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.