Florence is such a stunning and grand place with palaces, museums, statues and beautiful buildings all around. I found the most impressive of these to be the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore which took over 140 years to construct during the 13^th, 14^th and 15^th centuries. The facade is uniquely decorated to a neo-gothic design of green, white and red marble which makes the building stand out from all other cathedrals I have been to, but the most prominent and distinguishing feature of this cathedral is the staggering huge dome. It is the largest brick dome ever built and as well as being immense and awe-inspiring on the outside, the fresco on the inside of the cupola is decorated with a 3,600 square meter (38,750 square feet) rendition of The Last Judgement with fantastic, provocative and terrifying images of The 24 Elders of Apoc, Choirs of Angels; Christ, Mary and Saints; Virtues, Gifts of the Holy Spirit and Beatitudes; and at the bottom of the cupola: Capital Sins and Hell. Standing in the Piazza del Duomo outside this great building it is still incredibly intimidating and dominating, but I can’t help wonder how it would have appeared to people that hadn’t grown up in a world where words like ‘skyscraper’ were in common use. Another highlight of my few days in Florence was seeing Michelangelo’s awesome David. It stands at the end of a hall of his unfinished sculptures and dominates the room. He is positioned in such a way that he seems to grow more than he should as you approach, and I easily spent twenty minutes in his presence!

We then went to spend a day and a night in Rome. There was obviously a lot that we wanted to fit into a relatively short period, so we had a packed itinerary. The first evening we checked into a great little hotel and the guy on the door was only too pleased to organise our site seeing for us. He had sent us on an evening excursion past the Piazza del Popolo, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and a few other nice spots – stopping in between for drinks and food of course; and the following day we visited the Vatican City and the monuments and gardens around the Colosseum.

I had visited the Vatican City before, but I was still in awe of the size of St Peter’s Square as we waiting in line to enter the cathedral. Once inside and up the tower the view out over the square continued to emphasise the size and grandeur that the papal city inspires in all visiting devotees and tourists alike. Imagining giving a public address out over a sea of tiny people gathered in this encircling auditorium conjured up images of power and conquest that many zealots must have experienced time and again. The place was designed to create a feeling of majesty and wonder towards the chosen few that reside within, and that is exactly what it does. Indeed, it not only influences people, but even the weather systems which are marginally different in the Vatican City because of the anomalous bulk of St Peter’s Basilica, the elevation, the fountains and the size of the large paved square.

I was also keen to see the Sistine Chapel which I had missed on my previous trip, and so went to the Vatican Museum. I only wanted to pop in to the chapel, but in order to get to it I had to walk around the rest of the museum, being herded from one room to the next – down insanely long corridors, up and down flights of steps. In fact, you’re so disoriented by the end of the trek you’re actually pleased to get to the more open space of the souvenir shops! There are actually some really interesting things to see in the Vatican Museum though. Most of the rooms are decorated with massive frescoes or tapestries. One of the halls is lined with maps of European countries, states, and kingdoms as they were hundreds of years ago, with intricate patterned ceilings and gilded chandeliers and coving – but it all culminates in the Sistine Chapel; the one place that you aren’t allowed to photograph! And it really is stunning. The ceiling is majestic and as complex as you might expect, and The Last Judgement on the wall above the altar is truly magnificent. I don’t care whether Michelangelo liked it or not; I thought it was great! After the Sistine Chapel we headed to the Colosseum, and then out into the gardens and ruins opposite and wandered through the remains of the ancient houses of great Roman leaders, and the remaining pillars and mighty temples, arches and basilicas that made up parts of the old Roman Forum.

The next stop was further south in Naples. There were three reasons that this place was next on the list: it was somewhere I hadn’t been to, it was close to Pompeii, and if we wanted to make our flight out of Italy we needed to be at Naples’ airport!

I didn’t really know much about Naples, except that it was going to be a city with strong traditionally Italian roots, plenty of good food, and ties to the Mafia! I must confess that travelling on the graffiti-ridden subway, I couldn’t help imagine where all of the tough-looking, sour-faced, beefed up locals had acquired their scars, and was a little relieved when we arrived at our stop having not been mugged.

I had chosen a hostel close to one of the stations out of the centre of the city and close to the waterfront. After carrying our big bags around for several weeks, I was getting tired of it and thought the closest hostel would probably be the best choice at this stage in our trip. Unfortunately, although the hostel appeared very close on the map it didn’t account for the relative mountain that we had to climb before we got to the entrance! The hostel wasn’t exactly very pleasant either, especially after such a nice hotel in Rome or staying with our friends in Florence. We pulled the paper-thin mattresses off the bunk beds and tried to make something more closely resembling a real bed on the floor, and then showered and went out to find some decent Italian food.

As soon as we reached the first strip where food was being sold we were accosted by a variety of waiters and restaurateurs competing for our custom and also in some personal competition to see who could be the most bombastic and enthusiastic to see another hungry tourist. It was a struggle to fight past the first few, but eventually we had done a short circuit of the restaurants and decided where to get some dinner. It was a little family-run place with four generations of the family running around serving, cooking, hosting, or kicking a football about. The food was delicious and when we had finished we went exploring a little further. Being on the waterfront there were lots of cafes and cocktail bars by the sea, with tacky swing chairs and neon lights to lure in the would-be drunken passersby.

Naples seemed to be a place of variety and contradiction. There were beautiful little lanes filled with hanging baskets, families and neighbours socialising with one another, little trattorias, and stray dogs; and there was also the side of the city which was loud, dirty, and at times obnoxious. Fresh fish was being sold on the shores, straight from the small fishing trawlers, and the locals chattered and haggled over the prices of octopus, squids, lobsters and all manner of little fish. I loved the white-stone that was used on some of the buildings or around the ports, and a great almost glowing yellow/white castle built on a headland. Vesuvius could be seen in the distance, especially from the castle keep – and that was where we were heading next.

Pompeii is now split into two towns. The new town is quite large, but it is dwarfed in scale by the old now uncovered ruined city preserved from nearly 2000 years ago. It has slowly been excavated and uncovered since it’s rediscovery in 1748 and the amount of history and insight that can be absorbed just by setting foot in the streets is not something I know I will not be able to accurately convey with my completely inadequate words. What I will say though is that the place is like a giant museum; and not a hotchpotch collection of relocated relics like most galleries or museums are, but this was a look at how something was in its ancient environment on a scale that must surely be unmatched throughout the world. There are of course displayed collections of preserved pots, bowls, tools, cadavers, and everything you would expect to find in a once lively town, but the real pleasure was to simply walk through the houses, shops, and streets.

As you stroll from one of the town’s focal points to another, such as between temples, theatres, or villas, it is easy to get lost in the imagined bustle of an ancient roman city. The people wandering around beside you may be wearing modern clothes, carrying cameras and guide books, and talking in all manner of dialects – but it’s easy to forget that: You are in an ancient Italian city, with the bustle of dozens of people going about their daily business.

Even when you are in an unremarkable street you can stumble across real archaeological treasures in any hidden corner. Every single inhabitant of ancient Pompeii had a house with a garden, and even when these buildings were small you could imagine the feeling of status and worth that this gesture would give the populous. In the grander houses the gardens would have pools and pillared courtyards, and in the smaller ones there may be stone benches, patios, or maybe places where they would grow some vegetables and fruit. The walls in even the most humble house still often had glorious frescoes of landscapes, people, or fantastical scenes from a long-forgotten story. In the brothels the pictures on the walls and in the small stone chambers were just as detailed and artistic – though followed a theme very much of their own! Several of the streets were also adorned with crude graffiti, Roman slang, and political propaganda relating to the upcoming election that would have happened if the city hadn’t been buried under tonnes of ash.

There were lots of interesting buildings which gave an insight into the everyday life of the people that lived there; thermopoliums – pubs with marble-topped bars; bakeries with old stone mills, ovens and shelves for the recently baked goods; there are elegant villas, including one with controversial frescoes depicting a rite from the outlawed Special Cult of Dionysus; communal baths; an amphitheatre and forum. All with their own stories of mystery and history, and all overlooked by the monstrous hulk of Vesuvius.

I have pictures from Italy of course, so take a look!

We had arranged to meet up and stay with Iva for our first night in Zagreb, and after a few days in Prague to say goodbye to my family we were arriving in Croatia. It is a great feeling when you meet up with someone who you’ve only spent a few days with before but can tell they are as excited to see you as you are to see them. Iva took us to her home, and after a quick beer and a shower we were out and sightseeing with one of her friends. We saw the parks, and some of the lovely architecture. We went to a pub for lunch with some more friends, and then to a gallery with a very curious light exhibition, then on to do some more sightseeing. Some of the architecture and decorations were unlike any I had seen, like a kind of bric-a-brac roof tiling on the Church of St Mark, and a great carving on an inside wall of a church in an ancient European script, Glagolitic.

That night a group of us went up to a fort called Medvedgrad which was originally constructed in the 13^th Century and offers views over the city which were captivating even by night. We partied on until late in the night, and after a couple of hours sleep we were back on the road, and heading for Plitvice Lakes National Park.

We had a night staying in very small B&B in the area of the national park, and after a rather confusing and time consuming check-in process which involved several of the locals and a dog, we had our bags inside and were on our way to the lakes.

I have never seen so many waterfalls in my life as I did that day. We took an old shuttle bus to the top of the river system and then slowly meandered downhill following the rivers and waterfalls. The water was a beautiful blue from the calcium-rich limestone it had passed through, and clear enough to see many large carp and other fish swimming around most of the time. The leaves were turning to their autumnal tones of yellows and reds, and as they collected on the already brightly coloured blue or green lakes they added another dimension to the bright and bold scenery.

After seeing what must have been over 100 waterfalls, and not a single bear or boar, we made our way out of the national park and returned tired to our B&B with only a brief stop on the way back for a bottle of wine, something to eat, and a rest for our legs.

The next day was another early start though we still had to run to make our bus. We were heading to Zadar, on the Eastern side of Croatia and just across the water from Italy. The contrast with the other places we had visited in Croatia was striking. This seemed very much like a Mediterranean town rather than the Eastern European feel of Zagreb. The buildings were white-washed, the gardens were filled with citrus-fruit trees and olives, and the sun was hot. We enjoyed our first afternoon there, walking around the city, taking in the sights and sounds and of course the food – and planned our following day which was a trip out to the Kornati Islands.

The trip out to the islands was quite a long one, but luckily we had plenty of good company – and started the day with sljivovica and coffee. Before long we were swaying with the boat and the schnapps and enjoying the warm sunshine on the deck. There were a few very interesting people to talk to on the trip, including a travel writer and photographer for transitionsabroad.com, a website devoted to cultural immersion and living in obscure or remote locations. The scenery on the journey was stunning Mediterranean seas dotted with rugged-looking islands, most of which were completely unpopulated save for a few sea birds, lizards, and the occasional fisherman. We passed several other sail boats and yachts (including one with very excited topless dancing girls on the roof deck) but when we arrived at the island we were spending the afternoon on there were very few people there.

I immediately distanced myself from the crowd of other holiday makers and went walking around the big salt lake in the middle of the island, and soon felt like a lone explorer on this island paradise with just the company of the lizards, crickets, and wild donkeys. Halfway round the lake I encountered the far shore of the island which was strewn with thousands of stones and boulders piled in precarious cairns of tribute to the travellers that had passed throughout the years. It looked like a Petrified Forest stretching off into the distance. I added my own stone to one of the piles and continued round the lake. I hadn’t passed anyone else for some time and I couldn’t see anyone around so I decided it would be an appropriate time to strip off and give the water a try. Because of the high salt content I was more buoyant than usual, and bobbed around for a bit feeling refreshingly cool after the heat of the sun and the walk, before carrying on around the lake and arriving where I began an hour or so later.

The journey back was uneventful. I was tired after so many early mornings, my long walk, and too much wine and schnapps so after our dinner I dozed on the boat until we approached the port of Zadar again. The sunset here was amazing, silhouetting the boats, and reflecting light from the terracotta coloured buildings on to the water, and after we landed we made our way to a waterside bar to enjoy the last of the light on our last night in Croatia.

Have a look at my Croatian pictures!

I packed for Welsh weather. Most of you will realise that this meant that my bag was filled almost entirely with jumpers and jackets, scarves and umbrellas. But we were lucky enough to see unprecedented warm weather whilst we were there. In fact I even got sunburnt one day! The first place we stayed in was quite central with stunning views over Swansea Bay, and from here we explored the surrounding area – walking through the barks down to the bay, and along into town for some Gower cockles, Laverbread or Joe’s Ice cream.

The first few days were spent visiting Sian’s family, going to parties and nights at the pub, and seeing a little more of Swansea. After a couple of days we decided to go for a trip along the Gower Peninsula to see some of the small towns and countryside that was on offer. The Gower was the first area within the UK to be designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in 1956. We had only a vague plan, which involved getting to Oxwich and exploring that area, and then moving on to Rhossili before it got too dark.

Oxwich had a huge flat beach by the water and hills leading away over unspoilt countryside speckled with sheep, pheasants, and churches. The countryside was lovely, and ranged from marshland to rocky outcrops. Blackberries were growing by the side of the paths and were delicious, and we wandered for several hours past huge fields, woods, a huge stately home and its immense grounds and a castle at the top of the hill. We got lost, as is obligatory when wandering around the country, and arrived back where we started after several very pleasant hours of wandering.

The next place we were heading to was Rhossili. I had hoped to get there for the sunset which was supposedly spectacular over the tidal island of Worm’s Head, so called because of its resemblance to a sleeping dragon as described by invaders approaching from the sea. But owing to our bus driving getting lost, crashing, getting stuck on a narrow road – and of course our own topographagnosia – we arrived in Rhossili to admire the sunset from a distance. There was no way we were getting to Worm’s Head in time. So after we settled in to our shepherd’s hut we were staying in round the back of a farm, we wandered in to town for a drink.

Like most of the towns on The Gower there’s not much to Rhossili. We walked for about half an hour down the small main road in to town, went to the pub for a couple of drinks, and then headed home. The shepherd’s hut was a lovely little wooden caravan with a fold-down sofa/bed and a little fold-up table, and a small log burner in one corner to keep it warm on the cold nights. I made sure I was awake for sunrise at 5:30 and lit the stove to get the place above freezing again! It was beautiful weather during the day, but overnight it was freezing! We spent a day walking along the cliff top from our farm to the town, stopping for a picnic overlooking a rock-strewn valley for breakfast, and continuing on to explore the beaches and views for the rest of the day. We eventually arrived back in the town after a long day of hiking and settled down to a big meal and a lovely beer!

After another night in the shepherd’s hut we headed off a little later in the morning having feasted on fresh fruit, cereals, sandwiches, and yogurts delivered by the famer. We decided to walk over the tallest point on The Gower, The Beacon on Rhossili Downs. It took a couple of hours to make it up and through the various obstacles, around the wild horses and sheep, and up the side of the hill – and the view from the top, along with the fierce wind – was breathtaking. We stopped for a small snack half way down the other side, and then continued on to the town for another beer.

The few days we had in The Gower were a great chance to spend a little bit of time in British countryside before we left the country again, but I was very thankful we hadn’t had a last taste of British weather. The days had been lovely and warm, and although the nights were cold – the log burner and beer blanket had kept the worst of it at bay.

And now it was time to head overseas….

Have a look at my pictures from Wales

It was a busy first weekend. Moving in to a new house in a new city and living with new people. I probably should have spent more time studying but instead spent most of my time exploring the new pubs that were on offer! And what pubs! Edinburgh is one of the nicest places I have ever lived. It is a stunning city of history and culture. The castle sits reverently overlooking the city, with the ancient cobbled lanes leading away down through the Royal Mile to the 900-year old Holyrood Palace and out from the Old Town to the newer parts of Edinburgh of equal character and comparable history. I initially live in Morningside, a famously genteel area of Edinburgh a little way outside the busier city centre, but after a few months moved closer to the action. It was after moving to this new place that I found my favourite haunts. I was close to the Royal Botanical Gardens, many fantastic old pubs, and some amazing restaurants including Dionika – where I found great food, wine, and friendship with the owner and his other faithful regulars.

There are a few particularly worthwhile times to be in Edinburgh throughout the year. Christmas and the weeks leading up to it are a time when it is great to be up there, and at times even someone as jaded as myself can get into the Christmas spirit. Princes Street is lined with sparkling trees of fairy lights, the smells of mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, and cinnamon can be smelt wafting from the markets on the street. There are bright flashing fairground rides on the banks of the park, frequently a dusting of snow or frost on the lawns and bushes, and everyone rushing around in brightly coloured scarves, hats, and puffy war jackets. New Year can be a lot of fun as well. The party starts three or four days before New Year’s Eve and typically involves bands in the street, music in the bars, and lots of food and drink that culminates in a spectacular firework display set off from the castle (if there isn’t too much wind, rain, or snow.) The aftermath is generally considered to warrant a considerable period for recovery, and so Scotland has two public holidays after New Year’s Eve. One is rarely enough to get over a proper hangover!

My favourite time to be in Edinburgh however is over the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The festival lasts just over four weeks these days, and has thousands of acts performing each year. I generally go for the comedy and some of the music, but the theatre, dance, and more unusual shows offer a bit of relief from the continuous laughter.

In August 2009 I went up to see my good friends Fatts and Amy who live just down the road from my old place there. It was a few weeks before I was going to be leaving the UK, and I wanted a last chance to catch up with my friends in Scotland and to go to the Festival. We saw so many performers in just over a week that my head was spinning. A few favourites put on excellent shows as always: Sean Hughes did a show largely about being old, and Richard Herring did one about his troubles with being taken seriously when he had decided to wear a ‘toothbrush’ moustache for three months and reclaim it, from Hitler, for comedy. I enjoyed Laura Solon’s character-based monologue Rabbit Faced Story Soup, and the Pajama Men’s character-based physical comedy. And the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre Goes to Hollywood was a great summary of the greatest moments in movies as performed by socks in kilts.

If you’ve not been to the Edinburgh Festival before – go now. Even if you don’t like socks you’ll find something to laugh at, I guarantee it.

Have a look at my Edinburgh photos.

Roskilde seems different to other festivals I have been to. There’s no one reason why – it’s partly that the music is so truly eclectic – there are seven stages spread over the site and you can hear anything from death metal to opera on any one of them throughout the festival. It’s also got a lot to do with the people – most of them aren’t English which is a good start! People come from all over the world to enjoy Roskilde, whether it’s the Scandinavian countries, other places in Europe, or as far afield as Australia, and because most people you meet are going to be from a different nation everyone has a different take on life, has had different experiences and is genuinely interested in getting to know the people around them.

Since I first went in 2005 I have been back to the Roskilde festival several times including in the summer of 2009. I went as always with Robbie who introduced me to the festival, and this time we decided to both bring our girlfriends. This would limit how obviously we were able to admire the beautiful Scandinavian girls at the festival, but [I’m sure] it had its perks too!

We met two Croatian girls, Maja and Iva, on the train to the festival site and as they were Roskilde-virgins we offered to show them around when we arrived. We met up with some of our Danish friends who were waiting for us in the festival grounds, and camped together in a great spot they had spied out for us! A day or so later we were joined by Swedish girls Ana and Hanna, and Camp SlowPök was ready to take on the festival!

The first few days of Roskilde are generally about parties in the campsite, smaller bands at the Pavilion Junior stage, and plenty of Tuborg beer. The weather was great in 2009, and so we rocked up to the stage with beers and a guitar in the early afternoon and enjoyed the sun, drinks and music well into the evening. On the first day I saw some great bands, the best of which were a fantastic metal act called Scamp where I moshed with the Power Rangers, and the first night I spent dancing like a loony on the top of a huge skate ramp whilst a selection of DJs pumped out fast, loud techno music.

Roskilde 2009 was such a good year it’s really difficult to think of the highlights. Playing our Super Monster Destroyer songs on the guitar whilst a handful of confused and drunk Scandinavians rocked out with us is a perennial joy I have associated with Roskilde since the first year we went, and a staunch fans from that year and since always join us on the choruses. The drunken antics of us and everyone around us are a constant source of amusement. Whether it’s being blindfolded and force fed a rum that’s more akin to liquid gunpowder than a drink, or enjoying cocktails served in pineapples with sparklers and streamers hanging off them, the end result is often the same ridiculous merriment and carefree abandon.

Of course the music plays a big part as well, with highlights from 2009 being the awesome and long-missed Faith No More who played a blinding set, had a row on stage and were every bit as entertaining as you would hope. Nine inch Nails played some classic tracks wonderfully, and did some artsy nonsense which was a bit boring and self-obsessed, just as you would expect! The Pet Shop Boys filled the air with their familiar synths and harmonies that awakened many memories from my childhood, and their stage show was very clever and entertaining – dancing and moving the blocks that made up the stage around and reconfiguring it so smoothly that you rarely noticed they were doing it until another song had started and everything looked different. Slipknot were brutal, their timing impeccable and their volume unparalleled throughout the festival!

And then there were the smaller names that I would never have heard of were it not for Roskilde that year. Alamaailman Vasarat were one of the best – a Finnish group who mixed leading melodies on trombone, clarinet and baritone saxophone with rhythm and bass provided by two cellists and a tight jazzy drum beat. The Soil and Pimp Sessions played ‘death jazz’ – a type of all-out frenzied jazz which is as relentless and fast as it is tight and chaotic. They were a Japanese group, fronted by a short man with an afro and big dark glasses in a very jazzy three-piece suit, and the rest of the band were young Japanese guys in Bermuda shorts and fluorescent sneakers. Their energy was awesome and contagious throughout the crowd! Amon Amarth filled the air with their pyrotechnics that were more prolific than any I have seen, and their Viking chants that make you want to grab their drinking horns and join in with the party and start some pillaging! The Mars Volta were crazy; Gojira were as tight and mathematical as the French have ever been; Zu were chaotic and confusing; Frightened Rabbit were beautifully folksy and moving; 2562 were danceable, bass-driven and fresh sounding dubstep; Madness were tight and their age was barely noticeable; and of course Volbeat were metal even your mother would like (with Elvis vocals)! There are just too many bands to mention here. So check out the official site for a full list.

And for God’s sake, go to the next festival!

Don’t forget to check out the pictures.

So it is hardly surprising that from an early age I wanted to explore this land which I had seen through my father’s eyes. Every time I return I think I appreciate it a little bit more. When I first visited I was still an awkward boy barely in my teens, and so whilst I appreciated the thought of beer and the long-legged girls, there wasn’t a lot I was able to do about it. I appreciated the parks with trees so confused about the seasons that they were green and golden, dropping leaves and producing conkers all at the same time. I watched my first jazz concerts and ballets with equal wonder at these new musical extravaganzas, so different from one another. I walked for hours along the cobbled streets, experiencing those aches only cobbles can cause, but which were made tolerable by the city which seemed to be a time-capsule of medieval and gothic architecture, peppered with shop fronts filled with swords, coloured glass, or marionettes. I remember the restaurants – a passion of mine from a very early age; the Japanese and Indonesian places I might lunch in, the stalls selling corn-on-the-cob and klobasa sausages for mid-afternoon snacks, and the fine dining restaurants which were affordable enough for every evening. And not a McDonalds in site!

As time has gone on, I have learnt more about The Czech Republic and started to appreciate different things. The place has changed a lot in the last fifteen years but because I know people there to point me in the right direction I can still find the cheap places for lunch, and avoid paying too much for a beer, and Prague still feels very much the same to me – even though now there’s no escaping the McDonalds. For a while my twice-yearly trips would be drunken blurs (depending on who I might take with me, Gordon!) and I enjoyed the delectable Bavarian beers that lined every street. A pub-crawl was quite often a very dangerous affair because of the amount of pubs you would have to pass on any given circuit! But these days I have more time for the galleries and exhibitions, the bottle of wine in the park, the quality beers savoured over an afternoon rather than drunk to help cope with the hangover from the previous night. And I have a lot more time for my family over there.

My sister Natalie is nearly nine years old, and is becoming the highlight of my trips out to Prague. She bounds around the room with a permanent grin on her face like a mischievous squirrel who mistook coffee beans for acorns. As far as I can tell, her main hobbies are tripping people up and pretending she doesn’t love being tickled – and when I see her she puts as much effort into ensuring her days are filled with plenty of both as she can. When I first met her, we would speak in English or Czech – and I could keep up for the most part. We would look at pictures of animals, and she would try and remember the English words and I would try and remember the Czech, and we were both learning from each other. Then a few months went by, and when I next saw her she was criticizing my accent, telling me off for not trying hard enough, and being far more cocky and confident with both her languages. I had fallen behind with my studies in a big way. I think she was about three!

Now it seems to take me most of a trip out there to remember how to get by in Czech with the handful of phrases which can still be coaxed out of the dark and dusty corners of my brain. But it doesn’t matter anymore – I have a little giggling translator hanging off my arm most of the time now!

Prague is a beautiful place. Have a look at my photos from February 2009!

It was with much sadness that I left the wonders, warmth and whimsy of Australia behind me and returned, prematurely I felt, back to the UK. I had made so many friends, seen so many fantastic things, and been to so many exotic places that the previous year had swept past me with the speed and force of a tornado, leaving me a little dazed and dizzy in much the same way.

The plan was to arrive at the beginning of October 2008, find a job as soon as possible, and be back Down Under three months later. I was determined to make that happen! I spent the first two weeks mainly locked away in the eaves of a barn with Internet-based recruitment portals as my only friends, and took the first role that was offered to me. The money was average, the project was vague, but I could work remotely, and that would give me plenty of time to catch up with my friends!

Rather than live in Leigh where I had been immediately before I departed, I was staying in the countryside of Burnham-on-Crouch, as my family home had been sold in my absence (parents are like toddlers when they get to a certain age – you should never leave them unsupervised!) And Joe, my mother’s partner, very kindly agreed to take me in. So in a back room of his converted barn I worked away on my employer’s website during the week, and returned to civilisation at the weekends to catch up with the friends I had missed whilst I had been abroad.

I managed to balance my life pretty well. I was saving money by not having to travel to work and by sponging off my mum, and so fairly quickly I had paid off my debts, paid for my next visa for Australia, and had money in the bank for the flight back.

Realising time was short, I was keen to resurrect Super Monster Destroyer – the greatest comedy metal band to ever wear Christmas lights and stuffed turkeys on stage – and we organised a Christmas Spectacular, rocking loud and long into the night, and even managed to have Santa Claus deliver presents to all the good (and bad) boys and girls that came to see us. This was certainly the highlight of my first few months back in the UK – to play again with some of the most amazing friends and musicians I have had the privilege to be amongst, and get royally wasted in the process.

After Christmas, for various annoying reasons, the return trip to Australia was not yet ready to happen. So I postponed for another three months, and decided a change of strategy. I had my money, I had worked hard and been far away from my friends, so now was the time to start celebrating being back in England throughout winter and spring.

I sensed that my mother and Joe wanted their space, and I would be omitting all the facts if I said that it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind too, so I moved in with some great and longstanding friends back in Leigh. The house was large and very comfortable, the entertainment was always on hand, and the pool was freezing cold. What a daft time to live in a place with a swimming pool! It really made me miss Oz and the warmth! So before long I was planning some trips away! If I was going to be stuck in the Northern hemisphere, I didn’t have to remain in England!

And so in February I visited my family in the Prague. In March I visited my friend in New Delhi, and we spent some time in Manali in the Himalayan foothills. And in so doing, being unable to return to Australia wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Truth be told, I loved being back around all my friends. Most of whom I had known for so long that the time apart was like it had never happened. I was able to see friends’ bands, like Scratton Road and Dark Matter Transfer; Meet new additions to the various social circles I had left behind like the new role-players and photographers I met. We had some excellent reunions in familiar and homely locations like the Leigh Seafront and The Elms pub; and had I not so often been drinking a little bit too much, I would probably be able to categorically say (rather than assume) that I had some very deep and meaningful conversations!

Those three months passed quickly – and instead of getting straight in a plane and returning to the place I was still thinking of as ‘home’, another delay scuppered my plans. Spring was now here, and summer was approaching as fast as it could in England, and it seemed silly to delay another three months just to disappear as the Australian winter was in full swing and the British one just beginning – so I decided that I would wait out the summer. Before I left Australia everyone had told me that if I went back I would be gone for at least a year but I refused to believe them, and here I was making plans that would ensure I would be doing just that.

I was determined to make the most of my time in England though. I arranged to go to the mighty Roskilde Festival in Denmark to see some astounding bands, and meet with some very beautiful people; the new Dark Mills alternative festival in London, and I was also keen to have another Edinburgh festival before I ventured to the other side of the world.

In between these various trips I spent my time working for the same awful company, and tempering the irritation that came with that by role-playing with my friends, visiting shows and gigs, photographing anything and everything I saw, and trying to meet new people.

I ended up living in Burnham on Crouch again. For a while back at the barn – which in just the few months I had been away had transformed into something so drastically different it was practically palatial – with beautifully tended flower beds, large daisy-speckled lawns, newly planted trees and pot plants on a newly constructed patio, and decking around the swimming pool which was just crying out to be exploited on a long summer evening. When I had out-stayed my welcome again [or maybe a few weeks after that point] I moved into a cottage down the road where I could have my own space, leave my mess around the house, cook stinking foods in the kitchen, and not worry about disturbing anyone with the screeching noises coming from my guitars or computers.

Moving to this place was more of a blessing than I had expected. I was further away from the expensive temptations of the town, and so began slowly to save up some of the money I had spent on my too-frequent overseas trips and jaunts down the pub, and met several new people who really made my time there fantastic. The sort of people that made sure they were around to see me off before I finally left the UK, and brought more wine than sense to make sure that we had a fantastic night to remember (through the little windows the booze left us to look back through). I learnt to shoot traditional longbows, made by Joe, and even cooked my first bit of road-kill (if you want a recipe for worm-stuffed pigeon give me a call!) The evenings by the water were as stunning as those spent cycling through the corn fields, and to have that last glimpse of quintessential English life before I left was just what I needed to temper my normally all-too-jaded outlook.

So sincere thanks and love goes out to all who made that year more than bearable (and apologies for including such a corny ending to my first blog in a year.) Thanks to all of my family who I know made sacrifices to bring me much happiness. Thanks to Robbie, and Darryl for being so much fun to rock out with; Gaz, Vince, Mark, Matt, Stu, and Jim for being very entertaining role-players and great friends; Chris, Liesl, Jeni, Keeley, Tina, Joel, Leo, Pete, Dan, Hayley, Jeff, and many more for being wonderful people to talk to and to listen to me – in and out of good times, and in and out of the pub! Steve and Scratton Road, and the crew from DMT for making my ears cry with joy and scream in pain (respectively); Fatts and Amy for their generosity and humour when we were up in Edinburgh, and Juan for his amazing cooking and unparalleled cheerfulness; Ian for being a constant source of provocative thought, inspiration, technical and spiritual guidance, Mike and Dave for being wonderful friends I would love to have known for longer, and everyone else (I know there are many of you) who I have not mentioned here but who I will always love very dearly.