed was a B&B in Blackpool (bit like Vegas, but with a lot less lightbulbs...and no sun...and trams instead of cadillacs...). The B&B had beds that folded down out of the wall. On a previous visit before I was born, my brother Joe (known for talking in his sleep and vivid dreams) had been sent to bed after the Saturday western. My sister Liz in the next room remembered hearing his shouts of "get them injuns" and lots of commotion during this particularly wild west dream. A dream so wild, that as he reared and bucked like a bronco, she heard a sudden loud bang and then the muffled sound of distress. She ran into his room to find his flailing had unhooked the bed from its anchor on the floor and flung it back up into its resting place in the wall, complete with its wee Buffalo Bill cargo. Quality.

Since then, I've managed quite a bit of gadding about, but nothing too exotic. There was the trip to Morocco with Blondie and the gang of the time - Five Go Mad In Tangier - a great holiday, best remembered for the time we walked for an hour and a half to find a secluded beach so we could strip off in peace, only to have been followed by some local who insisted on lying down RIGHT next to us, with a very obvious boner in his Speedos. 

I've had a few jaunts with Blondie - Ibiza out of season, riding around on kid's pushbikes, great fun. Tenerife with Blondie and Red - vaguely remember the worst hangover and sunburn of my life, ripping my favourite velvet flares, and getting caught relieving myself on the beach by some German at 4am. Portugal with the parents after they retired - lovely place. Turkey with The Ex a few times - good times. Lots of city breaks - usually involving booze and blisters. A lot of time in New York - am up to about 6 weeks of my life there now and I always love it.

One place that's never really been on the list of topspots is Australia. Lovely though it looks and I've heard such rave reviews, I never felt the urge to make a 24 hour flight to be called a whingeing Pom...suddenly that's all changed and I have a reason to go. A very good reason. When you get an invitation to have a lovely, long extended holiday in Sydney from one of the dearest men you know, you don't think twice, cos it's alright as Bob D might say (OK, maybe I had a little think twice...or thrice...). So...on June 11, I'll be packing my little bag, and heading off for my adventure in the Land of Oz. And I'll be travelling by Mr Branson's finest, not my ruby slippers...