Vans around the world

Cheese news

2006-06-20T02:46:00.000-07:00

I totally forgot to mention something brilliant that happened to me a few weeks back.

I was in Manly for their annual food and wine festival. For two days, the street leading up from the ferry and down to the beach overflows with stalls selling every wine you could imagine, and heaps of different things to eat. I even spotted someone selling paela bubbling away in a huge earthernware pot. It reminded me that I must make one very soon. It's a bit of a speciality of mine.

You buy a glass frome any wine seller for $7 which hangs round your neck (I absolutely loved this) and with this you get your first sample thrown in. After that, you pay $2 per measure, which is about half the glass so pretty good value. We tried quite a few different varieties. Some red, some white.

At somepoint I started thinking about cheese. "Anyone up for getting some cheese?" I asked. "Yes," said Will, a fellow cheese lover. Shortly afterwards, we stumbled across a stall laden with "cheese platters". Now, I'm not sure what everyone's definition of a cheese platter is but mine does not include dried figs, strawberries and other pointless fruits. Not that strawberries are pointless fruits but do they belong on cheese platters? No they do not. "Is it possible just to get some cheese?" I ask the guy. "No, we only sell the platters," he says. "Oh, ok then." "There's a deli round the corner that sells cheese though." "Are you the only cheese stall?" "Yep". Thanks I said. Thinking to myself how mad it was that at a wine festival there was only one cheese stall, which didn't actually sell any cheese. Just a few miserable looking slithers lying precariously between some shrivelled prunes.

Anyway, after writing a letter in my head to Manly Council about the matter, we decided to take a walk to the deli. It couldn't be that bad could it? At the worst, they would have a basic chedder, a brie and possibly some sort of stilton.

But no. We wondered into the deli and what I saw in front of me was something quite unbelievable. In front of me in all its glory was a 'Fromage Room'. An actual room full of bloody cheese! Probably the greatest thing I could ever have hoped to have found. Well, that was it. Will and I were off like a couple of teenagers! I cautiously opened the door, not actually sure if we were allowed inside (or if it was just a figment of my imagination) But yes, you could go in and it was real. There were so many different cheeses. It was absolutely amazing!

After having a good look, and our photo taken in various poses - holding cheese, investigating cheese, 'cheese'ing' our remarkable discovery, we settled on a brie and some blue cheese. We also brought a jar of jalepeno peppers just for the hell of it. Love jalepeno's.

Not only was the inside of the Fromage Room classic. On the outside, there was a whiteboard that read "Cheese news." How I laughed. Absolutely brilliant. Left the deli in the greatest mood ever. I think Will's exact words were 'cheese me happy!'. We sat ourselves down on a bench and proceeded to gorge our way through. Unfortunately, the blue cheese was a little too strong and properly salty but the brie was lush. After about ten minutes of trying to open the jalepenos, we found that sticking one in a bit of brie was quite the thing.

The moral of the story? There isn't one really. I just love cheese. However, it's interesting how much greater something can be when you're not expecting it. If the guy at the fruit stall had told us that the deli had a cheese room then would the sight of it have been so sweet? No, probably not. It would still have been great don't get me wrong, but the surprise of finding something like that is what counts. Should you always expect the worse so you are never disapointed? I'm not so sure but on this occassion it definitely made all the difference.

God bless the queen

2006-06-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

I'm no fan of the monarchy but this weekend I was eterenally grateful to the Queen for her existence. Her birthday allowed me to enjoy a three day weekend!

On Friday night, I left work early and met up with H and Jonny. H and Jonny are friends of Will's from home and moved out here last month. They live in Manly but that's no reason not to like them. In fact, I like them quite alot! They are lovely, and it is a royal shame that they didn't get out sooner.

We went to a bar in the city called Tab. A bar I have often walked past but never been in. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was a pretty swanky establishment thanks to the blue neon lit sign that adorns the entrance. It isn't. It's just a very ordinary bar with rather pointless and slightly irritating metal strings dangling from the ceiling as you make your way through to the toilets. Someone probably got paid shitloads for that.

Anyway, it did the job and before I knew it, the time was 10.30pm and Jonny, who is fully football focused, made a mad dash to catch the last ferry back in time for the opening ceremony! Meanwhile, me, H and Satyan, who had joined us earlier, decided to go to Chinese Laundry for some breaks action. We had a brilliant night! Dancing, drinking and generally having a giggle..

Needless to say, as per most Saturday mornings of late, I awoke feeling a little worse for wear and proceeded to spend the best part of the day in bed watching dvd's, developing inappropriate crushes on Eminem in 8 Mile, and eating fish cakes from the local chippy. In the evening, I just about managed to drag myself out and into town where I went to see a film as part of the Sydney Film Festival with Will. It was called Little Miss Sunshine and was brilliant. Very, very funny and really well shot. It was also screened at the State Theatre. I love the State Theatre! Such an enticing venue with gilt edged walls and pretty alcoves dusted with paintings of children dancing and the like.. Afterwards, we watched the footie. I fell asleep. Don't think I missed much.

On Sunday, I had a pretty much perfect day. Got up around midday and went for a full English breakfast. Lovely sausages. Rubbish waitress. She made my juice wrong and charged me for a chai latte I never got. Maybe some sort of career change required? I didn't say that though. Just smiled sweetly, and Will told her the bill was wrong. Afterwards, we wondered into town and decided to go to the arcade. We played House of the Dead, rode motorbikes, drove cars. I'm 28 in three weeks time so I've got to do this sort of thing while I'm still young!

After that, we decided to go to a pub called the Lord Dudley. Elena actully introduced this to me on a rainy miserable Sunday way back when and I loved it the very minute I walked in. It's a typical olde English style pub tucked away in the tree lined streets of leafy Paddington. The bar is stacked high with every spirit you can think of and lots of little lights twinkle off the rows and rows of glassses hanging from the wooden racks. We ate chicken and leak pies and drank Coopers Green and red wine until heading off quite literally into the most magnificant sunset that hung over the rooftops with a beautiful intensity totally unjust by any description..

In the evening, we went to Darling Harbour for a beer festival at Bungalow 8. There was nothing much out of the ordinary but we did get to try a very nice ale. Will's mates Leah and Chris joined us and we wondered down to the firework display at the jazz festival. Unfortunately, we only managed to catch the end of before the sparks and colours vanished into the nights sky so we grabbed a quick drink instead and then Will and I went to see more Sydney Film Festival films. I watched something called Friends with Money that was slightly predictable, and only vaguely enjoyable. Jennifer Anniston was cast in the lead role, playing the typical ditzy, funny, quirky character that only Jennifer Anniston knows best. Still, it was at the State Theatre again so I can't complain. And I had popcorn.

Monday. Extendable weekend! Who hoo! So, we went down to Bondi for a surf. Was absolutely vicious so we didn't bother but, I did have a swim which was bitter but lovely. Got a little bit emotional when I got out though. I'm really feeling really odd about going now. It's hard not to when I've only got 7 weeks left. I'm leaving alot of things I love behind. One of which is most definitely jumping into the beautiful blue water and diving into the waves like nothing else matters. In time, I'm sure I'll get over it but I fear that is a very long way off..

We rounded the day off with a curry at Julia's and watched Twin Town. I had forgotton how funny that film was yet very dark at the same time. Got into bed that night feeling tired but content. Was another typically fun packed, action filled weekend in sweet, still quite sunny, Sydney..

Diamonds are forever, and so are bond(i) girls

2006-06-01T23:21:00.000-07:00

The fact that I turned down my first offer of sponsorship out here because it would mean moving from Bondi should give you an indication of how much I love living there.

It's funny really because when I saw Bondi beach for the first time I was somewhat underwhelmed. For such a famous strip of sand it looked remarkably average. It was half the size I had imagined and without a single surfer in sight. I was disappointed to say the least.

But, that was ten months ago and since then Bondi has become my home and the beach a place full of a thousand memories, which makes it more beautiful than any I have ever known.

I have always felt an inane urge to justify my reasons for living in Bondi as here, as some of you well know, it is known for attracting British backpackers. but so what? It's an amazing place and that's why people go there. Where else can you be in the buzz of the city one minute and then floating in the clutches of the big, blue ocean the next? If I chose to live in such a location, surely that can only be a good thing?

Anway, I've stopped that now. I simply say when anyone asks ' I live in Bondi', and deliver a smile that leaves them in no doubt whatsoever whether to question or mock me about this.

Regardless of what anyone else thinks, when I leave here in two months time I know my life will not be the same without:

- waking up in the morning and looking out over the ocean from my balcony
- jumping in the ocean and feeling the waves crash and bubble over me
- snorkelling off the rocks, reaching out to touch a brightly coloured fish and following the groper along the ocean floor
- sunbathing on the beach or chilling out on the grassy knoll letting the day pass by with dips in the ocean and conversations about nothing much but everything important
- asparagus and sweetcorn pies, chicken and pumpkin pies, sausage rolls, chocolate and macadamia nut tarts from the North Bondi Bakery
- Bondi burgers from Oporto's
- Surfers walking up the street in their wetsuits
- Slick - my boogie board of justice
- Walking around barefoot
- wondering up Hall Street, grabbing a chai latte, watching the world go by
- checking out the boys, sorry I mean clothes, in General Pants
- prawn, anchovy, onion and garlic pizza's from Big Johns
- playing pool in the Royal
- random nights in the Beach Road
- cheeky sessions at the Bunga Bar and Mocean

But most of all, when I leave Bondi I will miss my mates, and hanging out with my mates there. It's been amazing.

Anyway, just to make myself feel slightly better! here are a few things I've thought of that I definitely won't miss:

- the Bondi road on the weekend - a travesty beyond words
- the Irish - they get everywhere
- the Bondi hotel - quite the worst place ever
- the hellishly annoying flys you get in the early months of summer
- dirty, dirty, cockroaches - never a pleasure always a chore

The ride of my life

2006-04-21T17:28:00.000-07:00

Looking down over Sydney from 1200 ft is not something you get to experience every day, if at all. But thanks to my friends and ex-colleagues at Visa in London, I was lucky enough to do just that on a 30-minute helicopter ride over one the worlds greatest cities.

From the sparkling emerald waters of Gordons Bay to the infamous stretch of golden sand that has been my home for the past eight months, every single second took my breathe away. Seeing the harbour bridge and the Opera House like that was absolutely stunning, and an experience I will never forget. It reminded me exactly why I came here and how that one small decision has enriched my life in so many ways.

Potentially, I have just three months left in Australia, and it's a thought I'm finding hard to deal with right now. On the one hand, I can't wait to get back to my friends and family and begin a new chapter of my life back in the UK. On the other, I feel that there is still so much for me to see and do here. That the life I have built up or myself is only really starting to take shape.

Ultimately, each path has its own set of opportunities, challenges, and sacrifices. It's just a case of deciding which one is going to bring me the most happiness. At the moment - I honestly do not know.

I can't quite put into words exactly how I feel but at this point in time Sydney is my big love, and leaving it behind may just break my heart...

Got me feathers ruffled innit

2006-04-06T23:05:00.000-07:00

It's turned out to be quite a beautiful day today. So much so that at lunchtime I think yes - I'll sit in Hyde park where it is pretty and peaceful and relaxing.

So, off I wonder to the local food court where I pick up my favourite take-away Thai for the bargain price of six bucks. I stroll down to the park and find a lovely little spot - half in the shade, half in the sun. Even the gentle hum of the midday traffic isn't enough to spoil the mood so I sit myself down and get stuck in. Although I'm hungry, I decide to stop for a breather a third of the way through. The portions are massive and I am already feeling full. I put the container by my side and lie down on the grass...

It's so nice and sunny that I close my eyes and begin to drift off... Suddenly, I sense something next to me. My immediate thought is that some tramp is attempting to steal my wallet so I very quickly open my eyes to give a 'go away you mentalist' stare and grab my stuff. Instead, there roughly three inches from my face is a ruddy great big Ibis eating my chickan!

I jump to my feat, let out a rather strangled high pitched scream followed by a 'f##k off! you f##king shit!' to the great amusement of everyone around me. The bird proceeds to upend my container where it spills out my food all over the grass. As I jump up and try to get it away, it starts picking at my things, taking a shine to my work security pass in its black ugly beak and scuttering off to the left of me about five or so metres. I'm now vaguely hysterical at the audacity of this bird to ruin my lunch and completely embarrass me so I'm standing like an complete idiot doing nothing until finally it gives up, drops my pass and goes away.

I quickly pick up as much of my lunch off the floor as I can and put it back into the container before dropping it in the bin and hurridly escaping (otherwise known as running) out of the park and back to the office where I'm safe from preying eyes. Bloody hell.

Can I just shock you? I do actually like birds. Well, penguins, robins owls and ducks. Apart from that, I hate them all. They scare me. They really scare me. Particularly pigeons, swans (the evilist of them all), Ibis's (today's experience putting this variety into top 3 worst bird territory) and geese.

The only good thing to come out of birds are eggs, which of course led to Cadbury's creating creme ones which I love more than Dan from Hollyoaks.

Now you sea them - now you don't

2006-02-28T22:09:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to think of the most embarrasing thing that has ever happened to me. Particular (parent-friendly) memories that spring to mind include:

- Jumping on a motorbike outside a trendy London bar, falling off, knocking it over and proceeding, much like a game of dominos, to topple the entire row to the ground setting off each and every alarm.

- Walking the full length of the office with my skirt tucked in my knickers, only to be told by my young, rather lovely, male colleague after bending down to pick up my bag. He sat right behind me.

- Going on a date to a fancy restaurant with a guy from school that I had fancied for nearly a year and ordering a bowl of chips because I was too nervous to eat. Him eating a three course meal. Us going to his local afterwards, Me getting ID'd. Him driving me home. Me thinking that he was going to make a move (absolute madness). Me removing my chewing gum from my mouth and into my hand. Him not going to kiss me. Him going to grab my hand.

God. The more I think about this, the more alarming some of my recollections become so I am going to stop right now! The reason I got to contemplating this was because something particularly awful happened to me last week.

Now I know I said I would be leaving Slick in the sidelines for a while but I couldn't resist having a quick boogie board down at Bondi. I love getting involved in the waves!

The surf was particularly lively and I managed to pick up a few corkers. I get a bit cocky out there sometimes though and so what happened to me next is quite my own doing. I decided to go pretty far out where I sat and waited till I saw a mother of a wave come towards me. As I went to catch it, the next thing I know I'm being rolled over and over underneath the wave - my arms and legs a tangled mess of limbs. I come out of it and realise I've lost my board. I also come to the stark (naked) realisation a split second later that isn't the only thing I have lost. Such was the fierceness of the wave it had taken my bikini bottoms clean off and back out to sea!

Bearing in mind that I had been pulled right into the shoreline by the wave, the water was less than knee-high deep. Panicking and wondering what an earth to do before anyone saw (the water was pretty quiet but the beach was packed) I furiously inched my way back out into the sea where I could at least stand up without anyone seeing. Here I waited for what seemed like a lifetime before I finally managed to pluck up the courage to call two guys over. On learning of my dilemna they proceeded to piss themselves laughing while I stood completely mortified (and half naked).

Once the hysterics had passed they very kindly went and got me a towel so I could retain my dignity, and for that I am eternally grateful.

So, an embarrassing moment to say the least but relatively amusing none the less. Thought I'd share it with you.

Have I lost my bottle?

2006-02-27T15:36:00.000-08:00

After the minor injury I incurred at Seal Rocks last month, you'd have thought I would stay clear of any board related activity for a while.

Nope. As an 'extreme sportist', me and my mate Slick (the boogie board of justice) have been riding the waves at Bondi big time. As such, I've become some sort of professional, and Slick is a local celebrity.

Okay, okay. That's not strictly true. Slick is not a local celebrity, and neither am I a professsional, but he is starting to get a name for himself for being a trouble maker. Let me explain...

Now. I've told you that being attacked by a shark is pretty unlikely. However, being stung by a bluebottle is bound to happen at somepoint. For those of you unfamiliar with these cheeky little devils, bluebottles are one of Australia's most common species of jellyfish. They have a blue gas-filled sac that floats on the surface of the water and tentacles that hang underneath. There are stinging cells in rows along the tentacles, which cause immediate pain lasting more than an hour.

When Satyan and I went down the beach last week, the shoreline was covered in them. Absolutely littered. Although one sting is not enough to cause too much damage, repeated attacks can lead to fatality, and as such there were very few people in the water that day. But it was hot, and so we waited patiently for them to disperse and after about an hour they did and we went in.

I can't pretend I was very happy about this. Although desperate to jump in the ocean and cool down, not only were there still a few dead ones floating about, the bikini I was wearing ties at the side and everytime I felt the strings touch my leg I thought it was a bluebottle wrapping its tenticles around me! Needless to say, I made a relatively swift exit and managed to remain sting free.

Thankfully, over the weekend the 'coast was clear' (or so it seemed) and everyone was back in the water as per usual. The 'beware of bluebottles' sign had been removed and there wasn't a gas-filled sac insight. Only problem now was that there were no waves either so sensing Slick's frustration, I decided to half float, half swim from the north side of the beach to the rocks. This was really rather enjoyable and so the next day I decided to do it again, as the water was still flat as a shoe at a lesbian's wedding.

I was nearly there when I felt a pain in my arm and on my finger. A pain not dissimilar to that of pins and needles. I clambered out and dashed over to tell my mate Melv. Yes, it would seem that there were some leftovers hanging around from the week's invasion and I had been stung. Zoe very kindly offered to pee on it, and so did Will. God love my friends.

I politely declined and instead, I was given a bag of ice in a glove to numb the pain. I have to say, it was kind of cool in a rather twisted way. The pain subsided after a while and I was left thinking 'Ooh, I have survived a jellyfish attack!' Who hoo!

At about the sametime, I also realised that Slick has been the cause of all my water related injuries of late. The board responsible for the skim boarding debaucle, the one leading me offshore and astray. As Julia rightly pointed out, he is a bit like Herbie - with a mind of its own!

So, I've had to have a stern word. Slick needs to realise that there are lives at risk here. That he can't just go dragging me into the water and getting me in trouble. It just isn't on. A week on crutches and a sting on the arm isn't enough to keep me from the ocean but I may need to go it alone for a while.

Sorry Slick, but you aint so slick right now...

Vanessa [calamity] Jane Legg

2006-02-12T16:42:00.000-08:00

Oops. I'm on crutches. Seriously. I had a rather misfortunate accident this weekend involving the sea, a boogie board and a rather overzealous mental person [me].

Everything had been going so well too. Will and I had decided to leave the city behind for a few days and head up the Mid North Coast to Seal Rocks, a small, sleepy and rather isolated beach town south of Forster-Tuncurry and 310 km from Sydney.

[For the benefit of those of you who don't know, Will is a good friend of mine who I met out here on the first week I arrived. We were at a party, he was impressed with the music on my ipod, I was impressed he was impressed, and so we became mates. Even though he's from Bristol - he's bloody brilliant]

After hitting some ruthless traffic on our way out of the city, we found ourselves on the Pacific Highway and off on our adventure. We made it to Treachery Campsite just after six, secured ourselves a cheeky little spot under a tree and cracked open the beers. Will cooked up some tasty fish on the barbie, 'el vino did flow' and and we sat chatting, drinking and listening to music for the rest of the evening.

At some point, and I think this was definitely Will's idea, we went for a walk down by the beach. Not a particularly crazy thing to do, but navigating the almost vertical sand dune when drunk is not something I would say I'm fond of, or good at. I spent more time sitting down then I did standing up but it was a giggle and as I stumbled and fell all the way back to the campsite I was still smiling..

Needless to say, we both awoke to a particularly brutal hangover. I put it down to the temperature inside the tent, which was approximately 200,000 degrees due to shithouse (not goodhouse) ventilation, and absolutely nothing to do with the four bottles of white wine we had managed to consume the previous night..

Nevertheless, like true champions, we got on with the day visiting not one, not two but three different beaches - all absolutely beautiful in their own right. The last one at Yagon was truly stunning though, stretching along as far as the eye could see and with some awesome waves. We swam, snorkeled and generally played around in the ocean. We laid on the sand and dozed in the sun. We ate ice creams in the car and found secret spots to explore. It was lovely.

We also came across some rather interesting animals. A pelican perched on the rocks and a croc in a carpark. Well, not quite a croc. As we were headed down to the beach, I happened to notice a rather large, slow moving animal which on first glance looked distinctly like one of Mick Dundee's scaly friends. 'Oh god, Will, it's a crocodile!' [completely panic stricken] 'Uh, no Vans. I think that's a goanna (lizard-like creature).' 'Are you sure?!' [still completely panic stricken] "Yeah, definitely.' 'It really looks like one!' 'It's a goanna!' Ok then.

Anyway, that night we took it slightly more easier on ourselves (just one bottle of wine) and had another tasty meal consisting mostly of chilli and wholegrain mustard, with a bit of chicken and some sausages on the side. Then we sat by the ocean on a sand dune until the sun disappeared into the nights sky..

The next day, after packing up the tent and eating bacon sandwiches, we headed straight for the beach at Yagon. We took the boogie boards out and after a quick lesson from the one like the masterful Skinner, I managed to catch a few waves, while frantically hanging on to my bikini bottoms. Actually, if I remember correctly, they were also purposely yanked off as I OVERTOOK a certain someone on the surf..

I then decided to give skim boarding a go. Skim boarding involves throwing the boogie board along on the shallow water, running after it and jumping on it like a complete lune. Needless to say, I am a complete lune and I put both feet forward (literally), but unfortunately managed to put one foot back. Right back. Underneath itself in fact. The look of pain on my face, along with the shaking, was enough to let Will know that I had probably hurt myself.

After discovering I couldn't walk, I had to be carried all the way back to the car, which in the blazing heat was a complete killer for both of us. Will was an absolute legend though and didn't complain once. I spent the rest of the evening hopping around the place and I can assure you that Kangaroo's have it hard. It's left me completely exhuasted.

So, that is how I came to be on crutches. I'm a [non]walking disaster, and clearly far too gnarly for my own good. Thankfully it isn't broken, just badly sprained but will I be skim boarding again? Totally - it's heaps fun!

Did someone just say shark?

2006-02-08T15:35:00.000-08:00

I think it’s fair to say that Steven Spielberg’s 1975 film Jaws well and truly solidified the image of the shark as a "man eater" in the public mind.

Although in over 200 years, there have only been a total of 182 fatal shark attacks in Australia, and statistically you are more likely to get struck by lightening like that unfortunate Irish tourist on Bondi Beach last February (ha), the fear of being mauled by a great white is immense, and particularly when floating in supposedly shark infested waters...

Interestingly, only six out of all shark species are actually dangerous to humans. Several people have survived shark attacks simply by punching the shark in the head. I’ve just spent the past half an hour contemplating how I might go about that if faced with such a situation. Insane.

Anyway, the reason I’m talking about sharks is because last weekend my friends and I took a trip to Shark Island in Sydney harbour in honour of Vic's birthday. Visions of me perched on the side of a rock surrounded by a sea of fins had flicked through my otherwise peaceful mind before we arrived, even though the reason Shark Island is called Shark Island has absolutely nothing to do with actual sharks.

It’s called as such because it was said to have resembled one when viewed on a map. The fact that it looked nothing like a shark on the map I saw I guess is irrelevant. I just hope that neighbouring Goat Island, which is even less comparable, doesn't follow a similar ethic. How you’d ever look at an island and get to thinking it looks like a goat in the first place is completely beyond me.

When we arrived by taxi boat, I was shocked to find that we were the only people there. On a beautiful day in the middle of summer I couldn’t quite understand why no one else was on such a secluded paradise in the midst of one of the worlds most infamous tourist hot spots. Either it’s one of Sydney’s best-kept secrets or the temperamental weather we had been experiencing in the run-up to the weekend had put people off. Whatever, it gave me a slightly magical, almost childlike, ‘famous five’ feeling of being on a surreptitious adventure on a secret island...

Picnic tables were scattered under the trees, and tiny coves and nooks dotted themselves around the waters edge leading to stunning views across the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Much of day was spent lounging around on the grass, eating food, drinking wine and listening to music but there was also plenty of activity too. Diving off the jetty, tree climbing, commando rolls, fling flop and 40-40. Yes, that is the same 40-40 game we all knew and loved as kids, and still know and love as adults.

Late afternoon, as I sat on the rocks and looked out over the harbour, with Will playing the guitar and the sun gently twinkling on the beautiful blue water, I had a moment. A moment when I truly couldn’t have been happier if I tried. Contentment fizzed through me and left my head spinning with all things bright and beautiful. Alternatively, that could of been the Seaview but I like to think it was simply because it was just one of life's perfect days and one I will almost certainly never forget.

As I so often find, the greatest pleasures are those that come with ease and surprise. I would never have expected to find what I found there that day, and in a way that was completely and utterly effortless.

How did this happen?

2006-02-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

Oh god. I've got a blog. I've never been one for diaries. I like to keep my thoughts in my head where they are safe and sound. Well, safe that is. Not necessarily sound.

As you will come to see (and maybe appreciate) my mind is best likened to that of a crazy neighbourhood in which the house I live is filled with hopes and dreams, fear and paranoia, love and substance [misuse].

So, I'll level with you. I'm scared about opening the door and inviting you in. I promise to be as frank and forthcoming with what I'm doing, and more importantly what I'm thinking, as I possibly can but forgive me if at times I'm slightly vague or inept.

I can assure you that some things will be much better left unsaid, and far too inconsequential for me to bother you with. However, there will also be occasions when I feel the need to divulge every last tiny, little detail. You have been warned.

Whatever, I hope you pass by from time-to-time to find out about out my lastest adventures, and misdemeanours...