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.