New Zealand: The Unexpectedly Long Journey

I've woken up to some beautiful scenery on this trip - watching the sunrise over the Coramandel and seeing morning break in the Himalayas to name but two - waking up in the middle of a car park in the centre of Nelson was not one of those. We were not woken by the lapping of waves on the shore or by birdsong, but by early birds of a different nature: it was market day and the locals were up at the crack of dawn to peruse the assorted offerings of the farmer's stalls.

We paid a couple of dollars to use the showers and I considered how long we would've lasted sleeping in a camper in an inner city public car park in England, not long, I concluded. Luckily our van hadn't been propped up on bricks and we made our way out of Nelson's bustling town centre and headed south along the West Coast Highway.

Since a few of the places we wanted to visit were in the south of the island, we had decided that we would spend a day driving and try to get some miles under our belt. I knew, therefore, that we would be spending a fair amount of time in the van, but hadn't expected the coastal road to be quite as long. For hundreds of miles it hugged the rugged coastline, occasionally offering stunning panoramic views of jagged cliffs and long golden beaches.

One such place was Punakaiki. Here, thousands of years of constant pummeling by the Pacific Ocean had revealed beautiful and unique rock formations. We spent a while there, watching mighty waves force themselves up through the blowholes in the 'pancake' rocks and swirl around in the wash below.

We were fortunate enough to have a decent stereo in the van that allowed us to listen to music from our iPods. Driving for hours is definitely made easier when you can chose your own music. As well as the likes of Ben Howard, Bonobo and the Kings of Leon, we were also accompanied by Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode - Steve had introduced me to their Radio 5 film review show whilst we were on the trip and hearing two Englishmen bicker about grammar and debate the merits of the new Muppets movie was strangely comforting when you've been away so long.

By late afternoon we had reached glacier country. Where the Southern Alps meet the ocean it is possible to see two big rivers of ice as they carve their way down the mountain side. Time and money constraints meant that we didn't hike up to get a closer look at either Franz Josef of Fox Glacier, although we did find a good layby from which we could catch a glimpse of the later. Unfortunately, unlike the sweets, there were no polar bears standing on ice cubes there.

After a long day driving we were eager to find a place to eat and rest our heads for the night. The little community of Fox Glacier offered just that.

The next day's drive was no less dramatic. We passed through little settlements on our way over the Haast Pass and eventually arrived in the incredibly scenic town of Wanaka. After Steve had enjoyed a coffee and we'd stocked up on food, we found a great spot by the lake to have a picnic.

Our final destination that night would be Queenstown, but Steve wanted to stop one more time before we got there. Just outside Queenstown stood a bridge over a deep gorge. It had probably once been a beautiful look out, but a couple of decades ago some bright spark had the idea to attach a Bungy chord to the bridge and charge people to jump off. I, being of sound mind, had never done a Bungy jump before - I'd done a skydive, but jumping out of a plane thousands of feet up seemed far easier than throwing myself off a platform with a giant elastic band attached to my feet. Steve on the other hand had already done two!

We watched a few gulable souls plunge towards the icy river below. Some even dunked their heads in before bouncing up again and eventually dangling like a human piñata until they were rescued by two men in a big canoe. I was relieved when we discovered the price was too expensive for us to have a go, it meant I could use expense as a justification for me being a wuss!

That evening we found a church to visit and then located a campsite for the next few nights.

Queenstown is a dream destination for anyone who enjoys extreme sports; in the winter it has three world class ski resorts and in the summer it is a Mecca for all adrenaline junkies. As well as numerous Bungy jumps, the town offers (amongst other things) paragliding, speed boat rides and dozens of mountain bike trails.

The next day we settled for a slightly more serene, an altogether cheaper, ride on the cable car and a few goes on the toboggan ride at the top of the mountain. As well as offering fantastic views of the town and the surrounding area, the toboggan offered Steve and I the chance to race against one another. At one point Steve was so keen to pass me that, much to my amusement, he didn't apply the brakes and almost managed to launch himself off the track.

Somewhat lucky to be in one piece, we made our way down the mountain and indulged in the slightly less dangerous pastime of wine tasting. Steve loved talking to the staff about the subtle differences of the grape varieties and I enjoyed drinking, well tasting at least - I was driving and so the spittoon is where most of my wine ended up.

After two vineyards we decided that we had just enough light to complete a round of golf. I won't bore you with the details (we were both fairly naff), but, surrounded by mountains and a little airport, it was just about the most scenic place I have ever played.

The following morning, Steve met up with a friend and went hiking. Whilst they traversed their way up towards the incredible 360 views on top of Ben Lomond, I went to get my haircut and write a few postcards next to the lake. I felt so peaceful sat on the shore watching an old steam boat crossing the lake - it was easy to see why so many people fell in love with this place.

I had an hour before I'd arranged to meet Steve again, so I decided to drive the van alongside the lake and see where it took me. After a few miles of driving I picked up a couple of blonde German hitchhikers, unfortunately they also had beards and were called Sven and Nicolas. They wanted to get to Glenorchy and as I was pointing in the direction I happily obliged. What I didn't realise is that Glenorchy was many miles away and would take a good forty minutes to get to. I didn't matter though, the drive was absolutely fantastic and, as my two passengers were Lord of the Rings geeks, I would occasionally get filming locations pointed out to me.

Fortunately, my long detour didn't make me too late to pick up Steve after his walk. He was understandably shattered having just climbed a mountain, so I drove us a few hours eastward until we found a place to stop for the night. After a small detour down a deserted track we located a suitable place to stay. Funnily enough our campsite turned out to be another car park, though this one just happened to be surrounded by mountains - a slight improvement on the city centre, I think you'll agree!

New Zealand: The Return of the Kayaking

We'd been spoiled in New Zealand so far. Staying with friends and enjoying their generous hospitality. As much as I'd loved the time there, I was keen to do some 'travelling' again. So we decided to book a return flight to Christchurch, rent a vehicle and make our own way around the South Island for ten days. 

After landing in Christchurch, we waddled with our luggage towards the nearby car rental place, where our chariot awaited. Our 'chariot' was, in fact, a fairly old Toyota people carrier that had been adapted make a nice compact campervan. Although it had a couple of bits of cosmetic damage and a fair few miles on the clock, we were assured that the vehicle was a good shape. However, after stopping at the local 'Warehouse' to stock up on supplies for the week, we returned to the van to find that its battery was completely flat! Not a great start to our road trip.

Thankfully, the rental company sent out a mechanic who swapped our battery over and we were on our way again - north from plains of Christchurch and up into the foothills of the Southern Alps. Our plan was to get as far north as possible as we were aiming to be in the Abel Tasman the next day.

We stopped just before dark and set up for the night in a free campsite. Despite being plagued by midges, we slept well and got going early the next morning.

Taking turns driving gave us both the opportunity to enjoy the constantly changing views. Not for the last time that week, I was sure that I spotted mountains and river beds that Peter Jackson had used in The Lord of the Rings films. It was all so familiar and incredibly beautiful.

After a few more hours of travelling through stunning scenery, we arrived in the National Park of Abel Tasman. My parents had visited here a few years ago and loved the place, so I was eager to see what they had enjoyed so much about the area.

We spent our first afternoon there finding a campsite and then walked along the coast path to a secluded beach. Although the water was only about knee high, Steve and I still attempted to swim in the clear waters. We weren't particularly successful, but enjoyed splashing around anyway!

That evening, after a great shower, Steve cooked up a delicious meal and we sat playing cards. Sam had taught us a Brazilian game and we needed to practise so we could beat him and Reggie when we saw them next! We watched some Breaking Bad on my iPad and then settled down for another night in the camper.

The next morning I was subjected to a brutal assault. Whilst minding my own business and eating my muesli, I was set upon my three thugs. They used a youngster to lull me into a false sense of security and then, for the next five minutes, I was mercilessly attacked. I thought I would post a picture of the perpetrators so that no one else suffered at their hands... Or, more accurately, their beaks...

The evil (but very cute) ducks hadn't dampened my spirit though. We had booked a kayak that day and soon we were paddling our way along the stunning Abel Tasman coast. 

We stopped a few times to swim and wander around the park's forest paths. Steve had been here before with his brother and sister-in-law and so he said knew where we could find a particularly spectacular bay. I was a little dubious as Steve's sense of direction hasn't always been reliable, but this time he was spot on. As we reached the ridge of a hill we were greeted with a stunning view of Anchorage bay, its golden sands and emerald waters. I wouldn't doubt Steve's internal sat nav again!

We swam and walked so more, before heading back to our kayak and beginning the long paddle back to the campsite. It was now clear to me why Mum and Dad loved this place so much. On our way we saw some grey seals sunbathing on rocks, but sadly not the orcas that we were told sometimes come into the bay. Having said that, I'm not sure what my reaction to having a giant killer whale next to me in my tiny kayak would've been!

Although we were tired from our trip, we decided it would be a good idea to keep moving. Later, as I lay listening to some very loud locals leave a pub in the early hours of the morning, I wondered whether we'd made the right decision, I was now trying to get some sleep whilst parked in a public car park rather than in the beautiful surroundings of a National Park. But as I looked at a map of New Zealand I realised we had -  after all, the South Island was a big place and we only had a seven more days to explore it.

New Zealand: The Two Birthdays

For a brief moment, I was flying. The sort of flying you do in dreams - in slow motion - looking at the world around you and enjoying the quiet. But then came the fall: the ground rushed up to meet me and as I got a mouthful of sand I was aware of noises again. The sound of an idling engine and barking dogs and laughter, mainly laughter.

***

We were up in Hokianga Harbour. Steve, Sam, Reggie and I had come north to visit Sam's family for the weekend. Kane and Mel live with their three great kids, on a farm a few hundred miles outside Auckland. As usual, we were given a great welcome and treated to a barbecue whilst we had a few drinks and watched the sun set over the rolling hills.

Before the light had completely disappeared, Kane had brought out his antique clay pigeon launcher and, as we had conveniently picked up some clay pigeons on the way, we had some fun shooting down through the valley with Kane's small arsenal of weapons! Sam informed us that Kane had done some shooting in international competitions, which explained why he had enough guns in his cabinet to see off a small zombie invasion!

The next morning we packed up our stuff again and headed, along with the whole family, towards the secluded beaches at the mouth of Hokianga Harbour where we would camp for the night. This wasn't camping as most people would know it though, as well as the obligatory tent or two, we had also brought three motocross bikes, two 4 wheel drive vehicles and a quad! All vehicles were needed to help reach the remote location.

It was idyllic. We spent our first day lazing on the beach; Bob and Ito chased possums in the woods whilst we swam, sunbathed and skipped stones. In the afternoon we made our way, in various vehicles, down a long beach and over big sand dunes to a little lagoon that Mel and Kane often visited when they were camping. It was a welcome relief from the surprisingly hot Autumn sunshine, especially for the two dogs who splashed around with us!

Back at our makeshift campsite - Steve, Reggie and Sam went to find some mussels for dinner, whilst I had a go on the kids' motocross bike. Kane had offered me his own bike for a test drive, but I declined - something told me that it wouldn't be quite as easy to ride on the sand as Sam and Kane had made it look. I was right. Once I'd managed to kick start the machine into life I did a couple of tentative lengths of the beach. Feeling a little more confident I followed the tracks made by the guys looking for mussels, as I approached them I attempted a turn and promptly fell off sideways. Thankfully, Steve and Sam were looking the other way and all that was hurt was my pride as Reggie watched me stack it! She repressed the laughter and I raced off down the beach back towards Kane, Mel and the kids. And that's when my more spectacular crash happened.

Kane tells me that he saw me approach - instead of warning me of my impending doom - he told his family to watch, as he knew what was going to happen - I was going to come off. And sure enough, as I got up speed I went from the hard, wet sand to the much softer, dry sand. The result, as Kane had predicted, was that my front wheel dug in and I was propelled head first over the handle bars.

For a brief moment, I was flying. The sort of flying you do in dreams - in slow motion - looking at the world around and enjoying the quiet. But then came the fall: the ground rushed up to meet me and as I got a mouthful of sand I was aware of noises again. The sound of an idling engine and barking dogs and laughter, mainly laughter.

I regained my senses quickly enough to jump up and stop the hot exhaust burning my leg more than it already had. Mel stopped laughing long enough to enquire whether I was okay (which I was) and offer some food as a consolation! Then I sat back and watched as small children showed me how to actually ride a bike.

That evening we followed up a family game of boys v girls rugby with a meal around the campfire and then lay in the sand to watch the stars. Watching shooting stars and trying to remember any of the names of constellations was a great way to end the day (at least Steve and I thought so, Reggie's attention span didn't last too long and every few minutes we'd hear her whinge 'I'm bored!'. We ignored her!).

The following day we packed up, said our goodbyes to the family and made our way back to Auckland. I'd arranged to meet an old friend that evening.

As I left school at Christmas, there was a far more important departure. Mrs Roberts, who'd taught at St Helen's for far longer than me, had left for pastures new. As it turned out, those new pastures were New Zealand - so it was a a great opportunity to spend a few days with her in her new home.

Mrs Roberts lived in a house with a stunning view, or at least that's what she told me. I had to take her word for it, as by the time I'd arrived it was too dark to see the garden, let alone the volcanoes in the bay beyond.

When I sat admiring the view the next morning, I realised that I'd arrived just in time to celebrate Mrs R's birthday (I think she told me she was 25 or something like that!). Her kind boss had given her the day off to celebrate. Mr Roberts' daughter, had come down with a sore neck which meant that she couldn't possibly attend school either and so the three of us set off for a walk along the beach.

Two strange things happened once we sat down in a cafe for some brunch: first of all, Susie's neck was mysteriously cured and I actually had a hot drink. Now that doesn't sound like a big deal, but I think the last time I attempted to have a hot drink was when I was camping three years ago; then I burnt my mouth and couldn't taste much for a week. I was like a proper grown up, well, actually, I wasn't - I had a hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.

Mrs Robert's boss, Charles, took us out for a meal that evening. It was great to catch up with the Roberts girls and hear all about their new life down under. I have so much admiration for people who grab chances like this with both hands. I know I will miss Mrs Roberts a lot, she has supported me so much in my early few years as a teacher, but I'm glad she has been brave enough to embrace such an incredible experience.

The following day was my birthday and to round off a fairly stunning long weekend, Steve, Sam and some other friends (Gillan and Debs) decided to treat me to a meal. When pressed, I had admitted that I'd love to eat steak, so Sam took us along to a place he said I would like - and, my goodness, he was right! I've never eaten such a delicious bit of meat - it was cooked to perfection. 

A great way to celebrate my thirty-first!

A message from Alan... (#4)

Dear all the lovely people at St Helen's,

Greetings from Brazil the World Cup!

Woohoo! It looks like you're finally getting some warm weather back at home! I hope you are having lots of barbecues and eating loads and loads of Hocking´s ice cream (I can officially tell you it is the best in the world - Mr Kent has tried lots of ice cream whilst he's been away, just for research you understand!).

I expect lots of you are glued to your TV screens watching the World Cup! Mr Kent is watching lots too, he even managed to get along to a game. Unfortunately, it was the last England game against Costa Rica and by then England were already out! The atmosphere in the stadium was amazing though and Mr Kent and Steve really enjoyed themselves. Both of them had wanted to see England at a World Cup since they were young and so it was a great feeling singing along to the National Anthem!

The football is one of the reasons Mr Kent has been quite so bad at blogging recently. He's very sorry! He is going to catch up whilst he sits on a beach for the next few days.

We've been to quite a few countries since I last wrote. In fact, now we are in Brazil, which is our sixteenth different country! Wow. Here are a few brief notes about some of them...

Despite the airline losing his luggage (and me!) for nearly a week, Mr Kent loved his time in Bali. He loved surfing, riding on his moped and lying on the beach - and even managed to make some new friends when dressed slightly oddly.

His favourite activity was definitely snorkelling in the beautiful, clear waters off Nusa Lembongan. If you ever get the chance to do some diving or snorkelling, you should go - it was an amazing experience, like watching a real life version of Finding Nemo.

In March, Mr Kent and Steve made it to Australia. Mr Kent was particularly excited about watching the Grand Prix, oh, and seeing his family! They saw the Formula One, ate lots of great barbecue food and even managed to find a wombat in the zoo. Mr Kent says they're his favourite animal, but I just think its because they look a bit like him, what do you think?!

Next was New Zealand. If you've ever seen the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings, you'll know how beautiful New Zealand is! Lots of mountains, beaches and open space. We spent lots of time with Steve's friends Sam and Reggie and their dogs Bob and Ito.

You'll never guess who I bumped into there! Mrs Roberts! She moved to Auckland in the new year and has an amazing place in the city, next to a very nice beach. Lucky her!

I was reunited with another friend too...

In April we were in California! Mr Kent loved swimming in the sea and visiting cities. We explored Las Vegas, San Francisco and Los Angeles. We braved Death Valley (one of the hottest places on Earth) and eventually made it to Yosemite Park. Yet another amazing place...

In LA we bumped into more familiar faces! Lots of you will remember Reuben and Nathan from their time at St Helen's a few years ago. They've been living over there for a while and Mr Kent loved seeing their church, their school (their teachers weren't as cool!) and even had a Nerf gun fight with them! They told me to say hello to everyone back in Devon! So, Hello!

Since then we have been travelling through South America. First Peru, where Steve and Mr Kent helped out at a project in Lima for a few weeks. Mr Kent then fulfilled a childhood dream when we visited an ancient Incan city called Machu Picchu. It was high up in the mountains surrounded by jungle. An incredible place.

After Peru came Bolivia and another beautiful location called Lake Titicaca. In Bolivia we went cycling on some of the world's most dangerous roads - it was scary but exhilarating.

Next we flew to Argentina and spent a week eating amazing food before we went to Iguazu Falls. These water falls are the widest in the world and were flooding, so they were even more spectacular than normal! We got on a boat right underneath some of them! We were very wet!

Brazil is our last country before heading home! It is football crazy at the moment! People from all over the world are here watching the games. There is a wonderful atmosphere and the people here have been so lovely to us.

Mr Kent and Steve are going to visit the Amazon before heading back to Rio, which they loved when they visited last week. Then our adventure will nearly be over :( We are sad to be finishing our journey, but excited about coming home. We feel like the luckiest people (Well I'm a bear, I think!) in the world.

I hope you are all really well. You must have done so many things in the past few months! Sports days, residentials, SATS, etc. The summer term is so busy!

Have a brilliant last few weeks at school before the summer holidays! Year 6, I expect to hear about some wonderful acting at the end of term! Very sad I can't be there for the production - I'm sure Mrs Gagg and Mrs Theobald have done a brilliant job!

Take care,

Lots of love,

Alan

xxx

New Zealand: The Fellowship of the Steve

We were both excited about travelling to New Zealand. Steve had lived in Auckland for two years and couldn´t wait to see old friends and visit favourite haunts. I, on the other hand, had never been to New Zealand before but had heard so many great things about it from those who had. I'd been enticed, like so many others, by the promise of landscapes from Lord of the Rings - I couldn't wait to explore Middle Earth!

Thankfully, we weren't greeted by a great army of orcs as we got off the plane, but we did have to do battle with the very thorough customs guards! I say 'do battle',what I actually mean is that they politely asked if I had anything in my bag that I shouldn't. My trouble is, that although I knew I didn't, I always feel guilty under questioning and for some reason answered, 'I don't think so.' This led to me opening my backpack and the security guard searching it maticulously. Gratefully, satisfied that I was just awkward rather than suspicious, he stopped before the full body search.

Outside the gate we were met by Steve's good friend, Sam. Sam had lived and worked with Steve for the two years he was in New Zealand, so I think we immediately had a mutual appreciation for each other's ability to put up with my cousin! It was great to see the two of them catching up.

We spent the evening in downtown Auckland meeting various old friends and enjoying local food and drink. It was a little overwhelming to be introduced to so many new people in one night, but it was also clear to see why Steve had enjoyed his time in New Zealand so much.

Our night ended in slightly comical fashion as Regina (Sam's lovely girlfriend) kindly offered us a lift home only to find that Sam's 'classic' 4x4 had a flat battery. Being men, we were sure that we could fix this problem and assumed the hand on chin/blowing out cheeks position that is expected of us when we are looking under the bonnet and 'sorting' car problems.

Steve was soon behind the wheel and pressing buttons and other technical stuff, but unfortunately, despite getting close to starting the engine a few times, all he succeeded in doing was switching the squeaky windscreen wipers on. Much to the amusement of us, the unhelpful crowd on the back seat, who giggled like school girls at his efforts.

Reggie had promised to cook us her Brazilian speciality 'cheesy peas' for breakfast the next morning, but as I'd slept in and she had gone to work at the gym, I had missed my chance! Instead, as Steve and Sam went to fetch the classic 4x4 from the impound where it had been towed, I got ready for something even more exciting than cheesy peas (hard to believe, I know!) - Sam, Steve and I were heading to Sam's second home on the Coromandel for a boys week!

Now, when I was about ten I designed my dream home and then submitted my ideas to my Mum and Dad. Kevin McCloud would've been proud of my architectural drawings - they included, amongst other things, a go-kart track and a water slide that left directly from my bedroom. Unfortunately, my parents didn't take the plunge and decided to redecorate the living room instead. Disappointing. Since then, the design of my perfect home might have changed a little (although I'd still love the go-karts and the water slide) but I love visiting interesting houses and seeing how people have made their own dream homes become a reality. Going to Sam's place was one such opportunity.

The drive there already offered the opportunity to marvel at rolling green hills, but they became more and more dramatic as we got towards the Coromandel, a peninsula that juts up from the top of North island. Once we had passed through the town of Thames, the narrow ribon of Tarmac hugged the shoreline as it weaved around giant green hills.

Sam's house lay a few miles north of a little settling called Coleville. We stopped there briefly to pick up some supplies before making the epic journey down Sam's driveway to his house. The driveway wasn't your average driveway - it wasn't nicely paved or shingled with plant pots lining the side, instead it was six kilometres of dirt track winding its way through dense New Zealand forest.

As we drove along the bone shaking road, I wondered whether the original owners had done it to deter anybody delivering junk mail, however, the reason for the long drive soon became apparent once we reached a clearing in the trees. A secluded piece of land, off the grid and far from the stresses of modern life and with the most incredible view. It was Sam's own slice of paradise.

We had an incredible week up there. Every morning I woke up to the sun rising over the bay (like the photo above). We went sea fishing, shooting and quad biking; visited the beaches and managed to squeeze in a few barbecues. To pay our way, Steve and I helped Sam out with a few jobs - his rather large lawn needed mowing and we even found time to chop down a few trees for the woodstove.

Throughout the week we were accompanied by Sam's loyal canine  companions, Bob and Ito...

In fact, there were only a few occasions when the two adorable muts weren't glued to Sam's heel - one was fishing, where Steve and Sam managed to catch enough fish for a good meal. I was on another boat with Sam's friend and, although I caught the first fish, most of specimens I pulled on board were too small to keep. Actually, I'm pretty sure that I caught the same fish about twelve times! Thankfully, Steve faired a lot better and he even caught a kingfish at one point.

The other activity Bob and Ito weren't with us for was our quad bike journey along the goat trails of an imposing hill called White Star. Our journey began with a painful drag up through the gorse bushes around Sam's house - I think scratches outnumbered hairs on my legs by the time we'd reached the more open ground.

Having had very limited time on a quad, I let Steve drive whilst I clung on for dear life and ducked every now and again to avoid low branches. However, once we came to a field nearer the top of the hill Steve said I should have a go, so on I jumped. The field wasn't flat and some of its undulations were hidden underneath long grass - but Steve and Sam said that I needed to keep speed up to get over them. So as I was faced with a bump just before the summit, I did as Steve instructed and pulled the throttle. Subsequently, we found ourselves staring at blue skies as the quad left the ground and tipped so far back it was almost vertical! After trying one more time, I decided I'd hope off and let Steve find a safer route!

We did eventually make it to the other side, but only after another scary moment when the quad became stuck on a small tree stump. This wouldn't have been too much of a problem had we not been on a narrow goat path next to a large drop! In the end Steve did a great job and managed to hold the quad in one place whilst Sam and I helped pull it over the obstacle. The rest of the trip was less harrowing and the views from the top were worth every scratch and near death experience!

The night before we returned to Auckland, as we watched the sun set over the Pacific with a glass of something red, I realised that all the hype about New Zealand was right. 

I was going to enjoy the next few weeks!

Hanging on Down Under

As Tamsin and Chris are occasionally partial to a glass of wine, or two, and as a thank you for letting us stay with them for the week, Steve and I decided to send them on a wine tour, whilst we looked after the kids for the day.

So as Tamsin and Chris left - wearing that giddy look that parents get when they have no responsibilty for the day - we made our way to the centre of Melbourne and a science exhibition.

Within seconds of our arrival Archie had sniffed out the SNES Mario game and Ella was trying to feign interest in my stories of 'old' computers. I'd just explained about how her mum and I used to have to wait for hours for the cassette tape in our Atari to load up Space Invaders, before I realised she had walked off to find Steve - and I had been talking to a confused Australian school boy.

We spent the morning exploring the interactive displays - making a Matrix style slow motion movie clip, playing on old computers and generally pressing buttons to our hearts content!

After lunch, Steve left to catch up with Todd. Archie, Ella and I decided to spend another hour or so in the museum. Ella particularly enjoyed playing hide and seek in the pitch black room  (a slightly unnerving experience when you're in charge of someone else's children!) and it took a bit of persuading to get Archie away from the computers!

Following that I made the slightly misguided decision to try and find a playground in the nearby park. After twenty minutes of walking I had two fairly grumpy children who at one point lay on the grass and refused to go any further. Like a good uncle, I bribed them with icecream and we made our way to a park we'd visited the day before.

We spent an hour and a bit creating adventure stories on climbing frames, slides and swings. Ella made me be the monster and chase her, but it was Archie who left with a big sense of pride and achievement. Having just turned seven he found it hard to even reach the monkey bars, however that didn't stop him trying. The previous day, with a little help from his dad, he'd tried time and time again and managed all but one bar before he was exhausted. This would be the day though; he'd done his press ups, he'd got a new haircut and he was ready.

The moment he achieved his goal was a little bittersweet for me - although it was great to see his joy at completing the monkey bars, he had also managed to kick me in a rather tender area on his way down. I blurted out a 'Brilliant!' as I crumpled on the ground in a heap.

As we walked back down the road, with Ella trying to convince me of the merits of her having another piggyback, we heard a big crash. Turning, I saw that a car had pulled out in front of a tram and the two had collided. Whilst it was stopped we took the chance to hop on and rest three pairs of weary little legs - only to find Tamsin and Chris on board.

That night, our last in Australia, we had a barbecue and admired the amazing view from the apartment. Steve's friend, Jack, joined us an entertained with some juggling skills, whilst Tamsin helped ammend his CV, the best anyone can after visiting four vineyards in an afternoon!

We were leaving early the next morning, so, sadly, it was time to say goodbye to Archie and Ella. We read a few stories together before falling asleep on their bed. I'm terrible at goodbyes at the best of times, but with those two it always feels so much harder. Part of the reason - and I know I'm biased - is that they're such good kids, despite those devilish smiles!

Almost as hard is saying goodbye to Tamsin an Chris. It is not an understatement to say that without their help in past few years, I wouldn't have been able to take this amazing trip. I only hope that they know how much I appreciate their support - moral and financial! Thank you guys.

Our time in Australia was only short. Steve had used it to catch up with old friends and visit wineries (not a bad week!) and I had had the chance to watch F1, eat great food and spend time with my amazing family - oh, and see a wombat... Don't forget the wombat!

Awesome Aussie Animals

What is the best animal in the world? That's a difficult question, I realise, there are lots to chose from. When I ask children at school they often chose things like elephants, horses or little kittens and puppies. They're wrong. Until a few years ago I might have made the same mistake - elephants are cool, horses can run and jump 'n' stuff, and kittens and puppies are cute, I suppose. However, I learnt that the greatest of all the beasts is the wombat.

I didn't know much about wombats until my sister introduced me to her friends Robin and Rhinannon. Like me, they had done some backpacking in Australia when they were younger, but instead of the obligatory picture with a koala, Rob and Rhiannon were determined to get their photo taken with a wombat. And they did. Sitting pride of place in their front room, in front of pictures of their two young children, is a framed photo of them cuddling a rather startled looking Australian marsupial!

Robin has become rather evangelical about his love for wombats - telling anyone who will listen about the animal's ability to stick its head in the ground and leave their thick bottom in the air (a genius mode of self defence) - so much so that when Chris, Tamsin and I decided to take Archie and Ella to Melbourne Zoo, there was only one animal the grown ups wanted to see!

Steve, being the classy fellow he is, had joined his friends on a wine tour of the Yarra Valley. So the five of us embarked on our own adventure, through Melbourne on the city's tram network until we arrived at the zoo.

The first few exhibits we visited were a little underwhelming. All of the big cats appeared to be snoozing, prompting Archie to remark, "What's the point of having an animal in the zoo that sleeps all day?" Hard to argue with. The day improved, though, when we visited the sea life enclosure and saw a sea lion and his little penguin friends.

After lunch, we managed to find a few animals that weren't fast asleep: gorillas, monkeys, kangaroos and I even got to see the tigers that had alluded Steve and me in Nepal. We spent a while in the butterfly enclosure and Tamsin was very proud that her husband didn't scream like a girl (too much) as the beautiful creatures flew all around us.

We had left the best until last, though. Deep inside a network of tunnels, Ella and Archie came across what looked like a dead animal. It lay on it's back, motionless. Short stumpy legs pointing up in the dark, but if you looked close enough you could see its furry little chest rising and falling and a big fat bottom! We had finally found a wombat.

Back outside and we met another, this one only slightly more awake as it waddled around its enclosure. Nonetheless, a beautiful sight, I'm sure you'll agree...

We rounded off our day with a Chinese takeaway (something that is almost compulsory when you are with my sister) and learnt all about Steve's day - at least the bits he could remember.

That night, Archie and Ella settled down with a new cuddly toy that their parents had bought them at the zoo. Ella had chosen a lion and Archie a tiger.  I was that close to buying a wombat.

Need for Speed

I vividly remember the first time I saw a Formula 1 racing car in real life. It was June 1989 and my Dad had brought his Nigel Mansell obsessed boy to see his hero drive in the British Grand Prix at Silverstone. We had been sitting in our deck chairs since 6am and chosen our spot with our friends Dennis and Matthew. By the time the F1 cars arrived for their practise, we had already endured frost bite and suffered smoke inhalation from the disposable barbecue we'd 'cooked' breakfast on - but all of those worries soon disappeared when Andrea de Cesaris blasted his way around the famous old circuit. It wasn't so much the sight of the the red Dallara that amazed me as it passed us at Club Corner, it was the sound. The V12 engine screamed as it accelerated away from us - louder and more angry than anything I'd heard before in my life. My Dad recalls me standing with my bottom jaw almost touching the floor. I was in heaven.

Twenty-five years later and I'm still hooked on the sport. I've be fortunate enough to witness some of the greatest drivers ever to have graced a Grand Prix circuit - Schumacher, Prost, Vettel, Alonso - and even watched the late great Ayrton Senna. So when I realised that our time in Melbourne would coincide with the Australian Grand Prix, I jumped at the chance to attend.

Once my sister, Tamsin, had grown out of her My Little Pony phase (I think she would've been about 15), she became equally obsessed with Formula One. Whilst we had been in Qatar visiting her and the family, I had mentioned our plan and she and her husband, Chris, decided to come and join us in Australia too. I was so excited to be going to watch the opening race of the new season with her.

However, before we could watch any motor racing, Steve and I had to make our way from Malaysia to Australia. No problem, we thought. All our airport troubles are behind us, we thought. That was before the lovely lady at the Malaysia Airlines desk asked to see our Australian visas. D'oh!

Steve and I had been so diligent about researching visas and entry requirements for Southeast Asia, but neither of us had thought much about our week in Australia. After all it was one of the colonies, wasn't it?! Surely we didn't need a visa to enter somewhere with our flag on, did we? (In case any of my Australian/convict friends are reading, I am, of course, joking!) Apparently, we did.

Despite arriving in plenty of time, we were now faced with a race to get on board our plane before the departure gates closed. Our first obstacle was obtaining a visa. We had to collect a deli counter style ticket and waited for our turn - we were more than a little alarmed when we noticed that the current number on display was 2125 and our ticket was 3017! Thankfully, there weren't nine hundred people in the queue before us and we managed to get our paperwork done before racing back to the check in desk to drop off our luggage.

We were told we now only had a short time to get through security and make it to the departure lounge. In films this would mean pushing through crowds on escalators and hurdling security gates whilst being chased by security. In reality, it meant lots of stressful clock watching whilst patiently waiting in queues, like the good English boys we are. This was followed by a mad dash in flop flops through the departure hall to find our gate, which of course was the furthest away! We made it, by the skin of our teeth, and as we settled - slightly sweaty - on the plane we hoped we'd get some sleep before arriving in Melbourne the next morning.

As it turned out, our airport experience had been far less stressful than the one Tamsin, Chris and the kids had had to go through: their plane had been delayed by twelve hours and so we wouldn't be meeting them at the airport, but later on in the day. Instead, Steve had arranged to visit some old friends of his, Danielle, Todd and Lucy. 

We'd arrived in Melbourne at quarter-past-six in the morning and even by the time we had reached Danielle and Todd's house in the leafy suburbs of the city, it was still only seven-thirty. Despite the early hour on a Saturday morning, Danielle managed to give us a warm, if slightly sleepy, welcome and soon we were joined by Todd and Lucy.

That afternoon we were treated to a proper Aussie barbecue by our hosts - shrimps 'n' all! Todd and I set up the gazebo, barbie and sofa in the back yard, whilst Steve used his culinary expertise to create some salads in the kitchen with the girls. It was great to meet some new friends and see Steve enjoy catching up with old ones.

A taxi across town would probably have cost a small fortune, but we were in luck as another of Steve's friends, Jack, kindly offered to take us over to Tamsin and Chris' apartment.

After another sleepy greeting - this time from my brother-in-law, Chris - we were grateful for the chance to lie down and get some rest before the big event the next day: the Grand Prix.

I awoke the next morning, half expecting to be clambered on by my nephew and niece, after all, that's what Archie and Ella always do - but their flight ordeal the previous day had left them so shattered that they slept in longer than me. After saying a proper hello to Tamsin and Chris, I went to get revenge and jump on them instead!

Soon we were all up, washed, dressed and ready to go to Albert Park. As we wondered past a multitude of trendy looking coffee shops and patisseries, Archie told me about his progress on the Wii since I'd last seen him and Ella skipped along beside us (for approximately two blocks until she was tired and needed a piggyback!). It was great to be back with the family.

Inside the park there was a great atmosphere; Archie and Ella enjoyed the Pixar Cars themed kids' area, whilst the four adults found the food and bar more to their taste. We located a good spot to perch ourselves, opposite a screen and on a corner so that the cars didn't just scream past at two-hundred miles an hour!

We watched various support races and displays, until finally it was time for the big event. However, as the cars came round for their formation lap, I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Long gone were the screaming 3 litre V12 engines that I had fallen in love with all those years ago - this year, regulations required a 1.6 litre V6 hybrid version. Instead of a deafening angry roar, I could hear myself talking above the noise of Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes and Jenson Button's McLaren as they sped past. This wasn't how I'd remembered it!

Despite the lack of noise, the race was still a great spectacle. Unfortunately, Lewis had to retire early, but Jenson managed a podium finish.

As we wandered on to the race track after the race, I wasn't sure that F1 had grabbed Archie and Ella in the same way it had done Tamsin and I when we were their age, but they wore their McLaren t-shirts with pride and seemed to enjoy their day, particularly when it was rounded off with an icecream!

Malaysia Mourning

There was something that hung over Malaysia whilst we spent our two days there. It wasn't just the smoggy cloud that shrouded Kuala Lumpar in an eerie veil. Seven days prior to our visit, Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 had left the city's airport with 239 people on board, bound for Shanghai - it was never seen again.

Kuala Lumpar had the feel of a place trying to come to terms with the tragedy, whilst also trying to continue with life as 'normal'. Our long bus journey from the airport gave us a glimpse into another hectic Asian capital city. Busy roads criss-crossed their way through first dense residential suburbs and then in between the high rises of business zones before finally reaching the narrower streets of old downtown Kuala Lumpar.

Our hostel was a friendly place - no frills, but comfortable and coveniently situated next to dozens of food outlets - always a good thing when you are travelling with Steve! We freshened up, grabbed a bite to eat and then got on the train to go and see the city's famous Petronas Towers. 

Once the tallest buildings in the world, the iconic twin towers stand arm in arm and define Kuala Lumpar's skyline. Even in thick fog they were an impressive sight.

The next day we wandered around the city centre and quite accidentally stumbled over a huge shopping mall. If we'd tried to walk around the complex it would probably have taken us all day, so we settled for exploring the food court instead!

Before leaving the mall we couldn't resist visiting a shop that was ideal for Steve. Throughout our journey, on the strict instructions of his three year old nephew, Steve is taking photos of himself wearing a Superman t-shirt in various places. The shop we walked into had the biggest collection of superhero toys, outfits and memorabilia that I'd ever seen and it offered Steve a great photo opportunity. We found a pair of Superman pyjamas and Steve promptly entered the changing rooms to transform into Clark Kent. 

My job was simple: take the photo. However, whilst I was waiting for the transformation, I started to read the comic strips that were plastered on the changing room doors and there at the bottom was written: NO PHOTOGRAPHS. So when Steve emerged in his pyjamas (which, incidentally, cost over £100!) I tried to surreptitiously take his picture. He obviously hadn't seen the sign as he proceeded to blatantly pose proudly!

We a managed to escape the store without being fined an then made our way back to the Petronas Towers to try and find our bus to the airport. We were frustrated to find the park surrounding the skyscrapers largely cordoned off, but soon realised that the lush green fields were soon to play host to a concert in aide of the 'rescue mission' for Flight MH370. In fact, everywhere you turned there were big billboards that bore the slogan #prayforflightMH370.

I don't think that our brief stay in Kuala Lumpar gave me the time to form a real opinion of Malaysia. The whole place seemed, understandably, somber - collectively holding its breath for news of the missing plane and the passengers. Tragically, it appears that news might never come.

Finding Nemo

Steven Spielberg has a lot to answer for. Yes, he's helped to create a number of brilliant films like E.T., Jurassic Park and Schindler's List, but he also partly responsible for a whole generation who are a little bit apprehensive about going in to the sea. Don't get me wrong, I love swimming or surfing in the ocean - it's just every time the water gets beyond waist height, I'm sure that John Williams' famous score will be begin (du-duh... du-duh...) and that the only thing that could be beneath me is a fifteen foot long Great White Shark. I know it's stupid, but I don't think I'm alone - lots of thirty somethings I have spoken to have Jaws syndrome!

The fear of Speilberg's monster (rather than the actual creatures, which are majestic and awe inspiring) means that when I was asked whether I wanted to go snorkelling, last time I was in Bali, I hesitated. Thankfully, I agreed and ended up having an absolutely incredible experience. So, I decided that Steve and I should return to the laid backed little island of Nusa Lembongan and have another go. I just hoped Steve would be as impressed.

We had managed to barter with some local ferrymen in Sanur and almost halved their price for a fast boat across the Badung Strait to Nusa Lembongan. The captain blasted his way across the notoriously dangerous choppy waters and within forty-five minutes we were watching surfers attempt the ominously named Lacerations reef.

The gentlemen we had purchased our tickets from had recommended a friend who would take us snorkelling. His name, although I'm fairly sure not the name his mother gave him, was Captain Nemo. So into his character, was Nemo, that his friend had put a label on me before we left Bali, which said 'Whale' - at least I hoped it was a literary reference rather than a comment on my weight.

Captain Nemo promptly welcomed us aboard his vessel - painted orange and white, like a clown fish - and took us around the coast towards two spots that he claimed would be perfect for us.

Our first destination was nicknamed 'The Wall', as it was where a neighbouring island met a small reef and then plunged into a deep ravine. Steve and I wrestled with our mask, snorkel and flippers for a few minutes before we sat on the edge of the boat and dropped backwards into the emerald waters.

I'd been a bit nervous about it to be honest, not because of the Jaws thing, but because I had wanted it to be as good as last time. Maybe I had been overly nostalgic and it wasn't as good as my rose-tinted glasses had remembered? I needn't have worried. One glance under the surface revealed an incredible vista; fish of all shapes, colours and sizes swam beneath us. 

For the next fifteen minutes the tide took us first one way and then the other along this extraordinary aquatic shelf. We were reluctant to get out of the water, but Nemo reassured us that the mangroves would offer us just as good an experience. Five minutes later and we were both back in the warm sea and, if anything, the waters around us were teeming with even more life than before. The ocean floor was covered in a plethora of corals - all different shapes and colours - creating an almost other worldly landscape. Adding to our enjoyment of the dive was the fact that Nemo had given us some bread and so the fish swarmed around us and ate out of our hand! A dream-like encounter that we won't forget in a hurry.

Anything we did that afternoon would've been an anticlimax, but we did enjoy renting another moped and exploring the rest of the island. Nusa Lembongan is a world a way from the hectic roads of south Bali and so we weaved our way around numerous potholes in peace until we found this great bridge...

 

...and then made our way to Dream Beach where we ate a traditional Balanese meal of Nasi Goreng and then had one last swim before our boat journey home.

The swim wasn't exactly what you would call relaxing - big waves pummelled us and a we had to battle with a strong current that tried to pull us out to sea. Exhilarating is probably a more accurate description. We enjoyed it so much that we were almost late for our trip back to Bali! Steve even managed to rip open the crotch of his shorts (again) whilst long jumping a gap in the seafront wall. Luckily, our boat was sat waiting for us and we headed back to Sanur.

During our final week in Indonesia, we also battled the elements on an epic six hour round journey to the centre of the island, as well as managing another surf and a few journeys over the brand new 12km long road bridge.

We said goodbye to Bali by sitting down for a meal in a beachside restaurant with Grishka, Meredith and Scarlet. It was a great way to end two fantastic weeks on the island. We'd made some great new memories and some even better new friends.

Baggage Claims

I've watched a few of those survival programmes presented by the likes of Ray Mears and Bear Grylls and so I'm pretty sure I am now prepared to survive a week alone in the harshest environments planet earth can throw at me - Siberia, Sahara, Amazon - no problem. 

Bali isn't one of those places. The island is beautiful and it's easy to see why it entices so many to visit its shores each year; ribbons of white sand line the coast, which is inhabited by surfers seeking the perfect wave and sun worshippers supping an ice cold Bintang and enjoying the laid back lifestyle. Fairly idyllic really! However, if you were to throw Ray or Bear on to the island with only one pair of pants, I think they'd be struggling too. After all, I believe there are only four acceptable ways of wearing your underwear - traditionally, the way the tailor intended - inside out - back to front and inside out and back to front.

Before I go on, I realise that this isn't the most highbrow topic of conversation, but I wanted to convey the peril I was in. As I mentioned, there are four ways to don your underpants. As I woke on Monday, it had been five days since we last saw our luggage in Vietnam!

Thankfully we were due a quieter day - Sally was at work and Ochie at school - and so Steve and I decided, as we had heard nothing from the airline concerning our lost bags, that we would go there ourselves.

Despite nearly crashing into one another on the way there, Steve and I got to Ngurah Rai International Airport in one piece and made our way to the Lost and Found department. To our delight, as we approached the desk, we saw two bags that fitted the description of our own. We let out a rather girly scream before racing toward them, ready to embrace them like some long lost friend! Steve got the there first courtesy of his longer legs and confirmed that he had indeed been reunited with his Vango bag and all its contents. He was ecstatic and turned to high-five me. But I left Steve hanging...

The bag in front of me was nearly right; it was green, like mine, it was made by Osprey, like mine, it had the straps to attach a smaller bag to it, like mine... but something wasn't right.

At school I often watch the children identify their misplaced jumpers by smelling them. Not using visual clues (like the name tag!), but putting the garment to their faces and inhaling. At first, this practice made me feel quite queasy - it was a technique I'd last seem used by a Canadian Mountie on the TV show, Due South, to track down criminals. However, I had been left no choice - if it worked for seven-year-olds, it could work for me. I took a deep breath and sniffed. It wasn't mine.

In hindsight, I should have turned the bag over as it would've revealed a hole that wasn't on my luggage and, more importantly, and name written in permanent marker. My bag was still lost.

We left with promises that they would investigate further and make sure Tiger Air found it. I was dejected, but at least we had one bag and I wouldn't have to wear my creepy shirt and the Union Jack shorts again. I was further cheered up on the way out of the airport when I noticed these signs (below). Is it just me or are the meeting points B and C a little superfluous?

To cut a long story short, it was another three days and two more visits to the airport before my bag was flown to Bali. Six days after I arrived, I was finally able to wear a fresh t-shirt and access my wash bag!

By then, possibly motivated by the smell eminating from her visitors, Sally had flown back to England. She and Ochie were going to spend some time with family and friends in the UK. Her incredibly generous parting gift was to let us stay in her house whilst she was away. I hope she knows how much we appreciated that gesture.

We spent the next few days chilling and familiarising ourselves with the southern peninsula of the island. By the end of our time there we had managed to source many a great place to eat and a few to play pool and watch rugby at. The only disappointment being that I couldn't find a Welshman to whom I could rub in our victory.

We quickly became integrated into the beach lifestyle and even decided to take some surf lessons with our new friend from Cornwall, Grishka. Now, I've done a little bit of surfing in my time, but I usually end up swallowing a large amount of water and face planting into the white wash, whilst those around me make it look effortless. In fact the last time I had surfed in Bali, a year ago, my best friend, Paul, had had to push me back to shore as the swell was too strong for my lacklustre paddling technique! Grishka didn't have a lot to work with. But it turned out that Grishka was not a bad person to get some lessons from as he casually dropped into conversation that he had been European Champion, not once, but twice. What a great opportunity!

There was a catch though. Our new American friends, Amanda and Meredith, had made me promise to surf with the Union Jack shorts on. So out they came for one last outing!

Grishka was a great and patient teacher; soon Steve and I were standing on the board and I was sure I could give Kelly Slater a run for his money. It was one of the first times I had realised why so many of my close friends were addicted to the sport. Mind you, surfing in shorts and t-shirt in the tropical climate of Indonesia is slightly different from the artic conditions of Westward Ho in February!

Grish does surf lessons in Bali and back home in Cornwall during the summer, so if you need a teacher - he is worth looking up (he might even mention that he was European champ once or twice!). You'll find more information at his website - surflessonscornwall.co.uk - we highly recommend him!

That evening we visited a great spot to view the sunset. From the cafés and bars in Ulawatu we watched as dozens of surfers bobbed up and down in the waves. The water looked like liquid gold as the sun sunk lower in the sky.

Steve and I made a toast and saluted the endeavours of those in the sea below us. As I sat drinking a cold beverage I realised that maybe I wasn't ready for the challenge of Siberia or the Sahara after all. Ray and Bear could deal with that - this was more my cup of tea.

 

A Short Story, set in Bali

I'm a loser. Take this however you want, but I mean it in the literal sense of the word - someone who loses things. I am, in fact, a world class loser. I must lose my car keys at least once a week and I've lost count of the number of times my wallet has gone missing. This would almost be something to be proud of if it wasn't coupled with the unfortunate truth that I am also rubbish at finding lost items.

Standing beside the luggage carousel in Denpasar airport I had that not unusual sinking feeling that something was missing. I checked my pockets; passport, wallet and phone were all present. It was only when I looked up again and noticed that Steve and I were stood virtually alone in baggage claims that I realised what it was. We didn't have any bags.

A quick check with the 'Lost and Found' department confirmed our fears that our luggage hadn't actually been transferred to the new flight, as Tiger Air had promised, but was, in all likelihood, sat in Singapore airport somewhere. Wonderful.

Not to worry, we thought, this isn't the first time luggage hasn't made a connecting flight - in all probability it would turn up tomorrow and that would be fine.

We'd arrived in Bali late on a Friday evening and were soon on our way to meet an old friend of Steve's. Sally had wanted Steve to come and visit her for years and so being in the general area gave us a great excuse to pop over to Bali and for me to return to a country I had been to only twelve months ago.

My brief visit last February had somewhat prepared me for the mayhem that was to greet us in Bali's party town of Kuta, but being bleary eyed from another long flight meant that it was still a shock to the system when our taxi dropped us off. The familiar sound of mopeds was drowned out momentarily by Sally's scream as she saw Steve for the first time! Soon we were inside meeting some of her friends, who, in stark contrast to our zombie like states, were very 'awake'. The large majority of the small crowd seemed to be American, who were loud and happy enough to ignore the fact I was barely able to stay awake long enough to hold a coherent conversation. One particularly agile friend greeted Steve by putting her foot on his shoulder. Whilst being fairly impressed by this show of suppleness, I hoped that this was not a traditional local greeting, otherwise it would not be long before I ended up in the local A&E.

Despite our tiredness, Steve and I accompanied the rest of the guys as they moved on to other establishments and eventually we found ourselves in a place known as the Sky Garden. With a uncovered dance floor and seats on the fifth floor it offered a great view of the madness below. Unfortunately, it was at this point I lost something else - Steve.

After conducting a mini search of the top floor I decided that it would be more sensible to sit still and wait for him to find me, which I did. For an hour. Finally, as I was sat on a comfy sofa drifting towards dream world I noticed the tall and slightly annoyed figure of my cousin waking towards me. It turns out he isn't too good at finding things either!

A short taxi ride later and we arrived at our home for the next few weeks - Sally's house - and promptly collapsed into a deep sleep.

The next morning we were introduced to Sally's four-year-old son Ochie, who, despite being turfed out of his comfortable double bed by two strangers, seemed relatively pleased to meet us. It was great to have a shower and get out of the clothes that we had been wearing since we'd left Vietnam, three days previous. The problem was that we still had no clean clothes to change into! It was then that Sally produced some of the most ghastly garments you are ever likely to see in your life. Two short sleeved shirts, a pair of denim shorts and particularly special pair of Union Jack shorts.

We needed to be brave - beggars can't be chosers. We were either going to be trend setters, unafraid to break away from the norm and try edgy new styles that fashion designers would be setting the catwalks on fire with in Paris next year... or we would look like complete muppets. I'll let you be the judge...

Imagine wearing that. It isn't a fancy dress party, that's how Steve and, more to the point, myself, were dressed as we rode through Bali's busy streets on our way to the beach. If going out in public wasn't bad enough, Sally had arranged to meet up with a couple of friends at the beach.

The beautiful golden sands and warm waters briefly distracted me from my clashing outfit, but I was soon brought back to reality by the sound of laughter. Not my own, but that em imaging from a small group of people a hundred yards up the beach. I looked around wondering what the source of their hilarity was, before realising it was me. It was Sally who was stood amongst her friends whilst they gazed at me with a mixture awe and pity. But mainly pity.

Although I'd met Sally's friends, Meredith and Amanda, briefly the previous evening - I think I had been dressed slightly more conservatively and it was now that I was making a bigger impression. In fact my shorts were so impressive that when another of Sally's friends, Grishka, turned up and couldn't find us, he was promptly asked if he was looking for the 'guy with the shorts'!

I had a feeling I wouldn't live this down for a while!

Despite them destroying any self respect I had left by saluting the shorts every time they saw me, we decided to spend the majority of our weekend with Meredith, Amanda and Grishka. Steve and I enjoyed splashing around in the warm water with Ochie - and Meredith's daughter, Scarlet - whilst Sally enjoyed the chance to splash unsuspecting locals by belly flopping in the water next to them.

In the evenings we ate together and I discovered that Amanda was struggling with an addiction to Balsamic vinegar and that Grishka was a Cornish bay from just over the wrong side of the border near Newquay. It turns out that we had some mutual friends.

Even though our luggage had still not arrived by the Sunday - two days after we'd landed in Bali - we were definitely beginning to embrace the island lifestyle. Talking late in to the night and then lying on a beach the next day. I could certainly get used to this. Even in those shorts.