Posts Tagged ‘Exeter’

Concluding the positives of 2010 then, from yesterday.

Dead Eye Dick

I have been chatting to Ray online for a good ten years now. Excellent lad and we get on well unless you discuss two issues which we have agreed to disagree on. George W Bush and Gun control in America. So it amused me greatly that I thought I should put my money where my mouth is and see what all this gun fuss is about. So off we went to a shooting range and it amused me even more that I was a good shot. Really good. Especially good when you consider I’ve never shot anything more than a pop gun before. I smelt of gun powder for days. We still disagree about gun control though.

A Completely Magic Weekend in Cardiff.

Ok so going out on the gay scene was like playing spot the person not dressed like it’s still the 80’s however,  other than that, the weekend in Cardiff was epic. Firstly Cardiff is beautiful and one of the places in the world I could see myself living. Secondly it houses (sadly now defunct) an amazing Doctor Who Exhibition which was completely and utterly brilliant, he said, his geek flag flying.

And finally it was the site of the most surreal day of exploration, all to see the shrine for a dead character in an average television series. Most people visiting whom were Ianto’s Shrine were like me, bemused and intrigued. You could tell the true fan though as they were already crying as they approached. People were crying as they put up poems etc on the shrine. Kissing the poems.  Weeping more. It was most delightful and amusing to my blacker than soot  sense of humour. Evidently the shrine still continues, so if you want the most delightful day out, to witness what people with too much time on their hands get up to, this is the place for you.

The Best Morning Ever


Burned into my memory, those mornings.


There is this weird sensation when you go somewhere and you know you’re meant to be there. Never knew that until this year. And it’s like everything falls into place.  Nothing is easy though.  Welcome to my life.

Best Till Last

I was hesitant to put a person as the best thing of last year, largely as its rather personal and hopefully not too embarrassing. However there was no denying the reality. All in all, if you asked me to define one event that was continuously delightful in 2010; whether it was from daily tie pictures or 6 am videochat soul-searching or email tag or constantly nattering throughout each day or blubbing over the tele  or being taught so, so many things, it was the growing and amazing friendship with Wesley. When I did a list of the best things that happened to me last year, he was at the centre of most of them. In the spirit of the best of companions, I have learnt so much from him already and have so much more to learn. Hopefully this is a two-way street.

So GM, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your friendship and love this year. I look forward to years of our new, really old bond, wherever that may be. As ever, I got your back.

And it’s pronounced Mah Crah May.


Read Full Post »

You know how you hear a song or a piece of music and you’re transformed back to the time when you first heard the song.  When I was 19, and the first time I returned to England, I heard Feargal Sharkey’s A Good Heart is Hard To Find. Good Lord it’s awful.  However, whenever I hear it now I remember the first time I was discovering London, the 19 year old falling in love with England.  

There was a number of songs that gained personal meaning for one reason or the other during the holiday. As pure self-indulgence I am listing them here and giving some insight into what or why they gained notoriety.

As I can imagine that would be boring for anyone reading this, instead of listing the song title, I’ve listed a song lyric. Guess the song before you click on the link.  See.  A game out of my indulgences.  Doesn’t get better than that.

“I want your love I don’t wanna be friends.”

I started off easy.  You should know this.

This song was EVERYWHERE! All the countries I visited I heard it played.  If there was an anthem to the trip, this is it. I could not stop hearing this song and it is so annoyingly infectious. This is the song that i will hear when I am 60 and be transported back to a lake house in North Carolina, a bus station in France, a pub in Exeter, an airport in Toronto…. too many excellent memories for this one song.

“And now whatever way our stories end I know you have rewritten mine By being my friend”

This song! Drove me insane. I could not stop singing it in the weeks prior to visiting America.  First song played in the car in Charlotte was this soundtrack.  Someone telling me something. 

And some notes about this particular YouTube clip. There are better clips of For Good but this is the last performance ever of the artist (Kristen Chenoweth) in the role of Glinda, the white witch in Wicked.  And for those who don’t know, this song is all about the character saying goodbye to each other.  Watch the whole clip. It’s doubly heartbreaking.

 “We’re surfing in the air We’re swimming in the frozen sky”

I’ve taken you here before and you know the reason why. I’m nothing if not a completist.

“And darkness still inside you Make you feel so small”

On the plane play list returning to England from the US.  Some of the lines of the song were especially pertinent. Listen to the lyrics more than the singing.   I included the Glee version, even though I appreciate it is wuss rock and there are better versions, as this was the one on the plane and I seriously love Glee. Glee is just so much fluff and  an excellently fun tele show. If you haven’t watched it I would recommend it. Highly. 

“There are no lyrics”

 Only one person will get the significance of this, which I include to make that person  giggle. Everyone else, move on. Nothing to see here.

“I don’t mind spending everyday Out on your corner in the pouring rain”

Ray and I had driven through Washington and seen so many famous sights my mind had been blown. We had just finished a mountain of fries at Z-burgers and were heading back in the car to Baltimore Airport to send me on my way to Charlotte. This song came on while we were driving. It was just one of those gooey moments of being really happy that I will remember.  And I like this song.

“As he came into the window It was the sound of a Crescendo”

I missed this. I’m not sure how. But when I saw it, for the first time at my friend’s place at 3 in the am after a really long night, I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. It’s a great song. But good God, were MJ’s video clips self-indulgent or what??!!! I included this 9 minutes epic not expecting you to watch all of it, unless you are super bored.  He patented the shoes that made him be able to bend over like that tho. And the reason the song gets included here. The second time I heard it was with the same friends. Odd. Clearly the song hangs around them.

“These streets will make you feel brand new, the lights will inspire you”

Just in case you don’t know, hover the cursor over a link or a photo and text will appear. And the text for this is particularly true.  This song drove me nuts as I kept hearing it in Brighton at the start of the holiday and never heard who sang it/ rapped it.  I’m not a fan of rap but the chorus by Alicia Keys is enjoyable and why it gets here. It sticks out (like those things that stick out) amongst all the other songs though.

“There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met”

You wont get this one. Even I didn’t know what the song was except that I spent days humming it to myself at the end of the holiday. You know that annoying tune you can’t get out of your head. I explored the song on the internet when I got back wondering why it was playing on my brain.  I was pleasantly surprised by the lyrics and its pertinence to my current situation. And yeah, muppets. Ah well. I’ve clearly proven I have zero taste in music.

Read Full Post »

Ianto’s Shrine, Cardiff Bay

Oh I loved this day. It was one of the highlights of my holiday.

For those who missed it, the picture below is the shrine dedication of a group of fans to a character who died in a television show; said television show being filmed at Cardiff Bay. It was simultaneously touching and sad. Touching because people clearly were affected by the fictional death of this character; sad because people clearly were affected by the fictional death of this character.

Wars are raging, people are starving and people are writing love letters to Captain Fiction.  So many outpourings of love for a television character. It really is a skewed world.

Having said that, the day was just hysterical! I haven’t laughed so much in forever. I mean, really. It’s a tele show, people.

Doctor Who Experience – Cardiff Bay

I fell in love with Doctor Who when I was 11. Loved it ever since, even when it was rubbish. Visiting an exhibition of props and costumes was a no brainer. I’ve written enough about it recently not to need to rehash. Suffice to say, if you have a vague interest you will love it and if you’re a fan you’re not going to need my recommendation.

Dawlish beachfront, Devon

Dawlish: home of the most magnificent ice creams and the neo-nazi ducks. Amusingly that ice cream has proven to be the most commented upon item of this blog which, given the breadth and scope of my travels, is no mean feat.  People found it completely fascinating for some reason and, to their great sense,all wanted to try one. I should really include the pic of me looking lovingly at the ice cream which is hysterical in its sadness. Instead Dawlish beach, and a pic of the sea front I really quite like.

Jasper, Exeter Quay

You know how some children, who are too young to know any better, think that you are the most amazing thing because you know about a television show or some cartoon character they love.  And you know that you’re not at all special however you cant help but enjoy the fact that, for a brief moment, the child thinks you are. That was Jasper, my cousin Deb’s little boy, who at the age of 6 thought I was the bees knees because I knew about Doctor Who and liked buying sweets. heh! Who was I to argue. He’ll work it out soon enough.

The Elfin Oak, Kensington Gardens, London

I discovered this purely by chance. I had gone to the Princess Diana Memorial Playground first thing in the morning. the morning was sunny but the park was covered in fog which had not burnt off yet.  The park was closed however the Elfin Oak was directly opposite the entrance.

for those who may not know, the Elfin Oak is a 900 year old hollow log that, in 1928, artist Ivor Innes was commissioned to carve little fairy figures and woodland creatures into its bark.  the level of detail is incredible and especially so when you realise it’s age.  Go here for some more, had-better-access-to-it pictures of the Oak. 

The Elfin  Oak itself is in a cage. presumably this is to stop vandals however the cage’s grid is so small it makes taking pictures of it incredibly impossible. This was the best shot I got and that was putting the lens through the tiny grid in the cage.

It is delightful however, particularly given its history and its age. Can you imagine children in the 1920’s seeing this? It’s impressive now in this day of video games and 3D television. Kids back then, best you get is a book or a play if you’re lucky, it must have been amazing.

Read Full Post »

Continued from here. I refuse to let the fact that nobody commented on it get me down… sob…

 Mayan Exhibit, Cadbury World – Birmingham

This is just so wrong. Firstly it is the very first thing people see when they enter Cadbury World. Secondly whats up with his head? He looks like he has been decapitated. And can you imagine the artist  creating this and thinking, “Have I got enough expression in his face?”  Children were freaking out as they went through this part of Cadbury World. Willy Wonka had a wonderful forest full of candy cane trees, peppermint grass and chocolate rivers when you entered his chocolate factory. Cadbury World has stuffed boa constrictors, Halloween lighting, rain forest nightmare sound effects and mannikins so scary even the adults were rushing past them. Someone should send Mr Cadbury a copy of the book.

St Michael’s Church, Heavitree

This was part of the great find your dead relatives day. There were a few days like that to be honest.

St Michael’s church in Heavitree, a suburb of Exeter is the resting place of my Uncle Harry and the Christening place of my brother.  The church has seen a few marriages there in the family clan as well. I like that about this church; that it is steeped in history, not only of the Vanstone/ Hoyle/ Bakers family tree but of Exeter itself. That this is the place where you celebrate entering the world and this is the place where you celebrate your passing. It’s the thing that makes Europe so much fun, that history that invades every aspect of it. This church has been around since the 12th Century. Thats an incredible amount of life that its seen.

And this pic, chosen because it’s cool.

Unknown Lady – Exmouth, Devon

I adore this woman. Out reading her book on a sunny day in the  town of Exmouth. It is super warm and, God love her, she is dressed up for the rain that probably inevitably comes every day when I am not there, because I am cursed to be a sun magnet.  There is something so English about her look as well, which reminds me of my Gran, I’ve only just realised. It’s the look of the aged Brit and had been since the war.

Alliance Sculpture, Cardiff

Placed outside of Cardiff Library there was evidently a big kerfuffle when this was made as it was designed by a French, not Welsh, sculptor.

I think it is superb. It glows in the dark at night with Welsh phrases which is a bit naff to be honest. Here  though, in the light of day and against the colours of the windows of the library….. absolutely magic.

Private Shop, Cardiff

This is a shop to sell adult materials in Britain. I included it purely as an example of, I presume, the English reserve and not blatant censorship.  There is not a clue there as to its contents. Not even the name.

Cardiff Bay, Cardiff.

I am not sure why it is so dark in the picture. Truly the weather was lovely throughout the entire trip.  It rained maybe three days.  Cardiff Bay is spectacular and home of the genius Doctor Who exhibition and the Shrine to fiction.  Here we are walking miles and miles to get to the tourist bureau to find the shrine. I was a bit exhausted by this point and was thinking that Ianto’s shrine had better be worth it. It was fortunately and I’ll show you some more of that tomorrow.


Read Full Post »

The Homogenisation of England

When I returned to Exeter after a considerable few years, I was appalled at some of the “improvements” that had been done in my absence, most notably the Princesshay Shopping precinct that they destroyed half of Exeter to build.

Princesshay was the street parallel to the High (main) Street and had an interesting post war ambience.  The shops looked cosy and had a fifties retro. Certainly not the most attractive street in the world, however certainly not the worst either.   Anyway it was destroyed to make way for this, making way for Britain’s new obsession with shopping with roofs on it.

There are two problems with this, as far as I can see. The first thing is that it is really boring to look at. It’s pretty and shiny and will be dull in five years time when it’s style goes out of date.  The worst thing though is that it looks the same as every other shopping precinct in Britain, with slightly different decoration. Brighton precinct looks similar to Exeter looks similar to Plymouth looks…..

Then you have the rise of the franchise. Burger King, Subway, McDonalds, Starbucks, Costa, Next, Boots, Marks and Sparks….every third shop in Britain that sells mobile phones…. All the shops are the same across Britain. Same old, same old and the mom and pop store is gone forever.

And there’s the accent. When I first came to Exeter years ago I fondly remember asking a stranger for directions and being sooooo confused by his THICK Devonshire accent that I had no idea what he said.  I thanked him when he had finished talking, smiled sweetly and went off in the way he pointed. The ooo-arrrr drawl.  The interesting thing about my cousin Deb’s kids and, indeed, all Devon kids now is that none of them have that accent any more. They all sound like this or like characters from EastEnders. There must be such social pressure to sound like a london chav.

It’s a shame really. One of the best things about Britain is its history and that each county had its own identity. Shops were different, streets were different, people sounded different. There is still that element obviously however it’s being lost.

There is a psychology  in hotel marketing that allows the hotel, no matter where in the world you are, to resemble any other hotel of the same chain.  Small differences for sure but if you go to a Marriott Hotel, for example,  you can know your stay. The idea is that, if you’re a businessman who visits  multiple hotels in a world, you’ll feel more at home if  your surroundings are familiar, even if you’re in Tokyo or New York or Adelaide.

Maybe that’s whats happening to Britain.  A cultural whitewash and as damaging as when our ancestors met the Australian Aboriginals or the American  Indians.  This time however it’s all self  inflicted. It seems odd that, at this time when we are most able to interact and understand other countries and their diversity, we are falling over ourselves to give ourselves a bland uniformity.

Read Full Post »

dot points part four

An interesting phenomena is the number of young teenagers who act out their dramas on  the main street of English streets now.  Teenagers that can best be described as gobby.  “Ricky, it’s your baaaaaaby”, screamed across the road at a spotty youth.  I mean, really.  One group of young people decided it would be good to have a food war in the middle of the high street over, at my best guess, someone had eaten some else’s sandwich. Sadly they were throwing mini easter eggs at each other so I was annoyed at the waste of food.  I blame EastEnders.  What was even more interesting was the  steadfast refusal of the people waiting for buses to acknowledge anything out of the ordinary happening.  God love the English reserve.

Tele is tragic over here, though it is a universal truth that tele is tragic everywhere. There is a show here called The Jeremy Kyle Show. It screens early in the day when you are getting ready for post breakfast bus catching and it is exactly like The Jerry Springer Show, except the host has a more refined accent. I am not sure where they find the sad people who are happy to make complete idiots of themselves for a hundred quid and a nice cup of tea. England, as far as I am aware, doesn’t have the trailer parks that Jerry Springer show would trawl for potential sad people. They clearly live somewhere though. There are loads of them and they are as embarrassing as their American counterparts.

Speaking of bus queues I love them. And shopping queues here. People have lovely chats to each other. Complete strangers engaging with each other. First sentence is always about the weather and then it can go anywhere. I don’t remember ever engaging with people in the queues at the supermarket in Australia. America was the same, in that respect.

Internet access in England is amazingly easy. And FAST.  We have nothing compared to that. The best thing is most places have wifi access so you can connect anywhere you are. I was blown away though when I was writing a blog post while travelling on the train to Bristol.

Was travelling on the bus into town and the bus driver, a lady, stops the bus halfway down the street and not at an intended stop, directly opposite another woman standing on the street.  This turned out to be her friend with whom the bus driver had a fantastic chat. For ten minutes. It was brilliant. I, and the bus, found out about her rotten kid Richard who was causing her all manner of strife, including affecting her ovulation cycle and her sleep pattern. I was entranced however I’m not sure the others on the bus thought it was as interesting. Of course, being English no one made a noise. As I said, gotta love that reserve.

Read Full Post »

For my Dad

I started this blog for my father.

I brought my mother over here for her 70th birthday present. While I offered to also bring him, he elected to stay behind. This, as it turned out, was a blessing as he then had to deal with a series of catastrophes previously unseen in Vanstone legend. Truly I am thankful I wasnt in Australia at this time. We were meteor-is-gonna-hit-a-Vanstone type  unlucky. He deserves all the presents he is getting and more as he dealt with a lot admirably. So I started this blog to keep him up to date with all the comings and goings his wife was up to.

Only problem is he has never read it.

God love him, by the time he writes my mother an email each night he is so stressed by the computer the last thing he wants to do is read this blog. So the blog transformed from this is what we did today to Nigel’s thoughts on various things while travelling.

So, given that he is not going to read this, at least until I can get the page up on his computer anyways, he will not know that we did today’s trip in his honour.

Dartmouth by steam train on a beautiful spring day.

Dad worked on steam trains when he left school and, like all boys of all ages worldwide, still loves his trains. They are hypnotically soothing and peaceful and there is something about them makes people standing on the side of the track wave at you. You will spend the afternoon waving if you ride a steam train.

And it was incredibly pleasant to ride along the tracks and take pictures of the amazing scenery. When i can get Flick’r to work I encourage you to look at the pics. It was incredibly beautiful.

Anyway Dad. You can do this next year when I bring you over for your 70th. Till then this is for you.

Read Full Post »

Out of the Mouths of Babes Dept

We all went to Double Locks on Thursday. The weather is unseasonably warm. I am cursed.  And then my cousins, for whom sun is a novelty, made me sit in the sun as opposed to the non skin cancer causing shade. My head now resembles a tomato.

Double Locks is a pleasant pub and amazingly family friendly. There are large green lawns for the kids to play on, a playground to throw themselves on and the pub has parallel rivers surrounding it, hence the name I guess, and evidently the kids try to drown themselves in that often. What it doesn’t have is a strategy plan for unseasonable warm weather as the service was appalling. They were clearly unprepared for the weather and the groups of people who decided to come that day. It took half an hour to line up to a drink and then you had to help Pedro the illegal alien barman pull the beer and there was an hour wait for food, which turned out to be 90 minutes and then the food was craaaap.

None of this is important.

Sarah, friend of my cousin Deb, brought her  son Saul to the pub with her. Saul, as is the way with all seven-year olds, thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. This is because we both have the same mental age.

Saul, Jasper ( Deb’s 6-year-old) and I played Doctor Who on the lawns. Doctor Who is genius really cos you can be any monster you want to be and as active as you want to be. I was feeling really slothful so I was the Weeping Angel whose skill is to stand really, really still. I can stand still. Children run around me. Genius.

So we’re walking back to our cars which are miles away cos Double Locks involves walking and Saul says to Deb; “I Really like your cousin.”

Deb replies, “Yeah. We quite like him too. He’s nice isn’t he.”

Saul; “He’s not nice. He’s lovely”

See! Kids get me. lol

Read Full Post »

The last time I went to a football match ( and by football match, Australians reading this,  I mean soccer not that overrated AFL rubbish) was 25 years ago when I was went to see Exeter city play someone on an incredibly bracing (another aside: I will never admit to weather being cold. It is bracing perhaps but never cold. The day I saw Exeter City play all those years ago was bracing ++) day.

I don’t recall much about the match largely as my cousins had taken me to the pub prior to the game to “warm ourselves up”. Having never drunk much before this was a pre football revelation. I was bladddered. It was my first time being drunk and, if I recall correctly, I spent much of the match wondering how anyone could play while they were being so wobbly before I slipped into a lovely sleep while the game played on. I think the game was a goal-less draw, but don’t quote me on it.

So, with it being the silver anniversary of my last football game, it was time to revisit the Exeter City football grounds, this time stone cold sober. My cousin Rachel and her partner Rob are staunch fans and managed to procure me a ticket to, what was evidently, a derby match. a derby match is, he explained helpfully, a battle between local rivals. I know. It’s disappointing isn’t it. I thought it sounded like something more important.

When I last saw Exeter play they were in the Z division or something similar. Currently they are doing quite well, in the ( as I write this I am filled with trepidation as I know Rachel will be reading this and yell at me if I am wrong) first division but could be relegated back to the one below unless they win some more games. Or something.

So everyone was on tenterhooks for Exeter to win. People were wearing their lucky jumpers (bless) and bringing their lucky mascots and were there to see Exeter kick some Bristol arse.

I was excited to be there cos this would be my first football game sans alcohol. (Yet more asides; my brother used to get the corporate box at AFL games. I LOVED them. Fantastic stuff. I would sit in the box and read a book while I got very, very jolly on the free wine. I have never realised my association with alcohol and football until this moment.)

And so it began.

Some thoughts on my first real football game:

I have a, phobia is too strong a word, however I find balloons incredibly anxiety inducing. You only need to gently put your hand on my shoulder while I am unaware and I will jump through the roof.

A balloon which pops.


Makes me squirm.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was that some very keen Exeter city supporter brought everyone not just one but handfuls of balloons and gave them to the fans as they came through the gate. When I arrived at stadium the place was awash with, not kidding, thousands of red balloons. single balloons. Overinflated balloons. Balloons tied together like giant red hemorrhoids. Floating through the air. Literally you waded through them.

This is what we in the biz call flooding.

I acquitted myself well.  I did not run from the stadium. Only slight whimpering but I don’t think anyone heard me. And flooding works. I’m not as scatty near balloons as I was. However I wouldn’t suggest this if your phobia was snakes or spiders.

There is way more football played here and on the tele than I have ever seen. I have clearly been spoilt by the Australian satellite televisions which shows just the highlights. I thought that a football game was three minutes long with goals in very quick succession. Waiting 90 minutes for a goal was…. mmmmm.. challenging. Wine is clearly an asset here.

There are chants for every football team. Exeter has multiple and Rachel suggested I look up the site which listed them and learnt them so I could sing along with the crowd. I didn’t and regretted it. In my defence there are loads of chants to learn. “We’ll Score Again”, “Drink Up Ye Cider”, “Your not number 1”, “Cider”, “We Sing at Home” Exeter City fans love their cider clearly. What amused me was that ALL of the chants started off really strong, went well for a few seconds then faltered away to nothing. It could have been more impressive. They need a Broadway composer to help them out.

There are rules to the game which I obviously do not get. Consequently people were able to go “OOOOOHHHH” at bits in the game which I missed. This would have helped me I am sure and certainly aided my concentration away from the balloons of death.

There were many attempts at goal on both sides. This provoked EXTREME reaction from the crowd. “F***ing hell That was close!!!!!!!”  It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. To my untrained eye it looked like they were miles away. I think football fans are good at creating their own excitement when its 70 minutes into a game and there are no goals.

There was fog! It was fantastic! It added much more atmosphere to the game. You can imagine Jack the Ripper playing the team which, to be fair, would have made the game completely brilliant.  And it was bracing enough that you could see your breath. I loved that. In fact I was loving it so much i was trying to work out how to do smoke rings out of your breath to amuse myself. See, I can create my own excitement as well.  I was much more engrossed in what was coming out of my mouth than the game and I completely missed Exeter City scoring the only goal in the match.

Now THIS was brilliant.

The whole terrace erupted.

Everyone roared. Complete strangers hugged and kissed. People ran down to the players who were congregating near the goal and hugging and kissing.

It was the most amazing thing. This eruption of love for a minute. Completely, utterly brilliant. If you could harness that energy in that minute you would never need armies. Incredibly amazing stuff.  I could see why people became football fans as that was completely intoxicating.

It was like a drug.

I’m not convinced I need to become a football fan in honesty but I could now see why people do.

Read Full Post »

dot points part two

Lots of Devonshire men look like elves. This is especially so as they age. There are lots of old aged pensioners who look like elves over here. It’s very curious.

I am insanely impressed with the bus service here. There are no special needs buses, instead all buses are equipped to allow people in wheelchairs access to the bus ride. It has been delightful to see.

I also love the fact that people all thank the bus driver as they exit the bus. It’s really sweet.

If you wear a rugby jersey in Wales you are required to drink beers at 10 in the am. This is the law.

If you wear a Welsh rugby jumper you are required to have not stopped drinking from the night before and sing to the pub patrons at 10 o’clock sunday morning.

Not all Welsh people have good singing voices. And certainly not at ten on a sunday morning.

I could live in Cardiff. It’s THAT good and that was even before Cardiff Bay.

I officially hate flick’r. I cannot upload anything to it, though this may be the issue of the internet rather than the web site to be fair.

There are an incredible number of soldiers who die in service over here. We (Australia) have nothing on them. I dread to think how it will be in the States. It’s unbelievably heartbreaking and we are incredibly protected from it.

I have never been hotter than I have been here. Pepole have their central heating to levels we would put the air conditioning on in Australia. I have a blog on it soon but need to mention I am hot as hell.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »