The One in New York

After a terrible flight, even sitting 3 rows behind Anthony Stewart Head (Giles from Buffy) could not lighten our spirits. He was a rather nice chap and was friendly enough to talk to. We waited in the immigration line for over an hour and it was interesting his celebrity status didn't help fast tracking him through.


The Girl didn't enjoy my running commentry of the natives - particularly my over use of the word 'Seppo'. In fairness I had only be using it when one of them acted indecently, rudely or just plain annoying. By the time we left the baggage claim we had thought up a new word to represent the 'Seppo' culture - Hutts. It is fair to say that Hutts was used in the majority of my sentences.

The first morning we ate at Toms Restaurant (Monks Diner from Seinfeld). I had to try the Pancakes and Bacon. Superb. We then ventured through Central Park. We then took in some classic sights - the original soup nazi kitchen, apartment block from friends and a couple of the Sex and the City sights. We ended up in an Irish bar for a drink when we were approached to join their 'Superbowl Party'. Possibly the fact that the girl and I had not been to one before but more the fact it was $20 all you can eat and drink we decided to stay. I must say it probably would of been a rather boring game had we not tried to get triple our moneys worth.

The following night we headed to Madisen Square Garden to watch the Lakers visit. The Girl had managed to pick up some quality tickets on halfway and I was chuffed to see Kobe drop 61 on the Knicks. The atmosphere was incredible and the Lakers victory lit up Sportscentre later that evening.


Early the next morning we decided to try our luck with Lettermen tickets. I went to Hello Deli to grab a rather tasty sandwhich off Rupert. The show was an experience. Unfortunately the guest was an impeached governer that had little relevence to the Girl and I. It wouldn't surprise me if he is convicted at the end of his trial. I am not suggesting he is guilty it just seemed that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of a favourable verdict.

The One in Estonia

For some unknown reason I decided to take the girl to Tallin for Christmas. The diver was over for a SAT course and tagged along as well as 2 of the girl's friends. We travelled over on Christmas Eve and were met with a pretty thick cover of snow. It made quite the scene as we got a taxi to the apartment. Tallin has an area called the old town which is found within the old city walls. Once entering the old town you couldn't help but feel thrust into the middle ages and apart from the modern cars it certainly lived up to its name. The apartment we had was rather large and had a sauna.

On Christmas Eve we decided to head to an authentic olden style restaurant. I was rather chuffed when I learned how old school it was. No electricity, no running water, no glass, nothing modern except the patrons themselves. There was a tea pot in the bathroom to wash your hands. The tasty beer was served in a large mug. In fact everything was made from pottery. And possibly the best thing was the menu. As I perused the delicacies my eyes came across the "King of the Forest" - Bear. I pondered whether or not I felt right about eating such a gracious beast (without killing it with my bare hands) but was soon persuaded by the buxom waitress to give it a go. I was glad I did because it tasted sensational. Although a little gamey throughout the texture of the meat was like nothing I had tasted before. We ended the evening at a beer hall which was about when my memory gets a little hazy.

Christmas day was spent at the apartment with way to much food and alcohol. It was rather late in the day when the Diver and I were sent out to grab something from the store. Considering the beer hall was on our way we figured it would be quite rude not to stop in for sneaky stein. As we entered we were chastened to leave our coats with the clerk. Considering we were on a tight schedule we waved the man away and tried to keep on into the hall. He shouted that we were required to leave our coats. I politely disagreed as it was obvious the majority of people already in the joint had kept there coats with them. As we turned around to enter our path was blocked by a midget (or dwarf I suppose but who can tell the difference?) Seeing the midget in itself was not unusual - however, the fact that he was dressed like a pirate was. He growled at us and pointed to the door. The diver and I absolutely lost it and released some hefty laughter. This spurred the midget on to start using strong words (totally in Estonian) at us, and escorting us out the door. I believe that will be the last time I ever see a midget pirate bouncer guarding a beer hall.

The final night we were in Tallin the Diver and I decided to try the bar that was under our apartment. The place opened at midnight and unfortunately did not display what time it closed. This was possibly a mistake on our behalves as we were due to fly out at 8am. It was a small club with the second room playing porn on the big screen. It felt a tad unusual to see such things on the screen so we decided to sit ourselves in the other room at the bar. The 2 barmaids were rather scrumptious looking so the Diver thought it would increase his chances with one of them if we tried every type of shot on the menu. I am not sure how far through the list we got before I got a text from the girl around 6am asking if we intended to get the taxi with them at 6.30. From that moment onwards I don't remember getting back to the apartment, packing, heading to the airport or even getting on the plane. I do remember waking up at Stansted thinking I was still ridiculously drunk. I guessed the Diver was feeling the same because he was help up at immigration for half an hour trying to convince the guy to let him into the country. It possibly didn't help that I was shouting "Send him home" from inside.

I would give Tallin a 4.5 star rating and recommend it highly.

The one with the Bum

Firstly apologies for not updating this sooner. Surprisingly (to me anyway) I had a few people ask if I was done with the whole Blog thing, and although I probably should be it is apparent that too many crazy things happen in my life not to share with everyone.

The girl and I went to see the Wallabies game in France, and while the match was a little poor the weekend in itself was good if not a little too rushed. After a heavy night on the booze after the game, we arose at an hour that can only be described as way too early to head for our Eurostar back to London. Luckily enough I was still rather intoxicated so the effort was made a little easier.

We left our mate’s house that we were staying at and hit the Metro. We figured it good fortune that it arrived straight away and promptly boarded. We were greeted by a fairly off putting smell before our eyes caught the offender towards the front of the carriage. A resting bum still curled up in his sleeping bag. Over the next few stops more people got on which cause the bum to rise from his slumber and commence to light up a cigarette. I mentioned to the girl where was he going to brush his teeth and go to the loo. The question was answered at the next station when he jumped out the doors and began to relieve himself. The girl was shocked, I was amused, but even more so when the doors started to close and with a last minute lunge he threw his hand into the door. We stood there for a few moments before a young lad went over to help him pry open the doors so he could get on. Once back in the carriage, he re-lit his cigarette before putting his old fella away.

Unfortunately this is where the tale ends as Gare du Nord was the next station. From this I concluded that Bums on any form of public transport = hilarity.

The one with the Runner

Last night we had a work function which was a cruise along the Thames. This was a rather funny night in itself but the way the evening ended was the stranger part.

We had ended up at a bar somewhere near the river for a few extra pints. Before midnight I made a quick dash for the last train home. At that time the gates are all open so I figured a free ride was in order. I sat down on the train with my earphones in when there is a tap on my shoulder. Turning around I am confronted by a woman asking me for my ticket. At this late stage of the evening I put on my best ‘are you serious’ expression and casually pull out my weekly travel card. On inspection she mentions that I am clearly not on the Sutton to Wimbledon route. I explain I was on a work function and still travelling home from work so assumed it would be ok. Clearly not buying it I explain further that I fell asleep and went past my stop and was on my way back. Again she disagrees with me stating that the Sutton train does not travel this route.

As a last resort I mention that perhaps I could buy her a drink sometime instead of tying her up with this paperwork. She responds rather positively and scribbles her number on some paper to give me. I tell her I will call and smile smugly at my good fortune. There was certainly no intention of calling her and even less on doing the dirty on my girl.

As we arrive I depart the train and head for the exit when I hear my name “Steve, Steve” (you didn’t think I would give her anything but my fake?) and as I turn around she is standing with another gruff looking ticket inspector. “How about we go for that drink now?” At this stage I thought I would be nailed if I declined as she had brought her friend along. I reluctantly agree and we head towards a bar. Racking my brain to try and work out what my options are for getting out of this - I come to only one conclusion.

At which point I leg it down the street and don’t stop running until I hit the flat.

Interestingly enough I didn’t really feel all that guilty until today when I found out the ‘on the spot’ fine was £20 – which had I known would of certainly coughed up to save the final predicament I ended up in.

The One at the Wedding

I suppose I cannot write about my trip home without mentioning the main attraction why I was there - the brothers wedding. It was a grand day that had many highlights. It was great to catch up with all the relo’s that many I hadn’t seen for a number of years. The Bride was stunning (looking like she was well out of the bro’s league) and the bridesmaids looked gorgeous as well. I suppose us lads scrubbed up alright as well.

The ceremony and reception were at the Cromer Golf club so we had the opportunity to have a spin in the golf carts between the two. This was a lot of fun. Especially when I tried to make it up a steep incline in the wet, spinning my wheels before the top, causing the poor bridesmaid in the cart with me to leap from the vehicle (claiming it was going to tip) and sinking into the mud. Determined as I was, I attempted it a second time only to fall a metre short and then slide down the hill through a safety net. It took me a good five minutes to burst my way through the netting, leaving a gaping hole that needed to be repaired (apologies to the Bird if he got any stick for it).

On returning to the reception I took it upon myself to try and have a catch up drink with everyone I hadn’t seen for a while. Needless to say my best attempt failed miserably but I had fun trying…

The one at the Shag

J and I got up rather late after an intense drunken PS3 session that lasted until 5am. We decided to head somewhere close and settled on one of my old favourites – the Lucky Shag. We had a fairly good possie on the water and were well on our way when a cruiser pulled up to the wharf in front of us. A couple of wealthy looking gents tied it up and jumped off to head to the bar for a couple. They left their trophy wives (who seemed past their used by date) on the craft.

We continued drinking and realised a fair bit of time must have past when one of the wives started pointing to her watch towards the gents. Paying no attention they continued drinking. A little more time past before the less irate wife decided to hop off the boat and talk to the men. Joining the men she proceeded to share a drink with them.

A little while later it became apparent that they were rather drunk when the 2nd wife came back to appease the 1st. As she crouched down and leaned on the boat to talk to her, the boat began to inch outwards and she hung on helplessly as it arched her over the water. Our shouts had become in unison “Fall, fall, fall, fall”, as it drifted further. Just as it appeared the inevitable would occur the mooring lines became taught and the gap grew no further. She managed to scramble back onto the wharf to our disappointed cries. I guess to settle her nerves she went back to the men to drink some more and we continued on our conversations.

A short while later she meandered back to the boat and we repositioned our stools for a chance to see her second attempt. The crowd had grown a little larger by this stage and we again rose up in unison “Fall, fall, fall, fall”, as she knelt down it appeared she had an epiphany that this method was flawed. Thinking she wasn’t going to give the crowd what it wanted she rose to her feet and moved towards the back of the vessel. She decided to leap down a drop of around a metre onto the Marlin board and landed with what looked like a prefect stick befitting a Chinese gymnast. It appeared to us in slow motion as her hand thrust out to catch the rail, swiping more air than Barbara Streisand, she took a few steps backwards before plunging into the water.

The boisterous cheers that ensued I had heard only once before after those immortal words “ and the winner is….. Sydoney”. Her sunnies had been lost as she waded to the boats ladder. By this time her husband had made it onboard and they both failed miserably to bring her into the boat. A full 10 minutes passed before she had been dragged out of the water to receive her standing ovation. The heckling was rampant as a rather embarrassed boatful of people made there way into the evening.

The one back in Perth

A fleeting visit through Perth to catch up with everyone was on the cards. An accurate account of the weekend is hard to attain because of the state I spent most of it in. Arriving at 3am I went back to my old apartment to try and kip for a few hours before the onslaught of the weekend was to occur.

I went into Tiger Lils around midday to meet up with Hols and the Diver for a few to catch up, before shifting to ‘negies. Hols was already asking about the ‘red buses’ as we consumed some beers and had a spot to eat. By the time others arrived we were pretty well on our way. It was the Worms birthday and in order for him to catch up a rather large portion of shots were bought in his direction – his night ended shortly after. J decided to high-5 everyone in the bar but instead of following through would draw his hand away and tell the other participant how much they sucked. This was a game that he found hilarious although I believed the random strangers caught in the prank disagreed.

It was towards the end of the evening that we realised most of our party had exited. I decided to exit myself and was greeted by a phone call from LD. He sounded a little more sober than I so I grabbed a Mac and Cheese and proceeded over to his place to continue the festivities.

Arriving back at Chelsea I was greeted by the sight of a very drunk Worm who had passed out on the couch. LD and I proceeded to make the Mac and Cheese a decent size Nacho’s. It was while we were devouring this that we heard a large thud and looked around to see an accusing worm on the ground looking at us as if we had something to do with his falling off the couch.

LD and I proceeded to catch up over a couple of games of Mario Kart. About an hour later that we realised the Worm had been missing since his fall. A quick search ensued resulting in us finding a very drunk Worm enjoying a kip on the loo – head in his folded arms on the bench to the side and a bellowing snore from his lungs. Unable to wake him initially we had a pillow under his head before he regained consciousness to stagger to his bed.

Our night ended in a fit of laughter, especially at the thought of how much fun showing the photo evidence of this event would be the next day. The quote from the Worm summing up it up the next day: “With friends like you guys – who needs enemies?”

The one at Oktoberfest

We left for Oktoberfest on the Friday morning in order to get 4 good days of drinking in. The girl stayed at home as she doesn't drink beer so I was rowdier than usual. The first day/night was rather story free so I will jump to day 2.

Day 2: The opening of Oktoberfest is apparently a highlight of ones drinking life. Having seen it before I was not all that keen to get out of bed at 6am to try and head for the tables. Instead we slept in and let the others in our apartment make the early dash for glory. This was in itself a brilliant idea as we rocked up and jumped on there table anyway (with the beers not being tapped until midday). The extra 4 hours sleep meant we lasted well into the night.

For some reaon the Running Man decided to make a game out of drinking out of shoes. The shoe was removed from the unsuspecting victim (usually by force) before beer being poured inside and then drunk by the victim. While hilarious it also conjured up thoughts of where the shoes had been. Towards the end we had a massive crowd of locals who rather enjoyed our game and joined in our shouts of "shoe shoe shoe shoe" everytime we nabbed someone new. We had a few variations on this game "Thong thong thong thong" and "boot boot boot boot" which appeared to be just as popular.

At the end of the evening we played a carnival game where you shot at pineapples with a little gun. It was a rather fun game until I shot one, only to see it get stuck in the pineapples fronds (is that what they are called?) The attendant was a little embarressed when I started proclaiming "Shenanigans" at the top of my voice. He knocked over the pineapple claiming fair shot but I wasn't satisfied until he bought me off with a squeak toy.

Day 3: Hangover in tow we headed back to the main arena and found ourselves in the Hoffenbrau tent. An oversight on my part had left my boxer shorts on. Soon they were ripped off and thrown at the pig (a giant pig hanging from the roof - covered in underwear). The only consollation was the marks the next day around the running mans torso from where I busted his jocks.

Towards the end of the day a group of germans came and sat at our table. I eyed off the expensive looking boots of the female and asked if she would like to drink out of them. She said a polite no and her friend said she had paid €850 a day earlier. This led to me being rather surprised when later (after several pints) she offered it up for service. The roar was in unison from the crowd as I filled it up with a whole stein. "Boot boot boot boot" as I began to chug away before realising what the whole stein was in fact a litre where it was passed around the table for everyone to sample the expensive wears.

As the eveing closed it became a messy affair - especially after a group of girls (lets call them kiwi bitches) and one bloke tried to muscle in on our table. They were politely told to be as seen as the kiwi army and reluctantly gave up. A little later they came back and a pair of undies was thrown at (a nameless girl that was travelling with me, is from Melbourne who used to work with me offshore and has been referred to as Cans). She didn't stand for it and in one of the most hilarious scenes - jumped the barrier to confront the KB's. It took me a while to pick myself up from the laughter and follow her over to break it up. Some friendly Italians had rescued her and chased off the KB's. After promising not to mention the story to anyone (who really reads my blog?) we proceeded home. In between my fits of laughter, I harrassed anyone implying "keep those undies in your pants or I will unleash the cat fighter onto you"

The one at the F1

I wasn’t sure I would make this one as I was flying with Alitalia who a few days earlier said they would be cancelling flights. Fortunately for me that didn’t include mine.

I arrived in Milan on the day of the race and luckily for me the bus / metro and train tickets appeared to be free (well actually I never bought a ticket and nobody stopped me). I had tried for a helicopter to the track from the airport (that at £60 was a bargain) but unfortunately because you landed inside the track had to have your ticket with you and I was meeting my Kiwi mate at the track to grab it. Nevertheless I managed to leg it there and arrived a couple of hours before the start. Once I met the Kiwi we entered the track and had to walk near on 20 mins to our seats – in misty rain and boggy mud.

For those that know the track we were situated on the right hand side of the first chicane after the main straight. I would like to say ‘seats’ but alas it was just a bench.

I was a little dubious at how the F1 would pan out at Monza - the home of Ferrari. It is a very fast track and the field usually spreads out with little overtaking. It was rather exciting that Vettel was on pole, and even more amazing he had done it in a Toro Rosso. The fans were mainly for Ferrari but there was a strong contingent of Brits there barracking for Hamilton.

The weather was a light drizzle that kept the track saturated and extreme weather tyres were compulsory. This made for better viewing as there was more overtaking and spins than usual – a fair few in front of us.

I think we were the only ones on the track that were cheering for the leader, Vettel the whole race. The majority of fans came around by races end and applauded the achievement of his win. It was good to have a walk around the track after the race and feel the closeness of the atmosphere. We watched the presentation and walked half the track before bailing to the pub.

Unfortunately the next day I could not get an early flight home so endured a day around the city. I rather liked the place and can certainly say it was probably a shoppers paradise (which was confirmed by the girls excited reaction after I showed her some pictures I had taken of the Prada store).

I toured the city anyway taking in the sites. A lot of the monuments and buildings were covered in scaffolding for repairs but in true Milan style (I presume) they had giant billboards covering them with the latest fashion.

At the end of the day I found my way to the Ferrari store. Admittedly I felt a slight chill entering (kid in a candy store style) at the range. You could pretty much buy everything and anything with a Ferrari logo (although I didn’t see a kitchen sink). A few of the noted Ferrari items were: Key chain (€45), golf balls (€40), snow skis (€2600) and a replica F1 steering wheel (€12,000). I picked up a pair of green leather shoes for €80 which I thought was a bargain.

A final thought on Milan: While the city contained some rather ridiculously attractive women (discounting the quality boney models), the men seemed rather old and certainly didn’t bathe.

The one with a guide to Marrakech

So you may know that the girl and I headed to Marrakech for a few days and while some pretty cool stuff happened I thought I might offer some tips for survival:

Haggle at every opportunity – when I first tried to haggle I was a bit concerned with aggressiveness of the seller. Once I realised that it is like a sport to them it became a lot more fun. If you don’t haggle they won’t sell to you because you’re robbing them of their fun. A lot of the times we got them down to a ridiculously cheap price but threw a couple of extra dirham to them anyway.

When walking the streets ‘La Shukran’ is your best friend – People approach you in the street and talk French or English to try and ‘guide’ you somewhere or sell you something. Uttering the Arabic phrase means you may understand a little of their culture and they will leave you well alone – just in case.

Riad’s are cool…. Period – If you ever want to feel like a Sultan or Prince then a Riad is for you. The room is amazing and they all open into a central area with a pool or fountain.

Moroccan’s lack ability to insult – A boy who tried to show us around was quiet annoyed with me when I told him to go away several times. On the last “I will kick your arse!” he got pretty upset and unleashed some insults at me. The only coherent one was when he stated “You are sex!” Which confused the hell out of me because I thought, awesome who doesn’t like that? He came back and said we were “sex and f&*ks” which again confused me, thanking him for his compliment we walked off.

Moroccan wine is rather tasty – we were very dubious of sampling the wine in Morocco as the climate doesn’t scream out with favourable grape growing weather. I am glad we did though because we were both impressed. If you can find it a drop called ‘Les Vins de Cepage’ was exceptional and at 100 dirham’s (£7) a bargain.

Market food is great… however – it will give you the dodgy belly. We waited until the last night for this one and I am glad because it gave me the trots for a couple of days after. Thankfully I still felt fine in my stomach.

There are way too many storks in Marrakech – Every wall tower or high point contains a large nest and pair of storks. My main concern was that they would drop a baby into the girl and mines room at night - so the door was securely locked.

Cous Cous, cheap wine and belly dancing is essential for every dinner – Meals cooked in Tajines not only look cool but taste amazing. When finishing off the evening with a show you can relax back in the cushions and enjoy.

When you’re in the Atlas mountains – and the guide says “We go a little higher up the cliff – don’t worry there are 2 of us to help you up”, take note that there is NO safety ropes. Don’t get me wrong they were rather good at holding your feet in the footholes and pulling you over ledges but I seriously doubt whether or not they would of hung on had you slipped and I am sure they have no insurance for these matters. We did come through unscathed and I must say was rather proud of the girl for accomplishing it considering I don’t think I know any girls that would of attempted – especially wearing thongs.

Cactus have fruit….. tasty fruit at that – Can anyone tell me they knew that cactus provided fruit? Have all the cartoons I watch left out this vital info for a reason? Most corners in Marrakech have a cactus fruit vendor selling the fruit cheap. I highly recommend a sampling because it is surprisingly delicious.

If your afraid of snakes, keep aware in the main square – the locals are likely to come and put a snake, chameleon or monkey on your shoulder if you are standing around unaware in the hope you give them some money. The more you scream the more fun they believe you are having and expect more money.

If you venture into the square at night intoxicated, expect to do something to get chased out – After a rather long afternoon of drinking at Kosybar we headed towards the Square for dinner. There was a show about to start and a woman was coming around to everyone asking for money. She heckled us for a while and explained that firstly I haven’t seen them do shit yet so wasn’t going to pay and secondly I hadn’t seen a single person give her any money. She let us be. The show started and if the exclamations I made that the dancers “were all dudes” and dressed in a female belly dancing outfit the final straw was when I took a photo. The original woman screamed and started towards us. I didn’t fret until I saw the two large guys behind her that turned us to flee. As we pushed through the crowd I grabbed a handful of change, throwing it on the ground shouting “Free Money!” a la Bond (See mum those years of couch potatoing finally had a pay off). I am not exactly sure if they had already stopped pursuing but I like to think my my quick thinking saved us from the death penalty.