Central North Island

Rotorua was good to us - we found a lovely campsite where we had a spot right next to the river and we stayed for nearly a week. Everyday we woke up, looked at the gorgeous view from Jaffa (our van, now so named) and decided to stay for another night. During our week there we went Zorbing (which was hilarious, you get tossed and bounced all over each other) visited Wai-O-Tapu (which was hot, steamy and smelly but amazing to see) went for a long walk in the redwood forest (I chose the 3.5hr trail and I think Isaac had almost forgiven me by the end), fed numerous ducks (but didn't feed many more, as our campsite was rife with them), went kayaking (there were free ones at the campsite) and got splashed by Maori kids jumping in from a bridge, and went out on the town with Ben & Coleanne. An English couple came to stay at the campsite, Nick & Lynn, and we got chatting to them, mainly about fishing because that was Nick's over-riding passion. On Monday we were all leaving, but he was going out on a guided trout fishing tour that morning at 5am and said that if he caught two fish, he'd give one to us. He came back at 9am having caught only the one - but he gave that to us anyway, gawd bless 'im (clearly recognised poor hungry travellers when he saw them). We took it over to the smoker that was round the back on the campsite but couldn't work out what we were supposed to do with it, so we asked the handyman who was always around doing a spot of this or that if he could explain to us how to use it. Well. He took to the job with gusto, chopping wood, filleting our fish for us and showing me how to cover it in salt & sugar, revealing that he had in fact built the smoker himself out of an old fridge; we vowed to do the same when we get back to Canada. Only an hour after the fish had been caught we had some beautiful smoked trout, which we took over to Ben & Coleanne's to share for lunch, along with some of her homemade soup. Quite the most delicious meal we've had out here. Thanks Nick!

We headed to Taupo, where we wanted to go jet boating. We arrived early evening and went to the nearest campsite so we had somewhere to stay; the one we found was alright but uninspiring. We checked out the Rough Guide and it suggested a free campsite which was 3km out of town which we thought we'd have a look at the following day, to see if it was an option. It was amazing, right on the banks of the most incredibly blue - and fast moving - river and, although there were a couple of other vans and tents around, we felt like we had the place pretty much to ourselves - we even had long drop toilets (mmmm) available to us. We ended up staying 2 nights, moving to a more secluded spot the second night, and on the second day we went jet boating with Rapids Jet. The ride was amazing - at first I found the combination of the wind in my face from the ridiculous speeds, the exhilaration and (I'll be honest) the fear, meant I had tears streaming down my face but you quickly got used to the feeling and then it was just fun fun fun!

So now we've decided to head up to the Bay of Islands - via a quick stop at Jude & Glynn's in Auckland, hence the decent internet access for a change* - and tomorrow we're doing an overnight cruise which includes fishing, night kayaking, snorkelling etc., so I suspect we'll be incommunicado for a little while again but will hopefully have lots to tell at next blog. Still not sure what we're doing for Christmas, but Jude & Glynn have offered us a spot on their driveway campsite so we might well take them up on that!

*just to give you an example, the internet costs somewhere in the region of $8 per hour here, and that's when you CAN find somewhere to get online, and when it doesn't kick you off every 2 minutes. Hostels & campsites do not provide free internet as they would do in most other countries these days. Most frustrating, as I'd prefer to blog much more frequently and get a bit more detail in - I always feel like I'm cramming it in when I do get online - but sadly you're just going to have to bear with me on this one...

Activity central

We made it to Waitomo Caves the other day and did the Blackwater Rafting I'd booked as a surprise for Isaac, which was just as good as I hoped. The abseil down was amazing. Floating down a stream on a big rubber tube in pitch darkness save for a million glow-worms was incredible. We even went to the very cave where they filmed the bits on glow-worms on Planet Earth - every Canadian teenage boys' favourite ever programme - Isaac was stoked. We squeezed through small holes in the rocks and tickled an eel. We even had hot ribena and chocolate sitting down there on the rocks. More photos are on Isaac's facebook here.

The next day we headed to Rotorua and met up with Ben, who was our friend and the IT guy at Sunshine, and his girlfriend Coleanne. We went out for Nando's (so happy they have them here - Isaac had never had Nando's before and is now a convert, of course) and the following day they took us Street Luging, which was huge fun even though, as Ben told us, safety is about seventh on their list of priorities. To ably demonstrate the point, on our fourth run of five, Ben managed to burn out his brakes, take a corner way too fast, go wide and bank off-track, then flip himself over, ripping open both elbows and his right knee, as well as his jacket. We'd have felt sorry for the guy but we just couldn't stop laughing...

Gooooood days

The other day we arrived in Raglan, the ultimate NZ surfer town, went to the campsite which is situated on a sandy spit and is reached by footbridge from the town. After a ker-razy night on the town (the Yot Club bar, along with about 4 other people), which did at least result in our finding a rugby ball floating in the harbour, we dragged our sorry arses out of bed the next day and wondered over to the Tongue & Groove cafe for brunch. Isaac had scrambled eggs on toast, I had the most fabulous Caesar salad I've ever had (with little crispy bacon bits and a poached egg on top). Isaac bought me a cushion - a squishy one with an Orla Kiely type design which I love - and we wondered down to the shore to meet with our sea kayaking guide, Steve.

Steve is awesome - he has one of those looks that says he knows something you don't know...and it's goooooood - and we took off in a tandem sea kayak to explore the shoreline and the famous pancake rocks. They're ancient sea bed, made of limestone,
which has weathered and had the softer layers eroded, giving them an amazing, almost unreal effect. We happily pottered in and out of the caves and narrow paths in our kayak - Steve was impressed we did it without arguing once, which apparently most couples do in a tandem - and got ourselves wedged a couple of times. Then we stopped on a beach for freshly-made stove top lattes, danishes, biscuits and fresh pineapple. Yum. I went for a wander in the water and watched as a stingray floated gracefully past me. Great trip and Steve couldn't have been more hospitable or responsive to all our various needs, gawd bless 'im.

Next we popped into the grocery shop in town and found the most amazing bargain - a 10ft telescopic fishing rod AND reel for only $56 - most of the ones we'd looked at started at around $115 - so Isaac was made up. We left town happy and headed south towards our next stop of Kawhia, which took us past the Bridal Veil Falls, so that warranted a stop. Amazing, well worth the effort. Further up the road Isaac achieved a lifelong dream when we rounded a corner to find our way blocked with sheep. Around
600 of them, being herded by 2 dogs and a friendly sort of chap on a quad bike, who was obviously a bit lonely and wanted to chat. Onwards to Kawhia where our hosts at the new campsite, Snow & Bronwyn, were hilarious. He called me honey and they were at each other's throats constantly. Ha ha. The bathroom block at the site was brand new and we were practically the only ones there again, so that was nice. As soon as we arrived, we headed down to Ocean Beach, known for it's thermal springs so around 2 hours either side of low tide you can dig yourself a small pool on the beach and sit in the boiling hot water. We were dubious. When we arrived it was rather windy and cold, and the sea water was damn chilly too - what the hell? We got chatting to an English couple nearby who gave us some tips about how to find the hot stuff and soon we had ourselves a lovely hot pool. Fabulous. We even stopped to chew the fat with some great local Maori boys on our way back, but I'm sure it was Isaac's presence, not mine, that made them so friendly towards us - they recognised a fellow gansta, clearly.

It was nippy and getting late when we were heading back to the campsite so we stopped in town at the only bar/restaurant we could see to see if there was any food available. A small dog, sitting in the middle of the road, took a liking to us and followed us there. They'd closed the kitchen but the two lovely ladies there opened it up again to cook us a bowl of huge green-lipped mussels and delicious chips. We went to bed feeling we'd had a very very good day, all in all.

However, we've saved the best till last. We drove from Kawhia to Otorahanga the next day on the way towards Waitomo Caves, where we are currently (and where we will be blackwater rafting in a few hours - can't wait!) Now, one thing our van lacks is a power cable - when most new flashy campervans pull up to a campsite, they can plug their van into a special box, with a special plug, which gives them mains power. We had bought a heavy duty extension cord and 4 way splitter for this but didn't realised it needed a special, round pinned plug. We've looked and asked everywhere to see if we could buy one but it seems it's a no go, as it has to be specially fitted by experts. So in Otorahanga we were asking around, as usual, without much
hope. A tractor repair shop (it was that kind of town) said if we walked through their workshop and turned right we could find an electrical shop which might be able to help us. We found it and asked and not only did they not look at us blankly like everyone else, they said they had one! Cut a long story short, they took our heavy duty extension cord and replaced the male plug with the kind we need - fully certified and everything. They were so lovely and one of the women in the office even wanted to buy the van from us when we'd finished our trip! Isaac & I can't stop looking at our lovely lovely cable and we feel like proud new parents.

Latest pics here.

On the road at last

So having finally got our van up and running we, well, got up and ran. Mission Bay first, a favourite Aucklander's haunt not far from the city, where we ate ice creams (Hokey Pokey, a NZ special which consists of vanilla ice cream with bits of crunchie in it - very very tasty) and paddled along the very picturesque beach - Isaac had apparently never heard of paddling before. Next we found ourselves heading to the North Shore of Auckland to see John Bedford, a kiwi guy we met at Sunshine Village. John took us to Piha beach on the west coast, a famous surfing haunt. We did the kiwi thing and went into the sea for a swim despite the less-than-inviting temperature of the water - I'm glad I hung back a bit because when John asked Isaac if he'd heard of rugby, Isaac really should have known this was a pre-cursor to being heavily tackled and
taken under. We thought the waves were huge and pretty strong, though John later dismissed them as pussy waves, and when I saw Isaac disappear under them I had a sudden panic that I hadn't told him I loved him before he'd gone in! We had fush and chups on the beach, along with a few beers - yes, even me* - that John had brought. Home to John's where we headed into the hot tub, a bowl of our new favourite Hokey Pokey ice cream, and an early night sleeping in the van parked up in his driveway.

Early the next morning we got up to go and watch the rugby. Now, neither Isaac nor I are interested in team sports, but the chance to watch England vs. All Blacks in a Kiwi house was too good to pass up (the offer of free breakfast helped) and much to our surprise we both really enjoyed the game. Shame England were trounced, but it seemed to keep our hosts happy and I wasn't that bothered so no complaints. Afterwards, armed with plenty of maps and leaflets courtesy of our hosts, we headed to Takapuna, a small town on the east coast north of Auckland. Here we found a lovely campsite, a decent set of shops to explore, a cinema, where we saw Quantum of Solace**, and a very nice Belgian restaurant, where we had Jamaican curry of all things, which was absolutely delicious.

We took our van in the next day to South Auckland to a mechanic who put 2 new tyres on her, changed her oil and filters and adjusted her brakes, pronouncing them 'mint'. Thereafter we began our trip south, properly out of Auckland for the first time, stopping at our current location in Port Waikato, at a campsite which we appear to have to ourselves pretty much. After our walk on the immense sand dune formation nearby this afternoon we arrived back to see one other campervan - another Toyota Hiace - had arrived, which made us a bit cross, but otherwise we have the tv room, the very clean and well equipped kitchen, and the very clean bathrooms to ourselves.

So, to recap, so far sleeping in the van has been going very well indeed. I've slept like a baby every night, Isaac less so but who cares about that? Oops, sorry Pixie. The campsites are nice, friendly and, so far, very clean. And it's lovely to think that we can up sticks and leave for the next place anytime we want. So pretty happy all round with the whole buying a van business.

I'll upload some pics to this post when I have a moment (they're still on my camera which is in the van, I'm in an 'internet room' at the campsite, my laptop is nearly out of battery and I'm paying through the nose for the use of the internet, which is pretty much de rigeur over here it seems). In the meantime did I mention that I saw Christopher Ecclestone in a bookshop in LA while we were there? Thought not, thought I would.

*well I managed half a bottle, which I thought was pretty good for me
**disappointing, mainly because I still have absolutely NO idea what the bleeding hell was happening at any point

Made it here...

Firstly, many apologies for the gap in blogging. As you could probably imagine, the last few days before I left were a little on the manic side but the things you need to know are a) to my immense relief I let my flat to a lovely couple who move in on December 1st (or at least I bloody hope they do!) b) I had a leaving do in Richmond and it was lovely to see Ellie, Zoe, Adam, Jenny & Neilon there, so thanks guys and c) Isaac & I successfully met up in LAX airport, had one crazy night/day in LA (and believe me, LA does crazy very very well indeed) and flew on to NZ a week ago. Now having recovered from the jetlag I feel up to giving you a quick update.

So far, to be honest, we've seen very little of NZ. Auckland has been lovely - even Isaac liked it and he hates cities - and we have bought our campervan, a bright orange Toyota Hiace that has yet to be properly christened, in every sense of the word. Any suggestions for names? Isaac suggested Bull because of the old Toyota logo, so I thought Taurus (tour-us) was a good play on words but he just looked at me like I was mad so it seems that's been vetoed. Rusty Griswald has been bandied about but nothing settled yet. The guys before us called it The Phoenix, but we don't want to call it anything they did, because they were, as it turns out, arseholes. They upped the price by $500 hours before we picked it up (I managed to knock $60 off that but boy was I furious) and they took the cigarette lighter plug adaptor that was going to be so useful out of the van before they sold it to us and INSISTED that it was still there and we hadn't looked hard enough when we asked about it. All that and he still said 'So when you're back this way next year and looking to sell, give me a call and I'd be happy to buy it back from you'. Isaac swears he'd rather drive it through his front door. The poor idiot must have forgotten the van came with a set of nunchucks, which Isaac is planning to be proficient with by the time we come back this way...

A few days ago, the day we picked up the van, we drove down to South Auckland - the NZ equivilent of LA's South Central haha - to visit my friend Jude, who I went to Heathside with for a year back when we were 12 and haven't seen since then. Good ol' facebook. She emigrated to NZ a year or so ago with her husband Glynn and we stopped in for dinner - we're still here 3 days later! We've been getting on like a house on fire, they've given us heaps of tips on travelling around the country and free things to see and do, taken us to see Hanua Falls which was beautiful, and it's been a great place to get the van up to scratch. We've been able to sort through every box, drawer, nook and cranny (and that sodding plug adaptor is definitely not there), wash blankets, buy new sheets (because using someone else's, especially blokes' = bleugh), buy power cables (grumble grumble), get our mosquito nets properly set up, fix the heating and generally make it feel like home. Which it now definitely does! Tonight we're planning to do a dry run: we're going to sleep in the van but in Jude & Glynn's driveway, just so we can come in if we have any problems, then tomorrow it's all on for real. We're heading back up north of Auckland to visit our friend John, who worked in rentals at Sunshine Village, for a catch up with him. Then down towards Rotarua, to catch up with another old Sunshine work colleague - IT Benny! Can't wait. In the meantime, being Jude & Glynn has been a real pleasure and we were lucky enough to be here when they became grandparents - their preying mantis, Harold*, gave birth** to baby Charlie. It was a very emotional moment.

*who is technically a girl
**okay, hatched from an egg sack

Hello, is it my flat you're looking for...?

Eight days eight days eight days. I would be so much more excited if I wasn't seriously concerned that my flat is not yet rented, but hey ho. I've got till the end of Nov to find tenants I suppose. Still, if you or anyone you know might be interested in renting it then please let me know asap, because it would sure help me sleep at night...

Other than that, am I the only one who finds this rather amusing?

Yes we can!

It's 4am and I'm very tired but also hugely elated to have seen the election of Barack Obama as President live. Hurray!

Change gear, change gear, check mirror...

Oh for fuck's sake. After Brand/Rossgate, comes Clarksongate. Interesting that both these incidents feature two of my favourite TV personalities of all time* - must say something about my rather sick sense of humour - but I think Jeremy's comments were HILARIOUS and will be seriously pissed off if we get anything like the kind of nonsense we saw a couple weeks ago.

*My fantasy dinner party: Jonathan Ross, Jeremy Clarkson, Stephen Fry and Derren Brown. We'd have curry.

CONGRATULATIONS LEWIS!

Unbelievable finish. Unbelievable.

I am not in the office at the moment...

Oh this is priceless.

Burn them!

I thought that it was time that I finally commented on the huge news story of the week. No, not that one about Ben Fogle contracting a flesh-eating bug, though naturally we all wish him a speedy recovery. No, the ol' Brand & Ross scandal. I must say that I was SHOCKED and HORRIFIED that two COMEDIANS known for their NEAR THE KNUCKLE humour made a PRANK call to a fellow CELEBRITY and said something that might be considered in POOR TASTE and felt COMPELLED to write the BBC immediately.

This I did in fact, so I'd like to think that the fact that Jonathan Ross was not sacked was a direct result of my email asking them not to.

Who'd have thought it, eh? Erm...have you ever actually listened to their shows? Well, to be honest, I've never listened to Russell Brand's, because I'm not really a big fan of his, but I know what kind of humour I might be liable to find should I choose to tune in. I am a long-time listener of JR however and have often marvelled at his ability to say some fairly outrageous things and get away with it. But get away with it he does, because there's absolutely no malice behind what he's saying and he's just so cheeky and likeable (well, to those of us who like him I suppose) that you just can't be cross with him. I remember him interviewing Richard Briers a few years back and practically the whole interview consisted of him making lewd comments about Felicity Kendal and telling Richard that he was so old he was probably going to die any moment. You've never heard anyone giggle so much as Richard Briers did that day.

I'll be honest, I've seen the transcript of the calls they made to Andrew Sachs and they were pretty bad - I'm not surprised Andrew Sachs was rather offended - but whoever decides about these things (the producer of the show I presume), thought it was alright to go out on air anyway. Two listeners of the show even complained about it. Both Brand & Ross wrote letters of apology and sent flowers, as they should have, which Andrew accepted graciously, as he should have. But the ridiculous furore that has resulted from the publicity about it all, and the thousands of complaints received from people who almost certainly did not listen to the show and have probably never listened to the show, made my blood boil. The fact that Gordon Brown (you might have heard of him, he's our Prime Minister apparently) waded in was ludicrous. I'm not that bothered about Brand resigning, as I say I'm not a huge fan, but if JR had been sacked I might well have had to go and throw eggs at something.

Someone I used to know just posted a comment on my facebook page in response to my joining a 'Support Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross' group (well, I felt I had to do something) saying 'I rather think those obnoxious, overpaid, opinionated self-publicists can do without my support, ta very much'. Well, firstly, I never asked him to support them. I never expect anyone to support anything I personally believe in - I may feel the need to vote with my feet (with my Nestle boycott and refusal to buy from Esso for example) but I do not judge others for making different choices to me. Secondly, being obnoxious and opinionated self-publicists is what makes these people interesting and entertaining - it's the reason why we want to watch them (would you prefer it if all presenters were more like, say, Michael Parkinsozzzzzzzzzz oops sorry fell asleep just thinking about him there) and that they're paid so much. Over paid? Possibly, if you compare what they earn to a nurse or a teacher or a fireman, but I don't think it's a fair comparison. Compared to a Premiership footballer? Got yourself a bargain. Compared to the CEO of a large company? Probably about the same, but I'd rather watch 'Friday Night with Jonathan Ross' than 'Friday Night with the CEO of Glaxo Smithkline*', and I'm fairly sure I'm not alone. In fact, the viewer figures suggest I'm not.

So let's not have any of this pitchfork brandishing, burning torch waving, angry mob stupidity over two people doing what is, essentially, their job: entertaining the public by being rude about people.

*This might be unfair, he might be hilarious for all I know.

Cakes and doughnuts

My sweet tooth is getting out of hand. Yesterday Liddi & I spent the afternoon making cupcakes, which were nice but I got the recipe from my friends Jack & Christi (Christi's from New Orleans dontcha know) and the measurements were all in 'cups', as those crazy Yanks tend to do. I tried to convert them online to grams, but have found that you get a different measurement for each website you use - often with wild variation between them! So I've no idea if the quantities I used were right; they didn't rise as much as I was hoping but they tasted nice enough so that's all that matters really. We had fun decorating them and writing all our names on them, although for Isaac I chose instead to do a portrait of him from the time he dyed his hair blond when he was around 13. The resemblance is uncanny and the shade of yellow identical.


Then the other day Liddi revealed to me that she'd never had a Krispy Kreme doughnut*, which is, frankly, criminal. To my horror, a bit of research revealed that the North of England has an extreme dearth of Krispy Kremes, as it turns out Manchester is the only place you can get them up here! We wondered whether we should throw caution to the wind and go there anyway - despite the 2 hour driving time - before realising that I had to go to Manchester anyway today to pick up my sister Toni from the airport! Kismet, surely? So off we trot today.

*why dough-nut do you think? I mean, dough, obviously, but in what sense is it a nut?

Another 'kids say the funniest things' story for you: I was just reading some bedtime stories to my friend Lisa's daughter Maggie, who started school recently. Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, so just as much of a pleasure for me as for her I think! Then she picked up a book with some pictures and simple words in it (head, hand, knee, ball, duck, that sort of thing) and I asked her to read it to me, as she'd just started learning to read. We got to 'cot' followed by 'clock' and, while turning the page, she absent-mindedly said 'cot and clock alliterate don't they?'

Yes, yes they do.

Run Bambi run!

A classic example of children seeing things slightly differently to adults for you: I was watching Bambi with my friend Linda's daughter Chiara, who has just turned 3. You know that bit when Bambi and his mother were running through the forest away from the hunter and you hear that shot ring out, suddenly the mother is no longer behind him and eventually Bambi is told by a stag that appears that his mother can't be with him anymore; it is of course a very sad moment. Chiara turns to me, sadly, and says 'Bambi's mother can't be with him anymore because she's gone to have lunch.'

Take on me

Those of us who were there in the 80s will surely appreciate this.

"Dave Gorman"

I have uncovered two new blogs - or should that be "new" blogs?* - today which have been delighting me. The unexpected adding of a former school friend on good old facebook last night (Hello Jude!) led me to discover you can now become a fan of Dave Gorman's on facebook. Seemed like kismet to me, given that I'd just spend the past three days downloading and watching The Dave Gorman Collection, Dave Gorman's Important Astrological Experiment (DGIAE), Dave Gorman's America Unchained and Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure in order to introduce Isaac to them when we get to NZ. A fan of Dave Gorman I undoubtedly am and I was ready and willing to proclaim this to the world. Or, at least, to the population of facebook.

Incidentally, Dave Gorman has an unusual effect on me. I have now met him twice and both times he literally sucked the personality right out of me. He probably had no idea he was doing it, I'm not blaming him. But both times I met him I instantly became the most boring person who ever existed, because, I'm guessing, I think he's bloody brilliant, I wanted to try to impress him somehow, and so I got total brain freeze. I couldn't think of anything to say. At all. NOTHING. So I tried to tell him I'd seen one of his other shows and got the name wrong. I told him I was Tudor's wife** but he just looked at me as though he felt very sorry for Tudor. Eventually I slunk off, to both our relief.

*sigh*

Anyhoo, back to the story. Dave Gorman's facebook page told me he had a blog. So that was blog number 1 and it's well worth a visit if you, like me, are a fan. The other blog I mentioned is this one***, to which I found a link via Dave Gorman's facebook page. I love it: it appeals to my inner grammar nazi.

*you'll see
**which I was at the time, and Tudor had been the sound supervisor on DGIAE, so it wasn't just a totally random statement
***told you

Me: Doctor doctor, I feel like a wigwam and a teepee...

Doctor: You're too tense [two tents]*

I don't think I've ever felt more stressed than I am just now. It seems strange to me, given that I have, over the past few years, arranged a wedding, got divorced, bought 3 properties, done a midwifery degree, ran a team of teenage pregnancy midwives which was severely depleted, packed up and moved to Canada and dealt with my mother's developing Alzheimer's. And yet at the moment I find myself in a constant state of flux; my jaw aches from clenching my teeth, I have regular headaches, my shoulders are up by my ears, my hands are constantly in fists and I am twitchy and distracted. I have to take a deep breath and force my body to relax every few minutes. I'm not even sure exactly why, I know it's because I'm trying to plan lots of things to do with my up-coming trip (though nearly all my own preparations are complete, I've just got a few things to finish sorting out for Isaac, who is working full-time and has no computer) and I know I'm worried about the money side of things, particularly because I still have no temping work, but why it's affecting me so much physically I don't really know. For the first time in my life, I feel like I really need a massage, rather than just fancy one. Of course I can't bloody afford one!

I'm sure when I actually get on the plane and go, I'll begin to relax and enjoy myself. In fact I can't wait. Being back together with Isaac will help! But for now, I'm trying to find other distractions where possible...

The picture is, in case you're wondering, part of a famous stress test. Stressed individuals might notice some differences between the two dolphins. Personally, I can't see any.

*yes yes, I know

We're having big fun

You know when you go to one of those kid's soft play areas with your own, or a friend's, children and think to yourself: 'That looks like fun. I wish I could have a go'? Well as it turns out, you can.

Last night, for Liddi's birthday treat, a huge hoard of 17/18 year olds turned up at Big Fun in Hull, where we rolled, jumped, climbed, slid and bumped our way through a huge warehouse of soft stuff. Jenny and I joined in the fun, racing round and giggling, and it was only as we ran, gasping, to get a drink at the end that we passed a sign saying 'Children remain the responsiblity of their supervising adults' that we suddenly remembered that that was supposed to be us! Oops. The 'death' slide, which begins with a 7 metre sheer drop, was a particularly terrifying prospect at first. I sat at the top for several minutes saying to the supervising member of staff 'This is ridiculous; I'm not even afraid of heights! I used to climb for a living! Why can't I do this?' but eventually my pride got the better of me and I pushed off. After that, nothing could stop me of course, and I did it around 15 times in all.

Big fun was had by all.

Waiting

I can't pretend it's not slightly torturous waiting to go to New Zealand. I've got seven weeks to go (as from tomorrow) and it seems to be going terribly slowly. When I was waiting to go off to Canada time went so much more quickly because I was working up until 4 weeks before I left, which always helps, and had other things* going on which kept me fully occupied. Now, I'm knocking around Yorkshire, which is lovely in many ways, but given that all my friends live daaarrrn saarf, my social life is limited to my immediate family. Not that they're not lovely, of course. I've applied to do some temping work but as yet, nothing has arisen. There's nothing more irritating than not working, because all you seem to do is spend the money you don't have.

I still have things I need to do with regards to my flat, things I can't do while I'm ooop north, like re-painting my bathroom ceiling (don't have a long enough pole for the roller to do it from here), so all the extra spare time is merely frustrating. I spend my time obsessively going over what I still need to do (but can't just now) and what I need to buy (but can't afford to) and playing around on the internet (obviously). Add to that the fact that I'm missing Isaac like crazy and thought I talk to him every day, it just makes me miss him more and mope around a bit because I can't snuggle up with him to watch a film.

Any suggestions of (free) distractions will be very welcome. For example, I have been downloading English comedy series that I think Isaac will like, such as Green Wing, Black Books and Nathan Barley. Any other essentials you can think of?

*things I do not discuss in such a public forum, sorry about that. Jeez I'm annoying

What. On. Earth. Are these women thinking?

Giving birth to yourself

I can't help but agree that this is the best fancy dress costume of all time.

And oh. Oh. This is utterly excrutiating:



May I just say well done to Hardeep Singh Kohli for maintaining his dignity and only walking out, not decking the guy first...

No getting out of it now...

I'm booked! In eight weeks and one day's time I will be flying from Heathrow to LA to meet up with the lovely lovely Isaac - just can't wait to see him - and after one night there we will be flying on together to Auckland to spend a year travelling and working around New Zealand. We plan to buy a campervan and potter around doing...well, whatever the hell we fancy doing to be honest!

It will be the first time Isaac's been out of Canada (apart from a brief sojourn to Florida when he was a kid*) and I suspect he's going to be getting pretty nervous; he's not the only one. Even though I've essentially done this before in Canada, I'm nervous about how I'm going to cope money-wise (I don't have the same savings as I had before), about how my flat is going to run itself (am renting it out through an agent this time, so no friends in there to make sure it stays nice), how we'll survive living out of a campervan and whether the campervan will break down beyond repair, and about how we're going to find work. But hell, I'm sure we'll be fine, it'll all work out. If I have even half as much fun as I did in Canada, it'll be amazing. And the nice thing is this time I'll be doing it with someone else by my side, someone I love very much, which is fabulous.

Rest assured, gentle reader, I shall keep you informed every step of the way...

*what do you mean, he still is one? Cheeky.

Blank looks

In my many attempts to answer the inevitable question "So, how was Canada?"*, I have found myself describing it as a Year of Blank Looks. Some from me, some from the Canadians, some from other assorted foreigners I have been un/fortunate enough to meet.

The thing is, most of the people I've spent time with have been both a) bleeding foreigners and b) mere fetuses. This makes common points of reference rather tricky. Just yesterday my lovely Canadian friend Janna wrote on Facebook "Oh Mia how I miss you and your outrageous Englishisms...". 'Outrageous Englishisms' in this context meaning saying "I'll pop that downstairs" or "I like your hair in bunches" or "I'll bring my swimming costume".

I'll give you a couple of other examples.

At work, a woman asked me where she should put her harness now she'd finished climbing. I replied "Just bung it over on the red rack" and pointed at said rack. She looked at me, blankly, and said "I have no idea what you just said. But I think I know what you meant by your pointing."

I introduced Isaac & Reilly to the wonderful series Life on Mars, which I'd downloaded on iTunes, and I was very amused to see two teenage Canadian rednecks become obsessed with 1970s Mancunian policing, but found myself having to pause it on a regular basis to try to explain what was being said. "It's 1973, nearly lunchtime, I'm 'aving 'oops" being a classic example.

I was up a tree (working hard, obviously) and saw Josh, a colleague, walking beneath me carrying a black bin bag, collecting rubbish. "Hey Bin Man!" I shouted. Cue blank look. "Bin Man!" I ventured again, in case he hadn't heard me. More blankness. "What?" "Bin Man! You're the bin man. You've got a bin bag. It's a bin bag. A black bin ba...no? No? Erm..." "I've been where?" You see the problem.

*which in reality is as hard to answer as "So, what do you think of oxygen then?" in that you just don't know where to begin

More cowbell

Courtesy of this website, and more time on my hands than I ought be allowed, please let me present you with Flo Rida ft T-Pain singing 'Low' with a subtle 56% More Cowbell and 25% More Christopher Walken:

	Make your own at MoreCowbell.dj

And here is Put Your Hands Up (For Detroit) by Fedde Le Grand with a more daring 93% More Cowbell and 80% Walken (a.k.a. the Hoodoo's theme tune, for those of you who have lived in Banff):

	Make your own at MoreCowbell.dj

A distinct improvement, I'm sure you'll agree.

Back to Blighty

Being back in 'sunny old' England has been a strange affair. In many ways I feel like I never went away, and then again the same breath I feel like I've been away forever. Coming back to no fixed abode and no money has been frustrating and though it's been lovely to catch up with friends, and I'm terribly grateful for the use of their spare beds/floors, I can't help but long for the stability of living in my lovely little cabin in the woods with my lovely Isaac.

There have been certain things that have been fabulous to come back to. Food, for example. Now, that's not to say I starved in Canada - far from it - but the first time I went to Sainsbury's I nearly lost control entirely. Poor Debbie had to put up with me running around going 'Oh my God, they've got these! And I'd forgotten about that! Oh wow - I have missed this sooooo much' and the like. I had genuinely forgotten about certain things that you can't find in Canada, like Parma ham, and became overwhelmed when I remembered that such loveliness existed.

Sadly, the fact that I have no money - and no income at present of course - has meant that I really haven't been able to indulge myself in the things I've missed. Never has my resolve been more tested than in Waterstones, where I caressed the piles of paperbacks like a much longed-for but totally unavailable lover, knowing that even the 3-for-2 deals weren't enough to justify spending money on things that I Don't Really Need.

Today, however, has been a productive day. I have walked miles - literally miles, because I have no transport and no money for buses - spoken to letting agents about my flat, called to renegotiate my mortgage (something I have been dreading and procrastinating about terribly, but, in the way of such things, was in the event simple, straightforward and well worth doing), bought a few things I needed to tart up the flat, done a little bit of maintenance and had 3 cups of tea to boot. Things are looking up. I've applied for my visa for New Zealand - did I mention I'm going for a working holiday there? And that lovely Isaac is joining me? If not, I am and he is - and as soon as I've got word it's being processed I'm booking my flight for some time around the 18th of November. That will give me something solid to look forward to and to plan for, which is just what I need right now to get me over the post-travelling blues.

Road tripping part 2: cottaging in Tamagami

A quick bit of catching up must be done before I get to the main story (i.e. I'm back in England):

The very next night after returning from Quebec, Isaac & I headed over to Porter's to enjoy a sociable evening with friends, bunk down for the night and get up at 5am, with the intention of leaving for his family cottage at stupid o'clock in the morning. The only one of us not staying the night was Mike, who said he preferred to sleep in his own bed (a sentiment I can relate to) and he would be round at 5.30am to pick us up. At 5am I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and knocked everyone up* and we sat around waiting for Mike. 5.30am came and went. So did 6am. Porter called, no answer. By 6.15, Steph suggested Porter call again, which he did. No answer again, but Mike called straight back to say, somewhat defensively, that his father was just putting air in his car tyres for the journey and he'd be round as soon as he'd finished. Three minutes later, Mike called back to say that what he'd just said was a complete lie and that he'd only just woken up.

At 7.30am we finally left, after an interesting game of Car Boot Tetris. We were travelling north in two cars, with Porter, Steph, Isaac & I in Porter's truck, and Mike & Smokie (a.k.a. Dumb & Dumber) in Mike's Oldsmobile. Porter soon got a little way ahead on the highway but as Mike kept calling to say he was desperate for McDonalds, we finally pulled off the highway at the nearest one and waited for them to join us. And waited. And waited. Cue frantic phone calls which went something like "well where are you now?" "no idea" "what have you just gone past?" "erm...something business park?" "well have you gone past the Super8 yet?" "not sure". Eventually we gave up waiting, got back on the highway and discovered they'd gone straight past us and were now miles ahead. Long story short, we finally found them at the McDonald's further up the highway where Porter had once been arrested for chasing two strippers with an axe - don't ask.

We dropped off Porter's truck to his sister's in North Bay, where it was due to be resprayed, and all piled into the Oldsmobile Cutlass, a.k.a. the Cutty. An appropriate name for a car that bounced, swayed and banged around like a ship on the high seas, I thought. Though I'll admit it took me a long time to work out that they weren't calling it the Cuddy, because those darn Canadians tend to pronounce their Ts as Ds.** A further hour or so north to Tamagami and we met up with Porter's cousin Merry, who I assumed was called Mary for most of the trip, once again due to the quirkiness of the Canadian accent*** , and their grandmother's dog, Benjy, who purported to be a cute little Cairn Terrier, but was actually Satan's bitch herself. Merry took us to the private island where the cottage was located in her lovely fast boat, though it still took around half an hour.

The area north of where we live in Ontario is known as 'Cottage Country', because that's where everyone has their holiday homes (though the Canadian version of a 'cottage' rarely tallies with the English image of a small, possibly thatched rendered house with roses round the front door) and going to visit your cottage in Canada is known as 'cottaging' (cue much sniggering from my English readers****) This cottage is fairly small and cosy: two bedrooms, couple of pullout couches/sofabeds in the lounge, no real washing facilities bar the lake, a jetty into a natural bay, and a boathouse with a third bedroom up top, which Isaac & I bagged immediately. Nothing like a bit of privacy and a balcony overlooking the lake to make you feel relaxed, I always say. The weather was amazing and hot, so we spent the weekend messing around in the lake, sunbathing, reading, cooking fabulous meals for each other (I made everyone eat my famous sticky coq) and drinking. Oh yes, drinking. Well, I didn't drink, obviously. Porter & Isaac drink very little and Steph never managed to get quite as drunk as she hoped on the rum she'd brought, so that left Mike & Smokie to do the majority of the drinking, a task they took on with as much determination as they could muster. I can't remember what the final tally was in the three days we were there, but I believe it was something in the region of 40 beers each. Quite possibly more. Thus they became a highly amusing double act, and the addition of Benjy the dog, who took a fancy to Smokie and would go from docile and affectionate to snapping and biting without fair warning, produced pure comedy genius.

The main purpose of the trip was fishing and everyone had brought their reel, rods and tackle boxes. The fish, however, were in hiding it seemed and no one caught a damn thing until finally, on day three, Porter, Steph, Isaac & I were out in the fishing boat, casting out and chatting, as you do. Porter cast and reeled his spinner in and as it came close, he looked confused. "I didn't put any bait on the hook..." he said slowly, before he realised that he'd somehow hooked a tiny smallmouth bass right through the middle. Still, it was the biggest catch of the weekend and still warranted recording for posterity.

The weather held up beautifully until the day we left, when it began to piss down. Hard. 6 people in the Cutty with rain pouring in via the straps holding the top box on and hailstones the size of maltesers did not make for a comfortable journey home, though all agreed regardless that it had been a fabulous trip.

*for my Canadian readers, a little clarification: this does not mean I got everyone pregnant.
**see also the 'Yoda' (Isaac's Toyota truck)
***see also the Indian restaurant I'd had recommended to me in Barrie called Tara, when I was looking out for Terra.
****for my Canadian readers, 'cottaging' is in fact when men have sex with other men in public washrooms

'Goodbye' is actually the hardest word

I wanted to post 'Road Tripping Part 2 - Cottaging in Tamagami', but haven't had a chance, so sorry about that, I'll try to catch up when I have a decent internet connection. Anyway, to the business of the day.

Today is Monday. Labour Day out here, in case your interested, so I'll no longer be able to wear white shoes. Thursday evening I fly home.

I'm going to miss Canada like crazy. I'm going to miss Isaac like crazy too, as well as his family, whom I have adopted as my own. I'm going to miss Ontario, with its green rolling hills, redneck towns and fabulous outdoorsy lifestyle. I'm going to miss having a bear in my back garden (I've actually not seen it, but one tipped over our big wooden rubbish bin holder the other day). I'm going to miss my leopard geckos and the way they sit on my shoulder while I potter around the house.

I'm going to miss our little cabin, with its dodgy floor, ripped 70's style wallpaper in the kitchen and a liberal dusting of spiders in every corner. I'm going to miss having a bunch of friends (yes, teenagers) over to get freaked out by my collection of Derren Brown videos. I'm going to miss riding the zipline over the pond. I'm going to miss the incredible stars, and lying on the roof at night with Isaac just watching them and spotting satellites.

I'm going to miss climbing trees for a living. I'm going to miss strapping on my harness every day and it taking me 20 minutes to pop to the loo in the thing. I'm going to miss going fishing - today I caught a trout in the pond at home, watched Isaac gut it, put it straight on the BBQ and we ate it for lunch with beef tomato and basil from the garden. I'm going to miss visiting friends' cottages.

I'm going to miss Reilly waiting excitedly for whichever new part he's ordered for his car and riding up and down the roads with the sub pounding out those gangsta beats. I'm going to miss waiting excitedly for Isaac to come home from work and seeing him get out of Smokie's car with his sleeveless work shirts, filthy jeans, baseball cap and lunch pail in hand, shouting out "Hey goodlookin'!" as soon as he gets through the door.

I'm going to miss hanging out with Mary Lynn and eating whatever snacks she has offer. I'm going to miss seeing Imo's latest creation, whether it be an arbour, or a wooden table and bench for the garden. I'm going to miss being able to head up to Georgian Bay and go for a quick jaunt on their beautiful sailboat. I'm going to miss all this and much much more.

My plans involve going to New Zealand as soon as I've sorted out stuff back home - Isaac will be joining me - and having a working holiday there. In the meantime, I'm going to miss so much about Canada and hope I can come back soon.

Road tripping part 1: climbing French-styley

It all started a couple of weeks ago when Nate at work asked if I was interested in going to Québec. Well, I thought, I’ve not got long to go in this country so if I can get another Province under my belt, I probably really ought to. ‘Hell yeah!’ was therefore my response.

Arbraska, the treetop trekking company I work for, own four more parks in Québec (we’re the only one in Ontario) and we decided to try to climb all – or at least some – of them. Throwing our gear (including our own harnesses, carabineers and pulleys) into the boot of the car, Nate, Janna, Steph, Kerri and I set off on Sunday night and drove to Ottawa (Capital City of Canada – but you knew that already, didn’t you?) to stay the night at Janna’s place out there. Kerri proved that she was indeed great in bed, as the rumours would have it, by not once encroaching on my space or stealing the blankets. Early next morning we awoke and set off for Rigaud, just west of Montréal, to begin our climbing. We threw ourselves into the deep end by starting with their extreeeeme course, called La Rafale, which was ridiculously high up in the trees and included some bizarre and very challenging games. For example, one was called The Flyswatter, and involved tying yourself to a rope then jumping off a platform about 60ft off the ground, falling and swinging simultaneously before being flung hard into a large net about 50ft away from where you started. I’ll freely admit that as I stood there preparing to jump, I began to feel a long-forgotten sensation. Fear it is called, I believe. I’m so used to running around in the trees, and find our courses at work so easy these days, that it was lovely to feel shit-scared again.

Once we’d finished La Rafale, we got back into the car and went into Montréal itself to find our boss’s apartment, which he’d kindly offered to lend to us for our trip while he was on holiday. Bags offloaded, we continued north towards Rawdon, where the second park was to be found. They had a particular climb we wanted to do, called a Via Ferrata, which is basically a rock climb, but you follow a set course via a cable, to which you attach your carabineers. We were told we weren’t able to do the Via till the next day, so instead we climbed a couple of their harder courses before heading back to make dinner, play a few rounds of ‘Cruise Marry Shag’ and crash rather earlier than planned.

The next morning we got to Rawdon for 10.30am and made our way to the Via Ferrata with our Guide, Gizmo*. We had replaced our equipment for some with longer lanyards and had also brought along a slower pulley, because the ones we’d brought from home were too fast for the ziplines that we would be doing here. We began climbing in excellent weather but soon enough it began raining and then we heard the occasional roll of thunder off in the distance. We carried on climbing, ready to abandon if necessary, and got through the three courses with relative ease, but much fun. We ended up at the zipline back down the cliff face and Gizmo went down first, followed by all my fellow climbers. I went last, put my special pulley on and jumped…only to find my pulley jerking and slowing. Then, halfway down, it just stopped and I was left dangling. Damn! I turned myself around and went to pull myself in but then heard my friends yelling at me to try my own pulley which was still on my tool belt – of course! Swinging my legs up and over the cable, I began the process of clipping on my pulley, removing the dodgy one and clipping it back onto my harness. Trying to do this with one hand, dangling some considerable distance above the ground and making sure I didn’t drop anything - all the while hearing the thunderstorm approaching - took a fair bit of effort, but eventually was able to release my legs and zip back down to the ground. Hurray!

Via completed, and the thunderstorm well and truly putting an end to further climbs, we decided to head back into Montréal and do some sightseeing. Vieux Montréal was beautiful and we ate Beaver Tails (big flat doughnutty things with cinnamon sugar, yum) as we strolled down the streets. We ate delicious Greek food and happened across a Salsa bar, where we sat and watched a live Salsa band play and people dance. I realised how much I missed Salsa dancing and texted Ali, my neighbour and Salsa partner, who now lives out here in Calgary, to tell him so.

Next day we had a leisurely start, brunch in a café, popped by the Arbraska office to pick up t-shirts. We had intended to try to get to one of other parks, but the two hour drive to the east, before a further 8 hours drive back home, didn’t appeal by that stage. Instead we decided to go back to Rigaud, which was basically on our way home, and try one or two of their other courses they had to offer, and this we duly did, not getting home till 1am.

‘The Weekend’ as it was known, was an awesome success, filled with hysterical laughter from start to finish. Much junk food was consumed, musical tastes shared, random comments made, intoxication occurred, new catch phrases coined; all the classic elements of a good weekend away. I relished being able to use my (somewhat rusty) French. I’d love to have been able to tell you some of the other carryings on, in all their sordid details, but what happens in Québec stays in Québec, on this point we were very clear…

Up for work the following morning – calls of ‘Scampy Pamphlets!’ and ‘Scroggage!’ echoing through the trees between guides** – then home to pack and leave for road trip no. 2…

*All the French guides have special trekking names, which we decided was very cool indeed, and we will try to instigate back home. I'm Cougar, naturally, Kerri (who is 6'1") is now Big Bird and Nate is Little Boy Blue, due to his baby blue eyes...
** You had to be there...

Offical petition response

I've much to tell you all, given that I've just come back from two back-to-back roadtrips. However, I haven't got it all together just yet so instead (how annoying am I at the moment with my lack of posting?!) I'll leave you with this, which I received this morning. A while back I signed an official government petition, the full details of which were as follows:

We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to make Jeremy Clarkson Prime Minister. Jezza is legend and deserves a chance to run the country.

Today we all received an official response from 10 Downing Street which said:

We thought long and hard about the request to make Jeremy Clarkson the Prime Minister and in the end we put our thoughts down in a short film on YouTube.

Flat for rent

I want to post properly again soon but in the meantime I just wanted to ask if anyone reading this is interested in renting my beautiful flat in Weybridge, Surrey? Ian & Debbie, my friends and current tenants, are moving out in October so I'm very keen to find someone to move in as soon as they go. If you - or anyone you know - might be interested then either email me or leave me a comment as I'd rather it went to someone I know... Cheers!

Incidentally, exactly one month today till I fly home. Booooo.

Cregan's wedding

Well they've only been and gone and done it. Megan & Craig were married on the beach at Tofino this afternoon: the weather was perfect, everyone turned up who should have (i.e. bride, groom) and there were tears at both the ceremony and the reception (mainly from me). Location was amazing, speeches were emotional, food was fabulous. More importantly, I was able to be there when two of the loveliest (and funniest) people I know got
married, so that was perfect. The sea and wind meant that it was hard to hear what was being said at times, so when Megan said her own specially-written vows to Craig, no one could but Craig could hear what she said to him - though we could see it made them both cry! - which seemed apt somehow. It felt a bit like the end of Lost in Translation.

More photos here.

And in a tremendous stroke of luck for myself, I am now in Megan & Craig's recently-vacated bed in one of the Cottages at the Long Beach Lodge which they were sharing with Joelle & Tyler (having now moved to a room of their own to get a little more, ahem, privacy). The bed itself is about the same size as the entire room at the hostel - I'm considering sleeping on it sideways just because I can. Can't say I'm sorry to leave the hostel; I find sleeping in a room with three strangers a little like the aftermath of a particularly uncomfortable four-way...with no actual sex as a benefit.

Whale of a time

I know you probably won't believe me, but the picture on the right is actually of a grey whale. Honestly. I mean, how close did you think we were going to get?!? Actually, we got a lot closer than my pictures seem to suggest. I even got a picture of a whale upping tail and taking a dive, but I swear to god you'd have to max out your furtive imagination to work out that the tiny black dot on that photo was a whale's tail, so I thought I'd go with this one, even though it is hardly much better. Ah well, we saw 2 grey whales, a bunch of sea lions and a few sea otters to boot, so I'm certainly not complaining. We also managed not to look remotely ridiculous in our red floater suits* and had a cool time bookin' it across the waves catching tons of sweet air**, so a damn good day all round. I did, however, neglect to wear waterproof mascara (a good tip for any of you who plan to do this in future***) and so ended up looking like I was off to an Alice Cooper tribute evening, but hey ho.


*no, really, we didn't. You're wrong.
**can you tell I hang out with teenagers alot?
***yes Silas, I do mean you

Jet setting once again

A quick jolly over to Vancouver Island (which from Ontario, time-wise, is roughly equivalent to flying back to the UK, so hardly a short hop!) for the wedding of Megan & Craig, a.k.a. Cregan, is this week's news. The wedding is this Thursday, but I flew in today to go whale watching with the wedding party tomorrow. The Vancouver to Vancouver Island leg of the journey was taken on the diddiest plane I've ever been on, where having a window seat was your only option, since there was only one row of seats either side of the plane with a very narrow gap in the middle. There was nowhere to put the small suitcase I had as hand luggage - no overhead storage - so I asked the man standing at the bottom of the stairs, who I assumed was cabin crew, what I should do with it. "Do you have a laptop or anything valuable in it?" he asked "Not really" I replied. "I'll just pop it in the back then" he responded and promptly disappeared under the wing to put it in the 'boot' for me. Then he climbed into the plane and made his pre-flight announcements, sans tannoy, while wandering up and down the aisle. Given that there were only 9 rows, this hardly strained his voice. He then settled down in the front of the plane and proceeded to fly the damn thing too. Now THAT'S multi-tasking.

I am the only member of the wedding party not staying at the gorgeous resort where the wedding is taking place. The $260 per night price tag was a little prohibitive for me, so I opted instead for the Clayoquot Field Station hostel, which is just round the corner and somewhat lighter on the wallet. It's clean and new, very nice indeed for a hostel, but still has 3 strangers in my room which I always find a bit, well, odd. And slightly unpleasant. Oh well. I have free internet so all is good really. And this evening I drove into town in my hire car, bought fish & chips and drove down to eat it while watching the sun set over the pacific. Vancouver Island, I should point out, is exceedingly beautiful.

Fingers crossed that the whales behave themselves and make an appearance tomorrow please.

Musings on mosquitoes

Back home in the UK, we do have mosquitoes. Particularly where I live, right next to a lake, we can sometimes feel like they're invading. They come out in as dusk hits, and occasionally we even have one or two that get into the house, and every few days you might get a bite. I thought this was annoying. Ha.

Here in Canada, mosquitoes are a way of life. All windows in all houses have screens on them so you can open them without letting in the bugs. No matter what time of the day or night, they're there. The moment I step outside of my front door, I'm attacked. Hundreds of the buggers descend on me like they've never seen an English person before (and indeed, they probably haven't). You can almost hear them buzzing 'fresh meat, fresh meat, fresh meat'. Working in the trees doesn't help. 'Off', or equivalent bug repellent spray is not an option but a necessity. Despite this, a day does not go by when I don't get one or two new mosquito bites, usually on my legs or arms but sometimes in awkward places like the middle of my forehead. They are ridiculously itchy. I put antihistamine stuff on them and it makes no difference. When we go back into the bush behind our cabin, I swear to God I look like Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoon with hundreds and hundreds of the buggers buzzing round my head. Even with long trousers, long sleeves, my hood up and throwing my arms around like a windmill I still get bitten several times. As many of you may know, I have an across the board 'no-kill' policy when it comes to animals and insects - I won't even kill a fruit fly - but the mosquito is a notable exception. I will squish them on sight whenever possible.

It has left me pondering as to the biological advantage that leaving itchy poison in their victims has given to the mosquito. I mean, if they didn't itch me, I wouldn't be that bothered if they bit me. Surely, then, they'd get more to feed on? And if we weren't always trying to kill them, they'd live longer? Is it to do with population control do you think? Suggestions in my comments box please...

Creepy crawlies

Finally had a chance to bring my laptop into town and am sitting in a cafe, using their free wi-fi. Thought I'd give you an update while I'm here:

Isaac & I now have leopard geckos. Their names are Zoe - though we call her Zozza in tribute to my friend Zoe/Zozza back home (hi Zozza!) - and Mungo. That one was my idea. They're really cool, they sit on your shoulder quite happily while we potter around the house, though Zozza does have a habit of climbing up your hair and sitting on the top of your head. We fed them yesterday and watching them demolish a bag full of live crickets is far better entertainment than telly, I can tell you. Everyone loves them, except Isaac's mum who isn't too keen. Her thoughts on the matter were: 'I thought you two would have better looking children'.

I've now qualified as an aerial guide for the Treetop Trekking park and love my work.
Well, you can hardly call it work, I climb trees for a living! The guys I work with are fabulous and we have plenty of get-togethers planned over the next couple of weeks. Every day I get into my harness, put my helmet on, strap on my walkie-talkie and bugger about in trees all day. The insects can be brutal, but it's worth it. And hey, life is never dull when you have a veritable assortment of mosquito bites to scratch.

On the subject of insects, we have an ant infestation at the cabin at the moment and I have been advised by my friend Lisa that if I want to get rid of them, I have to ask them to leave. Hmmm. Well, the RAID doesn't seem to be working, and I'm getting desperate, so when I get home I'm planning to sit down for a little pow-wow with my anty friends and ask them if they wouldn't mind visiting someone else for a bit. The other night, just before I went to bed, I had a glass of iced tea (my new favourite drink). I didn't quite finish it so I put the remaining drink next to my bed in case I was thirsty in the morning. I got up at 6.15am, when Isaac gets up for work, to go to the loo and before I got back into bed, took a big swig of iced tea. A couple of hours later when I got up for work and it was now light, I glanced at the glass only to see about 30 ants swimming in it. Now, much as I'd love to imagine that they'd only just crawled in there, I think it's unrealistic to assume so; I could have freaked out at drinking ant-juice, but instead decided to think of it as a small protein shot. Still, I was sure I could feel wriggling in my stomach all morning.