Phillip Island MotoGP

Well, we left quite late on October 25th for our long-haul flight to Melbourne. We hoped we had everything we needed for our 5 weeks away. It had been a frantic rush towards the end with work and various bits and pieces, so it was quite a relief to be on the plane. I can't remember what movies were playing, but I think I watched several on the way to Singapore. Arriving at Changi Airport 13 hours later, we tracked down a much-needed/appreciated shower before the next (much shorter) leg to Melbourne. I will do this every time, if schedule permits. I felt so much better afterwards.

However, I was still pretty tired after arriving in Melbourne. We got in early (around 5:45am), and we were met by Shane and Vince. I was impressed that Vince was awake, and coherent, at such an early hour. He looked better than I did! We arrived in Middle Street and said our hellos to Shona and Michelle. Then it was time for the kids to go to school, and Shona to go to her class.

Shane picked up Mike's parents from the Youth Hostel, then dropped us off at Highpoint Shopping Centre for some shopping for the weekend. We all needed sleeping mats for the tent at Phillip Island. The Pancake Parlour was the spot for lunch, then Shona picked me up while Mike & his parents walked to Moonee Ponds.

The kids came home from school, and we all packed the car like mad for the trip down to Phillip Island. The drive itself was quite good, even though we left at around 6:30pm, smack dab in the middle of rush-hour. We ate eventually at a Lions tent and caravan, and were the only guests. I had a yummy bacon butty, and others had sausages. We arrived at the campsite, after driving around a bit, parking a bit and asking a bit. It cost us A$90 each for the adults, and A$45 each for Michelle & Vince, just to camp! Phew! I won't complain about the DM70 total for Mike & me to camp at the German GP next year. We all got wrist tags to show we had tickets, and we then entered the campground to find a campsite.

Pitching the tent

Now for the tent. We had heard nightmare stories from Shane and Shona about this tent, and it was all true. We now have a tent pitching nightmare of our own to relate. And here it is... This tent is huge - 8 people. And it has external and internal frames. And a set of instructions that bears no resemblance to the poles supplied. It was dark, threatening rain, and a little breezy. We quickly had the external frame up - maybe thirty minutes. But we still had a pile of poles left over, and nothing like the poles on the instructions. After another forty minutes, we finally discovered that the poles had extensions inside. Oh! But, we were so tired, we all flung our stuff into the tent and slept regardless - reasonably confident the tent wouldn't fall down by the morning.

With the light of day, we finished the tent pitching in about 10 minutes. However, I now realised I didn't have Taco's number with me (a friend from NSW who was supposed to be around the circuit somewhere). We tried various methods to get in contact, but nothing worked out. I was quite disappointed as I hadn't seen Taco for about three and a half years, and had just tracked him down in the last month. Maybe next year! Taco - come and visit London! We already have tickets for the German 500cc if you're interested.

Stunt Rider

Now, for important things like breakfast. We went into the circuit, and found a fast-food caravan open. I had dim Sims for breakfast washed down by iced coffee, and others had similar meals. How decadent. As there were no crowds on this Saturday morning (probably kept away by the threatening weather), we wandered around trying out all the grandstands. A stunt bike came on and impressed us all with his skills. Vince was very interested, and was always keen to see him come out and perform donuts, wheelies and other stunts during the rest of the weekend.

Under the fly

As the qualifying laps started, we moved out of the grandstands intent on circumnavigating the circuit to find the best spot for watching Sunday's races. A grassy spot near turn 6 (Siberia end) was great, so we plonked ourselves down for a while. It started raining, so we pulled out the tent fly from Robert's old tent, and covered ourselves (all five of us!) while sitting on one end.   So bottoms were dry, and heads too. I'm pleased Shona said we should take it along with us despite opposition (she lent us her lovely new Toyota to take down to PI, but with five people and gear, space was at a premium. Anything unnecessary stayed behind.). There we were, like peas in a pod. Ron, Mike, Vince, me and Michelle. Ron and Michelle had the worst of it as they had to provide support at the sides. Various methods of propping up the overhead fly were implemented. Mike had his shoelace tied to it at one point. And at the height of its sophistication, we faced a fence and had water bottles, coke cans and number 8 wire keeping the fly up. It was especially great when the wind came in - it ballooned up nicely behind us and no one had to hold anything, the fly didn't touch us (a possible source of damp if the rain was heavy) and it was like being cocooned.

Ant West's Autograph!

Saturday afternoon, I queued with Michelle & Vince for Marco Melandri and Anthony West's autographs. At the same time, Mike sold his Mum's GP ticket. He got quite a good price. We were quite far back in the autograph queue and it was touch and go whether we would get in within the time limits. At one stage, I was the third last person to get in, then they decided to process the twenty behind us too. Vince had the Ant West poster from the middle of the GP program, and Michelle & I got the 'Fuel the Passion' Phillip Island poster signed by Ant West. We all got a Macro Melandri poster signed. So we were happy little vegemites. When we returned to Melbourne, we had them all laminated. My Melandri poster was wrecked a little by the laminating but the others turned out well. The posters are all in Michelle & Vince's room. Hopefully Melandri and West go on to be world champions, and our posters increase in value.

And while we queued, Mike sold his Mum's GP ticket, as Mrs Gilbert had decided to stay and enjoy the sights of Melbourne. We weren't too sure if he would be successful or not, but it didn't take him long at all to recoup the face value. And it didn't take us too long to spend it on T-shirts and souvenirs. Vince got the same T-shirt as me, and Michelle got a nice black one. We're all jealous of Mike because he came without a jacket (how foolish was that???!!), so he bought himself a cool Phillip Island GP fibre pile jacket. Reversible. We all wanted one, but at $100 a throw, we couldn't really justify even asking for one. So, now I just steal Mike's if I ever get the chance.

Michelle snoozing

Michelle and Vince

There was a motorcross event behind the chicane that we watched from time to time. It was mostly stunt jumping, and the riders were very good. Vince even saw some 6 year olds giving it a go, and he was impressed with their skills even at that age.

We had a vote on the way back to the tent about where to sit for tomorrow's racing, as we had to grab a possie early. We decided on the chicane by a slight majority. As we wandered back, a pie seller in a caravan called us over and gave us all his pies, sausage rolls and pasties. Dinner was solved, and for free too.

Mike snoozing

Sleeping this night was interrupted by hoons nearby driving their old car around like madmen. I suspect they were not completely sober. I wish there were more family camp areas (we had this once at Donnington). I'm not interested in listening to loud music and revving vehicles into the wee hours.
The next morning was also dodgy on the weather front. Phillip Island has a very exposed position looking out over Bass Strait southwards. Any weather from that direction is likely to be cold. And, so it was. The kids and I had an even more decadent breakfast today - pancakes. They were piled high with ice cream and cream. We gobbled them down before hurrying to the chicane possie Mike and his dad had staked out already. This turned out to be a good place, as it was an obvious overtaking position, and presented a few spills. Biaggi had come off there in the last lap of qualifying on Saturday, and at the start of the 500cc, Criville came off there too. Vince was happy, as he equates good racing entertainment with the number of offs he gets to see. A common enjoyment with spectators, judging from the crowd reaction.

Under the fly... again!

This was the scene of our greatest engineering feat as described earlier. We propped the fly up on a fence, and we all sat watching the race under the fly. It worked brilliantly, and didn't even obscure the view of people behind us. It must have been comical, because an Age photographer came and took several photos and said we may be in the paper the next day. Unfortunately, we weren't. But it made for a good story.

The 125 race was awesome, with the championship being decided by a hair's breadth at the finish line. Unfortunately, Katoh (one of my favourite riders), who might have been in with a chance to win the championship, didn't make much of a dent on the race leaders. But the race was very exciting. Oliver Jacque won, and we watched some mad Frenchmen next to us try and give him the tri color on his way past. The officials were trying to clear them off the track, but sensed the crowds potential for fury should the French be stopped. So, the flag was grabbed and the French guys were rapt! The crowd roared its approval.

The 500cc race was also good, with Italians winning 1,2 and 3. Vince and Michelle were very happy with that. Maybe they should bring an Italian flag to the races?

Vince

We returned to the campground to pack up. I was wondering what the drive out would be like (memories of Brands Hatch in my mind - that took hours!!). However, we had no problems at all. We joined a slow but steady queue through Phillip Island, and the road authorities had painted temporary lines in to make two lanes leaving the island (using the shoulder). It was all too easy and quick.
Now, you might think that's the end of it. We faced a long (2 hour) boring drive back to Melbourne. But, no! For some bizarre reason, the residents of Cranbourne and surrounds (it's a suburb south east of Melbourne) all gather on the road kerbs to wave at the riders leaving the GP. Ok, you're thinking, 'A family here, a family there...'. No! Thousands of people. Some of them straying perilously close to traffic. Some holding their hand out to tap riders outstretched hands. Complete madness. And riders doing burnouts for them at intersections! One guy yelled out to us in Shona's corolla 'Show us your twin cams!', and wanted us to drop the clutch. Fortunately I have no idea how to do that in an automatic. But he was disappointed!. It was so funny. Some people had big signs saying 'See you next year'. Complete madness. But, good as well. It's always good to see a community supporting local events, when so many are Nimbies these days.

So, we returned to Melbourne with everyone pleased at the trip. Michelle and Vince are completely hooked, so we will make it a regular event once we return to live over that side of the planet.

Mike's parents left Melbourne after their Australian trip about a day later. They had visited Brisbane, Sydney, Adelaide (via the train - Ghan) and Melbourne. I think they enjoyed it from what they said. Now, it was time for Mike & me to tackle the garage and bungalow at Shona's to sort out all the stuff Mum had to abandon in the midst of a quick getaway from living in Melbourne. First up, we tackled the garage. This had the stuff from the shed in it, so was the oldest stuff.

Actually, it didn't go too badly. By the end of the day we had basically cleared it out. A lot of the stuff was thrown out (ruined by years of neglect, and successive families of mice/redback spiders), some of it was too good for the rubbish, but we didn't want it (a potential garage sale pile), and the rest we repacked and stored.

The following day was the turn of the bungalow. This was full of bedroom stuff (mine and Mum & Robert's). This took a bit longer because most things needed to be repacked once checked. All valuable stuff, of course. It was a time full of reminiscing. Each box would bring back memories, and these memories would have to be explained fully to Mike so he could appreciate the significance and reason behind the storage process. There were some glorious finds. I found my womble minus his eyes, but still with his specs (Wellington, of course, the geeky womble). I found wonderful books that I wish I had here. Along with the glorious, we found the equally inglorious. My 21st birthday cake had NOT survived well in a tin in a shed that would get to temperatures in the 50s on hot summer days. Although the tin protected it from the hordes of mice that loved the amount of paper we had stored, it was most definitely not kept in a cool place for the past 15 years (gulp! has it been that long since my 21st?? Nearly!).

While staying with Shona, we took the opportunity to spend a lot of time with Michelle and Vince. Michelle is just completing her first year at high school. She goes to a girls high school, where all the girls look the same in their green uniform (as I discovered when I went with Shona to pick up Michelle up after school. 'There she is'. 'No'. 'There she is'. 'No'.). Her grades are good and the only thing I helped her with was punctuation. So, Michelle, keep those fullstops and commas happening.

Vince was reading an awesome book called Animorphs about some kids that can turn into cats and dogs. They were trying to stop an alien invasion. I listened to Vince reading, and he did very well. Now I just need to find out what happened in the end of the story.

We also went to visit Sharon on Wednesday. This was the best visit by far because it was the first time Stephanie and Cameron weren't shy at all with Mike and me. They chatted to us straight away. I really enjoyed their company; they are lovely young people. I can't wait to spend more time with them, hopefully before they get much older. Fortunately they are a few years younger than Michelle & Vince, so they will still want to come and see their Aunty and Uncle by the time Michelle and Vince want something better to do.

Mike and I drove down to Geelong in Shona & Shane's Ford station wagon. It was an interesting experience for Mike, as the car is unique to drive! Anyhow, after the first few corners, he got used to it, and now he wants one just like it! We took this car because Sharon wanted the swing set from Shona's brought down. Our first port of call with Sharon was to Red Rooster, as I like this takeaway chain, but you can't get it outside of Australia. Likewise with coffee milks. Although I've since noticed I can get them most of the time in New Zealand now too. But England still insists on chocolate, banana and strawberry flavours only. We also bought a few things for Sharon and the kids at Target near her place.

We picked the kids up from school. It was a bit damp, so I think they were pleased. It was so nice talking to them. Stephanie and Cameron both read to us, and they have excellent reading skills. We got to know some of their interests too. Stephanie loves animals, and I talked with her about them for a while. I found out we both love wolves. I love watching documentaries on wolves. I saw a holiday once, a long time ago, where you go on cross country skis around Minnesota (a US state near the Canadian border) following wolf tracks. I've always thought that would be cool! Maybe one day I can check it out further. Cameron is lovely too, and reads very well for his age. Sharon must encourage them to read quite a bit. I hope they keep that interest up through their school years especially.

Dinner was in a restaurant near the harbour. It was called Smorgies, and had an underwater theme. The food was quite good for a huge buffet style place, and we finally got to meet wee Jamie (he had been in day care for the day - once a week I think). He had changed quite a bit, and apart from his snuffly cold, was so cute. Stephanie and Cameron looked after him too. At one stage, he knocked his glass of milk off the table and it went flying! Other patrons were not amused.

Jamie

By now it was quite late, and Mike drove Sharon and the kids home while I waited at Smorgies (not enough room in the car). I was very sad to see them leave, as I had enjoyed the day with them a great deal. Rumour also has it that Sharon and the kids might move to Melbourne. That would be very good, as we could spend more time with them while visiting. And Mike still has a hankering to live in Melbourne, so hopefully there will be a time in the not-too-distant future to get to know them more.

It took us ages to drive back to Melbourne, as the weather was complete rubbish. So, it made for quite a late night.

Shona has two new puppies to keep Spencer entertained. They are both boys, and one is called Vinny, and the other is called Snoopy. I loved playing with them. They are so cute. Spencer is treating them roughly while he can (I think Vinny may stand up to him when he's older) and it is quite funny to see them running around together. We took Spencer in for a clipping while we were there because his thick winter fur had matted quite a bit. He looked like a new dog after his haircut. And, he had put weight on that Shona hadn't noticed. Not that he's fat or anything. Just a filled-out adult dog rather than a bouncing pup! Shona walked Spencer using a new lead around his muzzle and it worked very well. I filed this information away for the Spencer on the other side of the continent later.

The only socialising Mike & I had time for was to catch up with Carolin and Craig. We surprised them our last night in Melbourne by ringing and asking if they wanted to have dinner. They said yes (fortunately) and we all went out for dinner at a steak restaurant in Moonee Ponds. Craig is now pursuing a singing career, and Carolin has her own company book-keeping for small businesses (and she has her hands full by the sound of it). We went back to their house for a coffee, and Shona finally got to see their cute house. Vince and Michelle were impressed by Holly's skills (or is that Craig's training skills?). Holly did tricks for doggie biscuits...

To thank Shona and her family for putting us up (and putting up with all the stored rubbish), we bought them a set of pool balls. They had a pool table, but only a white ball and a number 8 ball. So, they were right into it. It nearly made us late for the dinner with Carolin and Craig as there was a huge pool match on! And Vince was the winner!

The next day we were on a flight to New Zealand (Wellington via Christchurch).  Our Australian visit was over!

Brands Hatch Superbikes

We thought we'd let you know what our trip down to Brands was like, so you could compare it to last time.

We had a good trip out to Brands Hatch this Sunday. Originally we wanted to stay Saturday night there to ensure an early start, but Mike had lots of work to get through, and the weather was rubbish. So, we decided on an early Sunday morning departure.

The alarm went off at 7am, after a late night for both of us. Mike worked until 10:30pm, and I went out for dinner and a movie with our friend Simon Hayley. So, it was a slow start. But we were packed, showered and ready by 7:45am. We loaded der Bus with our provisions, and left.

Last time we had negotiated the South Circular with Theresa and Richard, but we decided on the M25 route for a change. So, we hurtled down the M3 and had a very easy drive out to Brands. We got the junction 3 of the M25 by 9am. So, although it was 100 km compared to 50km down the south circular, it was about the same length of time. An interesting comparison. The M20/A20 junction wasn't even blocked, and we drove to within a km of the track immediately.

Still, the Brands Hatch car parking fiasco was in full force already. There was a policeman asking every car whether they wanted the public car park or not (90% did , so a sign would have sped things up). As it had been a bit wet, we were concerned about getting bogged. And there was good reason. As we entered the paddock, cars were driving across the slightly oozing paddocks with abandon, but der Bus immediately made wheel slipping noises. I waved frantically at oblivious pedestrians to get out of the way as they held up our rapidly dissipating momentum. Till, we were stuck. Ooops. Bogged on the way in! Did not bode well. A helpful, but completely mad man started giving instructions to Mike on how to extricate ourselves, while the guy wanting to tow us out looked on with a bemused look. As the towie hooked der Bus up, the mad man realised he wasn't needed, told us Aaron Slight was out of a ride for ]next year (devastating news), and wrapped his Foggy (Carl Fogarty) flag around his shoulders and wandered off. The towie took us to the side of the paddock and we locked up and left.

We had £68 in our pockets, and the tickets cost us £66 so I was glad we had packed lunch. We found a possie on the South Bank and ate instant noodles for breakfast. The day was quite nice, with partly cloudy weather and about 16C. The track was damp however, and Slight and Edwards gambled on intermediate tyres which did not pay off. I think Slight was 13th in race 1, and Edwards got up to 4th before he came off in front of us. But the really bad part was, he got back on, and still finished well in front of Slight. Not much call for flag waving. A local, John Reynolds, won the race.

We ate lunch (leftover vege lasagne) on Anja's snow foam she left us on her last trip. The SuperSport race started. Then, we wandered around the track at this stage, as there was a smaller crowd than usual. We could see some racing from different spots and chose our spot for the next Superbike race.

We watched the Jaguar fighter display, and the Harrier jump jet (so cool!). We were in the trees for the Tornado display, but it sounded amazing. The next race Slight did a bit better as the track had dried out completely. Edwards won in fine style. I'm sure Slight saw our flag as he came past slowly in his cool down lap. I hope he gets a decent ride for next year, and makes a good fist of it.

We watched a little of the side cars from pit lane straight. The Castrol team was posing for photos as Colin Edwards had been crowned Champion on Thursday due to Haga's ban. Slight had accolades from the Brands Hatch circuit to endure (the ODT said he was peeved at being dropped).

At 4:45pm we got back to the car. We read the newspaper for a while, hoping the crowd would ease. An hour later, it was as thick as ever. We joined the queue at the front of our bonnet. 7pm we got out onto the street (A20). We were not impressed, as usual. We were going to retrace our steps back round the M25, but a huge tailback at junction 4 meant we hurtled off into Orpington and negotiated our way back through the streets of south London. We got home at 8:30 or so, after travelling 50kms in 3 hours. Just like last time.

Although we like Brands Hatch circuit, the entry and especially the exit from the track is difficult to tolerate. We might have to investigate alternatives next year.

California

We went to California for a week in early September. Our work colleague Brent was having his wedding in Santa Cruz, California, and our head office is in San Francisco, so Lloyd deemed it a worthy excursion, so long as we combined pleasure with a bit of work. Brent left a few days before us, followed by Lloyd. Olly, Mike, Dong and I went over Sep 4th. Dong had a flight about three hours before us, and decided to wait in San Fran's airport for us.

Mike woke at 4am on the 4th (an auspicious day in the Emmerson household - we moved from NZ to Australia that date in 1980), and prepared to drive Anja to her early morning flight at Stansted (just north of London). To both their horror, der Bus did not start. There was no alternative but to bundle Anja into a taxi for the expensive trip to Stansted. Anja later told us she made it with minutes to spare. I was confused when Mike rummaged around at 5:30am, not expecting him back for another hour or so from dropping Anja off. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he kept himself busy. I had no such problem, and fell asleep again.

Olly met us at Hammersmith tube, and we took the Piccadilly line out to Heathrow. We arrived about 1:50 before our departure time, and the queue was huge. Mike & Olly both posted items while we waited in the queue. Olly had to courier Charlotte's house keys back, as he had both sets. Oops.

We were nearly at the end of the queue an hour later (2 people to go) when a BAA official called us out of the queue especially. Selected for special treatment, we were a little concerned. We waited in another queue about three from the front. We appear to have been moved backwards. The enthusiastic but slightly stressed looking young man 'processed' our boarding passes, which, when we finally got to the counter, appeared to have done nothing to speed up the process. But, perhaps I was overlooking something.

We were on the plane within the hour, as per normal. The flight was Ok as we had personal screens. I can't stand flights without them now. I watched several movies ('Erin Brokonovich', some movie about a fire-fighter and time travel which was soppy but nice and 'Gone in 60 seconds' ) and the ten hours passed well enough. Arrival in San Fran was hampered by the two hour queue to get a stamp from customs. Four 747s got in at once, and the airport could not cope. We fretted about putting England on our visa waiver forms instead of UK as per the video (US immigration is notorious for being picky and making you fill out forms with no mistakes at all). But the stamp was forthcoming.

Still, we caught up with Dong, and got a taxi without any worries. Soon we were checking in to the palatial (not!) Dakota Hotel. This was clean and cheap, and very well situated to walk to the best bits of downtown San Fran. Our room had an awesome fire escape, just like the movies. We all went out to find something to eat, and Mike & I had the best Caesar Salad.

Back to the Dakota to crash in a huge heap around 9pm. Mike had been up for 25 hours straight at this stage.

We woke slowly the next morning and hunted down a breakfast place. Jasmine's was to be our breakfast haunt for the next few days. It was a few blocks away from the Dakota. I had pancakes with toast, and spread my travel tube of vegemite with great delight over the toast. Dong tried some and quite liked it. I think the others had omelettes.

Then we were off and running to Bechtel head office. Catching a taxi proved to be difficult in San Fran (maybe some native knack we don't know about), and it took a few minutes more than we were expecting. But we got there (a bit late though). Turns out the meeting was delayed as the main speaker thought it was the next day. So we pottered around Bechtel meeting people, reading up on the technology in question and eating excellent lunches till our scheduled Alcatraz tour.

3:15pm Dong and I made our way to Pier41 to pick up our tickets. The pre-paid ticket queue was short, but very slow. Not sure why as when we got to the window we got our tickets quickly. Soon after we joined the next queue, the others arrived. And we got on the ferry for the 1.5 mile trip out to the island.

The highlight is the cellhouse itself (although I fancied the cliff walk where you get to see quite a few birds in a protected area, but we didn't have time for that) and you get a headphone set with a very good tour on tape. So, we walked up the steep path and joined the queue for headphones. The cells were interesting, as some had been renovated not long before it shut as a prison in the 60s, and others were older. The solitary confinement cells were pretty awful, as they were pitch black. As time went on, the prisoners had more rights granted (library and piped music and baseball games by the end), and these were removed for punishment.

Angela at Alcatraz

One of the most interesting parts was a description of Christmas time by a child of a warden (many families lived there also). They used to sing carols to the prisoners from beyond the walls, and wish them a merry Christmas. And they would hear the replies from the men. And, there was a particular wing that was sought after as a cell. It faced the city, and although they couldn't see it, on a night when the wind blew softly from the city, the prisoners could hear voices partying on the marina. Others mentioned how you could see the Golden Gate from the mess hall, and be reminded of all they had given up.

You could look into the service area where the only successful escapees fled. They also had dummies in the cells showing how the three had fooled the guards. I wonder if any of them made it? Although it is only 1.5 miles, the currents are very strong and the water very cold. Sharks are supposed to be numerous, but the guide pamphlet said they were of a harmless type.

There were discussions on the famous criminals detained at Alcatraz during its history. Capone, the Birdman and others.

I fancied a T-shirt and mug as a souvenir, but the shop shut at 5pm, well before the boat back at 6:30pm. There were many books on the subject too. Some I think Mum would have liked.

We returned and watched the sunset over the Golden Gate. A special moment.

Dinner was next, and we ate in a pub. Most if us enjoyed the Smoke-Free law in California, that meant we could eat in a pub with no smokers able to light up. Draconian to some, enjoyable to others. New Zealand is trying to go down the same path, but it is a few years away yet. California is trying to outlaw smoking in buildings with combined dwellings. So, if you live in a building with other flats, you can't smoke in your own flat. You can only smoke in your house if it is free standing. So the Brady Bunch would be OK, but Friends would get put in jail.

While we were there, the table next to us did a runner. A woman with two children ate dinner, and then fled. We didn't see the actual escape, but the waitress was there pretty soon afterwards, and ran out the door followed by the manager. We couldn't believe this woman is teaching her children such things. I only hope she never made it obvious to the kids. I looked at them while they were eating, and the mother was vigorously attacking her T-bone steak with both hands (the reason it caught my eye), so I also hope she only did it because they were starving and couldn't afford it. Although it doesn't justify it, and the waitress will probably be docked for it (normal practice), I prefer to think that's why she did it. Funny thing is, Mike and I saw this happen once on the Gold Coast in Queensland. Also at a steak house. That red meat will drive humans mad!

Unfortunately Mike had the beginnings of a migraine at this point. So, he tracked down some Panadol, and we left the others to go back to the Dakota. Next morning, Mike's head was Ok due to the copious amount of sleep we both got. We ate at Jasmine's again. Mike & I ordered first, then Dong and Olly arrived and put their order in too. We had to be at Bechtel by 9am, so we fled the cafe at 8:45 hoping to flag down a taxi. But, we had some trouble again. We must have walked halfway to the office before we got a cab.

The meeting was on a new security protocol for web protection. We had the sales spiel from someone, and after about two hours the meeting petered out because they couldn't get a server to run the software successfully. Mike worked on his application using PC Anywhere to the London office, and I read about the new product on its website. Various bits and pieces kept us occupied until around 7pm. We went out for a drink at the local bar to chat with some people from Bechtel. I suspect much is accomplished in these places, as meetings seem to have little direction, so the only other alternative is the local bar.

Dong and I were impatient to try out the cable cars and other local attractions. But by the time I dragged Mike away, Dong had disappeared. So, Mike & I rode our first cable car up to the street above the Dakota. We had a dag of a driver, who clanged his bell with vigour, and a tune. We sat on the outside, and eventually had a couple of people standing in front of us just like the movies! When we got off at the top, dinner wasn't really an option. Anyway, Jasmine's just before we left to pick up the rental car meant we would be able to fill up in eight hours.

We got up early, as we were keen to be away before 8:30am. We collected Dong on the way, as Olly was meeting Lloyd for another meeting, then hiring a car. So, we three ate at Jasmine's. Then, we got into the queue at Alamo. Mike collected a Chrysler Sering convertible and we left. We took a few wrong turns every now and then before settling down on the freeway south. We headed towards San Jose, where Silicon Valley is located, but peeled off onto Highway 1 down the coast. There was a Redwood forest along the way I wanted to see, but when we got there, it was only reachable on foot as the road was closed. And it was a few kilometres inland. So, we made do with an excursion inland a little further down the road, and checked out the trees along the side of the road. They were impressive, but I still need to see a wilderness stretching away filled with them to be happy. I have visions of Return of the Jedi where it was filmed in redwood forests here somewhere. Maybe next time.

We fell into Santa Cruz after about 1.5 hours driving from San Fran. We had no idea where our hotel was, so we parked on the main street hoping to sort things out. As we did so, Brent ran to the car parked behind us. He had just got a ticket. Then we realised how little Santa Cruz must be, if we parked in the park just in front of his car. He was trying to sort out clothes for the wedding party. We found out the hen night and stag nights were planned for that evening, starting at 2pm on the beach outside our hotel. We got directions from him on how to find the hotel, and we were off again.

We found the hotel, right next to a construction zone. Very pleasant. And the manager was a complete clown. I couldn't believe how he wouldn't listen to Mike's reasoning, as we were a day late in arriving compared to our original booking. However, we had rang the required 24 hrs before to cancel, and to say we wanted more nights to stay. But, he wouldn't listen to our explanation, and he had our booking wrong anyway. He seemed to be under the impression he could have sold our room last night for $200. But, as he had had ample warning, why hadn't he? Could it have something to do with the construction site outside? So, we paid for the night we didn't have, and only booked one more night for me and Mike. So, total he was getting - 2 nights. Santa Cruz is overrun with hotels according to our Lonely Planet, so I didn't think there would be a problem getting somewhere else, without steamrollers out the front.

We found our room, and thought we'd wait for Olly & Lloyd to arrive before finding accommodation for the rest of the stay. Next, the manager rang our room. Seems he had found the correct booking for another three nights, and would we want them. No, we said, as he had just told us we only had one more night booked. But Mike went to talk to him again. This time he listened. It seemed when he was ready to listen he realised our three nights, plus Dong & Olly's 3 nights, plus Lloyds 3 nights meant it made sense for him to keep our business. Getting 9 nights instead of 2. Clown! But, Mike said the good cop/bad cop routine worked really well. We even got the kitchen opened up for us (normally extra - whoopee! - we never used it).

Santa Cruz is where the film 'The Lost Boys' was filmed. It looked pretty similar. There is an awesome boardwalk along the beach, where Jason Patric's character met Star the first time. Mike & I were keen to try the rollercoaster, but we couldn't figure out opening hours. When we were ready, it was shut. When we were busy, it was open. The bridge the vampires all drop off is just beyond the boardwalk. It is only about 3 m high, unlike the huge drop depicted in the movie. Mike walked along it.

So, we wandered down to the beach. It was lovely and warm. Mike found me some sunscreen, but I ended up with a nose like Rudolph anyway. Olly & Lloyd arrived, dressed for the beach. Later, we adjourned to a bar for a few drinks before getting ready for the hen party/stag do. Some Malibu fruit girls came by with a guy inside a plastic Malibu bottle. We won some T-shirts, and drink bottles by answering silly questions. But, we use the drink bottle every day at squash, so we have a little reminder of Santa Cruz sunshine in the colder wintery weather. When are we going back??

In the evening, I waited outside the hotel for some cars to pick me up for the hen party. Mike wandered off with the boys for the start of the stag do. All the girls went to Meagan's friend's house, and we ate nibblies while Meagan unwrapped her presents. A nice touch (American tradition?) was each ribbon around a gift was combined into a bouquet, and that is what is thrown at the reception. There was also a tradition of the number of ribbons broken during the unwrapping equating to the number of children. Meagan managed to break two (I think it was carefully planned).

After the cake (yummo!), we all piled into cars and went to the Mexican bar where the stag do started. Funnily enough, the fruity Malibu girls arrived. By this stage, the guy in the bottle had figured out how to negotiate low doorways. I watched him reach up and grab the top of his bottle, and pull it down into the neck. He had been somewhat hindered at the beachside bar earlier on in the evening. No longer! Meagan had to perform dares that had been written out by her friends and family at home. It was very entertaining.

I left with Brent's Grandma, and another woman all staying at the same hotel as us. Mike turned up at some stage during the wee hours (not too late).

Next morning, the fog was blanketing the bay. We found a good breakfast place along the beach road, where I had a good Eggs Benedict. Eventually Mike felt human enough to begin our travel plans. My Mum has always talked about the coast road in northern California - especially travelling down the Big Sur. This stretch of road was just south of Santa Cruz, and high on my list of things to do while I was here. Mike and I did some quick scouting for wedding gifts, just to check what was available. This meant we checked out the next town, called Capitola. It was a version of Santa Cruz for the retired. Very quiet, with gorgeous handcraft shops. I had a ball wandering around pretending to look for wedding gifts. Funnily enough, I bought presents for myself. How on earth did that happen? There was a huge flock of seabirds wheeling around in the bay. There must have been a big school of fish attracting them.

Continuing the trip, we headed south past Monterey and Carmel-by-the-Sea (yes, where Clint was mayor). Unfortunately we didn't have time to look at all these places. The object of the day being the drive. The coast road was fantastic, and although we had a convertible, I found myself wishing for a motorcycle. The road was built for it - or, as Mike pointed out, the 'Pacific Coast' (a huge road bike) was made for this road!

Mike at Big Sur

I was pleased to cross the famous span of Bixby Bridge. It is a huge concrete span, and very picturesque. I've seen it in many pictures. Highway 1 is fairly recent - it was built using prison labour in the 20s and 30s. All of the bridges are concrete, and mostly purely functional (a bit like a New Zealand bridge - it gets you across, what more do you want from it?). But every one has a plaque signifying that it is a historic bridge. I guess it is just forethought on the part of the builders. As they are all first bridges, they are historic. Even if they still look pretty new, and a bit boring (apart from Bixby of course). Bixby crosses a chasm that until the 1930s meant drivers had to divert inland for about 30 miles. This meant there was a convenient viewpoint where I could video Mike driving across Bixby Bridge. He did look gorgeous!

After Bixby Bridge, we came to the Big Sur National park, where we had a quick look at some redwoods. Then, we turned around and drove back. It was dark by the time we got back into Santa Cruz.

Saturday was the big day. We had breakfast at some girl's house the guys met the night before. When we got there, there was an Aussie boy there. He had been travelling for about three months and mentioned he was keen for some vegemite. Then the American girls said they would like to try some. So, I suggested they could. I pulled the vegemite out of my bag, trying to look like everyone travels with tubes of vegemite. We cooked up some toast, and the vegemite did the rounds. It was a hit with some, and a miss with others, as vegemite is liable to do. The verdict - salty! I was happy to have vegemite on toast for breakfast. The Aussie guy was a bit unsure of how it would compare, as my vegemite was made in Auckland. But, he scoffed his bit down.

We left there, and went for brunch. Why, after such an awesome breakfast? Well, I only got a piece of toast and a bowl of fruit salad, and I was still hungry - so imagine Mike's stomach! We ate at the good breakfast place on the beach road.

This meant a late start to wedding gift shopping, but Olly, Mike & I tackled it. We wandered into shops all up Santa Cruz's main street. And it was very good shopping. The shops had a lot of specialty goods. We got Meagan & Brent a wooden salad bowl. Walking back we discovered the school bus scheduled to take us to the wedding was waiting already. Mike & I jumped into the room to get changed, and within ten minutes we were getting on the bus - looking mostly respectable.

It was cool to ride in an American school bus. Such a good idea. Although Lloyd said it brought back unhappy school memories for him! I just thought of the Simpsons! And the bus driver was cool. He was going to come back later on after the reception and take us back again.

The place where the wedding and reception was held was called Highlands Park in the hills surrounding Santa Cruz. An old house was set amongst the trees, where tables and chairs were set out. We all took our seats, and waited for Meagan's entrance. There was bubble mixture for the guests to use, and fans to keep cool (I was glad I had bought a hat in Santa Cruz!). The flower girl arrived throwing petals (or I think she threw a clump out at the end!), then Meagan came out with her dad. She looked lovely. A perfect dress for the summery weather. Brent sang a song he had composed for her. Their vows were good - Meagan had prepared a lovely set about how life was great with Brent and so on, and Brent said Meagan was the coolest girl he knew! Perfect! Watching the video later, I found I had missed the vows!

The reception was good, with an excellent meal prepared by friends and family (I didn't realise that at the time - I thought it was catered). I even had a wee tear in my eye during some of the speeches. We were sitting with an Australian woman that had been in the States for about 15 years. We didn't pick her accent at first, only hearing the American burr. But, when she mentioned it, we could pick the Aussie accent.

I moved inside when the mossies started biting. The music was good. I chatted to two of Brent's great aunties from Canada for a long time. We ate the cake, and I managed to get Dong to video Brent taking the garter off Meagan (I couldn't see past the throng of guys!!), so we watched that. After the bouquet throwing, we cleaned up the house and all piled into the school bus.

The trip back into town was funny, as people had consumed vast amounts of alcohol by this stage (as I could tell from dancing technique at the reception). Meagan was trying to keep them under control, so we did not attract attention from the police. It worked. I hopped off at the hotel, and the bus continued to a few bars.

Sunday was a late rise. There was a picnic organised on the beach just a few minutes up the road. It was the best beach BBQ I've been to. Heaps of food (yummy salsa dip that Brent's great aunties said wasn't as good as theirs - I need their recipe!), with the highlight being barbequed salmon. Cooked perfectly.

It was sad to leave everyone enjoying themselves, but we were heading back to San Fran to avoid the early rise the next day and rush hour traffic commuting into San Fran. We arrived at the Dakota a little before Olly and Dong (they had dropped off Lloyd at his hotel) after losing sight of Olly in his red Mustang convertible (yes, Mike was jealous) on the curves heading out of Santa Cruz. We all squeezed into the Mustang for a trip to see Lombard Street (the world's crookedest street) and the Golden Gate. At around midnight, the Golden Gate was shrouded in the ever-present fog. The sound of foghorns pierced the night as we hurtled across the bridge. We were dripped on by the Golden Gate! Our experience of San Fran must be complete now!

Next day was spent wandering around the city. I wanted to walk around Pacific Heights which was spared the devastating fire in 1906 (following the Big One - an earthquake that destroyed huge portions of the city!). It meant this suburb still had many original buildings.
By the time we had come back to sea level, we were trying to flag down a taxi to meet Dong in Chinatown for Yum Cha. But, as we had found earlier in the week, taxis are elusive. We ended up walking for an hour back to Chinatown. By that time, we had missed Dong, and Mike was rueing not renting a cellphone.

Mike overlooking Golden Gate Bridge

Mike & I ate Yum Cha anyway, as I was starving from the unexpected walk back. We went back to collect our things from the Dakota - left a note for Ding explaining what had happened - and went to pick up Olly from Bechtel.

By this stage we were running a little late. So, we chucked Olly out at the airport with all our bags and drove off looking for the rental car drop off area. It was easy to find, and we got a shuttlebus back to the airport easily. Olly was at the check-in counter with our bags as they couldn't check through our luggage without us being there (very sensible and expected).

But, we checked in fine (although we weren't sitting together), and waited as our flight was slightly delayed. But, soon we were taking off and flying back to London. We tried to sleep, but it was fitful at best (no neck pillow!). We got into Heathrow around lunchtime Tuesday, and Olly went straight to work. I went home to sort my life out. I slept well that night.

When we got back into Britain, we noticed that there was a petrol dispute, and hardly any traffic on the roads. Quite nice for pedestrians. Turns out the lorry drivers were grumpy about the tax hikes on petrol, and took matters into their own hands. We got the AA out to look at der Bus, and he fixed it straight away. Apparently Volkswagens can lose petrol out of the carby through evaporation, which means there is nothing to suck more petrol through. So, we were able to use up our dodgy French petrol left over from Normandy (Mike thinks the French stuff has higher volatiles or something that caused the evaporation - it certainly wasn't unusually hot or anything!).

So, Mike and I have decided that when we retire early (maybe around mid fifties) we will buy a RV (that dreaded scourge of the American highways) and return to drive leisurely around California. It was the sort of place we could both live in very easily. Nice people, lovely scenery (and we didn't even see Yosemite or Joshua Tree - other famous scenic places in California), very nice weather, good roads. So many things we didn't get done even in this wee corner of California.

Just time in London

Well, last weekend we had some fun and games. We needed to go to the doctors on Saturday morning to pick up a regular prescription. As the doctors here live a life of leisure, I cannot see one without taking time off work - twice! Once to register (if I can find one willing to take me on their books), and one more to see the actual doctor. So, there is a chain of medical centres at train stations around London, and we figured we could see one there easily enough, as you pay money rather than the NHS paying for it.

11am we were there, and I filled in the forms, and waited with Mike in the waiting room. Soon enough, the doctor came asking for Mrs Gilbert. I kept reading my paper. He said it again. I remembered that was me. Got up, spoke to him for five minutes and we left to get my prescription. Easy.

We had to be in Wimbledon for 12:30 lunch with a colleague of Mike's. We thought we'd be running close, but only by five minutes (perfectly fashionable). However, when we got to Parsons Green on the District tube line, we had to switch to a bus replacement service as there were engineering works between there and Wimbledon. An hour later we got to Wimbledon. And it is only a ten minute sort of distance.

We still got lunch anyway. Mike had plans to then join a Monopoly pub crawl - starting at Old Kent Road and ending in Mayfair with half a pint in each pub. His friend from Dunedin, Brent McMillan, was organising it, and Mike had thought about doing it last year some time. I'm more interested in doing some more organised walks. We did a Jack the Ripper one when we first came to London, and it was very enjoyable. I would like to try a Fire of London walk - see where it started, what change it made to buildings and stuff like that. Now, before you all think I'm very morbid (what, with serial killers and huge fires - actually I wonder if there is a Black Death walk????), these are just some historical highlights. I have also seen some historical sites with pleasant associations. Hampton Court, Tower of London. Hmmmm... Perhaps London just has a violent history. It is a huge melting pot of people after all, and has been for some time.

We had a lovely lunch that took us through to around 5pm. We took the train back to Waterloo to try and avoid the bus trip back to Parsons Green. Had a nice chat to an older retired couple in the queue to get me an extension into the Zone 1 of the train system. We chatted about New Zealand (they had noticed either our accents or our T-shirts). As we were passing close to Simon Haley's house, we rang him and I ended up dropping in to say hello. Originally it was just for coffee, but we ended up staying for dinner, and Mike arrived after a visit to two pubs only. The original starters were well on their way to drunken stupor, so Mike felt a bit out of it.

By the time we got home just past midnight, we both felt like a good sleep in the next morning. Unfortunately we had planned to go to Neath in South Wales (and call in on Jennie & Stephen) to watch a trials competition. Which meant a 6am start! Needless to say, that idea was scrapped!

So, a nice slow start to the day, which picked up when we realised it was a Superbike round weekend. So we watched the first round and then switched to the Formula 1 at Monaco. Inbetween, I went to check on the dishes I was washing, and smacked my wee toe on my right foot into the couch near the kitchen door. I writhed around in a bit of agony while Mike spoke to Richard & Theresa, and tried to comfort me at the same time. Then we put ice on it after it did not stop hurting. Two hours Mike insisted I have an icepack on my wee toe.

By evening, I could say that the motor racing was good. (Slight had a good result, and Coulthard won the F1.) The toe was not. Mike kept on saying we should go to A&E. I said it was only bruised.

Next morning it was a real struggle to walk the eight minutes to the tube station. I decided a trip to A&E was not such a silly idea after all. So, Mike & I organised that he would drive der Bus to the tube station after work, and I would hop in and we'd go to our local hospital. I had to go into town to meet with my accountants to be, so I got to Hammersmith tube station just before 6pm. It was peak hour traffic around the 'Roundabout of Dodgems', and we could count the number of times we have driven around this roundabout on two hands (not very much anyway). As the traffic was virtually stationary, it did not pose much of a problem for us. I waited at a convenient place, and hopped into der Bus as Mike pulled up. As we sat waiting to edge slowly into the main roundabout traffic, a brand new BMW 3 series hit our back bumper. He was trying to change lanes from behind us to the next lane, and judged it too fine. Mike jumped out, and we had suffered no damage (well, we do have huge steel bumpers back there, and he did hit us with nice soft door panels). He couldn't see a problem with the Beemer, and that driver (a man in his late fifties I'd say) never even got out to check his car. Incredible! As he drove past, I told him I could see no damage. Unfortunately as he moved further ahead I could see I had been checking the passenger door, and he had rippled the back door. Hopefully he won't be too cross when he sees it later. From his behaviour, I think it was probably a company car, as he didn't seem too concerned.

We got around the roundabout eventually, and travelled about 500m down the next road before we got to the hospital. mike had purposely not told me how close the place was as he knew I would try and walk there. We were in for the long haul, and after an initial check on how urgent my case was (not very- my foot was in no danger of falling off), we settled in for the wait to be seen. Mike was excited (strangely) when I told him the nurse had found a code in the computer for Stubbed Little Toe. Muttered something about some RHA codes or something. Sad. Well, we were prepared for the wait with books and the like. Mike even said at the end of the wait that it was the most relaxing evening he's had in a long time. Three and a half hours after getting there, after a X-ray (the highlight of my visit) they put the equivalent of a Band-Aid on my little toe. Ok, they told me there was a crack in it, but they may have been humouring me after waiting for three and a half hours. They also said the treatment would be the same for a broken toe as well, but I imagine the so called 'strapping' for a broken toe would have been more impressive than the thirty second bandaging I got from the nurse. Judging from the sloppy job, I thought they may have got the cleaner to do a bit of bandaging.

Anyhow, here I am on Friday evening (still at work - running a long tedious process) and my toe is not very swollen anymore, and I have taken the pathetic Band-Aid off. It still twinges from time to time, but I should be able to play squash in another week or so.

So, this weekend I need to come in and work on Sunday. Saturday will be a day of shopping for someone's birthday soon. That'll be nice.

Copenhagen

Friday 18th August, and we were off to Copenhagen, finally. Karen & Mike have lived there for the past 18 months or so, and we still hadn't visited them, despite it being high on our list of things to do. So, when Karen & Mike visited us in June, we booked flights to see them during this weekend. The only weekend they were free, and we were at a loose end.

Soon after they left us in June, they announced their engagement, so we also had to congratulate them, and find out how long Mike knew he was going to pop the question and other details.

Our flight was with SAS (Scandinavian Airline) and we thought it was very good. We arrived in Copenhagen after just over an hour and, being early, we sat and waited for Mike & Karen. After a short while, Mike arrived, minus Karen, who was stranded in the US on a business trip. So, Mike played the perfect host, and guided us back to their apartment on the excellent train service.

Karen & Mike's apartment was great. So spacious compared to our flat. They have a cool Ikea pull-out sofa in the lounge, so we were very comfortable. After chatting for a while, and having a nice cup of tea, we slept around 1am.

Next morning, I ventured into the bathroom for a shower. Little was I to know, that I would have been better off staying dirty for the weekend. I turned the shower on, and noticed the stream of water hitting the end wall where it threatened to trickle down to the floor, so I redirected the nozzle to go straight down. I put my clean clothes down on the ground, and my towel on a shelf, and gaily threw my PJs onto the floor as I got into the shower.

After a very nice shower, where I vaguely noticed a bit of water backing up in the bottom of the bath, I drew back the shower curtain and started to step out. I stopped, as I thought I had water in my eyes because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was sure my pyjamas were moving! Rubbed my eyes. Yep - they were floating over a considerably amount of water. My clothes for the day had sunk already. Panic! We were on the 5th floor after all!

I yelled for Mike, and grabbed my towel. He opened the door (the right Mike fortunately) to see what the problem was (he was thinking I had left an item of apparel behind). It didn't take him long to assess the situation. He grabbed a pile of towels from the washing basket and flung them in the water. They were absorbed without a trace. About this time he called for Mike, shouting that there had been a flood.

Mike thought that it was the trickle sometimes caused by the shower hitting the back wall, but was he in for a shock when he stepped in! Out came the cleaning products, out went the carpet. Out I went! The two Mikes mopped and I dried off my underwear and got dressed. A bit sheepish!

Fortunately it wasn't my fault. Mike pulled back the drain grating in the bathroom floor, and stuck a wire clothes hangar down there. Out came a big wad of hair and gunge. Certainly not all from my head, else I'd be bald! I just happened to be in the shower when it blocked. Obviously the bathroom was designed for this time of emergency, as it was a sealed floor, and no complaints were had from the neighbours below. However, the neighbour 2 floors down rang to complain, but it turns out she was complaining about the carpet dripping from the balcony onto her pot plants. Mike assured her it was clean water (!!) but moved the carpet anyway. Everything was hung out to dry on the clothes rack.

Breakfast went a long way to comforting me. Mike had got Danish pastries (real ones!) and a walnut bread loaf from the local bakery and introduced me to the delights of chocolate slices on bread. A delicacy from Denmark. We even bought some from the supermarket to take back to London. Wafer thin chocolate slices plonked on bread. Although Mike did spoil it with putting jam on his piece too. I went for the pure unadulterated chocolate option. Not even butter! Yummo!

Soon after this, Karen arrived. So, we chatted some more, and eventually agreed on meeting for lunch after Karen had showered. So, Mike took us on tour through a castle just opposite their flat, and on to see the Little Mermaid.  It is about ten minutes from their house. Little is very apt. But I was pleased to see it, as I identify it with Copenhagen. I felt I could go home from that point having seen all that I know of Copenhagen (not expecting to go to the Bohr Institute at all on this trip).

Rubber Chicken meets Little Mermaid

We wandered along the harbour and eventually got to Nyhavn where many a cafe and restaurant can be found. No. 17 seemed to be the consensus, and Karen got there soon after us. We ordered, and I ate traditional pickled herring, liver paste and some potato concoction. It was perfectly edible, but I didn't get the recipe. I'm not planning on preparing any Danish evenings for Mike back in London. I'm going to stick to the chocolate slice on bread for breakfast.

The other thing on my list of things to do was to buy another pepper mill. Karen & Mike had given us one as an engagement present back in London last year, but it was one of the things stolen from der Bus in Luton. So I wanted to replace it. We scoured stores to no avail ( I have since got one the same from a shop in Santa Cruz, California - Peugeot mechanism and all) but had fun looking.

An important thing to get done today was to watch the All Blacks play South Africa in the Tri Nations. So we found a pub that had too many South Africans for my liking. It was a very exciting game - one of the best. But, New Zealand lost in the dying seconds and put us in the unusual position of wanting South Africa to beat Australia in the last game. This would give the Tri Nations to the most deserving team - New Zealand. Where all rugby trophies belong. We met some rugby mad Danes (didn't know they existed!), and some pleasant South Africans amid the rabble.

To forget our sorrows we went to Tivoli - an old-fashioned amusement park in the middle of Copenhagen. I thoroughly recommend this as a highlight. Mike and Mike decided they would ride the Big Drop (I don't know what its real name was - you get raised up 50 m or so, and then dropped suddenly. Looked awful!). Karen & I positioned ourselves for a good view of their faces on the way down. It was quite amusing. Their faces screwed up a bit, but the really funny thing was both their legs went straight out from their seats. So, although they both said it was a cruise, Karen & I had seen their bodies belie their bravado. That's our version of events, and we're sticking to it.

There are some nice restaurants at Tivoli, so we picked an average priced one, and queued for a bit to get in. Mike & I had venison and loved it. Dessert was pretty good too.

Just before midnight on Saturday night, there are fireworks at Tivoli. So, we found a good spot and watched them. The wind was blowing the wrong way, and we all got showered with soot particles and exploded fireworks. Not to mention obscured by the smoke. A few smuts in the eye later, it was all over. We rounded off the evening with a few arcade games of the best sort. A game where you put rubber frogs onto a plate, and whack the end with a huge mallet, sending the frog through the air hopefully to land on a lily pad. Another where a water pistol is used to hit targets which gradually inflate a ballooon - winner is the one that pops it first. Very enjoyable evening.

We got home late, and crashed pretty soon. Although I picked up a book of Karen's to read which was to be our undoing later.

Sunday was relaxing. We toured a bit more of the city, seeing the palace and the marble church. We spent a few hours in the Nation Museum, checking out the Danish section with great interest. There were runes, coffins, skulls with holes drilled in for surgical procedures (and evidence they lived to tell about it too), viking ships, weapons and all sorts of clothes. There were plenty of artefacts from medieval Denmark too, and a good Greenlandic section. A very good museum. I gauge all museums from Dunedin's fantastic museum, and this one rated pretty high. After this, we visited the Round Tower, which was an observatory built for a king.
He was so lazy, the tower had access for a horse and carriage almost to the top. Now there is an art exhibit at the top. Very odd too, it was. Paper shapes at around 20,000 dollars each (some as cheap as 1000, others 100k). Not quite my cup of tea. Kinda hard to imagine it as anyone's cup of tea, really. Imagine it as the kind of thing where if you bought a new house, and this paper contraption was in a room, you'd pull it down thinking the previous owners had some bored kids. That, or an origami master run amok.

Mike and Mike at Round Tower

Back to Karen & Mike's flat for dinner. Mike cooked an awesome salmon and potato dinner and it was fantastic. Mike & I decided to see the Viking boat museum at RossKilde (oops, I can't spell it, and my attempt doesn't look Nordic enough) on Monday. We whiled away the hours chatting some more, before reading the book till the wee hours.

Woke up after Mike & Karen had left for work. Started reading the book. Kept reading the book. Told Mike to have the first shower, but kept reading the book. RossKilde plans vanished as the morning passed - and Mike still hadn't showered! With the book finished, I showered and we reassessed our options for the day. Some shopping was decided upon, along with a photo shoot of the rubber chicken with the Little Mermaid.

We met an old Danish lady in Mike & Karen's lobby, and she muttered some Danish at us and gestured wildly at a dwindling pile of Ikea catalogues. As we crept up quietly to her I'm pleased I did not utter my single word of Danish in greeting ('Hey' was what I thought was Danish for 'Hello', but turns out that was Swedish. Apparently hello in Danish is 'Hi'.). We smiled, and let her ruffle the pile a bit. Maybe she was saying how the Swedes are taking over Denmark and no good will come of it. The Danes being a bit anti-Swedish by all accounts. Lucky I didn't greet her in my flawless Swedish then!

Next stop - dodging the tourists at the Little Mermaid for that rubber chicken photo. I waited for a pause in the frantic posing, and grabbed my chance. I held the rubber chicken aloft in front of the Little Mermaid, and Mike took video footage and photos. Then, a woman started waffling away to me in a Nordic language of some description. It did sound awfully like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. I wondered if I was offending Danish sensibilities holding a rubber chicken in front of the number one icon of the country. I did not need to worry. She merely wanted to poke the chicken - I think she wondered if it was real. Maybe petrified chicken - a long lost Danish viking recipe. Her friend behind mimicked biting the chickens head off. The Scandinavians have strange eating habits (remember Mike's huge slab of rams testicles in Iceland, and the whiff of petrified shark we got - not for us though - reserved for special festivities. Thank goodness!).

We bought a present for Karen & Mike to celebrate their engagement, and wandered back aimlessly (although Mike swears he knew exactly where he was going) through parks. Mike & Karen arrived to see us off at around 5pm. We promised to see RossKilde next time.

We had nice weather, and we enjoyed seeing how Karen & Mike live in Denmark. We've still got a few Scandinavian countries to explore (with Norway, Sweden and Finland being high on the list), and will no doubt tackle them soon. Denmark was surprisingly un-foreign, with the two old ladies on our last day being the only ones with no English that we encountered (although our stunned mullet expressions might have indicated to them that we only spoke Swahili, and they were fluent in English). If it weren't for pickled herring, we could have been in England. I'm sure living there presents its own unique problems that we were unaware of (Mike touched briefly on a strange tax system), but for English-speaking tourists it is very easy to get around.

Normandy Beaches

This weekend was a trip to Normandy (in French - Normandie). Grant and Greg came along, and we planned to storm the WWII beaches in a frenzy of tourist activity. It did not start well, with a departure from Honda at 4:30pm (Junction 5 of the M4 motorway) on Friday afternoon, planning on arrival at the HoverSpeed terminal in Dover at 6:30pm. Unfortunately, the M25 was bumper to bumper, and we arrived at the terminal around 7:30pm, after touring Folkestone looking for petrol. Turns out we just missed the sailing by ten minutes as it had been delayed. So, we sat in the StandBy queue, chatting to two Germans desperate to get home after a sunless summer holiday in Scotland. We finally got on the final sailing of the evening at 10pm (it was a SeaCat instead of the HoverCraft) and found ourselves in Calais, all ready for a three hour drive to the F1 in Rouen. Yep, we got into Rouen at 3am, found the F1 and crashed.

Next morning we drove to the beaches starting at Sword Beach. Unfortunately we were in a French traffic jam for a good portion of the morning. The weekend continuing as it began. But, the museums kept us entertained and informed when we got there. Hordes of tourists (esp. Americans) were doing the same thing. Sword Beach was packed with lcoals and tourists sunning themselves and swimming. Grant did not get a true feel for the war effort from this pleasant beach. Too hot and too crowded. We tasted icecreams (this was before Grant had become a McFlurry addict) and ate ham and cheese baguettes. Mike drummed up a room for us in Cherbourg (at the tip of the peninsula) after going through most of the accommodation in the town. Lucky last. We drove past several other beaches in the direction of Cherbourg and dinner.

One of the most important sites was at Arromanches. Here we could see the surviving concrete caissons from the hilltop overlooking the area. The Allies had towed huge concrete blocks here from England and set up a temporary harbour to unload soldiers, machines and supplies. This was one of two sites this was tried, but one was destroyed soon afterwards by a big storm in the Channel. Here at Arromanches you can still see the one that survived for a few months. One concrete caisson is washed up on the beach at Arromanches and you can walk to it at low tide. So we did. And it was huge. It still had bollards on the top side for tying ships up alongside, even though they were rusted and seaweed encrusted.

The museum here is one of the best and we spent about an hour looking at many relics from the war. We may have spent more time, but there was a bagpiper playing inside and it was a bit deafening. I love the pipes, but they are best outside (or at least in a huge hall - not a small museum where you can't escape).

The hotel in Cherbourg was one room with a double bed and two single beds. We made a pact not to use the toilet as there was only a shower curtain separating it from the main room. We waited for Grant to shower and get ready, then we went out to find dinner. We found a quiet restaurant just off the main streets, and I had a nice confit of duck (same as Mike). Very yum! The conversation at dinner was deep, and Grant & I wandered back to the room afterwards and left Mike & Greg to continue their discussion over some beers.

Mike & Greg ventured home around 3am after a few drinks. Greg leapt onto Grant's bed to close the curtains, but apart from that everyone was sleeping like babes in a few minutes. Waking was a bit more difficult. We had McDonalds for breakfast, just to check that Cherbourg Maccas was the same standard as other places. Then it was back to attack the beaches from the opposite end. First up - Juno. They had an excellent museum there, and we went down to the beach which was a bit more deserted than Sword Beach.

Next, Point De Hoc where the rangers had to scale the cliffs to get at German gun emplacements. They lost a lot of men in the battle, but won in the end. Only to discover that the Germans had moved the guns already. I appreciated this site, as the holes made by bombardment were still visible and it meant the visual impact of the craters left more of an impression in your mind of the senselessness of war. Perhaps even more so than rows of crisp, clean, white marble crosses at the American cemetery we were about to visit. The reminder of how much damage can be done with a bomb is a necessary part of a war memorial. I'm not sure though, how much of a deterrent it is to those in power, as wars seem to go on regardless. Still, seeing these sorts of places makes me remember my country's sacrifice of its young men.

On to Omaha beach, shown in graphic detail at the start of Saving Private Ryan (although that was filmed on a beach in Ireland). This is where the American cemetery is also located, with the 9000-odd crosses I mentioned above. It is a lovely memorial site, with peaceful gardens and a lookout over the beach. There were many Americans here, no doubt here due to the exposure of an Oscar winning film. However, anything that gets this sort of place in the public mind is worth it. This beach unfortunately cost a lot of lives, as it was not as gently sloping as other beaches, and I believe the general in charge made some miscalculations which lead to a loss of backup tanks.

We decided to stay in Amiens this night, which we thought would be 1.5 hours drive away. This would leave us close to the Somme and the site of the WWI trenches. As New Zealand had been involved in this battle, we hoped to find memorials that would bring all the fighting closer to home, and more personal. We booked into another F1 (the worst one we have stayed at yet), but unfortunately it took us closer to 4 hours to drive there. I was hindered somewhat by not knowing the scale of the map I was using to navigate. It meant we got to the F1 at 1am, and we were all a bit worse for the wear (how we had found it was another surprise). I was surprised to see sheets piled up in the hallways when we trucked our pack up to our floor. It was an omen of poor management.

Next morning, I couldn't get a shower as several were broken on our floor. And then when we went down for our pre-paid breakfast, there was no bread and no jam. So, after complaining bitterly (well, I couldn't in French, but Mike did well, especially with the help of another slightly disgruntled Frenchman) we got our money back and we piled our luggage in der Bus and left. After Mike accosted an innocent Frenchman walking home with his armful of baguettes and got details of where he had bought his bread (Mike had shouted out of der Bus in his best French - "What shop did you get your bread from?" to which the Frenchman replied in perfectly passable English, directions leading back past the village town hall, turn left, turn right...."), we found a supermarket (although I suspect it was not where our innocent Frenchman had come from - but it served us OK). In fact, better than OK, as it cost us 20 F less than a breakfast at the F1, and we had juice, grapes, brie, baguette. Very nice.

Now we were off to look at the Somme. This was the Western Front, and nearly 1 million people died here. We had the New Zealand memorial on our list, but there were a few other points of interest to see along the way. First stop was the 'le Grand Mine' - a huge crater left by tunnelling Allies as they burrowed under German trenches and laid explosives to blow them up. Mike had to ask directions from an old local, who was pleased to have someone to chat to. He asked Mike if he was English, and said Mike spoke very good French when Mike told him we were from New Zealand. Mike had got into the French swing of things by this stage and was able to waffle away quite well to him. With our updated directions, we found the crater. The explosion was heard in London, and the resulting crater is huge. There were less crowds here, and we had the place to ourselves for the first few minutes.

Next stop was the memorial to Newfoundland soldiers. The reason we wanted to see this site was that it remained as it was when fighting finished (apart from grass now growing where I suspect only mud could be found during the crucial years). Trenches wound their way all over the place, and I was surprised to see that they zigzagged when I had visions of straight rows. But it makes sense to zigzag them, because you can defend corners, and shrapnel won't go around them.

Next, we found the British memorial. It was a very impressive monument, with 70,000 names of missing Brits written on the walls. 70,000 they couldn't find. Grant found a couple of Holdoms there in the register. I found a S Emmerson on the wall. Quite sobering to see so many names, and know that they had just disappeared in fighting, buried under mud or blown away without a trace.

After that, the plain, simple New Zealand memorial was touching. And we found the name of the cemetery where New Zealanders were buried here in France on the other side of the world, on an information board outlining the New Zealand campaign in the region. So, we went to Caterpillar Valley cemetery, where caterpillars fall out of the trees (and they were huge things, not to be messed with, as evidenced by Grant's yell of surprise when a big juicy one fell on his arm and then twitched violently (the caterpillar not Grant, although perhaps it is an accurate description of them both)). There were names from the Otago and Canterbury regiments on the walls, and headstones to many New Zealand soldiers only identified by their uniform ('Known only to God').

I think we all came away with a certain amount of pride in the way young New Zealanders had fought so far from home. To think that we (the equivalent of great grandchildren in the generations between us and them) could visit beautiful France, talk to locals, eat, drink and stay in the hotels, only because of their sacrifice. Such a notion must have been so far from their minds when they were fighting on the Somme. And so many of them never left. It was so sad standing there, reading their names. Wondering if anyone was left alive that thought about them, or if anyone had visited the place where a loved one was buried. Back then, it wasn't an easy matter to come to France from New Zealand to visit a grave.

Time to get back on the road and head for an hour up to Calais. We made the ferry crossing with only 4 hours to spare (we had learnt our lesson). Enough time to explore Cite Europe (a big shopping mall) and get as much cheap French petrol into der Bus as we could (yes, Mike got ten pounds in at a squash, even though it took us 30 minutes in the petrol station queue).

On home soil by 8:30pm English time (we managed to get a hour earlier ferry crossing), and in bed by midnight (after dropping Greg and Grant off we ran into multiple roadworks in west London!!). A very good weekend indeed.

Brands Hatch SBK 2000

This weekend was a Superbike round at Brands Hatch. This is an awesome track just south of London - by the M25 motorway. The only problem is access, and you can read about fun and games exiting the circuit later. Richard and Theresa arrived on Friday night as their flat had been cleaned out by the movers ready for the shift back to NZ. One-Ear was a bit suss of this new flat. She slinked out of her cage with the lowest belly I have ever seen. I'm surprised she could walk with her legs that bent. She hid behind the table well out of sight. This was her haunt for about a week whenever Theresa and Richard weren't around. But, she came out Friday night when we were all asleep, as I woke up and heard her breathing in my ear. Theresa and Richard returned to their flat Saturday to clean it from top to toe. Sunday, we left quite early, but it was still a long queue to get into the Brands Hatch ground. We stocked up on McDonald's breakfast before joining the car queue, so we had enough sustenance to make it through the crowds.

As it was a gorgeous day, there was a huge crowd, and rumours Fogarty might not race again, but would have a few laps here, meant people were here just in case it was the last time to see him on a Superbike. We found a patch of ground on the opposite side of the track, and settled down to watch a good days racing and munch our way through food (we had a disposable BBQ which was very nice). Aaron Slight didn't have his best day out, and came off in the second race. Bit of a disappointment.

Leaving the circuit afterwards became a bit of a mission. It took us nearly two hours to get out of the paddock and onto local roads. Richard went and got us all an icecream from a Mr. Whippy truck. Needless to say, he didn't have a problem finding us when he returned (we'd moved a car length in that time). A funny thing though. A girl pushed her way through the bushes between us on the road and the campsite she'd just left. She was so occupied with getting out of view of the campsite to go to the toilet that she had neglected to see the hoards of cars idling their way down the road behind her. She found a bush, hidden from the campsite, in plain view of us, and crouched down. Mike wanted to hoot the horn, but I thought that would be cruel. So we all averted our eyes and continued creeping down the road at a snail's pace. In all, when I checked the mileage when we got home, it had taken us 3.5 hours to go just over 50 kms. Brands Hatch just cannot move cars out fast enough.