But the thing about living in Australia – a country the size of Europe with the population of Greater London – is that it’s just impossible to have trains leaving every five minutes to every populated patch of land. You’d need more train drivers than there are people across the whole continent! And so it has finally become necessary for me to evolve from Driven to Driver and procure my own set of wheels.

If I have to transport myself around though, I want to have fun. I can’t afford a plane or helicopter, a boat is only practical for seaside destinations, jet-packs are still far too impractical and economically inefficient, so that left me deciding on a motorbike. With the words from Iron Maiden’s From Here to Eternity and Megadeth’s 502 running through my head I completed a few hours of training, and was then sent through the gates of the training centre legally allowed to make a mess of myself on the Devil’s Bend or under any of the 88 wheels of a road train. I was back on track for that big Rock n Roll crash ending I’d always half-expected!

I won’t bore you with details of any of my near-misses, minor crashes, or even the major ones, but one phenomenon I have noticed which tickles me is the exclusive club I seem to have involuntarily joined. When I first started riding, I would occasionally think that I saw another rider on the road nod his head in my direction, but the more time I spent on the road the more I realised this was definitely happening. Maybe they think they recognised me – we must all look fairly similar with helmets and leathers on – but no, that’s not it. I know they can’t be acknowledging the quality of my ride; it’s a scuffed-up 22-year-old Japanese shit-heap! But still if a fellow rider pulled up beside me at the lights, cruised by whilst overtaking, or came past in the opposite lane he would look across and dip his head.

Then I realised this was simply an acknowledgement that we were on a vehicle with the same number of wheels. We were part of a prestigious club, albeit one which has millions of members nationwide. At first I thought it was as ludicrous as waving to everyone that drives past in a car the same colour as you, and laughed and ignored people who I saw doing it, but somehow I seem to have been taken in by it! As bikers we all share something more than just a choice of transportation; it’s a choice of lifestyle and a reflection of our personalities. Excitement determines what we do day-to-day, not practicality. We are thrill-seekers. We all think we have style; maybe even that we are the elite, better than everyone that needs four wheels to get around! And it’s not just a nod, it’s more akin to doffing one’s hat as a sign of mutual respect, or maybe a secret hand-shake! We share a secret – and that secret is how f***ing cool and liberating it is to be screaming down the road, leaning in to the corners, sailing past endless lines of traffic with the wind in our… helmets.

I’ve noticed a trend that certain riders do it more than others. Anyone on a cruiser, particularly a Harley, will always do it. Maybe because they’re the most pompous of all bike riders (I can’t wait to own one myself!) and yet no one on a moped will ever do it. Maybe they’re ashamed. I like to think so. Now when I find myself nodding at riders coming the other way I get a genuine sense of pride that I’m a biker as well. And I hate myself for it! What’s worse is that I get annoyed if they don’t do it back! There seems to actually be some people out there with enough of their own cool that they don’t need other people to acknowledge them to make them feel special. Bastards. Who do they think they are? I doffed my hat at you, sir, and you do not do likewise?! You have offended me and insulted my honour! Prepare to duel!

Or maybe I’m just over-thinking this.

2009 was like the Friday of the decade. It had been a long week full of excitement, adventure, and life-changing experiences – but I was tired and went home early to have a very lazy afternoon.

That’s not to say I didn’t accomplish much that year, just that it was the more sedate and simple things that entertained me such as catching up on missed television programs, drinking with old friends, and certainly not blogging about my experiences.

But 2010 is now here: ‘The Year of the Future’, ‘The Year of Change’, ‘The Year of Progress’ (and apparently also ‘The Year of the Girl Guide’.) And for me personally it will also, at least in part, be the year for catching up on my blogs.

I wrote many travel blogs in 2007/2008 because I was doing lots of things which I felt were exciting, for myself and hopefully for one or two others that know me. I enjoyed writing them immensely, and the occasional feedback I received was always very encouraging; and given my tendency to forget – I think it was a valuable way for me to consolidate the memories that otherwise might have drifted off into obscurity.

So now I start a mammoth task: to remember 2009! I have a few photos at hand to try and stir my hippocampus into something resembling normal activity, a pot of fresh coffee at my side, and a host of music from the last year at my disposal to try and awaken those forgotten thoughts and emotions.

I will be organising my posts not by the dates they are eventually written, but by the dates the events I discuss actually happened. In that way, I hope to produce a diary of 2009 which doesn’t all occur in the first few weeks of 2010! I will publish them in no particular order, but will add a note to this blog as each one is written.

So it is with a promise that I will try to make my next blogs much more interesting than this one that I now begin….

The most recent thing I was able to strike from the list was a trip to Loch Lomond. A place I have heard in song since primary school, and I thought it would be nice to explore those bonny, bonny banks whilst I am still close by. I didn’t quite realise the size of that loch though…. 23 miles long, and up to 5 miles wide! Those bonny banks are going to remain largely unexplored by me for a little while longer, but there’s a small stretch in the middle which I now know intimately. Well, as intimately as you can come to know a stretch of countryside in half an hour.

A weekend of excess and not enough sleeping has left my body aching and exhausted but it is a small inconvenience for the complete rejuvenation my soul has undergone!

And next on the list (apart from enjoying another week of the Fringe Festival with continued and unadulterated boozing) is a trip to Loch Ness next weekend. It’ll be really nice to get back up into the Highlands for a little while and as we move through the more wild lands of Scotland I’m hoping to see a few more herds of deer in the passing forests and a couple of lone buzzards guarding the skies. And a few less swarms of midgies would be nice… but I think to hope that might be a bit daft!

Knowing that you’re going to be leaving a place you love makes you think about the specific things that make you happy and realise that there’s a lot to miss. I’m going to miss the smell of the brewery in Edinburgh as I go past it in the morning – that smell of warm Weetabix which remains one of the most homely smells of the city. I’m going to miss the restaurants I love and the people that make them such a pleasure to visit, and the bars I collapse in and the people that put me in a taxi home.

And when I’m in Australia there’s even more that will make me look back with fondness on my time in the UK, and maybe create a pang of yearning in the pit of my stomach: cooking mighty feasts with the best ingredients; drinking good British ales in traditional British bars; playing my music at window-shaking volumes; electric guitars hanging and sitting on every surface in the room.

And there’s bound to be some things that I have never thought about before: being on the same continent, that same piece of rock, as nearly all of my friends and family; the familiarity of knowing which direction the water will circle down the plughole; knowing that the if I were to get in a fight with a spider I’m certainly going to win…

So for the moment, I’m going to bask in all of these things. Over-indulgence of these simple pleasures whilst they are available is the order of the day. So expect to see me in my favourite bar with my favourite pint; or listening to my favourite band on my favourite sound system – maybe playing along on my favourite guitar through my favourite amp, and with my favourite friends around me.

…Whilst pointing and laughing at every little spider I see cowering in the shadows.

“On soft grey mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke;
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax.
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king.”

I suppose the circumspection isn’t really required – I know I could step off the plane having given no thought to my next move and get along fine – but I feel an obligation to my current lifestyle of structure and order to organise at least the first few days into some semblance of a plan, and to have a vague idea of what else I might want to do in the following year.

So far though, I don’t have much.

I want to use this journey as an opportunity to change my outlook on life, and my goals and ambitions for the future. Move away from the humdrum and the rat race that I’m currently a part of, and get back to experiencing the things that happiness of the soul truly emerges from.

So with that in mind, what have I got planned for my first week in Australia?

I’d love to have a list of plans so exciting that you’re immediately convinced to regularly come and check this blog to find out how I’m getting on with my croc-wrestling, wreck-diving, emu-riding, and training for the international off-road pogo-stick mountaineering championships – but so far, the only concrete plan I have is… a job interview. I depress myself.

So the search for activities to indulge in whilst in Australia has begun. I arrive in Sydney so I suppose I should take advantage of that… A trip to the Opera House has to be made! Maybe oysters under Harbour Bridge before catching a show. I understand there’s good drinking in the city… so I’ll be on the look out for a nice bar or two. Then there’s the Blue Mountains not far from Sydney… my time in Edinburgh has got me used to hills – I reckon I’m ready to tackle a mountain.

Has anyone been to Sydney before? Heard anything about the place? Can anyone make something up? If you suggest a plan: a place to go, a thing to see, a drink to consume, or a person to throw jelly at – I’ll do it in your honour!