Happy Grazing Day

A small starter to begin with

Well the meal was everything it promised to be and just a little more.


The festivities started in earnest on Christmas Eve when Cousin Jay held a lunch for members of the family. The key here was not to eat too much or get too pissed as we had an evening meal at Uncle Patrick's. I coped admirably at one rule and failed miserably at the other, you will have to guess which one.
I spoke to Mum for the first time since I got here which was great and also had the novelty of being able to wake her up, a rare family moment.

Christmas began as it does in most houses, the exchanging of gifts; I got an England hat, some tee-shirts, a pair of Aussie socks (unworn as yet) and a very useful Australian Cork Hat. The corks are to keep off flies whilst one is in the bush which is useful as that is exactly where I am going tomorrow for a few days.

Anyway after the exchanging of goods it was off to Tina's Italian parents, Connie and Joe for a very different type of Christmas meal. There were 15 of us in total all looking forward to the culinary extravaganza that was to follow.

It began with the Italian pastries, nuts, toasted almonds, pistachio nuts, shortbreads and chocolates. I had taken good advice from young cousin Josh, "don't eat any of it, save yourself for the main courses", he was right. Along with the nibbles came the aperitif’s that consisted of beer, punch and whisky and here I hadn’t been advised to hold back so I promptly got stuck in. An hour or so after arrival we sat down at the table to begin the feast.



A slightly bigger starter


First up was antipasto, salami, ham, Parma ham, mozzarella, smoked mozzarella, gherkin, 3 types of olive, freshly baked bread, peppers, more cheeses and more importantly the wine.
I was quaffing away and telling Joe how tasty the wine from 'Margaret River' I was drinking was, he merely gave me a bemused look. Joe makes his own wine both red and white and the bottles were just being used to hold his own home made organically grown produce; I can honestly say his white was guzzle-some. I may not be a wine connoisseur but I know a good one from a bad un and this stuff was up there with the best. He's retired now but his occupation was as a fruit and vegetable merchant, growing his own produce, including grapes used solely to make his own wine, I was bowled over.



Paul likes wine.

Next up was the 'Star of the Show', the Connie special and the course that everyone had told me about. My sis and brother in law had been here and eaten it, my Mother, many Uncles and Aunts, Cousin Jay, Cousin Josh had all explained but nothing really prepares you for it, the lasagne.


The Star


Words fail me so I won't bother trying other than to say i have never tasted anything like it, it was simply wonderful. Not only was it terrific but it was incredibly filling so Connie prepared a much lighter course for us to eat next.


Even Homer would have struggled


I thought the roast turkey was perhaps a little more than was necessary so you can understand the look of surprise on my face when a roasted joint of pork and all the trimmings accompanied it. I struggled through ably assisted by Joe's home made red and suspected we were reaching the finishing line though it wouldn’t have altogether been a shock had Connie lit the barbecue and asked how we wanted out t-bones done.




Be silly not to have it really....

Deserts were next and though I was full and have lost my childhood sweet tooth I made an exception, the wares on offer were just to tempting. Chocolate cakes, cheesecakes and Christmas cake were all there



Only a small slice of what was on offer.


Joe has spent his life growing and selling food whilst his wife seems to have devoted her life to turning it into a tasty a meal as possible, so who was I to argue when Joe said the best way to assist food digestion is with a small espresso and a large whisky.

The temperature outside was mid 30's, luckily Joe and Connie had a pool so after the whisky I jumped in and hoped the coronary I fully deserved would wait until later. We mucked about, drank ice cold beer, swam and sun-bathed, napped and played sudoku (at which I officially suck), this was followed by more beer, more swimming and more larking about in the pool, then napping, reading, more beer, more frolic’s in the pool until finally we all watched the sun set and the stars begin to shine.


Next Course, eat up!

We hadn’t eaten for 4 hours so obviously Joe sparked the barbecue and we were overloaded with Steaks, chicken, sausage, lamb chops, salads, breads and lashings of wine. Did I mention Joe also makes his own port? The night began to take on a slighlty 'fuzzy' feel at this stage.

Somehow I got through it all and by the time more espresso and more whisky arrived I was mildly euphoric. I ended up arm wrestling Joe (not the smartest move, arm wrestling a man with bigger muscles than Tyson), kissing Connie (a very smart move though one should try to avoid attempting this in front of her husband) and generally having fun.
Spoke to my family in Ireland and then spent the rest of the evening conversing in Italian to Joe, or ‘Giuseppe’ to give him his real name. I of course did not realise I could speak Italian, its amazing what home made wine can do. Being the generous host and wanting to improve my Italian, Joe kindly gave me a 5 litre bottle of home made white as a gift.

The following morning and it was pretty much the same again, pastries, bacon, home produced eggs, sausage, toast, croissants with jam, chocolates, juices and lashings of espresso, thankfully without whisky though worryingly I was offered some.

We came home to enjoy the cricket; well the Aussies in the family enjoyed it anyway. Afterwards we went to ‘Spillage’ park (scene of my last century) for more cricket, this time 13 year Josh was accompanied by older, stronger and extremely more dangerous relative, Cousin Jason. Many highlights, my first 50 was up there, so was my second 50 but the best bit was when they called stumps as I was unbeaten on 68 and looking to rewrite the record books, ha-ha.

It was a marvellous Christmas and unforgettable Christmas day, a once in a lifetime experience that I had wished for when I booked this trip. It was everything I thought it would be and then a little more, much like the amount of food Connie insisted on serving us.



this photo was taken after lunch you will have to guess which one is me.

Human Testing, Volunteers Wanted

As you can see i have been kind enough to put some chrimbo cards on the blog, click on them if you can't read them there worth it.





Well who would have thought 6 months ago that on a Friday early evening I would be enjoying a cold beer after a hard days graft and not only really enjoying it but also being fully deserving of it.
Once again I have been out again with Cousin Jason and this week he has had one thing on his mind and one thing only, causing me an injury. Forget about the fact I have been getting out of bed at 6am, working 14 hour days, digging holes and mixing cement; oh no, my Aussie cousin wanted blood and he can now be fully satisfied with his weeks efforts. I m bleeding from 6 different cuts, I had to visit the dentist yesterday (possibly something to do with the washing line he cracked me in the mouth with, by accident of course) and I still have vision in two eyes due to the fact I was wearing glasses when he was cutting steel wires above my head. To top it all off he made me my lunch today, a ham sandwich and didn’t put mayonnaise on it, is there a worse kind of cruelty?

Having had my moan I have to admit of course I loved every minute of it; its good to be back doing a bit of physical work (and it has amused my sister no end, the thought of me actually getting my hands dirty is enough to send her into fits of giggles).
One of the great things about the work was being able to go to peoples homes and have a good snoop round and believe me Jay does not discriminate about who he installs washing lines for.
The best house was owned by a chap called Barry who after a long conversation I decided was some kind of government enforcer. He had a marvellous house worth a few million and was as down to earth as they come. I also met a wonderful old lady (“I’m 89 you know”), who made me an offer, I promise you, an 89 year old hit on me, its good to have a back up plan I suppose if I can’t find anyone else but I was hoping for someone younger, its not often you get to say to a women, if you were only 60 years younger.
The worst, there were quite a few bad ones to be honest and they all had the same problem’ they all let the dogs crap in the garden and never bothered to clear it up meaning we had to tip toe round the garden much as a UN peacekeeping mission does when crossing a mine field.
Still I met a lot of marvellous people and I definitely got a great insight into Western Australian people and they are a great lot, happy with life and very welcoming to visitors.



Of course you know me and it’s not all been work work work. I have been able to fit in a fair bit of play in their too, I had to adjust after the cricket finished and the chaps went home but I’m very adaptable when it comes to leisure. This week for instance I managed a round of golf with my uncle and Auntie and also had time for a ‘rest’ day, Spillanester style which involved a decent lie in, lunch at a sushi restaurant, shopping and a visit to the cinema (watched the latest Bond film and happy to report it was surprisingly good, contrary to reports I heard). All of this took it out of me so much I needed to go to the casino for a few liveners and a few hands of poker (great game again same result as last time).


The food here is as not only delicious it is incredibly cheap. Take for example a meal cousin Jason and I shared the other evening after a hard day’s graft. Local Chinese, opened with a beer, followed up with a bottle of red, in between course we snacked on a scrunchily hot king prawn dish schezuan style, sizzling fillet steak and chicken in black bean sauce with of course the ubiquitous special fried rice. How much for that lot? Have a guess in sterling. Between us it came to a whopping twenty five quid or sixteen pound each with to include a reasonable tip.




I’m definitely eating more as a result of actually doing some physical work and the fact I have so far stuck to my plan of not smoking. If ever you want to quit smoking forget about patches hypnotism etc merely book a flight to Oz and stay here for a while, hardly anyone smokes, in fact I was recently conversing with Dragon on this very matter and he agreed, he made me laugh out loud when he explained to me on msn how little he enjoyed smoking over here, his words “they look at you like a fuckin rapist every time you light up”, quite.

I’m used to seeing cigarette packets having a government ordered grisly message on the packets to try (somewhat ridiculously) and prevent you from buying that pack you crave (though the upside is when you do the treasury cop their wack). I was absolutely flabbergasted last night though when I unscrewed the top from a bottle of Toohey’s platinum extra dry. I was looking at the bottle and nodding approvingly at its 6.5% alc/vol content when a message on the top itself caught my eye, ‘volunteers wanted for human testing. Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t know whether to spit my beer out or go and buy another crate. When I informed my Cousin of my observation he merely nodded, not a care that the beer he was drinking was advertising for human testing and I wondered for a short time that he may have already had succumbed to the lure of easy cash. It turned out of course to be a wind up by the brewery and a good one at that but far to sophisticated for the beers normal patrons in my opinion.

Sad news this week with the announcement Shane Warne is set to retire from international cricket after this ashes series. Quite simply this man is the greatest bowler who has ever lived in my opinion and it was a pleasure and an honour to watch him perform in his last ashes rubber with something still on the game. Ok so he’s done a few drugs, meddled with some dubious women, chased some ladies with pervy texts and sold information to bookmakers but ask yourself one question, who hasn’t?





Christmas day will soon be upon us and I have my crimbo all sorted out. Christmas Eve starts with a lunchtime bar-bee here at Jays, then onto uncle Patrick’s in the evening for a party. The day itself is predicted to be 38+ so unlikely to see snow. We will be going to Tina’s parent’s (Jason’s wife) for a home cooked Italian meal I have assured is going to be one of the finest meals I will have eaten, we were meant to get there before but had to cancel because of work, no fear of that on Xmas day. They have a pool, make their own wine and port, carnage potential = extremely high.
Adieu readers until after the festivities are over, hope you have a good one, I know I’m gonna enjoy an Aussie Christmas and now I don’t even have to worried about feeling lonely, there’s an 89 year old lass who lives a short walk away.

You’re in the Army Now

Essential if your going to watch 5 days of test Cricket.

After I wrote my last blog entry I took my 13 year old cousin Josh to the park for a pre test friendly game of cricket. He had a set of stumps and a tennis ball; I had 40 years of cricketing prowess. As soon as we put the stumps in the ground we were surrounded by a pack of local lads who wanted to join in, their ages ranged from 4 (I promise you) to 8. We eventually worked a game, it was me representing England against the 6 of them representing the Aussies and I must admit I fancied my chances.
I purposely strode into bat and awaited the first ball which Josh delivered and I promptly smashed it out of the ground for 6, a good start.
What followed was like a scene straight out of the fast show, I was Competitive Dad tormenting the children Peter and Toby. I smashed the ball everywhere and made a hundred in record time and Mohammed Yousuf style I kissed the ground in glory before retiring unbeaten on 108 as the little chaps were starting to cry. I love kids and normally I’m great with them but these were little Australians and it was my duty to psychologically damage them beyond repair when it came to cricket and England.
As soon as I retired I insisted on bowling and came in at them ‘Curtly Ambrose’ style, snarling and snotting, screaming and sledging. I removed the last Australian wicket by retiring Josh who had enough wacks to his arms and legs, they were all out for 14 and England won by 94 runs, hurrah!

I have been to so many great sporting occasions its hard to say which single one was the best but its now a two horse race.
In 1996 I was behind the goal where Gareth Southgate famously missed his penalty allowing Stefan Kuntz to score his and enable Germany to beat England in the semi final of the European championships.
On Thursday of this week I took my seat for day one of the third test of the Ashes at the Waca and watched over 350 runs scored and 12 wickets tumble whilst being in the middle of the barmy army and drinking beer and champagne from 8 in the morning till sundown.
I’m not sure if I can pick the winner.

On Thursday I met Scott at his hotel and we did what any self respecting cricketing fans from England who live in Spain would do, we found ourselves an Irish bar and went for a pint.
The fact that is was 8am didn’t bother us, we had a long days drinking ahead so we thought it best to tip our toe in gently. We met up with a couple of his excellent mates, Thommo and Flip, shared a few more ales and headed to the Waca for the day.
On the way to the stadium Scott’s WBA away shirt was the cause of much humour. None of us had realised its colours were that of the Australian cricket team, green and gold. Draped over his shoulders was a rather large St. Georges flag leading many wags to call him a cross dresser, in fact on the way back one irate Aussie shouted from his car “Make your bleeding mind up you lady boy Pom!


The offending shirt


Day 1
If during the course of the day someone had offered seats anywhere in the ground other than the ones we were in we would have told them politely to ‘move on son’.
To say we had great seats is an understatement; we had fabulous seats, not so much for their view of the pitch more the fact that we were bang in the middle of the “biggest party the Waca has ever thrown” (Quote from the Western Australian newspaper).


Shall we tell them who we are?

A record crowd of 24,500 was in good spirits probably because over half of them were supporting England and when it was announced Monty would play (if you don’t know who I’m talking about then please don’t read on) we erupted for the first time. Losing the toss was a downer which was negated by the arrival of four fresh cold beers.

Australia went into bat and at one stage where averaging 6 an over, not the best but at least we were there and then of course the party really started.
Hoggard to Hayden “GOT HIM”!!!!!!! Was the cry, we danced and celebrated jubilantly, at least we would have one wicket before lunch. Of course then things began to get even more exciting, Monty spun us all into Barmy Army mayhem. Forget about whether he should have been picked or not and try if you can to imagine how w all felt as he to wicket after wicket.
The Australians admitted around us that they could not remember a more carnival atmosphere in the history of the Waca; of course drinking champagne shots chasing down mid strength lager in the boiling heat may have something to do with it.
It was difficult to believe what was unfurling before our very eyes, we had them on the rack and though Andrew Symonds offered some resistance with a few 6's, Monty soon dispatched him to the pavilion with our songs, chants and cheers flooding the stadium.

At first I had been indifferent to the presence of the barmy army but it didn’t take me long to join in with the frolics and joviality of the group. Every song, every blast of Bill Cooper’s trumpet; every time Jimmy started us all off again my spirits soared, this is what we were here for, this is what most of us had travelled half way across the planet to experience, a record crowd and a never to be forgotten day of sheer joy that will forever be etched in this author's happy place memory bank.
Typically England couldn’t leave us without a little worry and the 2 wickets that fell at the end of the day only served to make our chanting louder and drown out our Aussie counterparts who had suddenly found their voices again.
We walked back into town jubilantly; I enjoyed a final days beer back at the chaps hotel and boarded the train home one happy camper, what a day.

Day 2.

We were due to be seated on the grass bank to the left of the Lillee Marsh stand without cover and as far away as was physically possible from the Army; it didn’t need much discussion to agree to try and go back to where we had sat yesterday and try and blag a free seat. Possibly due to the sheer raucousness of the day before (and of course cricket Australia's severe lack of a sense of humour) we were ushered away quickly from the area and told if could not produce a ticket for that particular area we would be ejected (the previous day fans had been allowed to loiter and join in with the fun). As we were walking back to our seats we passed the sightscreen and noted all the empty seats; of course! Unallocated seating!
We nervously took our seats (at this stage we were not convinced that they were actually unallocated, we were all effectively at 2nd slip) and began making friends with all and sundry around us. As the seats filled up with fellow seating optimists we enjoyed banter with some cheeky Kiwi's, 2 young Ladies from Dublin, 2 stereotypical Australian cricket fans (David Boon moustaches and a constant smug and self satisfied smile) and various England fans from all over our green and pleasant land. (On a separate note it is only fair to mention that WBA were the most common shirt wearing supporters spotted over all 5 days).

Once again the sun shone, we began drinking, wickets started falling (ours sadly) and the banter was almighty. Thommo had been kind enough to lend me his binoculars and from where we were sat I could enjoy the most spectacular view of the action.
Spectacular that was until one of Kiwi's who had been sat silently in front of me said in a Crocodile Dundee type manner ”That’s not a pair of binoculars mate, this is a pair of binoculars". The then proceeded to pass me what at first I thought were two telescopes Sellotaped together. I raised them to my eyes unsure as what to expect and was confronted (after a little focusing) with the most stunning images my deteriorating brain has ever seen. I was literally speechless. My mouth opened and the shock of the clarity of the images I was watching finally made me drop the scopes to my knees in sheer bewilderment.
Due to the fact I had been silent for more that 5 seconds everyone around me sensed something unusual had occurred and they were all staring at me expectantly; I looked at the Kiwi who had been kind enough to let me have a borrow and he looked back, nodded his head and simply said "Told Ya".
He was again kind enough to let everyone around me have a look through them and the unanimous verdict was justly, "Awesome".

The game appeared to be drifting away from us, we had lost 7 wickets and only King Kevin Pietersen seemed to be offering any sort of resistance. It was at this stage that another Kiwi (why had so many come?) asked us if we wanted to have a bet on what score England would end up with. We of course concurred we would like a bet and settled on the princely stake of 2 dollars. Word of course soon spread and within moments people all around us were thrusting out 2 bucks and shouting a score, keen to get on before a wicket fell.
Someone produced a pen and some paper and I began taking names whilst 'D' (Irish Girl) began collecting the cash.
We collected 25 names and fifty dollars, enough for a free afternoons drinking for the victor. The pessimists, fools and Aussies all went for scores in the 150-160 bracket (at this stage we were approx 137-7), the shrewdies went in for the 165-175 range (well I picked 169), the optimists went for the 175 to 199 bracket, 1 guy went for 202 Paul2 went for 211 and Riggsy went for 223. The last 3 predictions were of course from Englishmen whom had consumed a few to many lagers without taking the sensible precaution of wearing hats.
Of course there would be no story had England’s tail not wagged so magnificently, once the score had bypassed one's own prediction the chant went up for Riggsy to win. Quite astonishly Monty and Harmey put on England’s highest partnership of the innings (batsmen 10 & 11 who supposedly can't bat) and the fervour with which we all cheered every run was resonant throughout our stand; credit where credit is due, the 2 David Boon look-alikes where funking for Riggsy as much as anyone else. The dream ended just before tea with the score an impressive 215 and the money by rights belonging to Paul2 who then did the honourable thing and split his winnings with Riggsy.

I embarked upon the difficult journey of 'getting them in' during the tea break and due to a busy crowd I missed what was to be the last England highlight of the day, a golden duck for the cocky Justin Langer, magnificently bowled by Hoggy, though disappointed the beer lifted my spirits. The day petered out with the Aussies beginning to take control and we all spent the remains of the day chatting with our new found friends with the test an interesting backdrop.
At stumps we went for more beers and by 9pm I officially mangled, somehow I made it home to bed and awoke to face what was to be a very long hot and record breaking day 3.


Day 3

By now we had settled into a nice routine of meeting at 10am for brekkie before making the short walk to the ground. Day 3 saw Scott make his way to the races (the only day he didn’t have a ticket) whilst Thommo Flip and I maintained the routine. Thommo was feeling a little unusual; his neck was causing him grief, a rare up of an old injury he told us though I was informed off the record that his incessant perving at the casino may have been the reason. Due to his neck problems he sat in line with the umpire whist Flip and I took the same seats as the day before.
The temperature this day hit 40 (apparently in the middle under a helmet it was 50+) and no sign of the breeze that normally drifts in from the Indian Ocean, perhaps it was wise of us all to decide to drink nothing stronger than water until after tea.
It was a long tough day to be an England supporter with the Aussies smashing the ball all over the place and though England didn’t bowl to badly the game and the ashes looked up when Jones dropped Hussey and missed an easy stumping.
To make matters worse we were joined after lunch by the biggest tosser I have encountered in Australia. Up until this point absolutely everyone I had met who happened to be an Australian happened to be a terrifically nice and polite person, this tub of lard was to prove the exception. He had one of those grating voices and wouldn’t shut up; I wouldn’t mind if he could have come up with one funny line but that proved to be beyond him. It wasn’t just me either, at one point I thought Flip might live up to his nickname and actually chin him. Another older England fan that had been sat on his own enjoying the game finally cracked; he stood up, called the git a plethora of choice names and left his seat, we all knew how he felt.
To make matters worse Gilchrist began to get going and nearly broke the world record for the quickest century in test history (he fell short by 2 balls). This of course only served to encourage more Aussie supporters to start chanting.

Though individually they are great people they are not the most inventive supporters in the world when it comes to a song. 2-0, 2-0, 2-0 was probably their best ably accompanied with Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi; none really compare to Jerusalem in my opinion, I think they should try and sprinkle a few more syllables into the mix. Flip informed me the Australians had employed a song writer before the series to help combat the English vocal support, he had an impossible job.
I was glad Hoggy decided to bowl a ball that was as wide as possible without being given wide to frustrate Gilchrist’s attempt at breaking Sir Viv’s record and the fact he missed it raised probably the only significant cheer of the day from England fans.

Still the King

Rudy Koertzen earned his backhander by giving out Strauss again unforgivably so. The beer ban was broken and a few quick liveners were forced down before stumps. It had been a frustrating day, maybe in a few years I will appreciate the Gilchrist innings and the fact they scored over 400 runs in one day but for now it will go down as the longest day of the 5. We had come across the worst supporter at the Waca on day 3, on Day 4 we were to come across the funniest.

Day 4

10am brekkie, walk to ground this time with Scott and usual seats, Thommo now umpiring with Flip Scott and me in exactly the same seats. We knew the game was up and that it would be the last day, we all agreed we would be cooked by tea; cook of course had other ideas. The day belonged to the 21 year old who battled elegantly for his first ton in an ashes match but off the field the day belonged to another Englishmen who had us all in stitches.
It was around 3.30pm when we first heard the booming voice, I looked round to see whom it belonged to and 3 rows behind us was a man wearing a Liverpool top covering a decent beer belly, Bono style sunglasses and a leather crocodile Dundee hat. He was of Indian origin but it was his voice, accent and command of the English language that had us all going. If you have seen Bo Selecta and remember Corey Haim, the Indian Chinese delivery man who is also a film critic you will know exactly what I’m talking about. If not try to think back to the father in East is East, “Half a Cup”,



A cross between him and


Him


He was blitzed, apparently wine scotch beer and cannabis had been his companion during the day and it started to show by about 3.30. He started by shouting at Brett Lee and he was like a dog with a bone. The match was curiously poised, England needing to chase down a world record score or bat for 7 sessions to hold out for a big priced draw. The scoring was slow and the atmosphere quiet, ‘Black Dundee’ as he named himself took it upon himself to invite Brett for a beer.

“Brett Lee! Brett Lee! I’m havin a beer innit, you wanna beer Brett lee?”
His voice was so loud it could have been used to blow up casinos in Las Vegas instead of using explosives.
“Brett Lee! Brett Lee!, I’m havin a beer innit, you wanna beer Brett lee? Come on Brett, don’t mess about.”
Again the invite went out, in fact it went out every time Brett was walking back to take his run up and co-incidentally (unless Pointing has a great sense of humour) Brett was fielding just in front of us which stirred up Black Dundee even more
“Come on Brett Lee, let’s have a fuckin beer innit, stop messin about”
The funniest thing was of course that Black Dundee actually meant it; he was genuinely appalled that Brett Lee wouldn’t jump over the fence and join him for a beer.
“Come on Brett, I’m havin a beer, you wanna beer? Brett Lee you wanna a beer Brett Lee!”
It was a mantra, the crowd was pissing themselves and I hope if any of you readers who watched the cricket on telly picked up on it. Pointing Warne and McGrath kept looking over, they were annoyed/intrigued/astounded. Any empty seats around us were soon taken, people craning their necks to see who the man who wouldn’t leave Brett Lee alone.
Black Dundee was occasionally interrupted by a young feisty Sheila who also had a bellowing voice but sadly hers was like the sound of fingernails being scratched down a blackboard. He occasionally went for a top up but then and until 7pm that evening black Dundee ran the show and made what could have been dull last few hours’ very memorable indeed, thanks Black.


We returned to the chap’s hotel for a beer and just when we thought things couldn’t get any funnier they somehow did. I had become involved in a conversation with two Aussies who I must admit were not your typical Aussie cricket fans. One looked like Patrick Stewart and his friend like Shirley Temple with a moustache.


Thommo's new mates


Less his moustache

They were very knowledgeable about cricket and I enjoyed discussing various cricketing topics with Patrick Stewart until Temple grabbed the bottle of red they had been drinking and announced he was “going to bloody dinner on my own”. I wasn’t sure what was going on but Thommo and Flip were cracking up but trying not to show it, I was oblivious as to what was going on.
I went to the loo and on the way back saw Temple in the restaurant, I approached, explained we were all going to dinner and that he was welcome to join us, an invitation he accepted. The 6 of us got a taxi to Northside to enjoy a slap up seafood Chinese. On the way to the cab Thommo and Flip appeared to be fighting for seat positions and again when we hit the restaurant everyone appeared to be acting very strange as to where they would be sitting. All through the meal there was an obvious side joke going on but I didn’t say anything as I thought it might have been on me. After we said our goodbyes the other 3 chaps exploded with laughter.

It turns out that our 2 Aussie guests were shall we say, perhaps a little, err gay? I had absolutely no idea but the boys were quick to fill in the details. The storm off earlier had apparently been a lovers tiff that I hadn’t noticed and the behaviour of the two was enough to keep Thommo especially amused. I think he thought Temple may have fancied him and Flip’s quiet bantering hadn’t helped matters when Thommo was trying to keep a straight face. Anyway no harm done and I just got the last train but missed my beloved Chelsea winning a 5 goal thriller, a match we all agreed would end up a dull 0-1 victory to us.

Day 5, Final day.

The routine was followed and we arrived at the ground to purchase the $30 tickets which were seemingly only being purchased by England fans.
We took our normal seats and hoped we would be able to witness the greatest cricketing victory the planet would ever have hosted. King Kevin and Sir Fredrick of Flintoff made a stab at it, in fact for a golden hour between 12 and 1 the dream went from a remote possibility to a ‘could it really happen moment’. We had been sat next to legendary punters Tony Bloom and Harry Findlay for the last 2 days and sure enough the buzz on betfair was that Australia had actually gone into 1-3, only a 75% chance of winning from a 99.9% chance of not losing, things were looking up.
The Barmy Army were in good spirits and the Aussies in the crowd groaned with every masterful shot Freddie played. Of course Shane Waugh likes to make the headlines on the last day and his bamboozlers effectively did for us again.
We cheered any remaining runs that we made but it wasn’t many and when they eventually won the ashes back two balls after lunch we sipped our beers and looked on in reflective silence, it was like gatecrashing a funeral thinking it would be a wedding.
We didn’t stay long, enough for a few pics then headed down to the lucky shag, not a brothel rather a riverside pub that was the official home to the barmy army. Oasis and the stone roses blared out, Magners was consumed along with freshly Bar-b-qued hot dogs, losing the ashes in Australia had its upside and rehabilitation wasn’t going to take long under these conditions.
My uncle Patrick joined us for a few and we had what can only be described as another great craic. Supporters jumped in the river whilst we observed and took bets on if any of them would be killed by the dodgy looking jellyfish that were wafting by them.
Scott was still fighting allegations made by his mates that he was tight, not something I had noticed before and I had been on trips to Morocco and Barcelona with Scott. I did wonder that they may have been right due the fact he kept ordering his food off the kid’s menu and then asking the waitress to “Throw a few more chips on there will you love”. I was alarmed when he received a call from his bank wanting to confirm that he had actually taken out $10’s twice in the same week but as I left with my uncle he getting them in at the bar and I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Surely it was one of the finest test matches 2006 has produced. Gilchrist’s record, Panesar’s record, Hussey’s average, Flintoff’s 2nd innings, The chase for a world record score, Warne chasing 700 wickets were highlights but for me the cricketing highlight was Monty’s celebration after spinning out his first ashes victim and his ‘Bambi in a field’ type jumps.
Away from cricket Black Dundee had me in pieces but the company I kept was my highlight, Scott Thommo and Flip with their tales about such characters as Bobby Toe and Bobby the moth had me in pieces, I hope we all stick with the idea of doing it all over again in 4 years time.



Hopefully we return in 4 years and get a different result.

Just Another Magic Monday

It all starts again tomorrow


After all the planning (well a 15 minute chat with the Swan and a 5 minute phone call to trail finders), I’m finally here Things didn’t start so good, an hour plus delay from Heathrow left me wondering if I would make the connecting flight from Singapore and my co travelers (the bloke on my left and the old dear on my right) were less than impressed when the seat between them they thought would be empty was to be filled by the last remaining passenger to enter the plane, moi.

On these long haul flights I like to establish early that any breaking of the long haul flight rules will not be tolerated. The whippersnapper on my left broke the 'elbow space' rule over Paris; but by Rome I had ‘inadvertently’ given him a nudge in the ribs whilst opening my blanket and let him know I wasn’t to be messed with.
The England supporters who sat behind me were spared no mercy either as during dinner they got a bit raucous, so as dessert was being served I slipped the chair back resulting in a little angel delight accident but it had the desired effect.

I eventually landed in Perth and was met by 3 of my relatives and taken to my cousins Jason’s house by his wife Tina. It’s a great pad, I have my own room with double bed but the most exciting feature of the house for me is the games room, containing dart-board, card table but the pièce de résistance? Only a blooming pool/snooker table, superb! J and Tina’s 13 year old son Josh has been getting lots of practice on how to replace the black on its spot, ha-ha!


The first few days were all about adjusting to the time, customs and environment, by that I mean no sleep inns, which beer to buy and the heat.
My first proper night out was on Saturday when after dinner at a Japanese restaurant with my cousin Belinda we met up with Jason and Tina and headed to the casino. I was informed by Jason that Perth has a little casino that has a couple of bars and where you can play some poker, it was actually a huge Vegas style casino/resort with the most fantastic 5-10 no limit hold-em game one could play in (whenever anyone mentions how good a game they were in was it means of course that they lost, I was no exception). Pots totaling a thousand bucks were routinely being won with no pair, “Jack High” a player would shout, “That’s good” was often the reply. My uncle Patrick, Jason’s father and his wife Irene also met us for a few scoops before retiring home for a well earned kip.


Sunday, woke up at ten; Cousin Jay has the Bar-b going to fix us all egg and bacon mcmufins. Ten thirty and he’s off to warm up for his baseball match. Twelve thirty Belinda picks up both Josh and I, we go to watch the game, the sun screens on and I’m raring to go. First port of call obviously is the bar where two beauties from the ‘ladies team’ that played earlier (they lost) are now running the show. I explain my mission to try every Aussie beer in the house and I am accommodated in fine style and meet a beer I think I’m going to have a special relationship with over the next few weeks, Toohey’s premium, otherwise known as ‘Teddies’



After the beers are purchased the 3 of us sit down and watch the match from just behind the catcher making it a far more entertaining spectacle than I would have imagined.
There’s sadly no scrap but highlight is chatting to the scorers who like the bar staff are players from the ladies team that got beaten earlier.
I inadvertently insulted the boyfriend of one of the scorers when I commented how baseball was a great game “because even fat people can play it” and it may have been wrong of me to teach me 13 year old cousin the art of chatting up women without his mother’s permission but I think it was my duty as an older male relative and he soon got to grips with it, in fact by the end of the 4th innings we had worked up a nice little repartee, I was the introducer, he played the little boy lost role and then I came in for the close; young Joshua may be coming to Thailand with me if the hit rate continues at this pace.
The day was rounded off with a bus load of us all eating and drinking at a local Aussie restaurant.



Monday, glorious glorious Monday, what a day. It began with Belinda picking me up and then us making our way to the port to catch a ferry to Rottnest Island, an island 19km off the coast of Perth, 11 kilometres long, 4.5 kilometres at its widest point, home to 63 secluded beaches, 20 bays and the indigenous Quokka







A Quokka, you will only find these little fella's in Rottnest




We missed the 9.30am so went for breakie at the nearest café where I spotted one of my all time sporting heroes, Michael Vaughan sipping an orange juice on his own; not for long.


Legend

I was hesitant as I’m sure he’s bothered all the time but how many other chances am I going to get to meet one the greats and thank him for last years victory. I introduced myself and began by asking him if there was any chance of him playing in the current series.

He immediately gestured for me to sit and began a conversation that I will never forget as long as I live, I was much like a teenage girl getting to meet Take That.
He explained he was fit to play and in fact he made no secret of the fact of how pissed he was that he “wasn’t being allowed to play”. I didn’t ask whom wasn’t allowing him to play but I imagined it was the doctors, “Baffling” was his comment about it all.
We talked about Monty, he said he thought England had to go for it and play both spinners, “Might as well lose 3-0 and go down fighting”. We discussed the ODI’s and he said he will be playing in them, I told him I would be in Melbourne to cheer him on, “Make sure I hear you” was his comment.
He was joined by a couple of people which I took as my cue to leave him but we shook hands and I wished him all the best. Belinda had no idea who he was but when I explained it all to her was she went into a spaz, phoned our uncle (who couldn’t give a toss) and asked if she should go for an autograph/picture. I said she shouldn’t as he shouldn’t be bothered whilst having brekkie but Belinda is her own lady and she came back with picture and autograph, good girl.

After all that excitement we headed for the ferry and sat at the back on our own and undisturbed where I began reading a newspaper until whom should sit down next to me, you guessed it, my new friend Michael. I was actually reading about him and offered him the piece to read, it was strange watching him read a piece about himself in front of me, dunno why just was. After he finished the article (which said he would play no part in the ashes, quoting him which he denied) we chatted a little longer until the two blokes who had joined him at brekkie sat down and that was that.
He really was a kind polite and pleasant person, it’s nice when someone you admire turns out also to be a top bloke and even though I had been unable to get any tickets for the Ashes in Perth (Belinda seriously suggested I should ask him for some, ha-ha) I had my ashes moment.


We hired bikes on the Island and cycled round occasionally stopping to snorkel and swim, the temperature was 32 with a pleasant breeze, does life get any better, well remarkably it did.
At lunchtime Belinda received a call from my uncle Patrick, he had managed to secure me and my friend Scott (from Stan James who is also over for the cricket though was also ticket less) 2 tickets for Thursday, Friday and Sunday as well as one ticket for me for Saturday. I did what any self respecting fan would do, I screamed, ran round the beach then jumped on top of Belinda screaming yessssssssssssss at the top of my voice. I didn’t give a monkeys what people thought, I’m gonna be there, i was overjoyed.
We ferried back without my new mate and headed to Uncle Patrick’s for my first (and definitely not my last) Aussie bar-b. Chicken, lamb chops, South African sausage, steaks, salad and beer. What a day, I went to sleep like a kid at Christmas after having got the best presents ever.


A small snack before bed


I needed to go to bed early because Tuesday was my time to repay cousin Jay a little for all the hospitality I have been shown.
Jay and Tina run a business selling and installing this and that but mostly clothes lines. Christmas is a particularly busy time for them and they had been let down by a sub contractor, it was time for this Pom to step up to the plate.
Had I known what I was about to let myself in for I might not have so readily offered my services but what the hell, I was here to experience new things and it gave me some quality time with Jay.
I was awoken at 6.30am on the road at 7 and digging holes by 7.30. Not only did the work involve digging holes it involved putting together washing lines from scratch, mixing concrete and plenty of sawing. I have worked on building sites before and one of the only things to look forward to was a cup of tea and a fag every couple of hours, not here. I’m still off the fags (one week, hurrah!) and it was to hot for tea (35) but I didn’t realise this meant no break at all.
I promise you we returned home at 20.45 and had not stopped once for a break, in fact when one job was cancelled meaning we could return home 45 minutes earlier than expected I cried a tear, I did, a little water seeped from my eyes, I thought I had been happy yesterday but when I heard him say, “fuck it mate, we’re done, lets get a beer for the journey home” the relief was to overwhelming.

More good news, the Swan is on his way to Western Oz at the end of the month another friend has expressed an interest in joining up in Melbourne and Action Dave has offered me a room in Melbourne for a few days so I won’t be on the streets immediately.


General Oz observations:
Food and weather are great

Aussie money is made of plastic and is impossible to tear, try it

People burp a lot and no one is offended by that

99% of Aussie’s actually want England to do well in Perth to keep the Ashes as a contest, I’m shocked at the amount of people who have commented “3-0 would be rubbish mate, pull your bloody Pommie fingers out yer arse and give us a game”, they genuinely mean it, they really don’t want a whitewash.

The women are a little more rotund than their European counterparts, like a beer and swear frequently, all of which I find incredibly arousing.


I slept like a trooper and have awoken this morning in fine fettle. Tonight we are going to Tina’s parents, Italians whom apparently can cook like no one else on earth, yummy.
Tomorrow I meet Scott for brekkie at 8am in an Irish pub 5 minutes from the Wacca which is serving a ‘Pommie breakfast’, a fry up and beer for ten dollars, let the carnage begin………


Tommorow at 11.00 i will be somewhere in here, hurrah!!

Astalavista Baby!

G'day mate!

Finally the party is over, now the holidays can begin.
Saturday evening went out with the ‘Swan’, The ‘Paperboy’ and The ‘Youngster’ to an excellent French restaurant in Chelsea where foie gras and rabbit were washed down with plenty of good wines.

Sunday night I caught up with another two top mates in Steve and Ronnie and along with the Swan we hit the half price Italian, a Battersea institution and a place the Swan Badbeat and I would eat in at least 3 nights a week when we lived here; gnocchi and chicken were again accompanied by more fine wines.

Monday was my last day in town for a while and after meeting my great friends Tristan and John I joined The Swan, Badbeat and Timmo (formerly Albi) in the Admiral Codrington (http://www.theadmiralcodrington.co.uk/Restaurant.aspx), a gastro pub that is apparently one of Ramsey’s favorites and he’s not a bad judge. Scallops and Lamb, inevitably plenty of fine wines and back home in time to watch England snatch defeat from the jaws of a draw with an old school capitulation. If you have watched England play cricket for as long as I have a batting collapse is not a surprise and the only upside is it may make getting tickets to all their future fixtures a little easier. I’m not to stressed about it all really, last year the team provided the greatest moment in sport I have had the pleasure to witness so I can’t stay cross for long. If only Giles caught have held onto the Pointing chance we could well have been looking at a tied ashes series, such is life.

It seems the idea I discussed about football becoming a playground for billionaires wasn’t to far off the mark, this is what I had written prior to Liverpool being possibly bought by a mega rich oil sheik……

I have discussed footy a lot with friends recently and without doubt the best idea I have heard is from my mate Faiz. He wants all clubs to be owned by billionaires and to used as their personnel fiefdoms. Fuck salary capping lets go the other way, the world’s first million pound a week player, transfer fee’s going into the billions etc how good would that be. I believe a few of the world’s leading billionaires indulge themselves by playing the yacht game (basic rules, whoever has the biggest boat wins, currently the Sultan of Brunei is leading but Abramovich has a bigger one being built at the moment)…..

I also mention meeting a friend of the Swan’s ‘Thommo’ who is journalist and sub editor at a leading newspaper. I met him for a quick livener on Saturday evening and enjoyed the immensely. Now the Swan informs me Thommo has a bar named after him at Hamilton race-course. If that does not elevate the man to legendary status nothing will, congrats Thommo!

Another gem, when Timmo went to Australia and was going through immigration control he was asked his profession to which he answered ‘Bookmaker’. Apparently the customs officer solemnly shook his head and asked ‘how do you sleep at night?’ ha-ha, quality.


The plane leaves in hours and I’m off for what I hope will be another great adventure. This time last year I thought about what I would do to celebrate my 40th year Occupying a space on the planet and the idea of a trip to Oz and Asia popped into my mind. Due to a variety of circumstances I now have the opportunity to do just that. I hope to have a blast and will inform you dear readers of any interesting stories, anecdotes or the total carnage that normally follows in my wake, cya.

The High Life

Thailand and...


Oz

What a great week i have had. I would have opened my mouth sooner and told you all about it but i every time i opened my mouth an alcoholic drink got in there first.

Tuesday i go out drinking with all round top girl and new fried Annalisa, a friend of Cd's missus Laura.

Wednesday it was out again, dinner with with RY and NP from Stan’s followed by what can only be described as a gargantuan piss up with the Jedi master of kinky-ness (NP's description not mine), Bazza.We got absolutely sozzeled.

The fun started in the Trafalgar bar after the champion’s league games. We got a few late drinks but couldn’t persuade the bar lady to serve us any more, even though i told her i was off to Iraq on Saturday and wanted one last drink with my friends before being thrown into the front line. We ended up in Sak’s nightclub drinking aftershock, why do they call it aftershock? My body was in shock immediately.

Thursday was the day of the week as I finally went and did it. I’m all booked up, Australia and Thailand bound and I can hear the sighs of relief all-round. It’s a new start for me, I’m offski to have another adventure, its time to restart the Spillane engine and embrace a few fresh laps of challenges without crashing and burning.

The itinerary, which is subject to change, is land in Perth just in time to see go 1-1 in the ashes at the Wacca. I have lots of family in Perth and a good mate of mine 'Scott' from Stan's will be in the vicinity also.

Chrimbo and New Year in Western Australia and to be possibly joined by the Swan.

From there kick onto Melbourne for a month if possible to hang around and sponge drinks off friends at the Ozzie Millions and take in a little Tennis at the Ozzie Open.

From here things are very flexible; I have a month in Sydney but may do the barrier reef thing. More likely I will leave Oz earlier and go to Thailand where i intend to Island hop as much as possible before the life savings run out.

As soon as they run out its back to blighty, Ireland then back to Spain. After that heaven knows, I am of course optimistically assuming I will make it back in one piece.

Thursday night was celebrated in huge style with NP and MT, again from Stan's. We hit my two most regular haunts in Lalinea, Molly's, the Irish bar i live above and later Harry's, the late night drinking hole of the dark, destitute and dangerous.

Friday was spent watching the last 3 box sets of Curb Your enthusiasm and nursing the mother of all hangovers.

Saturday morning i had 1.5 hours to pack for 6 months travel before flying to Dublin to enjoy the hospitality of my lovely little sister Ailish. We went out around 9 and the night swiftly descended into a typical Dub night out, booze, friends, jokes, dancing and of course more and more booze. It's probably a good thing that i met up with my Dublin crew otherwise I know I would have made a complete spectacle of myself in front of all my sisters mates and as I fancy them all something rotten they would not have been good.
One highlight was upon returning to the bar we had started out in 'Howl at the Moon', my sister and her group could not be located so i had 40 minutes to kill before we met at a prearranged point for our taxi. I off course hit the bar for a beverage and nursed a bottle of bud quietly in the corner with my head down and actually deep in thought. This type of behaviour is obviously alien to Dublin women as I was accosted no less than 3 times by 3 crackers whom all asked me if i was ok and did i need cheering up. How sad that went I told them the truth and that I was about to meet my sister none of them believed me and they redoubled their efforts to please me. I think i have discovered a new chat up approach.

Sunday the parents came down to join us, it was your typical Sunday, papers, lounging type brekkie and then all off to the pub to watch the eagerly anticipated clash of the ego's, United and Chelsea. Not much to comment on the game other than Ashley Cole was my man of match, 1st time for us since his arrival which is pleasing. The referee had a reasonably good game and the highlight was because there were so many people watching the game Andy Gray was for the most part drowned out.
The strange thing was that i was the only Chelsea supporter in the place which initially made me nervous but i soon remembered i was in Ireland not England and that i was in the company of people who enjoy a bit of banter rather than a bit of bone breaking.

Monday I pottered and learnt loads of clues for a trip from Ailish and her husband Liam. The mother made a wonderful Christmas dinner and between us all we hatched a plan that may enable me to stay solvent in Australia for longer than a week.

Tuesday was sad farewells for a while then a flight to London and back to the haunt i resided in before i left England, Battersea. Luckily the exact same room i rented was available as was the same to flatmates I left, the now famous Neil bad beat Channing and Tim Amos (previously known as Albi, short for albatross; the nickname has been put in storage as he is currently getting the lot). A few beers with the chaps and we where joined by my old mucker the Swan.

Wednesday and I had two engagements I would have loved to attend but had to opt for one. I made my apologies to the golf society I play in whom had their annual Xmas drinks and instead at lunchtime I was off to a new event on the social calendar, the Swan’s Christmas party.
We kicked off in the pub followed by lunch in Scallini’s; a very tasty Italian restaurant at the back of Harrods. I ventured for seafood voul a vents and an incredibly large veal chop all washed down with Dom Perignon, white wine red wine and beer. The invited guest list was mostly full of the who’s who of the gaming world, gentlemen who win and lose the equivalent of a year’s salary to most of us without batting an eyelid. The liquidity on betfair this day must have been reduced considerably. The one thing they all have in common is that they win a lot more often than they lose, hence the size of the bets.
It wasn’t all the big players though, other than me there were two loans sharks (hilarious stories), a journalist (and fellow Jeffery Bernard fan) and more than one sports trader. If the big 3 bookies had heard about the lunch the plutonium levels would have reached critical levels methinks. It ended in the pub with only one member of the party reaching the ‘help him home’ stage. Later a few of us kicked on to some Sloane-ee cocktail bar in Chelsea followed by a club, my last taste of the highlife for a while.

Thursday I went shopping for items my sis had told me I would need on my travels and because she had organised everything so perfectly I had 2 hours spare. It was a toss up between Borat and Jackass 2, I went for Borat and even though it amused me all the best bits are in the trailers, I know Jackass would have made me laugh a lot more. Later I met up with a couple of friends in Soho, one of whom owed me dinner for a favour so it was ‘cash-in’ time. JR took us to a great little French Bistro where my filet du boeuf was washed down with some decent burgundy. We attempted to play urban golf (http://www.urbangolf.co.uk/) but it was already all booked, we settled for some vodka instead.

Friday I was up at 4am, I couldn’t sleep and I was rewarded by watching England turn the doom and gloom predictions on there head with a stellar display. At 9 I played golf with some good mates out by Heathrow and had the honour of jumping out in front of a 4 ball that were playing off the white tee’s whilst we were off yellow. The group said nothing which is just as well as one of the group was Gianluca Vialli, one of my Chelsea hero’s and I only would have started badgering him for pictures and anecdotes (he got off lucky as I had to leave the course after playing). In the evening I went to the Western poker club for the first time and was pleased to meet up with many of my old friends and a few adversaries from my old playing days. Got massively unluckily in the tournament, I put all my money in with King Six and couldn’t outdraw my opponents Ace Ten. After a few ales I got back in time to watch the cricket and managed to stay awake(ish) until tea and finally dozed off happily.

Saturday and other than update the blog I have done little. Tonight I am meeting up with old friends for food and drinks, one of whom happens to be my old pal Laurence ‘The Paperboy’ Robjent who is worth at least 2 blog entries on his own (at least one will definitely get done whilst I’m away). Sunday and Monday are planned to be much the same as the last few days, I don’t know how I have survived, I may ponder that question whilst in a leech pit in Hanoi in 6 months time, about to be forced to play Russian roulette and wondering where it all went wrong.