Where is Jo?

DInner at Fujisan!

2007-03-27T00:41:00.000+08:00

Dinner at Fujisan Japanese Restaurant with the Housemates.

St Paddy's Day at The Alex in Clapham

2007-03-27T00:40:00.000+08:00

The Dump!

2007-02-09T08:58:00.000+09:00

Well, winter in the UK wouldn't be complete without some snow. Here are some shots of the neighbourhood, and my house in Tooting!

Brudenell Road... my street

Our backyard..

Our first snowman for 2007...

Charlotte and I outside our house...

Walking to work through Clapham Common... snowing heavily.

Plaza Publishing... where I am working in Clapham. My office is the room with the light on.

Australia Day at the Balham Tup

2007-02-09T08:40:00.000+09:00

Well, I may be on the other side of the world, but the Australia Day celebrations kicked on to the wee hours of the morning!! Fosters Export was the unfortunate drink of choice for the evening (the Poms think it is great). Half way through the night, I fancied something a bit more risque, and switched to Snakebites... lethal.

The Tooting BBQ Bonanza of '07

2007-02-09T07:57:00.000+09:00

Marking the start of the BBQ season, the gang got together for a backyard BBQ at our house. Braving the winter chill, we all warmed our hands over the sizzling sausages, and ended the night with a dance (of sorts) around the fire.

147 Brudenell Road aka Club 147

Xmas & New Years in London

2007-01-11T07:23:00.000+09:00

Christmas in London ...

COVENT GARDEN

TRAFALGAR SQUARE

HARRODS

NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM ICE RINK

ICESKATING!!!!!

New Year's Eve 80's Party at The Hope

Back in London Birthday Bash

2006-11-07T19:14:00.000+08:00

Travels through Africa with Human, Citizen and Watson

2006-11-07T19:13:00.000+08:00

Vacation in Palma

2006-10-25T20:00:00.000+08:00

That's Amore! ( Incorporatiing the wild girl's weekend in Barcelona!)

2006-10-14T03:49:00.000+08:00

Completely high on flu tablets (I hope that's all they were), Kaz and I left Doug to tackle the ongoing engine troubles and give him a few days peace from 'girly talk'. Geez, you put on a face mask and pluck your eyebrows and suddenly everything that comes out of your mouth is considered 'girly'. Anyhoo, as I was saying we were catching the ferry over to Genoa to visit Kaz's lovely family. Both of us were absolute wrecks having been sick for the last month and feeling more than a little miserable because of it. The ability to breathe through one's nose was a distant memory of happier days.

In our drug induced haze, we thought we had bought cheap deck tickets. Not fancying the idea of spending the night on the freezing deck, we were pretty clever sneaking into the economy lounge and sleeping on the carpeted floor for the night instead. Until we realised that we were actually meant to be in that lounge anyway, but don't tell anyone.

The next week was absolute bliss. We stayed with Kaz's cousin Anna, who made sure we were continually doped up on nasal drops, cough medicine and antibiotics. Kaz's relatives were just lovely. We spend the first night camping out in the mountains with Anna's friends, and then headed out to Anna and Penny's country home in Cortemellia. At the heart of Nutella country, the home is actually a 13th century monestary which has partially been converted into a family home. It is surrounded by hazelnut groves, grape vines, fields of mushrooms and is simply beautiful!

We helped out with a local grape harvest, picked mushrooms, drank expresso, and made traditional woodfired pizzas. I even managed to read Under The Tuscan Sun whilst basking in the glorious Italian sunshine. Alas, all good things must come to an end. Although I was reluctant to leave, I had a very important meeting in Barcelona to make. Once more onto the ferry for another overnight crossing to meet the one, the only, the mighty Nanky!*

My sister Amanda (*Nanky) and I got together for a weekend in Barcelona with our Spanish friends Marta and Kenny. The Fiesta de Merce (a very popular fire festival) was on at the time, with much sangria drinking, flame throwing and drum playing enjoyed by all! We embarked on a city tour of Barcelona, were lead astray by Marta and Kenny in backstreet bars, sausage shops, and shopping outlets. We were lucky enough to be invited to Marta's family home for a traditional Catalan lunch, where we were stuffed full of the most delicious dishes whilst being thoroughly entertained by Marta's grandmother who didn't speak a word of English!

Sardines in Sardinia

2006-10-14T03:48:00.001+08:00

We arrived on Italian shores at the Sicilian port of Alghero. As a storm raged around us, we limped to safety right as the engine died. But that is another story on it's own! We tied up to the coast guard's berth among the local fishermen who looked upon us with dubiously raised monobrows. It didn't take them long to warm to our charming personalities, and soon we were scoring rides with them into town and waving to each other as the days went on. We received more apologies about the tragic death of the Crocodile Hunter, which we accepted with admirably straight faces.

Alghero is a beautiful and very old town with ancient cannonballs littering the sand and miles of thick city walls to wander on to wile away the days. We ate gelato and thick chunks of brie on freshly baked bread, swordfish straight out of the sea, cooked with fresh herbs and lemons from the market. As you can imagine, the whole experience was hell. Actually it was bliss, the only difficulties tainting our days were the persistent mechanical disasters which kept Doug busy. I really wished I knew more about engines and generators, but unfortunately Kaz and I were of little use.

The town of Bossa...

We met a lovely English couple who ran sailing charters out of Alghero. It is amazing how quickly you become friends with English speaking people in a foreign land. They are like a little lifeline that connects you to home. It wasn't long before we were having dinner at each other's "houses", and taking them up on the kind offer of the use of their car. Kaz, Doug and I did a roadtrip down the coast to a cool town called Bossa. The buildings are brightly coloured and the cactus grow rampant throughout the streets. Perched dramatically on a steep hill overlooking the town, is a medieval castle. We climbed the steep steps to the top and then got chased back down by the security guards (note to self... only fools try to scale castle walls in broad daylight).

Mare De Deu Fiesta in Menorca

2006-09-29T19:01:00.000+08:00

Hola Amigos! Island hopping in España!

2006-09-28T21:54:00.000+08:00

So, upon my arrival in Valencia. I met up with fellow Australian mates, Karen and Doug, and after much arm twisting of their behalf ;-) I made the decision to join them on the beautiful Fiddler's Green, exploring the delights of the Mediterranean Islands. We started off in Ibiza, which appeared to be a jungle of discotechs and resorts, before escaping to the less crowded island of Mallorca. Simply stunning! I have completely fallen in love with the place. Time crept forward, and we had to keep moving onto Menorca, a smaller island but no less majestic. For a brief few hours, we were berthed alongside a gin distillery! Can you believe my luck! Hehe! We arrived in time for the spectacular Mare de Deu de Gracias Fiesta, which I suspect translates into crazy horse dancing festival (I will post some photos in a seperate link). Next stop- Sardinia.

Tomate!! Tomate!!! The Great Tomato War

2006-09-28T21:42:00.000+08:00

On the last Wednesday of each August, thousands of people from all over the globe make the annual pilgrimage to Buñol to join the world's biggest food fight. After months of intensive training and mental preparation, I decided I was in peak condition to join forces with the ranks and throw myself into the front lines for Team Australia with my fellow comrade, Doug Watson. La Tomatina celebrates the end of the tomato harvest and all the excess tomatos (some 125,000 kgs) are paraded through the streets of Buñol in monster trucks to the chanting of "tomate tomate, quieremos tomate!!" (Tomato, tomato, we want tomato). I personally hate tomato, and spent the earlier stages of the festival meticulously scrubbing away any traces of the wretched stuff that happened to fly my way. Towards the end, I was shin deep in tomato puree, desperately scooping up handfuls of the slimy pulp to splash at the nearest victim. After an hour, the firing of a cannon signals the end of the war and the crowds disperse to the sangria stalls to quench their thirst, while the fire brigade hoses down the town. Here are some piccys for you all to see-

Doug and I, before the big event...

The trucks arrive...

The battle begins...

The Aftermath!!!

Farewell Ireland, Hello Duty-Free Whiskey!

2006-09-28T21:40:00.000+08:00

Newgrange Burial Site...

Nouth Burial Site...

Carrick-A-Rede Rope Bridge...

Carrick-a-Rede...

Causeway Coast...

Giant's Causeway...

Bundoran… sounds like an interesting place. Yeah, well it’s not. Decked out with tacky arcades and icecream parlours, this resort town didn't offer much for us intrepid adventurers. Still, to the town's credit, we managed to find one very nice restaurant and had a well earned delicious meal. This was only a rest stop before heading further north to Letterkenny. Again, another fairly ordinary town, but a good base for exploring the area at large. We drove around the loughs (lakes), and the mountains for a day. I even rolled up my sleeves and rowed dear Nanny over to a fairytale castle ruin on a tiny island- with dangerous currents and swells I might add!

Heading into Northern Ireland was interesting. We didn't even know we had crossed the border until we got to a petrol station and everything was in pounds! We visited the town with two names Derry/Londonderry which is pretty much smack bang on the border with the Republic (don't mention the war!) which was actually a lovely town with gorgeous little streets and a beautiful river running through it.

We ventured on to Cushendall on the east coast of Northern Ireland and explored the nine Glens of Antrim- home to the fairies! And when you are there, is quite easy to see where all the myths and legends came from. In fact, ask any local if they believe in fairies and not one of them will be game enough to say no. Not surprising, given the amount of Guinness these people drink. Speaking of which, did you know that only 8% of the Guinness manufactured is actually exported? Guess who consumes the other 92%!!! No wonder they are seeing leprechauns and fairies.

Our visit to Giant's Causeway and the Causeway Coast was both wet (torrentially so!) and wonderful. The scenery was spectacular- check out the photos.

On our second last night in Ireland, we moved down to Navan, a delightful town about an hour north of Dublin. We had a wild night out at the local pub with some distant family relatives of sorts- Elsie and Deidre. As they say, it was good craic, and a good end to the trip through Ireland.

At the airport, Nanny and I hugged each other goodbye and went our separate ways. Nanny to Scotland, and me to Spain. But not before stocking up on as much Irish Whiskey as my bag could hold! Must be the Irish blood in me!

Farewell Ireland- I will be back one day.

Willie Daly the Matchmaker

2006-09-28T21:32:00.000+08:00

One day, while driving Nanny out to a little town to do some background research on the family history, I decided to do a bit of detective work on a matchmaking festival I had heard about on the road. The history of matchmaking in Ireland dates back many years and most certainly came in handy when farmers felt the need to marry their daughters off in exchange for a prize winning donkey.

Anyway, I went to the local visitors centre in Lisdoonvarna, where the festival is held. Situated in a very stinky fish smoking house, the centre seemed to know more about smoked herring than the town's happenings. Still, they gave me one lead. "Go up the road to the second bridge, turn right at O'Reily's Hotel, three streets down turn left at the Bank of Ireland ATM, and on your right is the old Lisdoonvarna Hotel. Maeve at the counter will tell you all about the matchmaking."

So off I ventured, managing to get lost once or twice untill quite accidently, I found the old hotel and an even older Maeve leaning against the counter deep in conversation with the postman (who I suspect holds a flame for old Maeve). I waited patiently for their conversation to end, and realised some ten minutes later that I could be waiting a while. I boldly stepped up to the counter and cleared my throat. "Maureen from the smokehouse said that you know about matchmaking." The beginnings of a smile crept over Maeve's old face, but then she shook her head and said, "I might know a bit, but it's not my place to say. You'll have to ask Willie Daly."
The postman leaned in, "He's the matchmaker, he is. His father was the one to fix up Maeve and Tom."
"And it was a match made in hell!" cackled old Maeve. "But you tell Willie that my first great-grandchild arrived last thursday. An eight pound baby boy. He has a pub in the next town. You´ll find him there to be sure."
"Cool," I said. "So what's the name of his pub?"
Both Maeve and the postie looked at me as if I had sprouted another head. I self conciously rubbed my neck to make sure I hadn't.
"The name's Willie Daly's Pub," Maeve informed me very slowly. "On the main street, next to the turf accountant." (A turf accountant is a fancy Irish name for a gambling bookie).

So off I went once more, over to the next town- home to Willie Daly and his fine watering hole. Now I never got to speak to Willie Daly, but I spoke to his nephew Niall, who was running the bar while Willie was out of town. "It's an art, you see, this matchmaking business. A lot of folk think it's all bollocks, but there's something more to it than that. Willie, he has the knack."
"The knack?" I said.
"Aye, the knack. The gift."
"Aha."
"The gift of looking at someone and then looking at someone else, and then saying they be good or they be crap."
"Wow," I said deadpan. "That's really incredible."
"To be sure. Can I get you a drink."
I left Niall with my email address for Willie to contact me if he had time. I made my way back to the library where Nanny was conducting her research, and asked her if she had a successful day.
"Ooh, well I managed to find out a bit about the Daly ancestors."
Can you imagine my surprise to find out I could be related to a long line of Irish matchmakers! It certainly is a small world.

Week Number I Cant Remember!

2006-09-12T18:24:00.002+08:00

I send you a thousand apologies for being incommunicado for the last couple of weeks. Internet to Ireland is what classiness is to Australia. Everyone has heard of it, but no one can find it, or knows anyone who has it. I will try to update you all on the happenings, starting from where we last left off… in the beautiful land of Kilkenny.

Our travels brought us over to the west coast of Ireland, to a little place called Tralee. Small though it is, it’s actually the capital of County Kerry. Some of you may be familiar with the ‘Rose of Tralee’ parade, and if not, the song with the same name which still hasn’t grown on me. We stayed at a cute B&B run by a terrifying lady who should have been head of MI5. I’m not entirely convinced that she’s not! She had a head full of peroxided hair which looked like it had been severely electrified by a five million volt prison fence. At breakfast, she would tell you where to sit and when. And if she felt like moving you halfway through breakfast, she would. If she told you to spend the day sightseeing in the mountains, and you placed any value on your life, you damn well went… and quickly. And only returned after dark, and only if you were sure she was asleep. We lived in constant fear, I tell you.

We drove out to Blarney Castle one day and I climbed the never-ending spiral staircase to the top of the keep to kiss the Blarney Stone. Called the ‘Stone of Eloquence’, the Irish believe that by giving the stone a good snog, you will receive the gift of the gab, and occasionally the lesser sought after ‘gifts’ of cold sores, rashes and mouth disease. Anyway, I gave it a good smooch and then set about writing the world’s greatest piece of literature ever seen. Once complete, I was naturally uncomfortable with my brilliance, and threw it in the bin at Tesco’s supermarket to avoid living the rest of my life in the public eye. Teehee!

Another day, we went to the village of Killorgin, where the hilarious Puck Fair is held. This is great. Every year, the farmers head out to the mountains to catch a wild goat. After much Guinness, Puck the goat is crowned King to the good people. The town effectively has three whole days of celebration where the law is upheld by a hairy horny goat. You can imagine what state the town is in by the end of the third day. This fair dates back to Pagan times when goats were considered powerful creatures of fertility. However the story gets a bit muddled. Some people say that the fair originated from the days of Cromwell’s invasion of Ireland. Cromwell’s troops were crossing the mountains toward Killorgin when goats were startled and ran to the town, effectively alerting the villagers to the approaching danger and saving their town from ruin. A yearly festival is held in honour of the mountain goat. One guy I spoke to reckoned that neither of these theories are legit and the fair was invented by drunks, for the drunks, as an excuse to get drunker. Who the hell cares! It was great fun!

One highlight of Puck Fair was the ‘Gathering Day’ or first day of the celebrations. Never in my life have I seen so many good looking asses. Hehe! No joke, every breed of horse, pony, and donkey imaginable was present and accounted for. And only a handful of them are on leads or tied up. The rest are loose, chasing each other, running over small children and generally destroying the town. You have to see the pictures to believe it. It was truly amazing.

Speaking of horses, we decided to lash out during our visit to Killarney, and hired a horse & carriage to take us around Killarney National Park, which was beautiful. This is where they filmed the love scenes for that movie Ryan’s Daughter. It was so romantic with a plaid blanket draped across my knees, the wind in my hair, the gentle swaying of the carriage… and good ol’ Nanny sitting next to me. Yep! As romantic as it gets!

We also spent a few days driving around Cork’s stunning peninsulas. The Ring of Kerry is perhaps the most famous, but personally I loved the Dingle. To begin with, the name is cool. And to add to this, the coastal scenery is breathtaking. Enough so to convince me to pull over every few hundred metres to take another photo. Old ruins are scattered across the countryside and you can meander through 5000 year old stone forts and beehive huts. Very cool.

Next stop Bunratty, County Clare for a scrumdiddlyumptious medieval banquet.

Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven's Door

2006-09-12T18:24:00.001+08:00

After Bunratty, we continued our journey North to the little town of Knock, County Mayo. And what a surprise we got when we arrived! Turns out Knock is a HUGE mecca for religious devotees who travel from lands far and wide to see the spot where the Virgin Mary appeared to the villagers quite a few years back. Luckily for us, we arrived smack bang on the anniversary of the apparition. The little town of Knock had grown overnight to accommodate a crowd of 60,000 nuns, priests and pilgrims. Never before have I felt so outnumbered. Admittedly, there were the odd smattering of bewildered tourists wearing the same facial expression as I… not dissimilar to a rabbit caught in the headlights of a 10000 tonne truck carrying cow dung.

Meanwhile, I took up power walking most days and managed to make friends with a farmer or two. We explored the area, and even ventured into the lunar landscape of The Burren. This area is made up entirely of rocks and is quite bizarre to behold, although far from beautiful.

Another day, we went to the Aran Islands to Inismor. This was fantastic, and definitely a worthwhile stop. Mostly a fishing island, the locals are great, the beer is great, and there is a mysterious quality to it, that makes people want to keep building stone walls. Seriously, the island is full of stones, and to clear the island to make way for pastures, the locals had to build thousands of kilometres of stone walls. On an island about the same size at Rottnest... you can imagine how funny it looks.

Next stop- Bundoran… in some county with a name I can’t remember.

Week Five: The Medieval Banquet

2006-09-12T18:24:00.000+08:00

For one night only, I was Lady Jo. That’s right… a LADY. No burping, belching, snorting or farting. No jokes about boobs, bums, or bits. I laughed delightfully at appropriate intervals, and maintained a polite interest in the 40 head of cattle owned by the sweaty, red faced man sitting next to me. ’40 head. You DON’T say?’

My saving grace was the rather fortifying mead served in giant stone carafes. Thank god for the mead. A few glasses of the stuff, and voile!!- I’m a Lady… or maybe by then I was more of a Laydee. My snooty accent suffered somewhat, a side effect of the slurring no doubt. ‘I’m Laydeeee Joe. From Ooostraylya.’

Mead aside, I was a perfect model of decorum. The very essence of respectability and decency. Just the right amount of snootery and haughty-taughtiness to be unlikeable in the most agreeable way. The Ladies of yesteryear would have been applauding me with their white gloved fingertips clapping together in tightly reigned abandon.

Oh- I have also included a photo of the Castle’s butler, who wears VERY funny pantaloons. Check it out.

The next night, we were peasants. We ate in the corn barn with the dregs of society (no acting needed for this one) and again, we indulged in large amounts of mead. Both dinners were great, with singing, dancing, poetry and general merrymaking. Eating with cutlery was a big no-no and only a ‘dagger’ was provided to stab your meat. Apart from that, you had to tear your food apart and eat with your bare hands. Uncouth I know, but wonderfully liberating! Even ‘Lady Jo’ savoured the experience, in her own snotty-nosed way.
Next stop… the little town of Knock, County Mayo… where a HUGE surprise awaits.

Week Three: The Six-Pint Leprechaun

2006-08-13T05:05:00.000+08:00

County Kilkenny- the name just rolls off the tongue with velvety goodness. Travelling through Ireland is like stepping into a fairytale book with lyrical place-names that possess a strangely addictive poetry which makes you want to say the name over and over again. The Macgillycuddy Reeks, The Slieve Mish Mountains, Tullaroan, Ballyragget, Scarraglen and The Blaskets. With names like this, it is hard not to be inspired when you come from the land of 'Balga' and 'Innaloo'.

County Kilkenny is a warren of moss covered stone walls and wild green pastures. Out here, you can see where they found the 'thousand shades of green'. I am posting a picture of one of the national highways... can you believe the speed limit is 100! I have had a few terrifying encounters with out-of-control tractors tearing around sharp corners at neck-breaking speed. It's enough to drive a girl to drink.

Speaking of which, I am pretty sure that whoever is responsible for putting up road signs in Ireland has been sneaking in a few extra nips of the hard stuff. Either that, or it is a national joke to point street signs in the wrong direction. I'm not sure yet.

One theory concerning the errant road signs was first brought to my attention in the back-bar of Cassidy's Hotel in Dublin. An Irishman walked into the bar (cliche, I know) and told us the tale of 'The Six-Pint Leprechaun'. Apparently this cocky little bastard is responsible for the many unexplainable peculiarities that occur in Ireland. Turns out that National Roads are among his portfolio. I would instantly dismiss the notion as ridiculous, were it not for the fact that the details have been verified from several different sources from several different counties. Why six pints? According to the tale, you must consume six pints in order to see the little bugger which will ultimatley lead to his capture.

This is a photo of the main street of Kilkenny, which is Ireland's oldest medieval city. There are tunnelled pathways which lead between the streets with names like Pudding Lane and Butter Slip.

We drove from our B&B in Freshford, taking a different direction every day. Here are some of the highlights:

Visiting the ivy covered ruins of TIntern Abbey on the Hook Peninsula, the remains of the11th century priory in Kells and the impressive Rock of Cashel. Escaping the modern world at the Irish National Heritage Park where Norman and Viking invasions, Christianity and Celtic life is reenacted. Spending a sunny afternoon at the National Stud and Japanese Gardens oohing and ahhing over the cute little foals. Heading out on the scenic route through the mountains to meet the monks at Mount Malloray. And finally, driving the long way to Tipperary.

Week Two: Hitting the Emerald Isle

2006-08-13T02:15:00.000+08:00

I write from Dublin... After a very short flight, we touched down amid green pastures and caramel coloured cows (actually it was painted on the side of a hanger, but I think it looked nice). Ireland is in the midst of a drought so the green pastures are leaning more towards the poo brown variety, but even then, a sprinking of emerald is certainly seen just about anywhere.

Dublin is a gorgeous town, with more of a country-bumpkin feel to it than the stale and depressing place I had heard so much about. Much smaller than Perth, the streets are wide and airy, and coloured flowers line the footpaths. The people smile and tip their hats in greeting and music can be heard from every corner. Temple Bar (or Temple Barf as it is know to the locals) is the pub/club area of Dublin, and is a myriad of winding cobblestone lanes and secret drinking holes.

Interestingly, everyone thinks we are from America. We went into one pub and a gentleman exclaimed' Oooh, you is from T'Americas!". We told him we were from Australia and went on our way. When it came to paying for the drinks, the bar tender couldn't understand a word we were saying. We were told 'It's yer American accent, yer see!" Generally speaking, if you don't sound Irish when you are talking, then you are from T'Americas.

We had a fantastic time looking through Trinity College and seeing the famous Book of Kells- the most impressive old book in the world up until yesterday when they uncovered a more impressive one at a construction site. Bummer, hey. You travel the world to see the best book on the planet, only to be outdone by one day.

Other than that, I have managed to fit in the odd spot of shopping. Mostly to get some new winter clothes after throwing most of them out in London whilst delerious from heat stroke. The weather is about ten degrees cooler and even a bit cold at night. A most welcome change.

We also did an embarassing viking tour of Dublin on one of those Amphibious WW2 buses. Admittedly, wearing plastic viking helmets whilst roaring through Temple Bar yelling obscenities at the masses had it's moments. I think I even learned a thing or two about Dublin's history. But it was hard to listen when you are being poked in the eyeball by plastic horns every time the bus turns a corner.

One highlight was catching the train up to Carrickfergus in Northern Ireland for the Lughnasa Fair (scroll down heaps for photos). It's a medieval fair held in a castle perched atop a rocky outcrop on the sea. We saw a fair bit of sword fighting and basket weaving but nothing too exciting due tho the bad weather. The castle itself was stunning. The men in chainmail were a bit on the hairy/smelly side.

Here are some more photos of London and a few of Dublin, but if you scroll further down the page there are a couple more. Next stop- Kilkenny.

xoxo

I am thinking of asking for a job here.

Exploring Dublin

Sharing a pint with Amanda and Ben and the pouring rain!

High tea at The Ritz in London

2006-07-31T04:06:00.000+08:00

The Brazillian Carnivale in London- my first festival!

2006-07-31T03:54:00.000+08:00

London- strolling past Big Ben

Heading out for a hot date.

Amanda, Nanny and I at the very famous BBC Proms to listen to classical music... a very hot evening- thought I would die.

Can you believe this is London? Very, very hot, all the parks are dying.

The beautiful Portobello Markets in London. Best food in town!

2006-07-31T03:35:00.000+08:00

The beautiful flower-lined streets of Dublin
or for those who prefer: The beautiful pub-lined streets of Dublin

Carrickfergus Castle- perched on the ocean. Going to Lughnasa Medieval Fair in Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland.

Inside the castle keep! Lots of hotties in chain mail.

Sword fighting to win the heart of fair maiden (me, of course)

Week One: Stinky Hot London & Loving It

2006-07-27T19:00:00.000+08:00

Good news… The plane didn’t crash! There was a brief moment of blind panic when the smell of fuel wafted into the cabin during takeoff. I’ve always been a firm believer that if the flight attendant is telling you not to worry, whilst hastily punching in the number for the cockpit on the intercom to warn the captain, there is a problem. If they really wanted to do a good job of convincing us, they should have started serving lemonade and peanuts. For the benefit of unseasoned travelers, peanuts are the universal beacon of hope when it comes to air safety. As soon as the peanuts are served, you can sit back, relax and confidently unfold your tray table, firm in the knowledge that you are out of the danger zone.

The flight over to London went quickly, courtesy of the drinks cart. I had a Baileys on Ice to celebrate my good fortune. This also helped to deaden all feeling in my nostrils, which had become uncomfortably dry during the previous flight. Every time I breathed in, the two sides of my nostrils would stick together before painfully separating. Kinda like when your tongue sticks to the freezer door. Not that this is something that has ever happened to me.

Amanda and Ben had kindly arranged a car to pick us up from Heathrow Airport. I cannot describe the feeling of relief when I saw our little Bangladeshi driver holding up a handmade sign with ‘J.Holman’ scrawled on it. The last thing I wanted to do was negotiate the London Underground, armed to the max with what I had decided was a ridiculous amount of luggage. All necessary, of course.

At 5.15am, Amanda and Ben came stumbling out of their home to greet us. Well I’m sure Ben would have, if he were brave enough to exhibit his PJ clad body to the entire population of Belsize Park. Wear them with pride, Ben, wear them with pride!

After breakfast, Nanny and I headed straight out for a day on the town. And it was a scorcher! A combination of humidity and high temperatures around 35 degrees slowed our progress, but we were determined. We went to Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum… I was very impressed with the lifelike quality of the wax figures. Embarrassingly, I approached one of the exhibits and after not recognizing them as a celebrity, said really loudly “Who do you reckon this is Nanny?” The last thing I expected was a rather snooty “I’m Clint, I work here.” I couldn’t decide whether it would be best to crawl under a rock and die, or to point out to Clint that he should probably consider eating more leafy greens to combat dull skin.

Recently, the museum opened what they lovingly call The Chamber of Serial Killers. Even the introductory sign warns away ‘people with nervous dispositions’. The exhibit brings Britain’s most notorious murderers to life… literally. Several actors are planted among the gruesome display, with the sole purpose of scaring the crap out of you. And holey moley did they do a good job! Foreboding white fog billows out of the entrance to the chamber, which twists and turns through an impressive maze of severed limbs and hacked off heads. It’s tough pretending to be unaffected by the whole thing… particularly when you are so busy screaming like a wimp. It was one of the scariest things I have ever done. And this is coming from someone who used to crimp their hair in the 80’s.

There is obviously a lot to mention, so I will try to be brief! We visited a lot of markets, including the Portobello stalls where Jamie Oliver buys his groceries. The array of gourmet food is mouth watering. All the produce is of such high quality, and the colours are amazing! Definitely a highlight for me.

Another day was spent in Greenwich visiting the Royal Observatory- home of the Meridian Line and the National Maritime Museum- didn’t spend a long time at that last one, incidentally.

The weather has been nice at times, but stinking hot for the better part of it. The buildings retain heat in their bricks, so it is like sleeping in a furnace… but much worse. I resorted to having stone cold showers before turning in for the night. And the worst thing of all- the beer isn’t even ice cold. It’s served luke warm, just slightly colder than room temperature. Still, beer is beer and I imagine it would be quite nice in the depths of winter. In the meantime, I highly recommend the vast consumption of Gin & Tonic to revive oneself.

I had a fantastic night out with Amanda & Ben, and a group of their friends at the Porterhouse Pub in Covent Garden. When we arrived, the place was crowded. Ben set forth on a mission to obtain vital fluids, leaving Amanda and I to guard the piddly spot of pavement we would call our own for the night. Within seconds it started to rain, and before we knew it we were the only ones still outside, leaving a most satisfying amount of space for us to occupy. We shook open our umbrellas and had a most wonderful evening.

On Sunday, we had High Tea at the Ritz Hotel. It was so fancy schmancy! We had a selection of sandwiches with their crusts cut off, fluffy scones and little pastries and cakes. All sinfully decadent! To finish off, the waiters bring out fresh berries with clotted triple cream. Yum! I will post some photos on the website very shortly. This was certainly a once in a lifetime experience!

And now, I find myself sitting at the airport lounge waiting to fly to Dublin. Somehow my suitcase has put on three kilos even though I only bought a pashmere wrap and a bottle of shampoo. Strange…

Catch ya later!

The 'Gone With The Wind' Itinerary - until the end of September

2006-07-14T15:22:00.000+08:00

July 17th
3pm: On plane headed to London with my Grandmother, who from here in shall be known as ‘Nanny’.

3.15pm: Knocking back the champers, wondering if they have remembered to refuel the plane…

July 18th 5.15am UK time: Arrive London Heathrow, to the sound of several remarks about how fresh I look after 24 hours in a cramped aeroplane.

July 18th-25th: Perusing the sights of London with my sister and brother in law (Amanda and Ben), try not to get arrested in first week of trip.

July 25th- 1st August: Dublin… conducting vital pub research for my book.

1st- 8th August: County Kilkenny

8th- 14th August: Tralee, Sligo

14th- 16th August: Bunratty for Medieval Banquet

16th- 21st August: County Mayo

21st- 29th August: Northern Ireland

29th August: Fly to Valencia, Spain

30th August: La Tomatina Festival, Buñol

31st August: Festa Major, Vilafranca del Penedés

1st-4th September: Requena Grape Harvest, Requena

5th- 9th September: Mare de Deu Horse Festival, Balearic Islands

9th September: Sergorbe Bull Run, Segorbe

10th-14th September: Feria de Murcia (and Moors & Christians Festival), Murcia

14th-22nd September: Jerez Autumn Festival, Feria de San Miguel, La Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de la Mecreca, Seville Region

22nd- 26th September: La Merce Fiesta, Barcelona (with Amanda)

The skinny of it...

2006-07-14T15:21:00.000+08:00

For those who only want the lowdown of the trip, this bit’s for you, ya slack buggers.

July: London, 1 week.
July-August: Ireland
September: Spain
October: Somewhere in Mediterranean
November: English countryside
December: Ocean crossing to Caribbean
January, February: Caribbean Island HoppingAfter That: TBC

The Big Three

2006-07-14T15:18:00.000+08:00

This is what is making up the bulk of my trip:

1. A mosey around Ireland with Janet Holman, my grandmother. Aside from exploring the countryside, we will be tracking down information about our Irish ancestors. I will be chief chauffer, and Janet will be chief navigator. With the perfect blend of driving prowess, dodgy maps and bad road signs, we are guaranteed to have a laugh or two.

2. I have two writing projects going on at the moment. One of them is a humorous fiction piece and the other is on obscure and bizarre festivals/rituals and events from around the globe. So I will be visiting a lot of festivals for research purposes, of course.

3. A wonderful sailing trip to the Caribbean on Fiddler’s Green (a beautiful, old wooden square rigged topsail schooner), captained by my good friend Doug Watson, his partner in crime Karen Nicholson, and the rest of the scaly crew. Don’t worry- I have packed my floaties!

Howdy Folks!

2006-05-22T15:21:00.000+08:00

My name is Jo, I am publishing this blog to the population at large because:

a) This is much more interesting than sending out a group email.

b) I figured that there might actually be people out there interested in what I am doing.

c) If I happen to go missing in some dodgy Eastern European country no one has ever heard of, or sold into the white slave trade for the large sum of thirteen camels... the embassy will know where to look for me.