On The First Day Of Christmas...

Thus far I've worked every day over the festive period, including a double shift on Boxing Day. And, although my next pay packet will be bulging, my Christmas could be summed up in two words - the second word's 'boring' and the first rhymes with 'trucking'.

However, now I'm off until my next money-spinning shift on New Years Day, so the fun can begin. Hed and Arrrrrnabel arrive tomorrow, the day after is my birthday and then, of course, it's NYE.

My plans for today are pretty straight forward - I'm gonna get trucking spannered!

Christmas In The Trenches

I successfully passed my training course and I'm now a fully fledged member of a profession that could, quite legitimately, be described as the oldest in Australia.

I nearly blew it on the 'end of course' booze up when I got so spannered that I 'redecorated' our motel room thus incurring the severe wrath of the owners, who were so upset by events that they decided to dob me in to the course management.

So, the following morning, I stood bleary eyed and nauseous, outside the Governors office. I felt quite the schoolboy with the 'Beano' annual shoved down the back of his kecks waiting to see the Headmaster. Indeed, the schoolboy feeling remained with me as I copped a dressing-down of gargantuan proportion and I left the office shame-faced, vowing never to drink again.

But, graduate I did and I've spent the last fortnight 'on the job'. Although nothing too major has occured during this period, I've had an interesting and enjoyable time.

On the home front everything is alright. We had a big disappointment last week when our boy, Cory, decided he wanted to stay in Rhyl for Christmas instead of coming out to Oz. We were all upset, especially the girls, but I understand his thinking. I used to love going on leave and 'tanking it up' around town, I had a ball and he wants to do the same. I get it.

That aside, life is sweet. Our lodger, young Neil, is on his travels - he got himself on a Contiki tour from Sydney to Cairns, stopping off at various points on route to get full and chase birds. He's working his way back down to Sydney for NYE with a bunch of people he met on the tour and is spending Christmas in Byron Bay.

As for me, I'm working Christmas Day, Boxing Day and New Years Day, which is a bit of a bummer but FNG's have to put up with that sort of thing I suppose. I have got some time off though which coincides nicely with my birthday and , more importantly, our great friends Hed and Arrrrnabel's visit from Queensland.

Although we're on the phone to each other quite a bit, we haven't seen them since our wonderful NYE in Sydney last year and we're really looking forward to their arrival. They're here for almost a week and I'm off work for most of it.

Well folks, it's 6.30 in the p.m. here on Christmas Eve and Santa will be here before we know it - so I'll take this opportunity to wish all our friends and family back in North Wales and all our friends out here, a Happy Christmas.

Eat, drink and be merry. I'll be in prison.

Blood, Sweat And Beers

Two weeks remain on my training course.

I've been on placement locally for the last fortnight, but return to the course on Sunday.

I'm really enjoying it. It has been intense, challenging and, above all, thoroughly interesting. We've covered all manner of things from fire-fighting to plain old fighting, use of pepper spray to use of a verbal spray.

In addition we've also undergone much extra-curricular 'training' in the local pub.

That's one area where I'm excelling.

Celtic Band

It's been a hectic couple of weeks.

I'm home for the weekend after completing week two of the seven week training course for my new job. The course is heavy going, but very, very interesting.

Last weekend young Neil and I had a big weekend on the sauce down in Melbourne. We went down to watch England take on Australia in the Rugby League World Cup. Even though the poms got flogged, we had a thoroughly good time. We spent Sunday afternoon in Melbourne's best known British pub, The Elephant and Wheelbarrow, which felt even more homely as it was full of poms doing what feels right on Sunday afternoons - getting full. We also caught up with former Miss Albury, Jen, and her fella Matt and had a good old catch up with them. They told us all about their recent excursion to Europe.

We'll be spending the majority of this weekend in the lovely town of Beechworth at their annual Celtic Festival. It's a great event and this year our daughter Robyn will be performing on the stage accompanied by fellow Welsh Wodongian Glyn on guitar. You can read Robyn's 'festival profile' here.

They'll be performing on both Saturday and Sunday and Robs will be singing in Welsh. It's a big event but she doesn't seem to be nervous at all. I'd be bricking it.

The Apprentice

Neil's here!

I picked him up from Melbs safe and sound at daft o'clock on Monday morning. Since then we've done a bit of boozing, a bit of mooching around, etc.

Today he started to earn his keep by helping me fix the brakes on the car and he mowed our extensive grounds all by himself.

This weekend, if he continues his good behaviour, I might even give him some pocket money.

From Pools To Porridge

In exactly one weeks time my former apprentice/understudy/lacky, Neil Wynne, arrives in Australia.

He's in the enviable position of having a one year working visa to explore this great land. He plans to find some work locally and, in between jobs, have a good old mooch around the joint. He wants to do the normal touristy 'stuff' like visit Ayers Rock, the Barrier Reef and get around the state capitals, of course, but, in staying with us, he will also get the opportunity to experience life in 'country' Australia, something many tourists miss out on.

I'll be able to spend the entire week showing him around his new environment, which will be nice, as I've missed the little fella since we've been over here.

I finish my current job as a pool technician this Friday and have a free week before I begin the training for my new role as a prison officer with the Department of Justice.

It'll be a bitter sweet experience as I really have enjoyed what I've been doing for the last ten, or so, months. Working outside in mainly brilliant sunshine doing all sorts of jobs involving domestic and commercial pools has been, quite literally, a real breath of fresh air. I work with a great bunch of people, who I'm sure I'll miss. But, I'm also pretty excited about my new role and the challenges that it will bring.

Additionally, I'll be earning quite a few more beer tokens which, naturally, means quite a bit more beer. Can't be bad!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

Our friends from Wodonga, Jeff and Sharon are currently on a six week holiday in the good old U.K.

This week they called into World Headquarters to say 'Gidday' to my mum and dad.

My dad took Jeff down to that magical place known as 'the Esp'. They sent this snap over to make me feel homesick.

Do Nothing Day

I awoke this Sunday morning, wiped the drool from my chops, glanced at my watch, and turned my thoughts toward the day ahead.

Something was odd. Something didn't seem right. By my reckoning, for the first time in ages, we had absolutely no plans for the day in front of us. No work, no social engagements, no activities for the kids, no jobs around the house, no nothing. Doubting myself, I thought hard. Aside from returning Lowri's friend Portia to her parents after a sleepover, our agenda was empty.

I hopped out of bed, silently chastising myself for thinking of Portia as if she were a library book, and headed to the kitchen, with hope in my heart.

I found the Minister for Home Affairs outside, under the pergola, engaged in a telephone conversation. Judging by the time of day and her lip-speed, it was a call from the U.K.

If this were so, then I may have to wait some time to discover whether or not my hopes of a free day were to be dashed. I paced up and down the kitchen, scanning my minuscule, short-term memory for any recollections of arrangements that I may have overlooked. I checked the diary on my mobile too. Nothing. Zilch. Squat. Sweet F.A. My hopes were rising.

I looked through the patio window, the wife was still going at it hammer and tongs. While I was waiting, I allowed myself to think about how I should spend a completely vacant day. The pub? Hmmm, I could do worse, but no. A round of golf perhaps? Hmmm, tempting, but no, too busy on Sundays and the flies are growing in number.

Then it came to me - a day on the sofa, flicking through the channels on our new telly whilst shovelling scooby snacks into my mouth, pausing only for a nap around lunch-time and then more of the same in the arvo. Homer Heaven!

My excitement was growing, but at the forefront of my mind was the knowledge that women all over the world love nothing more than scuppering such bone-idle plans.

The wife being on the phone allowed me to ponder on how best I should broach the subject. Should I meekly ask what we had planned for the day, allowing her time to come up with no end of chores around the house for me to do? Or should I go straight on the attack by stating that we have nothing planned and just hope not to be corrected?

I opted for the latter as she came into the kitchen, still-hot phone in hand.

'We've got jack-shit to do today,' I said manly.

'Have we?' I added meekly.

I think she could sense the hope within me as she carefully considered what I'd said.

After what seemed like an age, she said, ' No, you're right. I don't think we have'

I walked away, concealing my inner joy, but half expecting a post-script statement beginning along the lines of 'Oh no, I forgot. We have to...'

I increased my pace to get out of earshot should such a statement be made, but nothing was forthcoming. Yes! It was on!

The rest of the day went exactly as I had planned. I love our new telly and I love food.

I had plenty of both.

Big Game Big Screen

We've splashed out on a new telly.

It's a 42" plasma and in Australian terms would be described as being 'schmick' or 'schmicko', which, roughly translated, means it's the dogs bollocks.

I've been stuck in front of it for the last couple of days, only straying from viewing range to go to work and use the toilet. Today is Aussie Rules Grand Final day and we've pledged our attendance at a barbie. I've offered to drive so I won't be drinking, enabling me to remain fully focused to watch tonight's major sporting events on the big screen.

Firstly, Manly take on the NZ Warriors in the rugby league and then the main course - the Merseyside Derby, Everton v. Liverpool.

This time last year we were all excited as we had Austar fitted on the day of the game, but it ended in disappointment as the dirty Reds got the win, ably assisted by the referee.

I wonder who they've got reffing for them this year.

Taking The Mick

It's a beautiful Sunday morning here and my day, despite having a headache for no apparent reason , just got off to an amusing start.

Reading the Daily Post website I see that ex-Manchester United player Mickey Thomas had his car pinched outside Anfield last week after commentating on the Liverpool/Man. U. game.

Mickey's a colourful character and imagining him wandering around 'enemy territory' scratching his dome, looking for his motor, makes me laugh.

Even funnier though, he's appealed to the 'good' people of Mersyside to come forward with any info regarding his cars current whereabouts. Yeah, righto Mickey, that's likely to happen! Talk about wasting your breath!

Scousers may be good at 'liberating' stuff, but are also renowned for not dobbing their mates in, particularly if the victim of the felony is a former United player who himself is not adverse to a bit of gaining personal wealth through illegal means.

Typical Tim

Super Timmy Cahill made his long awaited Everton comeback this weekend. Typically, the Australian Pele scored the winner with a trademark header.

My behaviour was also fairly predictable as I dozed off on the sofa and missed the entire match.

My pre-match preparations weren't ideal, I suppose. They began well enough with me having an afternoon nap after mowing the lawn, but ended poorly as I headed down the Golf Club and sank a few schooners of the amber nectar, rendering me useless for anything, apart from eating six bags of crisps, a sandwich and a bacon omelette, of course.

Needless to say, no sooner had I parked my fat arse in front of the telly, my eyes were shut.

I woke up, covered in crumbs, just in time to see the credits roll. Typical.

Victoria's Empire

'I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way' - Linda Creed, 1986.

Surely there can be no finer tonic for life's woes than seeing a whole bunch of kids trying their hearts out and giving it their all.

And last weekend in Melbourne, as privileged guests at the Victoria State School Spectacular, that's exactly what we witnessed.

Pupils from schools all over Victoria were taking part, including forty students from Wodonga Primary, our Robyn being amongst them.

The event was hosted by the Hisense Arena - formerly, and more famously, known as the Vodafone Arena. Believe me, this joint is no two-bit Girl Guide hut, it's a world-class venue more used to hosting major sporting events like the Commonwealth Games than a bunch of schoolkids singing and dancing.

Even more impressive than the venue was the production itself. The logistics, organisation, props, choreography, costumes and make-up would have been befitting a West End musical or a Broadway show.

And the kids themselves - they were something else. Unbelievable. Thousands of 'em were involved and everywhere you looked they were trying their level best. There was no bludging, no having a breather on the wing - from go to whoa they gave it absolute socks. Few things in life touch me as much as a 'young 'un' giving it max, and I barely had a dry eye from the anthem to the encore.

In contrast to the modern trend of over-statement and exaggeration, the Victoria State School Spectacular was appropriately named.

Gee, I was impressed and I was proud - proud of Robyn, proud of the kids from Wodonga Primary and proud of being a resident of Victoria.

Bad News Bears

I haven't blogged in ages.

It's not that there's nothing going on, there's plenty, but bad news from home has left us reeling.

I won't go into the specifics.

I'll be back.

Pole Dancing

As I downloaded the photographs taken on my mobile phone over the last few months, this one struck me as being particularly noteworthy.

This one, simple photograph says a lot about the changing face of multicultural, small town Britain.

It was taken on a Sunday night in Ellis', a nightspot in Rhyl's town centre. In the photograph are a young Chinese kid and a Polish fella. People who reside in bigger, more cosmopolitan areas of the world may think this unremarkable. But to someone like me, who left this country ten months ago, two things are remarkable. Firstly, that there was anyone in Ellis' on a Sunday night at all and, secondly, that it was full of people from all over the world.

Sunday nights out in Rhyl are shit, or, I should say, were shit. Things have changed. On this Sunday, we had a ripper night.

The dance floor resembled a 'ho-down' at the U.N. with nationalities galore strutting their funky stuff. Poles, Latvians, Turks, Indians and Chinese, to name but a few. The fashion police would've had a field day, not to mention the Ku Klux Klan.

The Poles ruled the roost numerically and the lad in the photo ruled the busy dance floor. He danced and pouted his way around the joint like the Polish John Travolta. I studied the scene in awe. All these people. Foreign people. Was this really a Sunday night in Rhyl?

Although this multicultural miracle was mighty impressive, I reckoned it still lacked some antipodean influence. I limbered up, not wanting to 'do a hammy', and decided to enter the fray, representing Australia. I kicked off my thongs and tripped the light fantastic, throwing out some big shapes. My moves were loosely based on an aboriginal dance I'd seen on The Discovery Channel. For added authenticity, I danced in true Aussie fashion - like no one was watching.

My efforts seemed to be appreciated by most, with a couple of noticeable exceptions. Namely, the Polish lad whose spotlight I'd stolen and the bouncer, who told me to put my shoes back on or get out.

Miserable git. Some things will never change.

Murder In The Dong

On the way to work this morning, we heard the shocking news that a man had been beaten to death right here in Wodonga.

It happened in the early hours of Sunday morning, after closing time in the car park of a nearby tavern. We're stunned, as are most of the towns folk.

We only live a couple of kms away and the girls have their swimming lessons in the leisure centre close by.

You can read all about it in the Border Mail.

Trans Tasman Timmy

I'm excited.

Five sleeps to go before our friends, Tim and Louise, arrive from New Zealand for a fortnights holiday with us.

Me and Tim go back a long way, our friendship forged on the rugby league fields of England's north west. Timmy was a no-nonsense front rower and one of my sporting heroes.

I remember the first time we met - we were playing at a sevens tournament in Blackpool when this almighty brawl broke out. Timmy wasn't playing in the game but was on the sideline cheering us on, wearing his best clothes ready for a night out on the town. It was a mucky day and Tim had borrowed an umbrella to keep himself dry. The brawl started on the pitch but soon spilled over to the benches. Timmy, who never needed asking twice to participate in such proceedings, discarded his brolly to join in the fun, forgetting the fact that he had his best gear on. My lasting memory of the incident was seeing him stood there 'wind-milling' his way through half of their team! He flattened loads of them and even managed to get himself undressed in the middle of it all. I can see him now, covered in mud, picking up bits of his clothing and hunting around the floor for his watch when the fighting ceased.

I decided that day that I'd like to have him as a friend. Since then we've had loads of laughs together, both on the rugby field and off it. Even though Tim lived in Rochdale we always kept in touch and got together, even after we'd finished playing.

Tim and Lou moved to New Zealand with Tim's job, a couple of years ago and were a big influence on our decision to emigrate. Whenever I was feeling homesick earlier in the proceedings, Tim was always on the end of the phone for me, cheering me up and making me laugh, like he always does. We still chat for at least an hour a week on the blower and I look forward to his calls.

And now they're coming to Oz for a holiday. They arrive in Melbourne on Friday and will both be celebrating their fortieth birthdays while they're with us.

Bring it on!

G.I. 11

July 23rd is a date that will be etched on my mind for time eternal.

On this day one year ago, myself, Pauline and the girls, flew to Australia, embarking on the biggest and most exciting adventure of our lives. A year on, we're all well and enjoying the challenges and rewards of life down under.

On this day two years ago, Gary Dyson, Mark Davies, Russ Jones, Ray Shackleton and I completed the 'Three Peaks Challenge'. Namely, climbing to the summits of Ben Nevis in Scotland, Scafell Pike in England and Snowdon in Wales, within a 24 hour time frame. Our team, named G.I.9, for reasons that may become apparent to the more cryptically astute of my readers, finished first. And our time of 18 hours 23 minutes surprised everyone, especially ourselves. In doing so we raised about five grand for Cancer Research in the memory of our dear friend Peter 'Conrad' Jones. It was a day we'll never forget.

Finally, and most importantly, on this day eleven years ago, my godson George Dyson was born. He starts High School in September. I still remember the days when he used to let the snot run so far out of his nose he could lick it! My, where has the time gone?

Happy Birthday George!

Purple Rain

We've been blessed.

For the last seven days we've had rain in varying quantities. Some days just light showers and other days more substantive amounts of H2O have been deposited on this barren land. Today it has rained all day, from morning til night. I reckon we've had 50mm, which is massive for the region.

Everyone is chuffed to bits and hopes we get plenty more. In the time we've been here I can't remember it raining for two consecutive days and, until today, I've never known it rain for an entire day.

The drought is of big concern all over Australia and we've got it worse than most. Lake Hume dropped to as low as 20% full, following this summer. When we're driving around the countryside my workmate Marty points out to me where the edge of the lake used to be and it beggars belief. The water's edge is literally miles away from where it should be. The land has reclaimed the land.

It's funny, I hated the persistent rain back home - it's one of the reasons we're here. But now, like the natives, I welcome it's presence and understand it's importance in our lives and livelihoods.

Hopefully the purple patch we're in at present will continue and, once again, Lake Hume and the mighty Murray River will be returned to their former glories.

The F Word

For the first time in ages I find myself unable to sleep.

I was knackered earlier and turned it in at nine o'clock. I woke up half an hour ago, tried to get back off to sleep, but failed. So, here I am, on the computer. At three in the morning.

Just checked in on the phenomena that is Facebook. More addictive than crack cocaine and nearly as much fun, this website has become our first, and sometimes only, port of call when logging on.

I spend at least an hour a day 'facebooking', and I know I'm not alone. It's global. When Collins publish the next version of their Oxford English Dictionary, don't be surprised if several new entries are based around the 'F' word.

In our house only Lowri seems immune to it's magnetism. The wife and Robyn have become equally as dependant as I, borne out by the fact that you almost have to book a time-slot on our PC these days.

In fact, tonight's sleeplessness has given me the opportunity to 'facebook' in peace.

Perhaps my subconscious woke me entirely for that purpose.

The Pride Of The League

I've just witnessed a rugby league miracle! The second one in just over a week.

South Sydney, after being 24-6 down, came back to beat the Bulldogs 34-30 in extra time.

It was heart stopping stuff, I was up and down like a yo-yo. South's season got off to a shocking start, losing eight games on the run. Now they've won the last four and have put some pride back into the old green and red jumper.

Last week they were 28-4 down to the Cowboys and came back from the dead to win that one.

I don't want to put the mockers on them, but there's even talk of them making the play-offs.

Who knows? Anything's possible the way these lads are playing.

Childs Play

The weekend's here already.

We've been back a week now and, jet lag aside, things are going well.

I've had an enjoyable first week back in work with a little jaunt down to Melbourne for a couple of days, breaking the week up nicely. The wife has had a hectic time, hampering any feelings of possible homesickness.

The girls have settled straight back into school. We were worried that our trip home would unsettle them, as they had such a good time meeting up with their old friends. They had a full day in Dewi Sant, their old school, and Lowri cried that night saying she wanted to stay in Wales, questioning, for the first time, why we had to move to Australia in the first place. Robyn looked a bit glum at the prospect of returning too.

During our stay, the girls both made rather poignant comments to me which I could really relate to. The sort of comments that only a child could make, but sum up the situation perfectly.

Lowri said to me, 'Dad, when I'm in Wales I don't think about people in Australia, but when I'm in Australia I always think about people in Wales.'

And after her day at her old school, Robyn said, 'Dad, in school some people called us the Australian girls. In Australia they call us the Welsh girls. I don't like it.'

What they said struck a chord with me and I had concerns about their feelings and emotions. Fortunately though, they got straight back into it and seem glad to be here.

They both came home today with outstanding mid-year school reports which made Pauline and I proud.

Australian or Welsh, they're good girls.

Home From Home

It's four o'clock on Sunday morning here and we've just arrived back in the Dong.

Door to door, that's a 35 hour journey. Sounds bad , but it was actually alright. As our son, Cory, was 'Trooping the Colour' on Horse Guards Parade in London, I was watching Billy Elliot over Indonesia

Despite it being the wee small hours, I'm wide awake. Still on Rhyl time, I guess. It's seven p.m. there. The iced coffee with added guarana I had an hour ago may also be a contributing factor.

It's a weird feeling. We're home, but we've just left home.

As we flew into Sydney we had a great view over the harbour. Being greeted by the iconic sight of the Opera House and the 'Old Coathanger' left me with a warm, welcoming feeling inside.

We're home. From home.

Singapore Swim

For the second time in just under a year we find ourselves at Singapore's marvellous Changi Airport, en route to Australia.

I feel a lot better than last time we were here, when the wounds of leaving home were still raw.

We had a great time at home and leaving this time around wasn't half as bad as I imagined it would be.

Me and the girls have just been for a swim in the nice little outdoor pool they've got here. It's an ideal way to freshen up after a long flight.

We board the plane to Sydney in ten minutes.

Bitter Sweet Symphony

Well, what a fortnight it's been.

Pauline's dad's funeral was very sad, but, as far as funerals go, went perfectly. It was a beautiful day. The service was superbly attended, tributes were read and performed by family members and Reverend Glover's eulogy was made all the more special by the fact that he knew Dan personally. It was a fitting tribute to a special man. He would have been so proud.

Dan's bereavement aside, the rest of our time here has been a blur of reunions and a roller coaster of emotions. We've seen Rhyl in glorious sunshine, in the middle of it's massive, much needed face lift. The town, after wallowing on the canvas for an age, is on it's way up at last.

We've been away for a little over ten months. That's the longest I've ever been away from Rhyl, doubling my previous best of five months. There have been times when it's seemed like we'd been gone for two years, but as I stepped into the Esplanade Club on my return, it felt like I'd been away for just a couple of weeks.

Catching up with friends and family cannot be described easily. Euphoria would be the closest I could get to explaining my feelings as I continued, day after day, to be reunited with people I hold dear.

It's been a hectic period too. I've felt the pressure of trying to get around to seeing people and doing things that I had planned to do. It hasn't been like any other holiday I've ever experienced.

We've also received some tragic news from Australia whilst we've been here. One of my oldest friends Steve O'Rourke, who lives in Adelaide, has been diagnosed with motor neurone disease. The doctors have told him he's got the worst strain of the disease and his life expectancy isn't very long.

Steve and I are the same age. We served, and laughed through, a big portion of our army careers together. He is one of the funniest people I've ever met and we have shared some great times in Germany, the USA and in Britain. We joined at around same time and left on the exact same day. In fact we travelled home together the day we left, Steve dropped me and my gear off at Rhyl before he headed home to Oldham.

I remember the journey well, two young blokes set free from the military with their lives in front of them, full of excitement and hope as they headed into 'Civvy Street'.

Steve, Jen and their daughters emigrated to Adelaide almost three years ago and their move was a big factor in us taking the plunge and leaving these shores too. They have both provided Pauline and I with help, support and advice since our Australian adventure began.

As we embark on our gruelling journey from Rhyl to Wodonga, early tomorrow morning, I'll be thinking of my old mate. However down I may be feeling about leaving the comforting bosom of friends and family once again, it will be nothing in comparison to what Steve and Jen are going through right now.

It's a bitter sweet symphony this life.

Home Sweet Home

We're home and it's great to be here.

We arrived yesterday at half four local time.

A Coal Miner's Daughter

At about 8pm on Monday night we received the dreaded news that Pauline's dad, Dan Jones, had passed away in Glan Clwyd Hospital.

In a few hours from now we're leaving Australia and heading home. Arriving at tea time on Thursday, U.K. time.

We both knew that a moment like this would come, but, however you steel yourself for it, you can never be prepared. Dan had been ill, on and off, since his heart attack and subsequent retirement a good while back, but he's been hanging in there without complaint ever since.

He was a good man. A family man. A son, a brother, a husband, a father and grandfather. He was a gentleman and a gentle man. He mined coal for all his working life, put food on the table and raised his kids the best he could.

And I know that Pauline was proud to be this coal miner's daughter.

Fred's Dead

Well, my week of being a single parent is nearly over.

Tomorrow, after work, me and the girls head down to Melbourne to meet up with the wife. We're having the weekend there. We're going to the Olympic gymnastic trials. We went to the swimming trials while we were in Sydney at Easter and the girls loved it.

This week hasn't been easy. It's the lack of freedom that I struggle with, you're chained to the house really. Last night was the first State of Origin game of the year and I would have loved to have watched it down the boozer, but, instead, watched it at home with the girls. They enjoyed it though, which was nice. They're getting into the rugby league now, especially Robyn.

We've also managed to let both of our remaining pets die during the wife's absence. Robyn discovered her pet lizard, Fred, dead in his converted former ice-cream tub yesterday morning and, tonight, when we got back from swimming - oddly enough - our goldfish had stopped swimming and was also brown bread.

We're having a double funeral tomorrow.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Cor blimey guv'nor, it was freezing here this morning.

Perhaps I'm turning into a nesh Aussie, feeling the cold more acutely than your average former northern hemisphere resident. The radio said it was five degrees, but it felt lower to me. It was really foggy and overcast too. Very reminiscent of a cold, late October morning back home.

The girls still wore their shorts to school, as did most of the kids I saw when I dropped them off there.

I'm playing the part of Mr. Mum again, as the wife left for Melbourne at the unearthly hour of four o'clock in the morning. This time it's for the full week too.

I used to do this sort of thing regularly back home, but it's much easier these days. The girls do a lot more for themselves. I used to have to do their hair, that was the worst bit. It used to take about fifteen minutes per head of hard labour and at the end of it they still looked like they'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Given that I've been sporting an inverted mohican for the last few years, it's hardly surprising that I'm no black belt when it comes to hair styling. I use a flannel when I need to tidy my barnet up.

Hair was a fleeting visitor during the early part of my life, and a nuisance at that, attracting girls and the like. I'm glad it's gone. Things are simpler now.

And, nowadays, the girls take care of their own hair. They do a pretty good job too, saving me time and them ridicule.

Clearly Canadian

Sydney was as entertaining as ever.

The highlight of the weekend was returning to my old haunt of twelve years ago, the GarryOwen Hotel in Rozelle. Unbelievably, I was reunited with my old mate Yummy, who I last saw on a memorable Friday night in November 1996, when he gave me the most cherished gift of a South Sydney jersey.

It was amazing to see him again and we reminisced about the good old days and had a general catch-up of what we've been doing since.

The GarryOwen itself hasn't changed a jot. It's as if the place had been locked in a time warp, circa 1996, waiting for my return. I don't think it's even had a coat of paint since I was last in there. I think the website that I visited prior to moving over here, showing it looking like an Ikea showroom, was merely a group of projected images of what they intend to do with the place one day. For me, it was great to see it once again, in all it's shabby glory.

The only lowlight of the weekend was getting in such a state on Anzac day that I caused a bit of a kerfuffle in our dormitory on my return, after a full day on the turps.

We were in a four 'person' dorm and when we checked in, our room-mates were out. So, naturally, we had a quick scan of their gear to see what we could ascertain about them. The only items that weren't buried in dirty rucksacks, were a pair of boxer shorts on the top bunk and a map of Australia, written in French, on the bottom bunk. So me and Young Al assumed that our roomies were two French blokes, or hommes as they are so fittingly called in their native tongue.

That was at nine in the a.m. Fifteen hours, one emotional reunion and many, many schooners of VB later, I returned, prepared myself for slumber and crashed out.

I don't know how many hours later but I became aware of someone gently shaking me and speaking to me in a Chinese accent. I don't know how long this went on for, I thought I was dreaming, but eventually I stirred. I also became aware that I was coughing and spluttering like someone close to death. I sat up and looked to my right. There was this Chinese kid holding a bottle of water out to me, saying,

'You want drink water? You cough'.

I also heard frustrated rustlings from elsewhere in the dorm. I slowly realised that I had woken the whole room up with the cough I've had for the last week or so. I accepted the water and drank it.

The Chinese kid climbed back into his bunk and I tried to settle down again but had another coughing fit. I decided I should stretch my legs. Slowly rising from my pit, stretching, scratching and yawning, I scanned the dimly lit room for my jeans which contained my room key and the key to the bathrooms. Barely able to see, I fumbled around for an age before, once again, I heard a Chinese voice.

'You want more water?'

Before I could reply, I heard another voice. Quite a few octaves higher than the last, Canadian or American in origin and nowhere near as friendly.

'Hey man, this is a mixed dorm. I don't need to see your penis!'

Clearly female and clearly unimpressed.

Sure enough, previously unbeknown to me, my bojangles were on full display. In a futile act I used my hands as a temporary shield, found my undercrackers and headed for the door.

The next morning was tricky. My apologies seemed to fall on deaf ears. We left for our day out in Manly.

However, on our return from the beach, our female room-mate had mellowed somewhat. She introduced herself as Veronique, a French Canadian travelling around Australia. She even brought me a packet of cough sweets.

I apologised a few more times and she seemed to see the funny side of things.

My things, probably.

A Weekend To Remember

I've just been watching Coronation Street on UKTV.

Tracey Barlow is in court accused of the murder of Charlie Stubbs. Using my blog as a guide, that puts us approximately fifteen months behind the UK screenings of Corrie.

The good news for us though, is that six episodes a week are aired here, compared to five back home. Which means that, in time, not only will we catch up with them, we will, eventually, overtake the UK!

In other good news, tomorrow is Anzac Day. It's the equivalent of Remembrance Sunday in the UK, only the Australian government has got the decency to hold our day of remembrance on a Friday and everyone gets the day off work. To remember.

As for moi, I'll be doing my remembering in Sydney. Me and my young mate Al are flying there tomorrow for a weekend on the lash, sans la famille.

It's been a long while since I had a boys' trip away, I may struggle to keep up with the pace.

Let's hope I don't forget more than I remember.

Up For The Cup!

At around lunchtime today the city of Albury grinds to halt.

For today is Albury Gold Cup day. Businesses, offices, shops, banks and almost all areas of commerce put up the 'closed' sign, lock their doors and anyone who's anyone heads off to the racecourse.

We'll be there of course, as debutants, for this magnificent event. The kids are staying over at our good friends Jeff and Sharon's, so we've got the day to ourselves.

Yippee!

Wonder Woman

Congratulations are in order in our house as the old bread knife got the job she applied for in work.

Not only has she managed to organise, largely single handedly, our move over here and to juggle a new job in a new environment, whilst continuing to run a busy family home, on top of all that she now runs the IT department that she began working in last August.

I'm glad she's mine.

What's Hot And What's Not

We had an impromptu house meeting the other night and we all wrote down our five favourite things about Australia and our five least favourite things. We did it as a secret ballot, with copying and discussion being discouraged.


Here's what Lowri, our seven year old, wrote, word for word, letter for letter.

Likes

1. the weather

2. the schools

3. the houses

4. the People here

5. I Like the shops

Dislikes

1. I hate the flys

2.When People Die

3. When I miss my friends and my family

4.

5.


Here's what Robyn, aged ten, had to say, again, exactly as written.

Likes

1. The weather

2. friends

3. School

4. Gymnastics

5. Shopping!!

Dislikes

1. Miss the snow

2. Miss family

3. Miss friends

4. sometimes gets too hot

5. That I had to do year 4 and 5 again


And finally, for now, the wife;

Likes

1. The people

2. Climate

3. Housing

4. Family time

5. Space/Roads

Dislikes

1. Miss family and friends

2. Distance from the UK

3. Cost to get to the UK

4. Salaries

5. No NHS


There you have it folks, from the female view point anyway.

I'll get to mine soon.

There Is A Green Hill Far Away...

This Monday, as most of the world knows, was St. Patrick's Day.

Most of the world knows because most of the world celebrates. Even here, in our quiet corner of Australia, Paddy's Day is massive.

Paddy's, Albury's aptly named Irish bar, had a bumper day to say the very least. Me and the wife turned up at tea-time to find the place bursting at the seams, awash with shamrock-clad punters swilling the Guinness as if it were 1999. They had pipe bands, Irish dancing and even a lifelike leprechaun. Green was very much the new black.

I've long since envied the way other nationalities embrace Ireland's national day. Surely no other country in the world shares the Emerald Isle's global popularity.

Without dredging up the past, I haven't always viewed Irish Culture in such a positive light. During my time in the armed forces, certain elements of the island's inhabitants and it's sympathisers regarded me and my mates as their enemy, and we regarded them likewise. Paddy's Day was never circled on our calenders.

Fortunately for us all, things are different now. Age old problems seem to be easing and, besides, age old problems certainly have no place in a new land.

So, for the first time, we joined in this years revelry and felt more than comfortable doing so. And why not? I do get asked which part of Ireland I'm from at least twice a week anyway!

In other news, we head off to Sydney tomorrow to spend the Easter weekend there. We plan to spend some time at the beaches, probably Manly, Coogee and, of course, Bondi. Hopefully, I will also get realise one of my sporting dreams as South Sydney are playing the Bulldogs tomorrow night and I might just be there. Wife permitting, of course.

We had hoped to visit the southern New South Wales coast but couldn't get digs anywhere. Unbeknown to us newbies, Easter is a time when everyone seems to head off somewhere and you need to book well in advance for accommodation in popular spots.

A bit like Christmas, I think Easter is viewed by most Aussies as a chance to getaway and enjoy a few days off work, rather than for it's religious overtones.

I'll be sparing a thought for our saviour though, and my favourite passage from the good book is never far from my thoughts at this time of year.

If my memory serves me well, it goes a bit like this;

The soldier, kneeling before him, did spake unto Christ. With fair mind, in kindly tones and with compassion, he did say unto him;

'Put your feet together please mate, we've only got one nail left!'

Happy Easter folks.

Indian Summer

On Saturday evening we headed down to Wodonga city centre for the annual festival, Carnivale Wild.

I say city centre as that's strictly what it is, but it's more like a small town centre - just like Rhyl really.

One thing we love about Australia in general, and this region in particular, are the amount of community based events organised by local towns and cities. In this region alone we have the Tallangata Fifties Festival, the Country Muster, Rutherglen Wine Festival and the Beechworth Celtic Festival to name but a few. This weekend was Wodonga's turn and it didn't disappoint.

The High Street and surronding roads were closed and the whole town centre was full of people, stalls, beer tents, food outlets and performing artistes.

The girls did the usual stuff, got their faces painted, made masks and got temporarily tattooed. There were some great bands on and we sat out, on a beautiful night, until about eleven o'clock.

We really are enjoying an extended summer over here. It's been in the twenties for the last few weeks, but this week it's risen to the mid thirties again like it was in December and January. And they reckon it's gonna get hotter, culminating in weekend temperatures of 38 degrees, which is bad news for me as I'll be spending the next two days on someone's baking hot roof installing solar heating for their pool.

It ain't 'alf hot mum.

Chocks Away!

I took to the skies above Albury Wodonga on Saturday during my first flying lesson.

It was a fantastic experience, I loved it. My instructor, Darren, got us airborne and as soon as we climbed to a decent altitude he handed control over to me. I flew us over Lake Hume and the Dam before heading over to West Wodonga to do a fly past over our house. Then after a couple of laps over The 'Dong, I took us back, following the freeway, and handed control back over to Daz to return us to terra firma. It was great!

At $214 per hour though, my first lesson may end up being my last!

The Spice Of Life

It's been a big week.

On Wednesday we were granted permanent residence status in Australia and on Thursday I had lobster for lunch.

Tonight the wife is having her first 'girls night out' in Australia and tomorrow I'm having a flying lesson.

Variety is the spice of life.

Previously On Lost

Again, it's been a while since I updated this blog. I haven't been overly busy, usual stuff working, drinking and ferrying the kids around to their activities. The wife has finally updated her blog as well, so if you click here you can read it for yourselves.

We went water-skiing on my boss' boat last weekend. I use the term 'water-skiing' loosely, what actually happened was I got dragged around Lake Hume for half an hour with two pieces of fibre glass attached to my feet. I only managed to actually stand up for about three seconds on my best attempt, and that three seconds was pretty painful as my undercarriage took a battering from the water. The girls enjoyed seeing their old man in pain though and got to have a go on the 'donuts' too, which they loved.

The weather here is just perfect now. It's officially autumn but everyday of late has been in the mid-high twenties and the flies have all but gone, which is a massive bonus.

It's going dark a little earlier of course, and we've slipped into our old habit of lounging around in front of the telly of an evening. After watching it sporadically since it's release in the U.K., we've finally caught up with Lost, after hiring series three, ten days ago. It's been hard but we've toughed it out, putting in a couple of long shifts to ensure we got it back to Video Ezy without incurring any late fees.

Series four isn't out over here yet, so we'll have to find another way to occupy our evenings.

I'm missing Sawyer already.

Veni, Vidi, Vici

He came, he scored and he conquered.

Good old Super Tim played a blinder as the Socceroos beat Qatar 3-o. That's him celebrating his goal in what has become trademark fashion

Not only did Super Tim score, but so did Wodonga's very own Josh Kennedy. Our little hometown proudly boasts to be the home of two current Socceroos - Josh Kennedy and Archie Thompson.

When you consider that Wodonga, with only 35,000 residents, has a population similar to Rhyl and has two of it's sons representing a nation of over 20 million, you can't fail to be impressed.

Football's Coming Home

As I type, the one, the only, Super Timmy Cahill is heading home.

Yes, my hero, the Australian Pele is winging his way to Melbourne to join the Socceroos as they prepare to take on Qatar in their opening qualifier for the 2010 World Cup.

All Hail Super Tim, Everton Legend!

Bet he scores.

Never Say Dai

It's been a while since my last blog entry. I've had a lot to blog about but little time to do so. We've been using the library and the Commercial Club in town for our internet use so that can be restrictive, but now we're on t'internet at home so I've got no excuse.

We've had a hectic time of late. Saying goodbye to the folks was sad, but not half as sad as I'd expected. I'd envisaged wanting to get on the plane with them when they left for home, but I didn't feel like that at all, which surprised me. I was sad to see them go, of course, but glad I was staying put.

We've had another house guest since I last blogged, my little mate Dan Barker from Halkyn, North Wales. Dan's a real blast and a great bloke to have around. He helped to ease the pain of my parents departure.

I got to know young Dan many moons ago on his brother Paul's stag nights/weekends (he had two, the cheeky monkey.) Although we haven't seen an awful lot of each other since, our friendship was forged on those two momentous tours and flourished further during the wedding and christenings that have followed.

Dan's currently on the Australian leg of his world tour. On and off he's been travelling for ten years, returning home for periods just to save up enough money to travel again. He arrived here in Albury Wodonga via Perth, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. We picked him up from the pub near the train station and after an hour getting freshened up at home we headed off to Albury city centre for a night on the grog.

Dan's bird mad, and we couldn't have picked a better night for him to be in town as there were three hen nights going on. During the evening Dan chanced his arm with all three groups, but to no avail. He tried and tried all night, but as chucking out time approached it appeared as if he would come up empty handed for a change. While mere mortals would have consoled themselves by cuddling up to a pizza or a kebab, the Pride of Halkyn just lowers his standards and ups his game.

As we stood about to board the courtesey bus home Dan's prospects looked bleak, but as he climbed onto the bus he immediately identified a target, got 'missile lock' and homed in, plonking himself down on the seat next to his unsuspecting victim. We moved further down the bus and watched the little master at work. After a brief bit of small talk the little fella cut to the chase and threw the lips on her in a big way, not coming up for air for a good five minutes. He then preceeded to give her some more flannel before initiating another lengthy bout of tonsil tennis.

The journey home lasted longer than usual because of the number of drop-offs we made and gave Dan the opportunity to transfer about two litres of saliva into his new birds gob. They looked like newly-weds as he gazed into her eyes, fed her his best lines and licked her chops in front of the whole bus. When we arrived at our stop I'd assumed we'd be having an extra house guest that evening, but Dan, like the true gentleman he isn't, simply pecked on her soaking wet cheek, thanked her for her company on the journey and staggered off the bus. We were amazed, but that's Dan for you.

The remainder of his all-too-brief stay was a good laugh and we're hoping he'll swing back this way before he departs for New Zealand. I think the bird from the bus would like to see him again as well.

I was also proud to witness another example of extreme Welsh persistance this weekend as the Welsh rugby team came from behind to give the English a beating at Twickers. It doesn't happen that often these days and was great to watch.

Da iawn hogiau! Twll du bob Sais!

Mercury Rising

It's been absolutely roasting here this week.

It's been in the high thirties all week and is forecast to touch forty today. It's even been too hot for mum and dad to sunbathe and they are devout sun-worshippers. They've got good tans already though, with dad bearing more than a passing resemblance to Mohatma Gandhi.

It's hard on us outside workers too, although I'm surprised with how well I've coped. You sweat buckets, but kinda get used to it.

Tomorrow promises cooler temperatures, which would be nice as we're off to visit the wineries of nearby Rutherglen.