OzBlog

Ok, so here I go. It seems insane to have not blogged about the last few months. I've been round to the other side of the world on a romantic adventure, which has pretty much turned my world upside down (no Oz pun, really it isn't). I've had good reason not to write, but it's a bit too soon to go into all that here. So let's get back to the Land Down Under (where, allegedly, the beer does flow and men chunder...lovely).

Flying is OK with me. I'm not scared of being thousands of feet in the air, sitting in a hunk of metal...so the thought of 24 hours flying didn't faze me at all...much. I got a lift to Heathrow from The Gay Boyfriend, which was very sweet of him, and a good start. Check-in - straightforward. Had coffee, then went to my departure gate - coming face-to-face with an awful lot of people in face masks (should that be face-to-mask?). My stopover was in Hong Kong - Chinese people are taking the threat of swine flu VERY seriously.

First flight - fine. Ate beige food, watched films, ate more beige food. Landed in HK, and clever me, I'd booked into a lounge for showers, snacks, internet, comfy chairs. 7 hours goes quickly. Next flight - also OK. Bit of kip, more varieties of beige. And then...Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport is below. And I start to get a bit nervous. Am about to be met by a man I've known for over 20 years, but we're heading into unchartered territory... And I get my bag, and walk through customs and out into the arrivals lounge. And he's nowhere to be seen. I wander aimlessly, then I spot him and he hasn't seen me. And he's right by me, when I say "hello - looking for someone?" and it's so lovely. Sigh.

Out in the car park, we get to the Jag (not his - borrowed off dear Rosemary) so I get to travel in style. Wardy says he wants to take me somewhere first, so we stop for coffee, then drive on to somewhere off the main road and into a wooded area. We walk down a little path and it opens out to the water's edge and reveals the most lovely view of Sydney, which just takes my breath away. As we sit and look at the view (and it's pretty nippy), we have a bit of a cuddle. Well, it is Winter, after all...then back to Manchester Mansions, to be met with pink Veuve fizz, strawberries, croissants...and some of the finest hospitality I've been offered for quite some time...hours passed...and it's a lovely day out there, so we go to Balmoral beach, Wardy's favourite place: 

And it really is gorgeous, the sky is an amazing colour, the sea is soooo blue, and it's very pretty. When the sun starts to go down, the temperature drops, so we drive back and batten down the hatches for a truly lovely evening.

A lot happens over the month I'm in Oz. I could probably go on and on...and on...but maybe the best thing is to mention all my favourite bits:

• walking over Harbour Bridge on a really sunny day, arm-in-arm with Wardy, followed by sitting in front of the Opera House and just looking at the sea and watching the world go by
  
  
• Meeting the folks - it involved 7 bottles of wine, some good champagne and a lot of laughs
• Heading over the harbour from Manly on the ferry into Sydney at dusk - the city lighting up, getting more twinkly and pretty by the minute
• Going to see The Laurels (young psych shoegazers - good) in Kings Cross (hangin' with the young folks - funny)
• The Chinese gardens at Darling Harbour - a peaceful oasis of calm in the midst of a bustling tourist area

• Ladysmith Black Mambazo at The State Theatre - stunning Art Deco building, great show (but we did leave at half-time to go home and get curled up with spectacular pizza from Livios - Wardy can be forgiven for this, as he'd toured with Ladysmith 10 years before and great though they are, he really had heard it all before...a LOT of times...)
• Road trip up to Coffs Harbour- driving together for hours on end, playing superb music
• Govindas - ok, so it's a restaurant serving the most delicious vegetarian Indian food. You stuff your face at this lovely buffet, and then (and oh, how I love this), you go up a flight of stairs, enter a large sloping room which has rows of floor cushions and a cinema screen. Yup, you get to laze your greedy, curry-filled gut on a big cushion, ligged out while you watch a film. Brilliant. (We watched Milk - reckon Sean Penn did deserve that Oscar after all).
• The Blue Mountains trip - drove to the place which has some of the loveliest views in Australia...in thick, freezing fog. It could've looked like Grimsby for all I know. It all felt a bit Withnail at this point... "we've come on holiday by mistake"...as we arrived at our B&B, run by a brace of Uncle Montys. Our room was very sweet, graced by a bloody massive teddy bear on the bed. Big Bastard Bear became a feature of our stay, looking particularly fetching in Wardy's shirt and trousers (yes, a stuffed bear THAT big). But he never featured in any of our fruitiness - that'd just be too sick. We drank fizz and ate cream teas at the Carrington in front of a log fire:

(That Brit backpacker was lost in the Blue Mountains whilst we were staying there. And I'm telling you this - if that kid really was stuck out in the wild, during those conditions - well, how the fuck he didn't have hypothermia beats me...). We had a pretty magical time there - feel sure to return when I can actually see past the foglights of the car in front...

And so, my powers of description and holiday snapshots can't possibly paint the picture of how wonderful a month I had. And despite all those amazing highlights, my favourite things were hanging out together, lazing around together, cooking good food together, listening to great music together, curling up watching films together. No holiday snapshot required to paint a picture of any of that...

A Marathon Weekend

A while back, the Brummie suggested (over a skinful of booze) that we should run the London Marathon. "Yeah, let's get places and do that, we can easy do it", I vaguely remember replying, before probably passing out over my pint. She applied for a place the next day. I didn't. But I forgot to mention this fact to her. So when she had the call from Clic Sargent (charity helping kids who suffer with cancer and leukaemia) to say she'd got a place, she rang me really excitedly to ask if my place had come through. Oh dear...

Marathon day dawned. I'd been to Marc's 40th surprise party the evening before (all lovely - Smiff needn't have bricked it...he loved every minute) but ducked out early for a hot bath/early night combo. Good job I did. When my alarm woke me at 6.50am, I felt like I'd been asleep about 10 minutes. Bloody exhausted. But it's a bit pathetic to think like that when one of your best mates is about to run 26 miles...met up with the Lucas/Driver clan at the bus stop:

As we got to Greenwich, Brummie was desperate for the lav (I'd already warned her that relieving yourself in the gutter à la Paula Radcliffe might result in her arse being splashed all over the Daily Star in a "Marathon Brummie Buttock Shocker" headline). She left us for the start, accompanied by me on kazoo playing the Rocky theme (tune of the day). We moved on to our first vantage point, a pub on the corner of the Tower Bridge road used as a base by Clic Sargent. The atmosphere was electric. We knew roughly what time she'd show up, so we started watching out. 

A woman standing behind was looking for her husband. He was called Simon, and he'd be wearing the CS pink vest. Suddenly, she spotted him and we were all calling out to him. He ran over and gave her and her friend a kiss. When he'd gone, she burst into tears. And then so did I. She told me he was running for her little boy. I didn't need to know any more. It brought it home to me why so many of these people were running. It isn't about fast times, glory, being on tv...it's about a sense of personal achievement, having a go, doing something for a good cause close to your heart.

And then I spotted her. And we were all screaming. She looked amazing, hardly breaking a sweat! She ran over and we were all kissing and hugging (and blubbing, of course), and then she's off again. So we move on to our second and last vantage point of the day, another pub, this time on the Embankment. And this time it's loads busier, and I'm worried that her family and Screwy might not see her in the crowds. But I needn't have worried. Her mum spotted her first, and then she saw me and Screwy further up. More kissing, hugging, blubbing. We went off to sit in the gardens nearby until she got back from the finish. Max, Smiff and Marc turned up too, so we were quite a gang. Screwy did some filming, to add to a video diary he's been making for her. And then we all hooked up in the CS designated pub. Brummie looked great, really glowing and happy, but she said her feet were mashed and her knees were agony. What a woman and what an achievement.

Bravo, Brummie x

It's been a marathon weekend in more ways than one. My old friend Wardy had been over from Australia during my trip to NY and was due to fly back out of Heathrow following his stay back in his home town of Manchester. We go back a long way...countless gigs, nights on the piss and various other states of mind-mess. Catching up is great - I collect him from the station (handsome as ever) and we end up meeting up with the Old Punk, Blondie, Ali and Simon. Beer, chat, laughs, nachos later (sounds like a Big Red night to me) and it's 1am. How??? Time really does fly when you're having fun. Wardy and I carried on the catching up back at mine, over about a million cups of tea, until we noticed the birds singing and dawn breaking...perfect. When we finally surfaced, big fry-up was essential, followed by lazing in the park:

Yorkshire Terrier, Lancashire Hotpot

until time came for the lift to the train station for the journey to Heathrow. I know less can often be more, as the saying goes, but 24 hours just wasn't enough.