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.