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Corfuuu, not Corfew…

Thursday 22nd August – Monday 26th August 2019

Corfu baby!! And it’s pronounced Cor-fu, not Cor-few like us Aussie bogans like to call it. Have to admit, I did nothing to help book or plan this trip, the fate of my first Greek adventure is in the hands of Kyles and the Geordie…

Thursday morning was spent living the jobless life which is pretty darn good so far… coffee, shower, coffee, apply for jobs, coffee, apply for house sits, coffee, pack, coffee…

With the Geordie driving us to Gatwick and Kyles somehow doing work on her laptop in the back, it was up to me to try convince him that Gang of Youths is THE best band in the world right now. Followed closely by Ocean Alley. For a dude who’s musical preferences are Elvis and Sinatra, I had a battle on my hands!!

Finally at Gatwick waaay early cos the peeps I’m with are super organised, I continued to be a sheep and just follow. Is it then my fault that we ended up in a tapas bar drinking wine and eating hommus while our flight was delayed?? Possibly. After putting up with some ignorant loud twats in the bar, it was Corfuuuuu here we come. Unfortunately it was an easyJet flight who are the Tiger Airlines of Australia. Flights ALWAYS late, charge you just to breathe the air on the plane… but who needs air when there’s wine?!?! How do a Geordie, blonde and funny Sheila entertain themselves on a flight???

A touchdown, customs in the worlds smallest airport and a taxi ride later and woo hoo, we’re in Corfu!! Already “happy” from an eventful flight it was a case of drop the bags, get pretty and head out to hunt down a DJ Kyles had heard about. Didn’t find the DJ but did find an epic waterside bar with a dance floor. Kyles being the friendly one of the bunch, she made friends with the locals. Unfortunately they couldn’t understand a word coming out of the Geordie’s mouth!!

We may have lost track of time and returned to the hotel around 2am (give or take a few hours, ok give…) to find it locked and wine consumption hindering our ability to work out how the hell to get in. After some bickering and tense words, the doorman on duty let us in. The rest of what happened that night is definitely a case of what happens on tour stays on tour. Ask no questions I tell no lies…

How to describe Friday… sunshine, beautiful city, delicious food, great company… or I could be honest… hangover, 36 degree heat, sweat, grumpy Holly and three people hardly talking because we overslept and missed the ferry to Albania. I should have been more empathetic to Kyles, going to Albania was the main reason we made the trip to Corfu, she was beyond disappointed. Unfortunately I was a shit friend that instead stuffed my face full of pancakes and bacon and could hardly string a sentence together on account of the banging in my head. NEVER DRINKING WINE AGAIN!!! There was a reason I switched to gin. The bacon kinda helped, as it always does. So did eating half of Kylie’s…

Putting on a brave face and trying not to waste a beautiful day in Corfu before heading to Sidari, we wandered the old town, took in the bloody beautiful sites and I avoided any photo evidence of my hangover… note the lack of my ever present selfies…

With Kyles disappointed, the Geordie thirsty and me, well, being a grumpy pain in the arse if I’m honest, we decided the best bet was to jump on the bus to Sidari, drop our stuff in the room then wash off the hangover in the sparkling ocean. For a day where nothing went to plan, of course Google maps doesn’t like Corfu and the ten minute walk to the bus station turned into an hour trek through Corfu’s cobbled hilly streets in 36 degree heat dragging a suitcase. I tried to put on a brave face, as soon as we hit the bus station I shoved ice cream and cold coke into my dehydrated hungover body then face planted on the table for a nap, leaving Kyles to ponder for the next two hours whether she still wanted to be my friend. The Geordie found a different bus stop, the one with a pub of course!! So apparently the bus ride to Sidari is gorgeous, wouldn’t know, said face planting on the bus station table transitioned to face planting on the bus window. I’d stay stop rolling your eyes Mum but have a feeling there is plenty more of that to come…

Arriving in Sidari, it looked like old school Greece. Pink houses, olive trees, hills and concrete gardens. Wogs love their concrete. Being a sheep and following my Shepard’s to the accommodation, I have to admit I was dubious, as much as a thumping headache would allow anyway. The slightly unkept road was sparse, with a few massive double story Greek houses with pools. Apparently that’s how they roll in Sidari. Rocking up at Maria’s, the Geordie’s name was written on a piece of paper and stuck to an open apartment door, guess that one’s ours??? I think there was some sort of check in process, wouldn’t know, I found a bed and an air conditioner and was out for the count. I woke at 8pm to the snores of a Geordie, Kyles on the other hand hadn’t wasted the day, she’d found the beaches, town centre and watched the sunset, found the beach bars and indulged in a cocktail or two. Grumpy Holly turned into disappointed Holly for wasting the short time we had in Greece. But we got our shit together and Kyles took us to an epic beach bar over looking the ocean, suave tunes and a Greek waiter that was confused about it currently being winter in Australia. A gin cocktail and Gyros later and happy Holly had returned, tail between her legs for being a grumpy hangover arse. On our journey back to Maria’s, the sound of the Zorba drew us into a local where a Greek god was dancing, needless to say we convinced the Geordie to stay and watch… yeah, dude from 50 Shades of Grey but hotter and with a Greek accent… no words…

Starting the next day with a clear head and a need to redeem the grump from the previous day, I joined Kyles by the pool for the first of many cocktail and chill sessions. The Geordie earnt brownie points by getting me ice cream for breakfast. Ok, we’ll keep him. Wish I could say the rest of the day was filled with culture, adventure and embracing Greek tradition. The most culture I got was a second serving of gyros and Mythos beer… but when you have this setting, what else is there to do except cocktail and chill?? BTW, it’s pronounced yee-ros, kinda like we say it in RADelaide, not guy-rows like a certain Aussie bogan ordered it!!

Cocktail and chill is all good unless you’re Kylie who has ants in her pants and within 5 minutes of me tucking into my meaty goodness had booked us in for an afternoon of parasailing… sure, why the hell not!!! Parasailing has to be one of my all time favourite things in the world to do. Being launched into the sky to breeze over beautiful scenery with a dip in the ocean. Could have stayed up there forever had it not been for the harness causing an epic wedgie! Kyles who was strapped on behind me had one worse, and had to guide us into landing as well, of course she did it like a pro!! Wish I could have taken pics of the sights up there, can’t stop smiling just thinking of it. The Geordie stayed grounded and was designated photographer, scared of heights maybe??? May have found a weakness…

On a high from well, literally being high, we sunbaked for 0.5 seconds and then were off again, cocktails in hand and onto this masterpiece of fun!!! A paddle boat WITH a slippery dip, I never knew such magnificence existed!!! The dude wasn’t bad either…

A little worried Kylie might want to try paddle to Albania, I took the wheel (it was a stick) and steered us around the coast, past the buoy for Crazy Shark and out into the beautiful Adriatic Sea (may have had to google that!). Somehow warm water negates my fear of sharks cos we hurled down the slippery dip and into way too deep to touch water for hours without a care in the world. Or maybe it was the cocktails?? Either way it was so much bloody fun, think maybe I should start a business adventure and bring paddle slides to RADelaide!!

We may have been a little overambitious with our paddling out and around the coast, forgetting we had to paddle back. Needless to say we did make it to shore cos I’m here to tell the tale!! With Saturday already being 200% better than the hangover the day before, we indulged the Geordie and headed to the local watering hole where all the Brits in Sidari had assembled to watch England take on Ireland in the football, or soccer, or maybe it was rugby??? The dudes had squished faces so must have been rugby… in any case, the Geordie proceeded to make friends with the poms in the pub and before we knew it, Paul and Gail from Wales were coming on our sunset walk, wait a minute, they’re Welsh, I’m confused… long story short, England annihilated Ireland (apparently), was kinda nice to be barracking for the same team as the Geordie for a change cos heaven knows he has bad taste in soccer and cricket. So two aussies, two Welshmen and a Geordie set off on a walk… sounds like the start of a joke… the joke is that the secret sunset viewing location that Kyles led us to was quite literally on the deck of our Welsh friends hotel, yeah, they were kinda loaded… while they headed to the bar, we took in one of the most beautiful sites I’ve had the chance to behold, sunset over the cliffs in Corfu… no words…

After staring into the sunset and getting a little emo in our thoughts, we joined our new friends on the deck of their hotel, about 10 steps away. This Geordie knows how to pick his friends, our two new friends were on all inclusive packages at their hotel and proceeded to bring us all beer after beer after beer after beer… all free. I decided to like beer.

After chatting away with our new mates and over staying our welcome we wandered back to Maria’s which paled in comparison to the sunset deck hotel but who cares, it’s about the company right?? Not five star resorts right??? On our trek back Kyles desire for squid side tracked us, not that we argued, eating, drinking and sun baking seems to be what Sidari is all about! I tried to be traditional and ordered moussaka, I would have taken a pic but as normal my hunger got the better of me, annihilated it in record time… slippery dips and paddling works up a hell of an appetite… I’ll just keep telling myself that… Back at the apartment there was somehow space for chocolate and one more drink, as there always is… sitting on our balcony overlooking the pool, we were the ignorant loud twats, taking it in turns to play our favorite tunes. Kyles played techno dance music from Tomorrowland, Nora player Elvis, AC/DC, Sinatra and I was on it with Aussie rock gods, Amy Shark, Gang of Youths and Silverchair, could you get more different musical tastes???? How are we even friends??

With Sunday funday being our last whole day in Sidari, Kyles and I left the Geordie asleep and made our best efforts to do something cultured, drinking and sun baking didn’t quite feel like the authentic Greece experience. Still being earlyish, we stopped by the tour center to see if there was anything we could do that day. No tours available. We considered getting a taxi to the monastery but it was 70 euro, that’s $140 Aussie one way, fark. Went to the car and scooter hire place, can’t hire a car or a scooter without an international drivers license, FFS!! There was literally NOTHING to do besides eat, drink and sunbake… when life gives you lemons, make a gin and tonic… and that’s what we did!!! Gyros, cocktails and sun baking.

Needless to say Kylie was bored after two minutes so went shopping and returned with a unicorn, flamingo and donut, of the floaty variety!!! Yeah, floating in the ocean on a donut with a cocktail, doesn’t get much more perfect. Kyles obvs has the unicorn and why the Geordie ended up with the flamingo made us question more than his aversion to heights. To his credit, or possibly his drunkedness, we managed to convince him to join us for more paddle slide action, this time with our unicorn, flamingo and donut in tow. Somehow I managed the luxury of dangling my feet in the water while the other two paddled their arses off to get us out to sea, and possibly halfway to Albania?!? More slippery dip action, Nora for some reason wouldn’t partake, no idea why. Geez that was fun, there really is nothing like swimming in the ocean. With a slippery dip. And a cocktail. And a donut. And music. And besties!!

With the Geordie desperate to watch his team lose at the soccer, (he keeps calling it football, doesn’t he know what real football is????) we headed back to shore. Somewhere in the afternoon, I had a nap on the deck chair, Kyles hired a kayak and the Geordie went to watch the soccer. All fun but I was napping so can’t comment on whether they had fun?!?! This really is a bit of a one sided story… after more floating and more cocktails and more food, we wrapped ourselves in our floaties and walked back to the hotel to ready ourselves for dinner, cos we needed more food and drinks right?? With the Geordie still preoccupied with soccer, Kyles and I found a candlelit beach side restaurant for our romantic dinner. Half way into our dinner of ribs, chicken and seafood, the Geordie made an appearance. Not sure whether it was him being clumsy or payback for my grumpy behaviour Friday but I ended up wearing a frozen cocktail in my lap and down my front. Knowing the Geordie, just clumsy!!! In all honesty though, I was beat. With sticky clothes and feet I headed back to the room to sleep and the other two headed off to meet our Welsh friends for karaoke. Anyone that has heard me sing knows I made the right choice. They had an awesome night, as did I, sometimes sleep is the best medicine, or I’m just getting old… feel free not to comment on that one!!

Somehow even with 5 times the amount of sleep than the other two, I woke Sunday feel like crapola, maybe just knowing our holiday in Sidari was over, no wait… I’m permanently on holiday, no reason for feeling like crap, go back to that old age excuse?? Anyways, we got our shit together and onto the 7am bus back to Corfu, this time I kept my eyes open as the bus wound through too tiny streets and across an absolutely beautiful countryside that seemed to epitomise Greek countryside once again, pink houses, tractors, trees, rolling hills, and men sitting in their shorts drinking coffee outside cafes. Can’t believe I was a mattress head and missed it the first time!

Jumping off the bus in Corfu, we knew better than to try rely on Google maps to get us to the airport so instead gave it an easy job, find us food!! Pretty sure it was Kylie not Google that found us a little cafe run by the most charming gentleman, he seemed to take a liking to me, took me inside the cafe to show me the eggs his chickens laid and somehow I managed to order us breakfast. No menu, he was just bringing us breakfast!! Eggs, sausage, cheese, ham, smooshed beans, crusty bread, tomato, cucumber and dead horse, Kyles had to explain that one to the Geordie!! The traditional Greek coffee was strong as hell with what seemed like mud, yummy mud, at the bottom. Pretty sure that coffee got me through the next 3 days!! Heading off, awesome Greek cafe dude pointed us in the direction of the taxi rank, and offered to drive us if we couldn’t find one. He also gave me a massive hug which was sweet. Maybe they don’t get many blondes in Corfu??

We did manage to jump in a cab and finally get back to the worst airport in the world – ok, probs not the worst but certainly tiny and full of lines. A line to get into the airport (like through the front door), 45 minute line for bag drop, line through security, line through passport control, line for the loo, line for boarding, line to get onto the bus to the plane, line to get onto the plane… doesn’t help I have a talent to pick the slowest line. Finally on the plane, all seated separately cos it’s easyJet, the family between Nora and I were nice enough to swap seats so we could sit together. Lucky me, got to fulfill my life long ambition of being a pillow…but an asleep Geordie is the best kind!!

Back to Brixton at last and we were well and truly pooped, the Geordie had a 5 hour drive back to Newcastle, Kyles had to get ready for work the next day and me, I had a day of adulting planned!!

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The Tourist

Monday 19th August – Wednesday 21st August 2019

The front half of my first whole week in London Town was spent being a complete tourist and ignoring the fact I now live here and at some stage will need to earn money.

Unlucky for Kyles, she was up bright and early Monday morning and off to work while the Geordie and I each claimed a couch and binge watched Mindhunter… Ashes and birthday recovery, don’t roll your eyes Mum!!!

Finally the Geordie and I we got off our arses on Tuesday and decided to get our tourist shoes on, with a dear friend leading the way, let’s call her Sheila.

Sheila had plans to take us to an epic brunch spot, being secret squirrel about the location, Nora and I just followed like sheep. I tend to be a sheep a lot in London. The day full of shits and giggles started with pranking the Geordie on the tube. While he nodded off with no idea where he was or where he was going, Sheila and I snuck out of sight, his face when he opened his eyes and we were gone was priceless…. maybe you had to be there…

Verging on hangry Holly territory we arrived at our final destination and by gosh it was worth the wait!! Am I the only one that didn’t know there’s a Little Venice in London??? Was way too hungry to take a pic of my food but just imagine a 5 star brekkie of eggs, bacon, avo, sausage and mushrooms, yeah I was hungry… and a Bloody Mary of course, they are becoming a brunch essential… once again can feel my mum rolling her eyes…

After stuffing our faces we wandered through Little Venice, I love all these little surprises in London. Canals with house boats, gardens everywhere, how does anyone diss London??? Ok, I may sing a different tune when I’m freezing my arse off in a few months but for now the sun is shining and London is putting on quite the show.

With Sheila once again leading the way through canals and over bridges we found our way to the Freize outdoor sculpture exhibition in Regent’s Garden. Hmmm, I’m not quite sure how to describe this one… interesting??? I’m obvs not an art aficionado but I just didn’t get it. Yeah, they were kinda cool, had names I couldn’t pronounce and descriptions I didn’t understand. Maybe this Aussie bogan just isn’t cultured enough! Still had a bloody good time wandering in the sunshine, cracking dad jokes and posing with my favourite number…

Why was six scared of seven?? Cos seven ate nine…. hehehe…

So after feeling sufficiently cultured and with a Geordie that had a thirst to quench, we hit up Camden markets. I visited this awesome place over Christmas and it hadn’t lost any of its charm. A soft serve, bubble waffle and cider or three later, we made our way to The World’s End. The all time best pub I’ve ever been too. Just too cool for school. Heavy metal sound track, my kind of art, funky interior and ribs n wings to die for. Check out the cocktail names, too funny! Yeah, I could live here!!!

After an eventful day doing the tourist thing, it was “home” to Brixton. Sainsbury‘s pizza for the second night in a row but you won’t hear me complaining!!

Wednesday was another more productive day in the tourist stakes. Once I was fed… Somehow I let the Geordie convince me he knew an awesome lunch spot, cos let’s be honest, by the time we got our arses moving it was way past breakfast, even brunch. On the way to said secret lunch spot, we stopped by and said hi to queenie at Buckingham Palace. Apparently Nora had an open invitation for tea and a crumpet but unfortunately she wasn’t home that afternoon. A secret squirrel tells me when the flag is at full mast, queenie is home. Maybe the Geordie wasn’t as welcome as he thought…

So we walked, and walked and walked, we walked for so long I thought I’d made it to Scotland. The poor Geordie got to experience a hangry Holly first hand. I must learn to be patient, when someone makes me wait for food it’s usually worth it. Points to the Geordie, fried halloumi and chips aboard an old ship docked on the Thames opposite the London eye, with a gin bar. Dude knows me well. Might have to start using his real name.

The highlight of the day and the reason the Geordie travelled all the way to London, besides the pleasure of our company, and the Ashes, and Corfu… a Jack the Ripper tour. Having sufficiently stuffed our faces at 4pm (yes, I somehow waited that long for food!?!?!), we met Kylie for a coffee in White Chapel. Didn’t realise she hadn’t had dinner and the said coffee joint only served… you guessed it, pizza. Poor love had to eat pizza for the third night in a row. Enough about food, onto the main event. Thank God for Wikipedia, besides knowing Jack the Ripper was a serial killer of prostitutes back in old London Town, I surprisingly knew not much. Somehow I hadn’t watched the Johnny Depp movie. Quick – go read Wikipedia now… I had to…

So in summary, they never worked out who Jack the Ripper was, he grusomely stabbed and cut open women and displayed their organs along with their trinkets in locations all over London. Plenty of theories about who he was, the Queen’s physician (?!?), a polish butcher (makes sense), an educated upper-class man, no one ever suspected a woman could commit the murders. Interesting, had they not seen Killing Eve?? Maybe not. Credit to the tour guide, a charming English lass armed with a handheld projector, throwing up images of locations and autopsy pics on street walls. With dire warnings of the gruesomeness of the autopsy pics, I expected, well more grossness. Pretty sure I’ve seen worse on NCIS. Anyhoo, awesome tour, interesting history and worth the couple of hours. The Geordie was enthralled and had a tick on his bucket list. You’d think with a stomach full of fried food and stories of a serial killer rampant in my new home town I’d have trouble sleeping… slept like a log, maybe I subconsciously knew to bank up the sleep hours ready for Corfu!!!

P.S. Stole these pics from the Geordie…

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Happy birthday to me!!!

Sunday 18th August 2019

All credit to Kylie, I was quietly trying to ignore my birthday as I do every year but the lovely lady organised a birthday/welcoming party of her nearest and dearest to help celebrate my day. We also let the Geordie tag along. We still can’t seem to shake him…

After Facetime calls from home, smiling like I hadn’t just drank Connor out of all the gin in England, we headed off for our afternoon destination, the Mercato Markets. Like me, you’re probs thinking markets aren’t really where you’d expect to have birthday drinks, am I right?? Once again, the Brits kick our arse when it comes to markets. Add a gin distillery, a brew house, an epic beer garden and food stalls from every corner of the globe and you have the Mercato Markets. Bloody brilliant place to spend a birthday, even for a grinch like me!! And there were ribs, which after bacon are the easiest way to make me happy… my birthday in summary: eat, drink, laugh, repeat… fingers crossed for many more birthday repeats to come!!

So now to the serious stuff. Taking stock of your life on your birthday can be dangerous, or fulfilling. I’m somewhere in between. I’m now hitting late thirties and in all honesty, I’m not in the place I thought I’d be. And I don’t mean the UK. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I wanted the fairytale life. Meet the man of my dreams, fall in love, have a family, travel and just be overwhelmingly happy. There’s a reason all the fairytales finish with the man and woman falling in love then the line “they lived happily ever after” thrown in for good measure. It’d be too scary for little girls everywhere if they actually showed you all the bumps in the road and curve balls between falling in love and the happily ever after. I am lucky enough to have been in love, honestly and truly three times. One died and the other two just didn’t want the same things in life. People have different fairytales. Am I hopeful there’s more love in the future?? Yes and no. I would like for it to happen again, there’s no better feeling in the world than holding the person you love, ok maybe having kids feels better?? And bacon with avo is pretty damn good…. I’ve already been lucky enough to experience all that, possibly more so than other people have so I’m not holding my breathe for that feeling again. I’m not going to revolve my life around finding my person, I’m going to revolve it around me. Sounds narcissistic, I know. And I have been told lately that I make everything about myself, character flaw. I guess what I mean is that my world is going to revolve around being happy with who I am, where I am and being alone. If someone comes along and adds to that happiness, then great but I’m not counting on it. So yeah I’m getting older and the fairytale hasn’t worked out how I thought it would, but maybe I’ll write a new fairytale for little girls, one that says you’ll fall in love, you might lose the person you love but you’ll be ok. Love the person you are and surround yourself with people that love that person too. Do that and you’ll live happily every after. Cue the line “And SHE lived happily ever after”.

Yeah, that was a bit lame but whatevs… it’s my birthday and I can be lame if I want to…

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Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!!!

Thursday 15th August – Saturday 17th August 2019

Well, well, well… wake up on your first day of a new chapter of your life, in a new country with all the hope and opportunities laying ahead… you’d expect one to leap out of bed with anticipation and excitement… not lay in bed til midday watching The Bachelor and eating leftover pizza… one isn’t me! The only thing that got me out of bed in my jet lagged state was the imminent arrival of the Geordie, otherwise known as Pattie, otherwise known as Davie, otherwise known as Nora…

I’m trying to remember what we did that Thursday but all I remember is somehow making our way to Garrick Theatre in the West End to see Bitter Wheat, a play about I don’t know what cos I fell asleep starring John Malkovich, one of the most epic, amazing, brilliant actors of our time, if you don’t know who he is then we shouldn’t be friends. But then I did fall asleep on the legend so I’ll forgive you! There was also a seafood feast before but pretty sure I just ate bread, don’t ask me, I don’t remember… the only thing I recall is the sore neck at the end of the night from falling asleep in my lap… the show was Malkovich impersonating the Harvey Weinstein story, apparently it was real good…

So Friday, a distant hazy memory of not so quite awakedness… there was bacon, at a really cool place in Clapham. Hmmm, what else?? Bacon always tends to take the starring role. Oh that’s right, there was an epic Bloody Mary with vegemite and bacon in it!! The Geordie was there too dealing with my jet lagged sparkling personality.

With an epic Ashes day looming, it was time to get our Aussie on. Of course I could have brought my Aussie bandana, Aussie flag or Aussie bikini from home but no, they are packed in a box somewhere! Between following the Geordie around while he searched for cricket outfit (?!?!?), I managed to find three cheap as chips Aussie rugdby tops, we can wear them to the cricket right? Same same??? The Geordie obvs loved the tops…

With a house full of guests on a Friday night, Kyles was obvs excited to head out and enjoy a night on the town. You can imagine her dismay to find a Geordie and an Aussie fat arming it on the couch when she walked through the door. Not even Korean fried chicken from UberEats could turn that frown upside down. Don’t blame her though, we were pretty damn lame! First Friday night in London and my eyelids were needing toothpicks to stay open.

Onto the main event. The Ashes. Six months in the making, a random ticket draw later and Kyles and I… failed to get tickets… luckily for us and not so lucky for Adam Tanshevcholovamolotov who couldn’t make it so we got one spare, then bless Pete, he couldn’t make it either so Kyles and I were in!! One of us was excited beyond belief to be going to the most iconic cricket stadium in the world to see a legendary battle fought throughout the ages, the other just hoped there was gin. Tough decision which one I was!!!

Thinking back on it cos there’s no way I could have written this on the day, it kinda feels like magic. I grew up idolising my grandad. He was a strong, fit, caring and amazing man. And he loved his cricket. In the days of Ponting and Bevan we would watch the one day internationals on the edge of our seats when Bevan would smash a four off the final ball to win the match. And while I wasn’t a big fan of test matches, i was a 14 year old girl with the attention span of a toddler, his absolute admiration of the Ashes elevated them to legendary status. He would explain to me the strategy, the rules of the gentleman’s game. Thinking of those days makes me smile. My grandad is no longer with us but walking up to Lord’s in my Aussie colours I knew he’d be proud. Believe what you will, I could feel him with me.

After a bakery stop to meet up with our fellow Aussie Melsey and stuff our faces with sausage rolls, the Geordie was well and truly outnumbered as we made our way to the icon. The crew were already sick of my overexcited selfies but kindly obliged for the 100th time as we rounded the corner of the stadium…

So the one thing the Brit’s have over the Aussie’s when it comes to cricket, besides Root who would soon become my favourite player, I am a British Citizen after all… the thing they have over us is that they let you take drinks into the cricket, and not just water. Everyone is allowed a bottle of wine, a couple of premixers or lagers. These Brit’s now how to do cricket.

And finally I was into the home of cricket. Ain’t fake smiling in this one…

Or this one…

Before taking our seats for kick off, I mean the first ball, we just happened to find a gin bar and all kinds of gin goodness, fever tree and Connor… this is Connor, he was to be our bar tender for the day… we had no complaints, dude poured a good gin…

And finally, up the mighty staircase to a view to behold, Lord’s… it was ok… understatement of the century…

Unfortunately, Kyles and Melsey managed to bag seats together, the Geordie and I were each on our lonesome, not that I minded. Quiet time to take in the sights was kinda cool.

After a few overs it was gin o’clock. After being able to relocate next to Nora the rest of the afternoon consisted of sunshine, gin and checking the real “football” scores. Unfortunately it wasn’t a good day for Port and only a half decent day for the Aussies.

One of my highlights of the day was being able to hit a cricket ball on the ground at Lord’s. And by ground I mean grass, on the outer, not on the actual grounds with 100,000 people watching… still cool nonetheless, reckon I got a few sixers…

Another highlight, food court cricket. What is that you say?? Give a bunch of larikins a green bin, a bat, a ball and you got food court cricket. And then out came the sandpaper!!! The thing I love about aussies is our ability to ourselves shit. It was all fun and games until a Sheila hit Kylie smack bang in the chest… but she took it like the tough Aussie she is, the gin’s Connor had been dealing out may have helped with that…

Although the rain may have ended the day prematurely, only by about half hour though, it was a day to go down in the history books. Well mine anyway. Chatting to people in the crowd, seeing the Aussies hit fours (no sixes) and seeing Steve Smith nearly get a century, out on 92. Tough luck, but then he is a cheater so not feeling so bad about that one.

After such an epic day and to avoid a crowded as hell tube, we tried our best to hit up the local St John’s Wood (yes, that’s the name of a suburb 😂😂) but we were done, once again to Kylie’s dismay. Saturday night and the Geordie and Aussie just wanted fried chicken and couch time. I was still jet lagged, not sure what his excuse was…

So homeward bound, KFC pick up on the walk home and what should have been fried goodness on the couch was disappointment on the couch, KFC is not the same here, so much oilier and where the hell is the chicken, think I just ate battered bones… anyhooo… they don’t call it dirty chicken for nothing…

Until next time, bucket list item ticked and one hell of a start to my life in London. I think it was when I was climbing the stairs at midnight that Kyles called out Happy Birthday wishes… that’s right, I’m now one year older, ugh….

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Hello old chap

Wednesday 14th August 2019

Well, 29 hours of flights and connections plus over an hour in a cab to Brixton and I’m finally here, London baby!!!

As far as flights and travel go, have to admit, I had it pretty damn easy! After a teary farewell at the airport and a blubbering download of emotions on the Sydney flight, I encountered my first travel fail. Open my earphones case to find it empty. Hmmm, probs in of the hundred boxes I packed. Guess I’ll just have to indulge in some duty free shopping, if I must. The flight into Sydney felt like a fitting farewell to Australia, clear blue skies with views of the Harbour bridge and opera house, with Hugh Jackman’s rendition of I Still Call Australia Home playing in my head. Am worried I may have sung a few lines out loud… for someone that loves her home country so much, kind of an oxymoron that I was so excited to leave it!!!

In typical Holly fashion, I was prepared with my to do list at Sydney airport, which I’ll admit was mostly shopping. A stash of MAC makeup and gin later I decided to indulge myself in a new set of AirPods, my last splurge before I hit the ground in London jobless and homeless. Shopping done and I was headed for the Qantas lounge. I may have left packing, canceling health insurance and finding a job to the last minute, or not at all, but the thing I did organise was my freebie Qantas lounge access via my credit card, priorities right!!! A comfy chair, lemon tart and a vodka later, I spent the next few hours burning my ear off chatting to friends for the final goodbyes… well, not really goodbye, just see ya later alligator.

And now for my second travel fail, where the hell did I leave my brand spanking new AirPods?? Bananas. Searching every pocket of every bag and jacket and they were gone. Somehow between charging them and moving seats between toilet breaks, I’d flushed $230 down the toilet. With high hopes that an honest person had handed them into the lounge reception, my faith in humanity was restored. AirPods safely returned… or were they??? More to come on that one…

As much as it’s humanly impossible to sleep sitting upright on a plane, even after sleeping pills, I still love long haul flights. Binge watching movies and people bringing you food and drinks with absolutely no guilt associated with the utter laziness. Except for the hulk of a Fijian dude sitting next to me, it was smooth sailing through to Singapore with a pit stop to stretch the legs. After searching again for ciggies for Pattie with no luck, I found some empty seats to lay down, listen to music and chill. Hand in my jacket pocket to grab my AirPods and shit, I pull out two pairs of AirPods. Crap. I just stole someone’s AirPods. Is it stealing if you really didn’t mean to????

Back on the same plane, same seat, same hulk and I’m finally London bound. Sitting down I can smell it, the hulk must have ran a marathon cos he’s smelling not so delightfully like BO, even worse than before. Oh no, wait…. maybe that’s me??? Hmmm, let’s just say it’s the hulk… But smells aside, the hulk is awesome, hardly spoke a word of English but got me water while I slept and made sure I got ice cream while I was dozing… nice hulk!

More food, more movies and no sleep later and we’re within spitting distance of London. Excitement is at an all time high. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m aware this isn’t just a holiday, I’m MOVING to London. Hmmm, future Holly’s problem…

A big bag of fruchocs later and it’s touch down in Heathrow, give or take circling in the sky for an hour. Feeling all up myself for having a British passport and expecting to breeze through customs, little did I know the Poms had introduced new rules since my last visit… aussies, kiwis, and all European passport holders could now “breeze” through the egates. Ugh, not so easy breezy, the line for people from timbuck two is short as hell and all us snobs are stuck in the long long line. Patience is not one of my virtues…

Having heard about the “heatwave” London had recently experienced and having packed for summer, you can imagine my surprise to walk out into rain, pouring down, gloomy AF rain. But in all honesty, I was ready to dance in the rain like a crazy person, so happy to be in the mother country and starting my new life. Or next chapter, still really love all those in my old life!!

Somehow I lucked out and bagged the best cab driver in all of London. Took me past Kylie Minogue’s house in Chelsea, little did he know she wasn’t my favourite Kylie in London… showed me the AFL goal sticks in Clapham Common, gave me tips on the “mad” places to party at night and most importantly, got my jet lagged arse to what would be my new home for as long as Kyles, Sean and Kam would put up with me cramping their style.

Hugging Kyles and seeing her gorgeous smile was exactly what my sanity needed, along with a shower cos geez bananas I smelt ripe, and not in a delicious cherry ripe kinda way!!!

Kyles being the bestiest bestie ever was working from home so I didn’t have to stand on her front porch and cry til 6pm. My challenge was to keep myself busy and eyes open til at least a normal bedtime and not fall asleep in my dinner at 4pm like Christmas Day. So how does one keep busy in a jet lagged state?? Sew buttons back on jackets, go shopping, open a bank account and bacon, all the bacon… and zucchini fries, and chicken and cheese… all while Kylie worked, she hardly got a look in for the food…

Come night time and in a zombie state, it seemed like a good idea to do facial masks, moisturizer foot socks and gin… just can’t recall if I have a face mask on in this pic or whether this is my face after about 50 hours of no sleep…

So life in London starts, equal parts excited and nervous for what is to come. But life is what you make it, either going to love it or hate it, the choice is mine.

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Going, going, gone…

Tuesday 13th August 2019

It’s a weird feeling packing up your life and moving to another country, on the one hand it’s exciting, a massive adventure of who knows what the hell will happen. On the other hand, it’s sad to say goodbye to the people you love and to close the door on what might have been with people you leave behind. For me especially, it’s a fresh start. I’m leaving behind in Adelaide a lot of love but also a lot of heartbreak. In Adelaide I’m a daughter, sister, aunty, friend, marketing manager and widow. In London, I’m nobody. And somehow that feels damn good. I get to rewrite my story. Or more so, finish the chapters that came before and start a new one, with hope that the story is just getting better and I’m one chapter closer to my happily ever after. Not necessarily with a knight in shining armour but with myself.

And that’s my why. If you have a minute, watch the TED video from Simon Sinek called start with why. Yes, it’s marketing blubber but what it comes down to is everyone and everything finding their authentic why, their reason for existing, their purpose. I’m on a mission to find me, I mean I know where I am, sitting on a plane, no need to send a search party, but I want to take some time to find my inner light again, I feel like it’s been on dim for so long. There’s been some moments this year, one especially where I felt my light shine again, I know how good it feels to be in a moment and feel love and happiness. I want more of those moments. And I know they need to come from me, not rely on someone else to make me feel it. And yeah, maybe I could have done that in Adelaide, but I know I needed to step out of my comfort zone and find me through meeting new people, exploring the world and taking pleasure in the wonders of life. Ok, that’s enough blah, blah, blah for now, I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from!

Right now I’m sitting on a plane, Sydney bound then onto London Town, with a quick pit stop in Singapore. Really didn’t read those flight details carefully! So let’s start at the beginning, why would I choose to be jobless and homeless, pack up my life and leave all those that I love?? …Ooo, this is harder than I thought to write… maybe the better question is, why not?? There’s the saying “Life is short”, but think about it, life is the longest thing you’ll ever do. I’ve never been content to sit in one place and do the same thing over and over again. That is after all the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result! Life threw me a curve ball a few years back when Brett died, but in all honesty, my head and heart already weren’t in a good place when that happened. It’s taken me a lot of time to deal with his sudden death, trying not to blame myself, accepting that sometimes you never get a final goodbye, a chance to tell someone you love them. That is life, and it’s not fair… a hard lesson to learn, but to every negative, there’s a positive, it’s the natural order of things. Yes life isn’t fair, but life can also be bloody mind blowing amazing. The feeling of falling in love, the feeling of hugging someone you love and feeling like your heart will burst with how much you feel for them (Marcus and Annabelle, I’m looking at you!), and then the feeling of love hugging your parents goodbye at the airport, seeing their eyes well up with tears, the feeling of being that loved is like nothing else in the world. So yeah, life isn’t fair but when you’re surrounded by that much love, does it matter?? OMG, it turned into another blah blah blah moment… the tears are running down my face and the dude next to me is giving me awkward sideways glances… on a roll so may as well keep rolling… if only I could remember where i was going with all that blah blah blah… hmmm, oh yeah, why am I doing this?? That’s right, life isn’t fair, but when you’re surrounded by love, take the turd, roll it in glitter and make life one big adventure. So that’s my why not. Life has been a turd, travel is my glitter. Plan on finding my inner light again and becoming a disco ball… hehe.. that went downhill quickly!!! Now I’m laughing at myself and I think the dude next to me is questioning my sanity…

So now I’m London bound. Between the tears and laughter there’s a big smile on my face. I’m excited, not nervous at all, I know that the next 18 months will be what I make it. There’s no such thing as fate, things happen because you choose them to. Everything that’s happened in my life is a result of choices I made, in hindsight some weren’t so great, would like a rewind button for a few but they have all led me here. Sitting in seat 24A, drinking my bad coffee, sun shining through my window, and writing like a know it all. But in reality I’m Jon Snow, I know nothing.

Oh yeah, the story on how I got here. It’s no secret I love to travel, it’s my glorious addiction. There is so much of the world to see and experience, I want to go everywhere and do everything. And I’m going to spend the next 60 years doing it cos I plan to live to well over 100 and by then will have a robotic body that allows me to galavant around the world like a 19 year old. Ugh, sidetracked again…Before heading off to spend last Christmas in Europe with my bestie, I decided to sell my apartment in Prospect, take the $$$ and spend from March this year to Jan 2020 traveling. Few curve balls along the way… apartment didn’t sell, fell in love and got my heart broken but I sill ended up on the same path, albeit the “travel” turned into “live” and the 9 months into 18 but all in all, same path. Luckily for me I’m the daughter of a pom so was able to get my British passport. Few hoops to jump through, having to travel to Melbourne to get my British citizenship because I’m an old fart born before 1983, but if you read my blog from my Melbourne trip, you know I had a blast! So now I’m a certified scone eating, tea drinking Brit. Except when it comes to sport, I’m 100% Aussie.

Being a Brit, I’ve got free reign to live and work in the Europe, until Brexit ruins it for me. So the plan is to spend the next month traveling and working on me. Inside and out. I feel best when I’m fit, not a bit pudgey like I am now from way too many farewell drinks and dinners. Wouldn’t take a single one back though, except maybe the 2am Macca’s run. I plan on joining the F45 cult and becoming a fitness fiend. But balancing that with Pilates and the thing I’ve never been able to master, meditation. How the hell anyone can get their mind to stop running at a million miles an hour is beyond me but apparently it’s possible. Being able to turn off the endless chatter in my head at 2am would be a good skill to master. I’m also going to take the time to focus on what makes me tick, besides bacon and gin. And most importantly, work on rebuilding my confidence, to silence the voice in my head that tells me I’m not enough, a voice that got louder from spending too much time caring about what other people think. It’ll be hard, if it was easy everyone would walk around in a bubble of super self awesomeness. I don’t intend to be an egotistical twat, but just to accept who I am and when I meet people, be confident that I have something to offer, friendship, love, kindess. We’re all our own worst judges, I wanna start giving myself more than a 5 out of 10. Wow, this whole post has turned into a sermon, so not about the impending adventure!?! Instead an insight into my inner psyche, hope you’re not scared!!

Now onto the adventure bit!! I’m lucky to enough to have a bestie living in London, the fabulous Kyles so going to crash with her for as long as she can put up with me (ugh, inner voice telling me 5 minutes, shush), then wanna housesit people’s pets as a way of getting free accommodation, but also to figure out what parts of London float my boat so I know where I wanna live. And plan to do some temping work to meet people, and most importantly earn some $$ cos in this world only love is free, and even then… In just under 4 months I’m USA bound to meet the fam in LA then head to Canadia for a white Christmas with my Canadian family who are equally as awesome, then off to Mexico for a wedding. So much adventure already planned I’m doing a happy dance, well not literally, the dude next to me might throw me up out the window… so when I’m back Londonside in Jan 2020 I’ll be looking for a more permanent job and somewhere to live for the next 12 months to come. Sounds like a plan yes??? Oh, and then I’ll be back in RADelaide in Jan 2021 to spend 9 months doing my thesis for my Psychology honours, then I’ll defrost my eggs and have some babies. Easy peasy.

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K, bye! 2.0

So it’s taken me over a month to post this, meant saying goodbye to one of the best trips of my life and my bestie… but here it is, written some time ago…

You know the saying, all good things must come an end! And damn have I been on a good thing!!

Wanting to savour hanging with my bestie until the very last moment, I rose before the sunrise to cook brekkie for Kyles before she headed to work. In hindsight, my cooking is not the nicest farewell present, she smiled and ate it anyway. I’m not great at good byes, I tend to talk gibberish about inconsequential bullshit, avoid eye contact and then get it over with as quick as possible. Saying goodbye to Kylie and not knowing when we’d be in the same breathing space again was too hard. So I did all the awkward things to avoid crying like a sooky la la and hugged her like million bucks she is. Kyles is smart, she knew to rip it off like a band aid and headed to work before the water works started. Some people are worth tears and she’s one of them.

After a good blubber, my pile of crap upstairs awaited and it wasn’t going to pack itself. I’m not proud to say the only things I didn’t wear was my exercise gear and sneakers. That’s probs obvious from my bloated gin belly and jeans that seem to have shrunk since I arrived. Somehow, I seem to have accumulated nearly two suitcases worth of gear, surprising since I only hit up H&M once. The final weight, 29.9kg, a .1 to spare. Mind you, pretty sure my back pack was about 20kg, plus a 10kg handbag. You’d think at this point, after all the money I spent on gin and crap food, I would have thought it worthwhile to spring for a taxi to the airport. Yeah nah, thought I was Wonder Woman and could lugg it all onto the tube, what’s the worse that can happen??

Hauling a suitcase, backpack and handbag onto a bus to Brixton Station was a bit of effort. Squishing onto the first tube to Greenpark, kinda awkward. Getting off the tube at Greenpark to find I had to get all my crap down three flights of stairs on account of a broken lift? For f*!k sake. There was sweat, grunting and expletives abound. I’m sure it was entertaining for the passerbys. If I didn’t have an extremely delicious bottle of Sloe gin in my case it might have been left at the bottom of the second flight of stairs. Or it would have at least gotten a swift kick to the bottom with a good luck and hope for the best. But anyways. I made it. My suitcase made it. My temper not so much.

Luckily once I was finally on the tube to Heathrow, a young girl with a normal sized case who had witnessed my staircase adventures stopped me from getting off at the wrong stop. If I didn’t stink from my recent exertions I would have hugged her.

Finally off the tube and in the Heathrow vicinity, the frickin long walk from the tube to Terminal 3 meant all that time i had put aside for duty free shopping was quickly slipping away.

Once at check in, if it wasn’t for my morning exertions that had resulted in a hell of a bad mood, I probs wouldn’t have bothered fighting for the window seat I’d booked. Bad mood Holly is a stubborn b**ch. After a call or two the lovely Emirates lady reallocated me to a window seat so I could get some zzzz’s. Wonder whether the crazed look on my face and sweat dripping down my forehead also had something to do with it. Subjecting other passengers to that wouldn’t be fair…

With a window seat secured to Dubai but no seat allocation for the 12 hours stint to Adelaide, I thought the battles were over but when my seat allocation came through for an aisle to Adelaide I was on a bloody mission and gave up duty fee gin just so I could curl up against a window and get some shut eye on the way home. After an hour of running around the airport and finally finding someone who could have helped, I had to give in and subject my neck to a world of torture napping in an aisle seat.

With morning dramas done and dusted, I shoveled a healthyish salad from Cafe Nero cos hell knows when I’d get anything with any nutritional value in the next 30 hours. Only one quick buy at duty free and onto the first 7 hour leg.

After my awkwardness at the goodbyes this morning, I was thankful to have 5 minutes to message my bestie and say all the things I suck at saying in person.

Somehow the stars then aligned and I had the row to myself. Maybe all that staircase drama that resulted in my bad mood was worth it, it did result in a stubborn Holly that got a window seat and whole row… or the people that were meant to sit there saw and smelt me and requested a move…

Having decided this was the leg to get some sleep, pills were popped and I waited. Think I’m sleeping pill resistant. Bugger.

Landing in Dubai at 12.50am, next flight boarding at 1.40am it was tighter than I would have liked but it’s just a change of gate right?!? Nah uh. No idea what the hell is going on at Dubai airport but for some reason, we had to go through security once off the plane before we could get to the next gate. Then at the gate, another bag check where not even the over priced bottle of water i managed to buy in my run between gates was allowed on board. Still being stubborn as hell I skulled the whole bottle of water rather than throw it out, for the price I paid, I was convinced it was the tears of unicorns.

Settled into my aisle seat and ready to consume unlimited coffee to stay awake rather than risk the neck ache of the century from sleeping upright, a smiling Emirates angel came over to ask a favour. Would I mind switching with a minor so she could get all the younguns in one row. Oh, and I’d have to switch a window seat. I literally moved at the speed of lightning. It wasn’t until I was settled in and the couple next to me were all cuddly and cozy that the bottle of water I skulled hit. Sometimes my stubbornness doesn’t pay off.

Having curled up against the window and had a decent sleep, being on Australian soil again felt good. Also not having pneumonia and being taken to hospital like last time was a welcome relief. Managing to snag some gin in duty free and head through customs, awaiting me on the other side were the smiling faces of my Mum and Dad. Always the two that will go out of their way for their little girl. Damn I’m lucky. Getting home and finding my mum had stocked my fridge with bacon, eggs and avo elevated my appreciation of the best parents in the world. While there are a million adventures to be had overseas, no other place in the world will ever be home. Home is with the people I love the most. What a sooky la la…

Anyway… most normal people when they get home just shower and bed. I’m one of those psychopaths that HAS to unpack. Yeah, I’m a special kind of weird. Or maybe I just didn’t want one of the best trips of my life to ever end and to have to return to reality. Probs the later.

But I guess the adventure is never really over. There’s still a whole big world out there to explore, who knows when I’ll embark on the next or who with but one things for sure, the travel bug is lit and when $$ and time next permits, I’ll be off!

Tuesday 22nd January 2019.

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Bath Spa Pool

So I have a confession… I woke up about 7am, saw Kyles awake doing stuff on her phone and instead of being a good friend and getting up to start the day, I rolled over and went back to sleep. Sleep has a way of trumping EVERYTHING. Must stop saying trump, hate thinking of that orange faced misogynist…

So after deciding to love my friend more than sleep, we were up and at it, doing all the things someone my age needs to look even half decent in the morning then out of our Airbnb with half hour to spare. After our chocolate indulgence the night before, brekkie was far from our minds so we headed for the other thing Bath is famous for, that massive curved building thing, should google the actual name… A little stroll and there it is. Bloody brilliant. Can imagine it’d cost a mint to live there and dealing with pesky tourists like us would be a pain but still, when I win the lotto, have solved world hunger and bought Canava Hall in Brixton, I’ll be buying one of these. Pictures just don’t even show how magnificent these buildings are. And words can’t describe. Cue “tourist” and all the pics and selfies… loser.

After having annoyed the residents long enough and Kyles having followed me on a wild goose chase up a hill, we found the Botanic Gardens. Of course, cute, quaint and beautiful. Much like everything in Bath. Except the groupies.

After a coffee revival, we called/booked/apped an Uber. We don’t call anyone anymore, so what is it really?? Anyhoo, we headed for the nearest entry point for the Bath Skyline walk, what is meant to be an epic loop of castles and beautiful lookouts over the city of Bath. If we could give an Uber 7 stars, this dude would have gotten them! Talked about how 30 or so years ago all the buildings in Bath used to be black, covered in soot from the coal smoke coming out of the beautiful chimneys I love so much. Some bright spark mandated that all heating be changed to gas and all the buildings cleaned and restored back to their pristine white sandstone beauty. Smart person, not sure Bath would be the tourist attraction it is with black sooty buildings. Now it’s one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever been to. Jumping out of our super duper Uber, his seven star rating dropped to a one. The walk up to the Skyline loop was a muddy staircase from hell. Did the dude not see the shoes we were wearing?? Inappropriate footwear at its finest.

After sliding and yelping our way to the top, with all our belongings strapped to our backs nonetheless, the views were something to behold. Just wish my lame arse iPhone could take a decent picture. The view over Bath and the hills, stunning. Will go back to that memory when I need a happy moment.

Looking at the Skyline path ahead, we conceded defeat knowing our girlie boots were in no way up for the task. Heading in the general direction of the town, it was one of the most beautiful strolls down a hill you could ask for… look, a beautiful house and stream… Look again, another cute house and laneway. And chimneys!! Bath is gorgeous. Sorry for paying out your name. And sorry to Kylie for the trillion “tourist” stops.

Making our way to a bridge with no name, or one I can’t remember, it was again just another moment of wow. You wonder if people that live here ever get sick of all this beauty??

Finally listening to our (mine) moaning tummies we headed for a lunch spot. On the walk, had my boots not been muddy as hell and I looked like an orphan annie, we would have casually popped into the house opens on the way. And I may have mortgaged everything I own to buy one. Too bad I don’t own anywhere near enough…

After nearly a month traveling and drinking and eating all the things, I decided today was the day I’d get back on keto and try eat healthy. Damn my unreasonable thinking. While digging into a healthy omelette, Kyles had the most delicious Hungarian beef stew with dumplings. Didn’t even wanna take a food pic I was so consumed by food envy!! So having booked a 4.30pm train back to London, we tried to plan our visit to the Thermae Pool & Spa perfectly so we could just shower after then jump on the train home. Well, the lineup wasn’t the problem, more so the digital vouchers we’d booked and paid for had to be printed by and picked up at the Bath Tourist Info centre, which was closed on Sundays, I can imagine a Sunday would be the quietest day for tourists?!? And doesn’t all that kinda defeat the purpose of a digital ticket?!?!? After a somewhat standoffish debate, it was pay again or go home! You don’t come all the way to Bath to not jump in a thermal bath. So in we went, changed into our robes and flip flops (know better than calling them thongs!), and finally into the thermal pools. Have to say, after so many weeks of travel and what felt like a trillion steps, the warm water and spa jets were heaven sent. Throw in an epic view over Bath and the place is relaxation personified. Too bad we had to share with a hundred other people… weren’t allowed to take pics so once again Google has come through with the goods, just add those hundred people to each pic… can’t imagine the squishiness of this place in peak season…

With our two hour relaxation window coming to an end, it was time to leave the beautiful Thermae pool and head back to reality. Somehow arriving at the train station early, usually it’s minutes to spare, we had time for a sneaky gin and to find a snacky dinner for our train ride. Waiting on the platform for the train, my lame arse sense of humour kicked in at the name of the train station… Bath Spa? Someone really lacked imagination when it came to naming things at this place!!

Once on the train, my lame arse salad was no competition for Kylie’s almond croissant and the leftover chocolate. Nearly caved but in my sleepy relaxation I couldn’t even be bothered eating chocolate. That has NEVER happened to me in my entire life… need a thermal pool at home… A train, two tubes and a bus later, we’re back in Brixton and another reality set in. It was my last night with my bestie and the last night galavanting around the UK. Uhhh, I don’t wanna, they can’t make me leave can they??

Sunday 20th January 2019.

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Give me my name back

Bath… I wonder what you were called before the Romans actually built the baths? Must have been lame if Bath was a better option…

Well after such illuminating thoughts, Kyles had to be a trooper and hunt down a pharmacy for me. I think my traveling tolerance is 3.5 weeks before I come down with a cold and feel shite… or it could have something to do with all the gin and diet of see food and you eat it… yeah nah…

Speaking of food, to go with the concoction of vitamins and who knows what else the pharmacist gave me, a healthy hearty brekkie was in order. I tried to order something with spinach and all those healthy things but the stars aligned and they were out… so it was back to the good ol’ bacon, eggs and smashed avo… although major food envy when Kylie’s corn fritters and halloumi amazingness arrived!

The things about besties is that they put up with all your quirks and nuances… like my new obsession with chimneys… and me yelling “tourist” every 5 steps, which means stop while I be a pain in the arse and take yet another picture! Thanks for putting up with me Kyles!!

So the thing about chimneys, I’m not even sure I can explain it, except to say it’s the thing missing from the Adelaide skyline, houses now in my mind look incomplete. I like how they are all lined up, yet each one is different and cute it its own way. Hmmm, what drugs did the pharmacist give me?!???

Doing what every person comes to Bath for, we hit up the Roman Baths acter brekkie. Being the off season, there was hardly a line up so we glided right on through… Not sure what I expected, knew we couldn’t swim in them but maybe I expected them to make me want to?? The architecture of course was stunning, Romans sure do know how to make a statement, maybe I expected more baths? But I guess the place is called Bath singular, not Baths… nevertheless, the history and majesty of it all was damn impressive. Oh and I also love moss, add that to my chimney lover weirdness…

Luckily for us dorks, we were the only ones that rocked up for the guided tour every hour on the hour so we had the lovely Beth* to ourselves. So obvs being a tour guide, Beth knew her stuff, and I wish I remembered some monumental historical facts she imparted on us. Instead I remember the weird and wonderful, like that you had to be hairless to use the baths so they would tweezer everyone…uh, I’m from an Italian family, I’ve seen an Italian man’s back, a million levels of pain to tweezer that rug. No wonder it was mainly women that went to the baths, even then, ouch… so in other useless facts I remember, when a sexist dude called Hadrian became emperor of Rome, he hated women’s bodies, and since every one went starkers at the baths, he mandated that men and women had to be segregated into different baths. Can’t imagine bathing with a room full of other naked people would be overly relaxing, but anyway… oh wait, she did say there was lots of wine and food, hmm, thinking this place should have been called orgy, I’ll put that in the suggestion box!

I can imagine back in the time, this place would have been something else to the local pommies! The Romans mastered underfloor heating, worshipped the god Minerva and believed these bubbling hot springs could cure diseases. Apparently they weren’t smart enough to figure out that if you put a heap of people with diseases in the same hot bath, maybe, just maybe those diseases might spread. Yeah, definitely don’t wanna swim in them anymore. Oh, and they are lined with lead. I’ll stick to my lame Aussie bath at home thanks, oh wait, I don’t have one… so the hilarious side of the baths, if there ever was one, are the curse cards. People would write curses and toss them into the baths, hoping the goddess would grant their wish for their worst enemies eye balls to pop out of their head, I kid you not. Those Romans were a vengeful lot.

Overall, a beautiful place that in its day, must have been bloody amazing! Oh, and that little bit of water they let you drink at the end, supposed to have super healing powers, taste like warm goblin piss. Ain’t that right madeye!

After a quick tourist stop to pick up some antiques…

…it was back to the room so Kyles could get online and prepped to buy tickets to Tomorrowland, a massive trance music festival in Brussels. I’m no where cool enough to attend. So the ticket process probs took a bit longer than planned but enough time for me to blog and catch up on what’s been happening across the pond. Tickets in hand and tears of joy, from Kylie cos she got tickets and me cos I was hungry and wanted dinner, we headed to a cool little joint around the corner called Stable, which caught our attention earlier in the day with this epic sign, love a good pun…

And oh my yum, a tasting thingo of cider, cheese fondue and a beef brisket pizza. At the time of ordering we hadn’t figured it was a pizza, just saw beef brisket and jumped in head first, as you do, but the pizza bit was a nice surprise, cos let’s be honest, carbs are delicious!!

Bellies full we wandered around the beautiful Bath and contemplated another pub crawl. Had there been a slither of space in our bellies, it might have happened but instead we made a quick pit stop then headed back to the room. No groupies tonight, just the best friends a girl could ask for called Cadbury and Lindt.

P.S. There’s ALWAYS space for chocolate!!

P.P.S. And here are the indulgent selfies, cos if there isn’t a selfie, were we ever really there???

Saturday 19th January 2019.

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