Sometime in August...


After two long weeks of saying fond farewells to friends and family the final crescendo took form of the final Kilburn house party. Life is all about pushing the envelope - a maxim for which our internal organs and mental stability were not entirely happy with - but we had a great time, so to hell with the consequences!! A huge thanks to all those that attended the do and made it a memorable event. Extra special thanks goes to Mark, Jason (who kindly donated wallet shoes and belt to less worthy Kilburnites whilst sleeping off hangover in a doorway on the highroad), Jungle and David 'you filthy savage!' for assisting with the entertainment and carrying the torch through to closing time on sunday.

Aftert a huge clean-up effort, transforming our lounge and kitchen back from a scale model of Beirut back to some semblance of normality (with myself mopping like a demon between heart palpitations and cold sweats) we started packing for the flight south.

Our flight was at 9pm but due to the inconsiderate actions of the axis of evil we had to be at Heathrow 4 hours earlier than planned just to stand in inordinately long queues that enlivened the holiday spirit and readied us for the ensuing 26 hour flight. Genius.

So we arrived in Brisbane - thankfully with all (and considerable amounts of) baggage - jumped in a hire car and headed north up the Sunshine coast to the Glasshouse Mountains to visit my god mum. After all the frantic goings on of the last few weeks we couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to chill out and recharge the batteries.

We then took flight for the final leg to Christchurch in time for the Ewer ski trip. We stayed in Castle Hill and ski'd both Porter's Heights and Mount Cheeseman fields. All great fun apart from the perilous dirt tracks that creep along the side of the mountains with precipitous drops and no barriers. After overcoming the fear and sweaty palms I still had enough nervous energy (and vin chaud) to ensure the skiing was top notch fun. It was great for Lise to rejoin the clan and me to get another glimpse of what I am letting myself in for.

PICTURES

As discussed, I have given up on posting photos on this site. Click here for a small selection of pics from August, including: the rise from his slumber of the mighty pagan fire horse at Tom's party, A pic of where we stayed in Oz and the view of the valley in the morning plus a few of skiing, apres ski golf etc. Nice!

Odysseus I presume....


The heroic bronzed adonis boards the good ship Granny Knot to set sail for New Zealand after becoming wildly frustrated with shipping agents and the prospect of airline food. Obviously things may take a little longer over sea, especially with the lure and temptation of sirens, mermaids, ferocious giant squids and meeting the mighty Poseidon on an off day.

Undaunted we set sail with our good friends and skippers Mel and Nick on Saturday morning from Portsmouth. After beating into strong winds and straining sinew to keep Granny on tack we finally made it all the way to Bucklers Hard. Much joyous drinking and celebration ensued. With a foggy head and after an extended lie in the next morning, skipper sat us down to consider the following: Wellington is 11,119 miles and 93 days away. The Ewer family ski trip is a mere 21 days away. We had just covered the least perilous 16 miles to Bucklers Hard and Mel was keen to get back to work on Monday.

Dissapointment was evident from the crew but reality took precedent as we headed back home, enabling us to start packing for the more conventional plane flight south.

Travelling by Granny Knot all the way to Wellington, although a romantic idea would also be very stupid. I start to get cabin fever after two days and it also takes at least a month to acquire sturdy enough sea legs to go below deck. However, sailing is considerably kinder to the environment than 747's burning tons of fosil fuels that have serious environmental consequences. So with an environmental conscience Lisa and I decided to carbon neutralise our flights, which is cheaper than you would think to invest in excellent carbon reducing 'grass roots' projects.

Even if you're just on your way to Torremolinos for a knees up, be aware and try to stop global warming turning Kilburn into Death Valley (....hmmm, hang on a second!..)