If you're happy and you know it pack your bag

Goodness, goodness, goodness. So here I am on the eve of the start of the big trip. I have been back in Felixstowe all weekend and there has certainly been no rest for me. Least of all because I have to keep getting up to answer the phone- thank you all so much for calling to wish me good luck! I hope that my adventure is everything that you dream it will be.

We went back to Felixstowe on Saturday in glorious sunshine and the kind of wind that is usually saved until I am in the air. We bought some sandwiches and fought against the elements to eat them sitting on the prom, trying not to get too many handfuls of hair in between actual bites of sandwich.

It really was a beautiful day and it went on forever. It was finally dark at 10pm. And I know that the sun was in full beam at 4.30am the following morning as that is when the cat woke me up. It was still shining when I woke up again later to actually start the day (must have offended the cat in the meantime as there was no sign of him on my bed).

We packed some more stuff and took it to Auntie Doll's to store in her loft. It is getting a bit crowded up there now but I don't own anything else so she is safe from me at least.

Back to the house to meet one of my oldest friends, Linda, and tried to catch up on two years in two hours, minus the bits where I had to stop to take a call from Korea or two.

Sunday night we had roast dinner and cake. Nuff said. Was too busy eating to get a photo of the dinner but here is the cake

And here is the sunset outside Auntie's house.

Then back home to try and pack my own bag.

Which I just couldn't seem to fill. Really. Had to go out the next day to buy more clothes so that I would look like a decent backpacker. My old rucksack was filed with clothes to go up in the loft and it kept giving me the evil eye whenever I passed it. Sorry, old friend, but it is time for you to rest now.

Today it was the last of the stuff going up in the loft, the final backpack pack and back to Purfleet to try and fill my MP3 player thingy.

Now we are here. I am all packed and ready to get on that plane at 12 noon tomorrow and head off into the wide blue yonder.

In case you have forgotten this is the plan:

London dep. 31st May - Singapore dep. 2nd June - Vietnam dep. 17th July - Perth arr. 17th July overland Sydney dep. 21st August - Christchurch arr. 21st August overland to Auckland dep. 14th Sept - Fiji dep. 30th Sept - Cook Islands dep. 5th Oct - Tahiti dep. 7th Oct- Los Angeles arr. 7th Oct overland to New York dep. 1st Nov - London arr. 2nd Nov

I won't say anything else as I really have nothing else left to say. Thanks everyone for the phonecalls and emails of encouragement. And thanks to everyone for reading this for the months building up to the trip, must have felt like I was stringing you along for a while there. I have really enjoyed England and being able to share my photos and experiences here with you all, some of you face to face and others like this. Ireland was just a dream and just what I needed, thanks, guys.

See you in Singapore!!! :)

Counting time

It is Sunday night here in England and I am just 36 hours and eighteen minutes away from take off. Around thirteen hours after that I should arrive in Singapore. Fourteen hours later I will be back on a plane and on my way to Vietnam.

I am at my mum's house for what will probably be my last night in a house of my mother's. To say that the last seven weeks have been some of the weirdest in my life is to underestimate the meaning of weird.

My bags are packed and down in the living room- one to go with me and the other to take the rest of my things into Auntie Doll's loft for storage. I would show you photos but I have left the cable that connects camera to computer back in my sister's house. So you'll just have to wait.

Today I have been entertaining friends, both over the phone from Korea and in my house, before going over to Auntie Doll's for a roast dinner and birthday cake. Now I am going to get into my bed, made with the duvet cover and pillowcase that I have had since I was about fourteen and which may well get lost in the next move. I am excited about the trip but scared about the future. My permanent base has gone now and all I have to come back to is a series of sofas and spare rooms. I am a very lucky person that I have so many friends to care about me and offer me somewhere to stay. Hopefully, I will decide sometime in the next five months what the next step is.

Hopefully.

But I hate to disappoint those folk who say that they only look at this site for the photos so here are some random shots of mine that I have just found on mum's computer



This is one of my favourite photos from my trip to Hong Kong, with Sam, last year. I took it from The Peak and can't tell you how pleased I am with it (adopts smug look).

This is me, standing like a goon outside the palace in Cambodia last summer. Another trip with Sam and great fun.

This is Ho Chi Minh taken from the plane as we came in to land. We were only in transfer on our way to Cambodia but if the shopping at the airport is anything to go by, I am going to love Vietnam!

And finally Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Blooming hot day.

Last photos from England will be posted sometime tomorrow.

Sleep tight.

Hot City Days

It was 32 degrees in London yesterday. In May. Thirty two degrees. That is just mental. I went into London for the last time. I had paperwork to sign at the bank- get me! Then I pottled around for a bit before going down to Embankment Gardens near Charing Cross.

Even though it was early in the afternoon, it was the start of a long weekend so the garden was filled with people lounging on the grass, many of them with glasses of chilled white wine. It was the day after my birthday, ten years to the day that I sat in that self same garden with my friend, Martin, nursing the mother of all hangovers after my 21st birthday celebrations the night before. Yesterday I was fine, having drunk nothing the night before. Maybe that's what growing old does to you.

I met Heather and then we went into Soho to find a bar that was rumoured to be the workplace of a girl I know from Naju in Korea. Much spinning round of the A-Z later, Heather got us there and we surprised Victoria just as she was going on a two hour break. We decided that Korean food was definitely in order.

Heather bid us goodbye and off we went to Jin restaurant, which was closed. Onto Nara, which didn't have any dak galbi on the menu outside but did have my second favourite, dol sot bi bim bab. We went in to be told that the kitchens weren't open so we settled back with a couple of OBs to wait.

Victoria opened the menu and something wonderful happened

A couple more beers later and we were tucking into some London dak galbi. It was missing the best bits- no rice cake and no sweet potato- kimchi was extra so we forwent it. But it was not bad.

Unfortunately, Victoria had to go back to work and I went off to Leicester Square with a small OB buzz and took photos of my shoes

Yes, these are the ones that have been mutilated my feet but I do love them. I lay on the grass at Leicester Square for a while, surrounded by people from every nation. It was warm and I was sleepy. Nice.

I got up and went to Trafalgar Square, followed by this strange Spanish guy who wanted to go and have a drink with me. Trafalgar Square has all changed since my day. Well, not all. But instead of it being surrounded by busy roads on four sides, now one side has been pedestrianised from the National Gallery to the Square. It looks great and is much improved. Despite the heat of the day, or maybe because of it, there were signs in the fountains denying entry. I noticed a caravan just in front of Nelson's column whic my sister later told me was an art display and not the bunch of travsllers I thought it was. There is also a clock counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until a decision is made on who gets the 2012 Olympics. Fingers crossed for London.

The maple leaf flag was fluttering on top of Canadia House on one side and the South Africa flag on the other side of the square. It felt like it was never going to get dark. Finally, I bid London goodbye and got on a train back to Essex, for the last time for five months. It was dark by nine.

Now that's what I call a meal

It's got all the major food groups- the pastry group, the jam group, the sugar group.....

A Pintless Birthday

Yesterday was the usual whirl of activity with a bit of birthday thrown in. Woke up, opened cards and presents. Got out of bed. Ran a bath. Got into the bath. Got out again when the postman rang the bell. Got dressed. Took birthday greetings phonecalls. Spent the morning phoning around the World trying to get hold of my National Insurance number. But no-one would give it to me over the phone.

One guy was laughing at me as I said 'you are looking at the number right now, aren't you?'
'Yep'
'But you can't tell me, can you?'
'Nope.'

Very frustrating. I was supposed to get it so that I could open a bank account that day. My original card is now in a box in my Auntie's loft so will have to go up there this weekend. Everytime I rang somewhere they asked my date of birth. I would tell them and wait for them to say Happy Birthday but no-one did, boring old farts.

Another phonecall later and I was officially late to meet my friend for lunch. Dashed into town and over to Moorgate where I met my mate, Chris, who I know from university but haven't seen since I went to Ireland in 2000. We went to a nice little square near his office and ate sandwiches surrounded by city folk. Then had to rush to meet Penny, wiping the bird poo off my bag and shoes, maybe the square wasn't so nice after all.

Met Pen, went to the bank and glazed over as the woman explained the difference between one type of investment account and another, all very similar. She started talking about the FTSE100 which scared me into thinking that I might have to watch that bit at the end of the news which I normally turn off. All I wanted to see was a graph like this

But that is not how it works apparently. Ah well, I left, signing something so I guess that some of it must have made sense at some stage. Enough sense for me to sign my money away. And I was so into the signing that I am going back today to sign something else. And all because the financial adviser wished me Happy Birthday. I am such a simple soul.

Then it was off to the Tower of London for my proper birthday treat. When I was a kid, mum took me to London for my birthday so I thought that it would be fun to have an old-fashioned birthday treat. Me and my sister pass the Tower of London everytime we go into London from her house. But it is pricey- fourteen pound fifty an adult- to get in- yikes! But we had a buy one get one free offer when presented with a train ticket, which did mean that there was no fare dodging for me yesterday.

We got there a couple of hours before the Tower closed and just in time to join the last guided tour of the day. The tour guides are yeoman warders, often called Beefeaters, for reasons unknown to me and the guy showing us around. They wear a uniform dating back to the 1800s and live in the Tower with their families. They are the longest established uniformed body of men in continuous service in the World. Or something like that.

The Tower of London is simply oozing history. It was the home of the British Royal family for over six hundred years. The White Tower is over nine hundred years old

and used to be the Royal chambers. We saw the outside of the room where Guy Fawkes was interrogated fter the Gunpowder Plot and the tower where he was tortured. At some point in history, a gate was put into the wall as, at that time, the Thames used to lap against the side of the Tower, for food and supply deliveries. It gained notoriety as Traitor's Gate as it was a handy place to bring the prisoners into the Tower.

Many famous people have been held in the Tower, tortured there and some were even executed in the grounds, including two of Henry VIII's wives. Others were taken from the Tower for a more public execution, often at Tower Hill. From the outside the Tower looks like a castle but inside it is a mish-mash of different buildings from different periods

There are lots of displays housed in the various buildings. We saw the Crown Jewels (where photography is forbidden, dammit), they are so big and shiny that they just don't look real at all. We saw torture instruments

Some for stretching people, others for folding them into tiny spaces. All of which gave me nightmares when I went to the Tower with the Brownies when I was a little 'un.

The famous ravens were out in force too. The story goes that if the ravens ever leave the Tower, it will crumble and the monarchy will fall. They keep a colony of them there for insurance reasons.

Or they would be in all sorts of trouble

'Hello, I'd like to make a claim, please, you see the Tower has crumbled'
'Well, its your own fault, your insurance policy won't cover you in the event of an absence of ravens'

Speaking of Henry VIII (I was earlier, keep up), I found another suit of his armour at the Tower. All I can say is that man had issues

This one is bigger than the one I saw in Greenwich, in every sense. I saw the armour belonging to Kings of England since William the Conquerer in 1066 and none of the others felt the urge to display themselves in such a way. Some of the kings were surprisingly short too. It is no wonder that William won the Battle of Hastings since he was the size of a child and would hardly stand out on the battlefield.

It was a hot day yesterday too so we didn't really have the Tower to ourselves, there were one or two others out that day

I found the whole tour very interesting. We were only there for a couple of hours which was a shame as there was more to read and explore.

But we just had time for a quick run round before the final walk around the walls with great views over nearby bits of London

And the inevitable self portrait

To see if I had any new lines. Then it was off to the chip shop for dinner. After that there was scarcely room for a pint so I didn't have one. And ended my birthday stone cold sober for the first time in living memory.

I knew that my birthday was officially over when I woke up to the sound of the cat throwing up on the carpet. This is my last day in London. How the last six weeks have flown. It is easy for time to pass when you are surrounded by the kind and loving support that I have got from my friends everywhere during this really confusing time.

Felixstowe tomorrow for the Big Pack- trying to work out how I can fit so much stuff into such a small space. It is when I am packing that I wish I was thin, so my clothes would weigh less and I could take more of them. Alas, I am not.

The real adventure starts when I fly out on Tuesday- yikes!

In Dublin's Fair City

Monday was a big day for me. I was going back to Dublin for the first time in three years. Not only that, I was meeting up with people who I hadn't seen for a while too. Plus, meeting Roisin for the first time. I was very excited. So excited that I got to Stansted airport three hours before my flight. Oops. I had got the train from Liverpool Street station, which is also dripping in memories for me since it is the gateway to Suffolk so I have passed through it many times in my life. And spent a lot of time sitting there waiting for peak time to finish so I could buy a ticket home without having to sell my soul to the devil to finance it.

No such luck this time. Being too old for that ever valuable Young Person's Railcard (being 'young' stops at 26 apparently though I am sure that I was still quite spritely for the rest of my twenties, things only really went down hill as I hit 30) I bought a return ticket to the airport for half the price of my flight to Dublin. And off I went.

Early. So I sat outside the airport on a strip of grass that was covered with other people with a similar way of thinking. Other people were sitting on the benches in the shade. It seemed that all the people on the grass had backpacks and all those on the benches had suitcases. Class distinctions in travelling are pretty obvious, not social classes but luggage classes. I was with the backpackers and for the first time in a long time felt like a traveller. Hooray!

The time ticked by. I went in and bought a couple of postcards of London, I get so sentimental even if I am just away for a day or two, then checked in. I got there early so was able to actually, for the first time in my life, be among those passengers that get to board once the young and old are on. With Ryanair, you are not allocated seats so it is all in the rush to get the best one. I got a window seat so I could enjoy the views and do a green for green comparison with England and Ireland. I was taking a bit of a risk since they are both a bit known for their cloudiness. Overall, I think that they are on pretty equal green footing though shrouded in rain clouds.

It was a windy day with turbulence to spare. I was a little unnerved but dealt with it the way that I deal with a a lot of scary situations, I fell asleep. I arrived in Dublin airport and, eventually, was met by Nerissa. Last time I saw Ner she was quite heavily pregnant so, while I didn't mean to, I realised that I was looking for someone with a big belly on them and so looked straight through her at first since she has returned to the tiny thing that she ever was. The 'belly' is now a beautiful two year old called Roisin, who I met in the car with her dad, Barry. Both Barry and Nerissa are friends of mine from my first year in Korea when I lived in Mokpo. It has been a while.

We were barely through the door before the Stellas were cracked open and the reminiscing started. To say that Roisin won my heart with the first bat of her long eyelashes is no exaggeration. She was capable of twisting me round her little finger from the word go.

I have to say that we were too busy catching up on the last two years and laughing at Barry hitting his head for there to be any photos from the first night. So, for those of you who haven't seen Barry since Mokpo, he looks the same except now the bumps are on the back of his head. It was a late night and I think that some people tried to blame me for the Monday night drinking. All I will say is that Ner was halfway down her first Stella as I was on the orange juice. I was just playing catch up after that.

The next day was my only full day in Dublin. Spent a very fun morning playing with Roisin and Ner. Being only two, Roisin still managed to remind me of my little Koreans. Probably because she is still speaking in code with just some words that I understand. And I swear that I heard her say both 'yogi-yo' and 'juseyo' at some point. Ner can understand the code though and translate. Roisin spent a very happy few hours going through my stuff, appearing in the living room with my digital camera in her hand and my sunglasses in the other one. She has special words for things, a mobile phone is a 'hi' for instance, but it would appear that everything that came out of my bag was called 's'mine' accompanied with hands reaching up to take it off me.

She was entranced with the camera, even if she did have to be wearing my sunglasses whenever she used it. It wasn't long before she was taking photos and watching videos of herself with a satisfied smile on her face.

Ner and Barry's friend came over to babysit while we went into the city later that day. I saw the Luas trams running for the first time, weird since I worked on that project for nine months. When I say 'worked' I use it in its loosest form. In fact, I was paid, and paid well, to do a whole lot of nothing and when they gave me more nothing to do I negotiated a pay rise. The people there were great though and totally taken by the fact that when I started there I was living in a tent by the DART (train- Dublin Area Rapid Transport or transit or something) right in the heart of the city. I think that this gave them the impression that I was skint. I wasn't, just tight. So I was never able to put my hand in my pocket to get a round in for the whole nine months.

I saw the spire on O'Connell Street too for the first time. They were just starting work on it when I was last there. And trying to decide on the new nickname for the tour guides on the open top buses to use. Back in my day it was The Stiffy on the Liffey (Liffey being the name of the river that runs through Dublin) but now it is the more family friendly Stilletto in the Ghetto. It is tall. Awesome. I loved it. I think that is one of the best things about not being a tax payer in the country, you can enjoy it safe in the knowledge that you have contributed nothing towards it.

It was only later that I realised I had only taken photos of things that I had many photos of before. Hum. Starting with the various hostels that I lived in on Lower Gardiner Street- the Chelsea (I looked through the window and they still haven't painted the living room), The Manor (where I didn't live but I did clean one day for a bit of cash, it was minging, so bad that it took me about a dozen showers to feel clean again. Why do male backpackers think that it is OK to wet the bed?) and Abraham House where I was for my last few months in Dublin. A large sprawling maze of a building where I spent most evenings sitting by the reception desk in my yellow teddy bears jammies with my mates, reading kids' books to each other. Happy days.

Then we went over the Ha-penny (Hay not Ha) Bridge which was away when I was there before, being restored. Probably repairing the bars which are quite irresistible to drunks who want to swing on something.

And into Temple Bar.

Out the other side to see the Dublin School of English which is where this whole Korean adventure started for me. It was there that I studied for my TEFL certificate and met a South African, Alan, who had a Korean girlfriend he had met in Israel.

I don't think that he even meant to but sometime over the next six weeks he had changed my dream destination from Thailand to Korea. And we were both stunned when I ended up being offered a job in Eun-Kyung's hometown. And even more stunned to find out, on my first day, that my new co-worker was the girl that she had gone to Israel with. T'is a small world.

After class everyday we went to The Bridge bar downstairs and it was here that me and Ner had arranged to meet up with Barbs and Trish, two more people that we had known in Mokpo.

We had a great couple of hours chatting and catching up before the girls had to go off for various appointments and me and Nerissa ventured down Grafton Street, being just sozzled enough to get a photo with the Molly Malone statue (my first time!).

At the end of Grafton Street is an Australian bar, The Down Under or Major Tom's depending on what sign you read. When I was managing a hostel up on Thomas Street I spent many hours down there with my antipodean guests- getting there around 9am one Saturday morning to watch The Lions VS Australia. The Lions being a rugby team made of both British and Irish people, I was able to support my team in public for the first time since arriving in Ireland. Though it was not advisable to do so in this bar as we kicked Oz's arse.

It would have been rude not to pop in since we were passing so we had a VB for old time's sake.

Back to the house then for more chatting and playing with Roisin. Baz came home from work late so had been unable to join us for the night out which was a shame but couldn't be helped. All too soon it was time to crawl into my (incredibly comfortable, fantastic, not made of sofa cushions, double) bed.

Ner and Roisin took me back to the airport, with Roisin leaning out of the buggy and insisting I hold her hand all the way. It is fair to say that I didn't want to leave and they waved to me as I went through the security gates and each time the automatic doors opened until I got all the way through. I was biting back the tears.

I love Ireland, always have done. And I love my friends, they make a hard team to say goodbye to. I comfort myself with the fact that I will go back there again and stay longer. Much longer. That thought, and the chocolate vending machine, made me feel better.

Today is my birthday so I want those of you that can to go to the bar and drink a tequila for me- send me a photo of you doing so. And I hope to get none of these for my birthday

Thanks for the cards and presents that I got today, and the days running up to this day. My uncle has sent me a toy squirrel to keep me company when I travelling so I am sure that some photos of that will turn up on here from time to time.

Packing

Sometimes it seems that all I have done for the past two months or more is pack. I started packing up my house in Korea a few weeks before I was due home. Then I came home and we spent a lot of time sorting out my mother's things and packing them away for storage. At the weekends we have been travelling backwards and forwards between my mother's house and my sister's flat- two lots of packing per weekend. Trips to Bristol and Dublin see more quality time with the inside of a bag. And next weekend it is time for the big pack.

It is not easy to see what I need with half of my stuff here and half of it in Felixstowe- arguably the important half since my (new) backpack is there. I have never had the chance to buy a backpack before- my mum bought me my first one when I went to university and as that wore out I started looking for another one. I spent so much time at the Lowe Alpine store that I swear the shop assistants thought I was stalking them. In fact, I was stalking a beautiful red backpack. It was lovely and I even took people to visit it. But a friend from work donated me her old backpack and it would have been a waste of much needed holiday money to buy a new one. So I didn't.

Then last weekend I cracked and did. The old one was OK but had a few pockets and compartments which I didn't use, kinda like having a spare room, that just seemed like deadweight to me. Plus I wanted to downsize from a 75 litre to a 65 litre since I would be carrying it so much this time. This is also in the hope that I will buy less stuff since I will have nowhere to put it all. I'll let you know how that one works out for me!

But I had some free time the other day so stocked up on some essential items.

moisturiser, deoderant, antiseptic cream, shower gel, shampoo, shower mitten things to scrub all the dead skin off once the inevitable sunburn starts to peel, sunscreen lotion to delay that moment, mossie repellant, stuff to put on mossie bites since the repellant is never that good really, hand santiser, hand cream, tampons, contact lens solution, toothpaste, headache tablets, wet wipes etc.

Should be enough to see me through the first few weeks anyway. Then it was time for a glass of South African wine and the new episode of Doctor Who.

Tomorrow I am going to Dublin with Ryanair, the flight cost around forty-five pounds. No matter what offer they have on I always end up paying the same to travel with Ryanair. But I have to be careful when I am booking a flight because it is so tempting to book other ones too- especially now they have started flying to Bratilava, I have never been there. But no time!

Dublin it is and I am very excited to be honest. I know that I used to live there and all but it has been over three years since I was last there. Plus I am meeting up with some really good friends I met in my first year in Korea. And, hopefully, we will be able to squeeze in a pint and a packet of tatos at some point too.

Slainthe!

The Broadband has landed

I guess that it doesn't really matter at all to you guys what kind of connection I am using to write this thing but it matters a whole bunch to me. Mainly because I spend less time swearing at the computer when the connection is faster and have more time to devote to my increasingly worrying addiction to daytime TV. After a lot of cursing and wrestling with cables yesterday, we got the broadband connected at my sister's house. Which is just in time for me to get really used to a fast connection before heading off into the realm of internet cafes.

When I first went travelling internet cafes were a pretty new thing. It might even take a moment or two to find one even in a backpacker area and when you did locate one of these places hotmail was usually down. Again. Or if it was working, after a five minute wait to get into the inbox, I would find that I didn't even have any emails. But given that there is usually a minimum charge, would have to try and think of other things to look at. The internet was an emptier place back then.

When in Sydney, I would also regularly receive emails saying 'Thanks for the mail, Helen, but couldn't make out a word of it' due to my habit of sneaking out of the nightclub in the wee small hours to post home before bursting back onto the dancefloor. And several of the bars actually had PCs in them, with reduced keyboards which were really tricky to use, covered in some sort of keyboard condom to delay the corrosive effects of the alcohol and I always had to type one handed since the other hand was involved in that most important of tasks, holding the beer.

Things have got better since then. I can touch type now and fast which should save me money in internet cafes in the future. It was something that I had been meaning to do for a while but finally had to learn through necessity when I got a data entry temping a few years ago. There was a sticker on the side of the computer saying something about being careful when moving the computer during the office change. It was dated 1983. The keys were worn down shiny and clean after years of hapless temps dribbling over them. Time to learn to touch type, methinks.

It is Saturday and the week was pretty quiet so I have nothing to report really. Check out these stereotypical backpackers and see if they fit with your experience

Don't worry, there is a British one there too.

I have spent some time on the Hostel World site too, planning some accommodation on the way. I had found a great place to stay in Singapore before realising that I would only be there for fourteen hours before taking off again. I have booked my first three nights accommodation in Ho Chi Minh though. I am sure that I have paid well over the odds but at least I know where I am staying. Plus the hotel will pick me up from the airport for a small fee. Bonus. Peace Hotel, here I come. I have treated myself to a double room en-suite after a month of sleeping on my generous sister's sofa. And won't even have a cat to leap on me in the middle of the night. Nice work.

Here is a picture of a pie shop in Greenwich. I have gone a bit mental on pies, sausage rolls and various other dubious bits of meat covered in pastry. This place even does jellied eels. And we think that the Koreans eat funny.

And here is the view over the edge of England and into Wales. Just a short bridge away

A Whirl of Activity

So Monday morning I knew that I had to be up and out of the house pretty quickly. Stopped to go through my usual internet checklist, check my blog, check Rory's blog, give up on Rory's blog when I realise that he has crammed it full of photos that I am never going to have the time to download again, check James's blog, emails, feed the cat and out of the door. Then a dash to Victoria in Central London.

I like it around Victoria Station. It has a very unusual feel to it. Not only is the mainline station chockablock with commuters but the pavements are filled with people clickclacking their wheelie suitcases down to the bus terminal. Victoria Coach Station has been the start of many adventures for me since it is not just a National service but an international place too. I have started journeys to Ireland and the Netherlands from there as well as heading out to Felixstowe and the Lakes. The road between the train station and the coach station is lined with travel agents and there is a real feeling of people all hurrying everywhere to it. But the coach station itself is horrible, just horrible. It is small, crowded with inadequate seating and a 20p charge just to use the loo.

I was glad that I didn't have to wait there long before getting on the bus to Bristol. I had pushed myself into a window seat so that I could enjoy the countryside views. Just as we were about to leave an old hippy couple got on the bus and the man sat next to me. I only had a couple of seconds of thinking 'should I offer to swap seats with his wife so that they can sit together, nah, I was here first etc' before the woman started a conversation with the South African girl behind me. Now, I don't know what it is but somehow English speaking people seem to be much louder than Koreans on public transport. I would have been subjected to their whole conversation had I not fallen asleep soon after pulling out onto the road. So much for the country views.

I woke up two hours later on the outskirts of Bristol. Nice work. Bus travel as it should be. Cheryl picked me up in Bristol and took me back to her house in Thornbury. Spent the evening eating (another) Chinese takeaway, rich chocolate dessert and playing with Cheryl and Neil's new baby, Daniel. Daniel has been with us sinc January but to look at his parents you would believe that he has been part of their lives forever. It was a good night for a long overdue catch-up.

The next day, Cheryl drove me back through the country to Bristol since I had been complaining that you just don't see fields of cows or sheep in Korea. She took me through a couple of really pretty little villages and up a hill so that we could look down over the countryside and into Wales.

I stayed awake for the car ride but fell asleep for the entire journey back to London.

Once safely back in the capital I met my sister and went to the pub and then onto another pub to meet my mate, Matt, and his lovely girlfriend, Sonya, who joined us for a couple of drinks. Me and Matt, however, managed more than a couple and left as the pub was closing. Then something weird happened. There was engineering works on the line which WORKED IN MY FAVOUR! Wow, yes, extra trains had been diverted along the Purfleet line and I was able to catch a train that doesn't usually exist back to my destination. I felt a little like Harry Potter.

Woke up the next day with a slightly cloudy head but didn't have time to hang around since I had to go into Greenwich to meet Heather.

I used to live in Greenwich when I went to university, the slightly misleadingly named University of Greenwich which didn't, in fact, have a campus in Greenwich back then. Since I graduated it has moved from the office block above the Wimpy that I knew so well in Woolwich to the old Naval College in Greenwich proper.

It is now exceedingly posh and would have intimidated the hell out of me had I gone there. We had a good old wander around the campus, saw the Painted Gallery where Nelson's body laid in state before his funeral.

We saw a beautiful chapel that features in a Hogarth painting (so Heather tells me)

and a suit of armour that proved Henry VIII wasn't all talk.

We took a stroll through Greenwich Park up to Blackheath and back again.

Nearly got mugged by a grey squirrel looking for snacks and spent some time looking at the deer who seemed to be taking it in turns to get up and walk past us while having a shit. Nice. Bambi doesn't look so cute that close up.

Today I have been trying to sort some things out with an insurance company who kept me on hold longer than is reasonable. I should have them done under the human rights act or something, no-one should be made to listen to Enya for forty minutes. And, while I know that it is not Enya's fault, I do find that after the first twenty minutes or so I blame her for keeping me on hold. After the first thirty minutes I blame her for all the evil in the World. After forty minutes of the Orinoco Flow I give up hope of ever speaking to another human again and nearly cry when the operator answers.. only for them to tell me that I have to speak to a different department so they will have to put me on hold. Tears were shed. And the Enya sound track starts from scratch everytime they transfer me. EEEEEKKKK!!!!!!

For the Barclay Family

Did you mean this photo?

Doing three things at once

I got up early this morning as I am going to Bristol. But it would appear that I have a slight blog addiction problem which sees me doing this before I go. Hum.

Ah well, back to Felixstowe this weekend but instead of the usual whirl of boxes and packing we had visitors. My cousin brought her husband and two kids over to meet their Great-great Auntie Doll. Me and my sister were up at the crack of dawn (well, Penny was up that early but I was about before midday) cleaning the house from top to bottom as we had the estate agent coming over to look at it.

By lunchtime we were done and off to meet up with our (extended) family at a local historical site. We met up with Liz, her American husband, Mike, and two kids, Owen, who has a great sense of fun and adventure and his younger brother, Dylan, who is a bundle of smiles and freckles. We had arranged to meet them at Landguard Fort near Felixstowe Docks. The Fort has been there in one form or another for a few hundred years. When I was little you couldn't get into it but there were plenty of interesting ruins to climb over. There was even a tower though our parents would never let us go up there. When we were old enough to go there alone we found out why. It is the kind of place that people like to go to do things that they can't do in other places and they leave plenty of evidence behind.

This wasn't a problem on Saturday though as they have closed off all the bits that we used to explore for free but now you can pay and go inside. Most of the artifacts are in the museum next door. When I was a brownie I won a prize for cleaning a key to the Fort the best out of everyone, probably because I wouldn't let anyone else near the Brasso. For some reason, despite my imploring, no-one else seemed interested in hunting this key down, to be honest, I might not have recognised it myself.

Now Americans just do tourism better. While we Brits spurned the opportunity to spend a measly 20p to purchase a guide book, therefore leaving us wandering around saying 'I wonder what this hole was for...', Mike rented the audio equipment and now knows more about the Fort than is healthy. I will be expecting a full written report on my desk before the office closes today.

We ran around the fort and tried to find a place where the guns would actually be aimed at the sea rather than at other bits of the fort. Owen had a go at playing with the mortar shells, Mike consulted his audio guide book and the rest of us walked around and chatted.

Then it got close to tea-time so it was time to hit the amusement arcades down at the beach (Liz told me that there might be trouble if we didn't go, in fact, and let's just say that it wasn't the kids throwing the tantrums).

We changed some money into coppers and played on the penny drops. I snuck off to losing a couple of quid trying to get a Bagpuss out of the crane machines and Penny found money that other people had left behind in the machines, in true pikey fashion.

Dylan seemed to win the most with his devil-may-care attitude towards winning, the joy of putting money in the slot overwhelmed that when money actually came out to a certain extent. Eventually we had to pull Mike out of there kicking and screaming.

Stopping for chips and refusing the seaside rock,

we lapped up the seaside atomosphere until it was time to go back to Auntie Doll's and storytime for the boys. After dinner we went back to our house, put the boys down for the night and shared a bottle of wine.

Sunday was a less eventful day to some degree. The cat was petrified to wake up in a house full of strangers who seemed to be everywhere and did a bunk at the earliest opportunity. We went through mum's record collection ('What's a record?' asked the ever curious Owen) and saw our cousins off on their way back to Reading. We came back to Purfleet and that is it really. I would have put more photos on but I really have to go now.

Friday the Thirteenth

Yesterday was Friday the thirteenth so I considered it prudent not to do much. I went to Tower Hill and bought presents for six of my friends in Gangneung. They should go to Bumpin in around ten days to pick them up, put them down and pick them up again. This will make more sense when they see them.

I am at my mum's house now but have forgotten the cable to connect my camera to my computer so there. No photos this weekend, probably. And I think that you have seen enough of Felixstowe as it is.

On Monday, I am going to Bristol to see my school friend, Cheryl, and her new baby, Daniel. Back on Tuesday ready to go drinking in the evening. The following Monday, and this is the exciting bit, I am going to DUBLIN! I haven't been back to Dublin since I left to go to Korea. I lived there for around two years during which time I worked in an office (and slept in a tent), managed a backpacker hostel, worked in another office and in the evenings at the National Concert Hall (I now know what monks and nuns do in their spare time. I am sure that Ireland is one of those rare countries where a 'title' list always includes Mr, Mrs, Miss, Ms, Father, Sister, Brother..) and did my TEFL course.

I moved to Dublin to get a 'proper' job after getting back from Australia. I had just enough money to get to Dublin and live for two weeks, so getting a job was pretty important. But I had never been before and rose to the challenge. At that time in Ireland, there were more jobs than people so it didn't take long to find work. It took a damn sight longer to realise that I wasn't going to get a 'proper' job. I worked for nine months then went to South Africa for the best part of two. Back to work for another three months and off to Turkey, six more months and off to Korea.

I love Ireland and was planning to visit there with my mum, who I believe gave me this love, this time home. She may not be here but I am still going to do our trip.

I am also meeting Nerissa and Barry, who I know from Mokpo, and Roisin, their daughter who was still a bump last time I saw her. Exciting stuff!

An English Girl in London

Before I came back to England this time I decided that I would treat the country as a new one for me. Usually I come home and feel all weird about not knowing what is going on, forgetting how things work and not knowing where anything is, since it has all moved. So I came to London with the intention of being a tourist. And so far it is working out really well. I am doing lots of things that I haven't done before, been to places I have never been to and not getting annoyed at the tourists since I am one myself.

And I think that I do look like a tourist here, with my A-Z firmly clutched in my hand, my green sunglasses, camera firmly lodged in the other hand and smiling (always a dead giveaway).

Yesterday I went to the British Museum, home to lots and lots of stuff variously plundered, pillaged and nicked from a mulitude of countries. I have never been there before. I got out of the tube at Tottenham Court Road and walked round to Russell Square. I could see the museum ahead of me but spotted something out of the corner of my eye..... the bibimbab cafe!

Wow, real Korean food. They even had kimbap. But I had just had my lunch so I just checked out the menu. And was disgusted to find that they charge extra for kimchi! And extra again if you want soup... not like home at all. I turned my nose up at their choice and headed into the museum.

I decided not to get a map or a guidebook and just set off into the museum. Wandered through galleries full of statues and bits of pyramids. I saw the Rosetta Stone, the stone that finally cracked the code of the hieroglyphics, well I saw the side of the stone as I couldn't get to the front of it for all the Japanese tourists crowded around.

I went up some stairs and realised that I would never find what I was looking for at this rate.

I was looking for the marble statues from the Parthenon in Athens, sometimes known as the Elgin Marbles, named after the guy that brought them to England. The fact that they are in the British Museum is a source of controversy that rears its head from time to time, most notably during the 2004 Athens Olympics. The Museum has helpfully produced a free leaflet explaining the problem. So I am able to give you some real history for once.

The Parthenon was built nearly 2500 years ago and has been a temple, a church and a mosque. During a siege of the city in 1687, the building was used to store gunpowder, which exploded and scuppered it altogether. Lord Elgin to the rescue, between 1801 and 1805 he removed the remaining statues, with the knowledge of the Ottoman authorities, to London to better protect them. They were acquired by the Museum in 1816 and have been on permanent display ever since. Athens still has some statues and more of them are in the Louvre and the Vatican.

The Greek Government sees the Parthenon as the most important symbol of Greek culture and wants all the statues back. But they refuse to recognise the Museum as the legal trustees of them which makes any kind of talks tricky. Obviously the Museum wants to keep them and says that they are in the best place for their preservation, study and for people to see them. And there you go.

By now I was totally lost in the Americas galleries. It took me quite a while to get back to the beginning, where I bought a map, finally, only to realise that if I had just turned to my left when walking past the statues I had seen before I would have found them. Huh.

The Parthenon Gallery was built especially to house the sculptures and they are pretty impressive, if you can see past the Japanese tour groups that is. I have been to Athen twice, missed the Parthenon once as it was past closing time, made it the second time.

After reliving old holiday memories it was time to head off to something a bit closer to home... the Korea Gallery. Sure enough, coming down some stairs I spotted this door

Could it be? If I just went through that door would all my mates and a welcome tequila be waiting for me, I held my breath and edged closer and sure enough...

nah not really. There was a lot of Korean people in there though. It was so good to hear Korean being spoken. I loved not being able to understand all but getting the odd word. I really wanted to talk to them, with quite a large passion, my heart was thumping at the thought. Then I tried to assemble a coherent sentence in my head and decided that 'I am from England, my name is Helen, I am an English teacher, where is the toilet?' was hardly going to win my any friends. So I looked at the exhibits and basked in not understanding those arouund me, mentally bid them goodbye and went off to look at the mummies.

I had got quite emotional just by being with Korean people so going to see the mummies was not the best plan. I went out to the Great Court, a recent addition to the Museum, a great glass dome.

It was my favourite bit. There was a display there from Mozambique, scupltures made from guns used during the war there.

The Government had been able to get guns back off the people by swapping them for essential items. One village swapped all of their guns for a tractor.

By then I was all Museumed out so I went and met my sister for a couple of pints and some lasagne and chips. Happy days.

Not long now

I know that I talked about coming back to Korea. I actually told people that I would be coming back to Korea before heading off into South East Asia. But in this world of endless oppportunity and year round tickets, I had forgotten that tickets come with an expiration date. And that date is 12th May, in this case. That is the last date that I could change my ticket back to Korea for and I just can't leave here the day after tomorrow. So I am back to the original plan of going straight to Singapore on 31st May (it is such an effort to write the date that way around after so many years of May 31st).

Then on 2nd June (June 2nd), I will go to Vietnam. If I hate it then I will come back to Korea after all. If I love it (more likely) then I will be there for around six weeks, or as long as it takes to feel that I have my money's worth out of the ninety quid visa (which does look awfully exciting, tucked away there in my passport).

I am sorry that I won't be seeing my friends in Korea on my birthday this year. From previous experience they would have made it a birthday to remember. But I am sure that even I couldn't have topped last year's fortnight long extravaganza. For one thing, my birthday wouldn't have been on a public holiday this year (damn that lunar calendar and its every-changingness) and for another I am IN my thirties now, rather than just a toe over the line. Therefore, I am sure that I will be spending my birthday knitting, crocheting and generally sitting around on the old spinster shelf... as if!

I have an idea that I might send some stuff to Korea so that my mates can celebrate without me but I will have to see.

But at least I will be saving myself the price of a ticket from Seoul to Singapore. Which means that I don't have to feel so guilty about spending money yesterday on a rather natty little gadget, which will probably get nicked before I have reached Perth.

It was time for me to get something to listen to music on and I got a bit carried away and spent more than I had planned. I got a Philips HDD070, which is a cute little white thing that will let me store a whole lot of music and listen to the radio too.

I like it today but yesterday I was all for hurling it out of the window in frustration. It would have been better if I had catalogued all the music on my PC over the years and put it in some semblence of order but, fool that I am, I was too busy being out there having a life. But I have no life today so spent a good part of the morning trying to figure the little fella out.

How well I have done remains to be seen. What I do know is that I have put some music off my PC and onto it and some of the tracks even have song titles and stuff. Most of them don't. Ah well, win some, lose some.

Well, what do you know?

I worked for 13 months in Gangneung on this last contract. I left one week early, not early of the contract but early in the extra month I had agreed to work, because my mum died. Four weeks later and I am still listening to my boss's lame excuses about why he hasn't paid me.

Any advice?

The weekend's nearly over...

...and I still don't have to work tomorrow. I have to pinch myself to believe that I have taken six months off work. Do I fancy myself as some kind of millionaire? Do I think that I will cut a fine figure amongst those ladies who lunch? Am I a homeless jobless layabout? Maybe more of that last one.

Also, I stand corrected, my sister has informed me that the last train home is not known as The Booze Train (despite her using the phrase only the other day when I gatecrashed her office).. the last train into Essex is grandly titled The Vomit Comet. Sadly, I missed that particular form of carriage decoration.

Now for excuses, the reason that the last entry was so long was, obviously, because there was only one last week. And the reason for that is we are still waiting for a password to update my sister's internet connection from the hamster-driven affair she has now to a state of the art modem powered by rubber bands, or something like that. Believe you me, it may have taken a long time to read but it took a damn sight longer to post it on t'internet for your enjoyment.

Right, Thursday was Election Day and the cat kept me up all night as he wanted to watch the Election coverage on BBC. The results started to come in shortly before 11 and I drifted in and out of sleep until about 4.30, when I opened an eye wide enough to see the sentence 'Labour has won' flash across the screen. It is always fun to watch Tories fail to win a seat and that fun is only beaten by watching them lose one. And the BBC re-ran the clip of Portillo losing his seat in the 1997 Election, basically just for fun.

This is Peter Snow leaping around in front of the swingometer, remember, this is just a bit of fun

and here is me, trying to concentrate on the Election while lying on a bed made from requisitioned sofa cushions

Thursday afternoon I had met up with Russ, a mate from Gangneung, and we went to the Old Bailey because we thought that it would be fun to watch a bunch of old men parade around in wigs.

We both had a nightmare getting to St Paul's Tube. He was stuck on a bus that seemed to be going via Pusan and I was on a train that just stopped. Stopped. Dead on the line. And I missed the explanation over the tannoy as I was listening to my voicemail at the time(get me!). So it just stopped and I didn't know why. Then the lights went out. And flashed on again before going out once more. There was a strange silence as the engines stopped working and nothing. Turns out that the train was 'knackered', the technical term used by the guy wandering between carriages letting us know what was going on. He said that it would be about ten minutes. And, sure enough, ten minutes later there was a thud as something ploughed into the back of our train. It was another train and it pushed us into the station. 45 minutes late.

But I met with Russ and we went off to the Central Criminal Court to see us some big name baddies.

We found it quite easily and eagerly trotted through the first door. Came out again and went into the correct door and up the stairs. There was a guy at the top manning the door and he told us that we weren't able to bring in phones or cameras. Fair enough, we said, where can we leave them? Outside, he said. Outside, where? Just outside. I think that he was suggesting that we leave all our valuables on the pavement outside the court. Not a great idea. So we decided on a rota system and Russ went in while I watch the paparazzi harass a bunch of Middle Eastern looking people

Russ came out with tales of cocaine and big wigs but it was too late for me to go in so we went to sit on the steps outside St Paul's Cathedral instead

Thursday night was all about the Election and Friday was spent basking in the knowledge that we had another four Tory-less years ahead of us. I picked up my passport from the Embassy of Vietnam and met Amanda for lunch. Then I met up with Russ again and we bought some beer and went to Hyde Park. We sat by the Serpentine and drank it. I saw the Diana memorial too. I quite liked it. Don't shoot me for saying so. Probably because I haven't paid tax in this country for many years so none of my money has gone into it. But, as far as fountains go, it is a good 'un.

We came back to Felixstowe on Saturday so here are some more photos from my home town. First is the bit of the beach that we lived near as children- 'our' beach

I seem to remember that we had my fifth or sixth birthday party in a beach hut down there. We spent a lot of time there as kids, playing in the stones, building stone castles, trying to wash the tar off our feet. In fact, if we stood on the windowsill of the room that I shared with my sister, we could see a small triangle of sea. Now that's posh. And this is the house, the first house that I remember living in and one of four that my mother bought (not all at the same time!)

More beach- check out those clouds, April showers don't stop when May arrives

Me standing on a breakwater

The pub that my mum took me to on my fourteenth birthday because I was old enough to be in the bar. But since we had taken my 12 year old sister with us, we had to get the drinks and sit outside. Thereby setting the standard for many other nights where I would go in the bar and Penny would wait outside

We brought the cat back to Felixstowe with us and he seems fine, though he did cry all the way home again. He has been in and out of the garden, between rain and hail showers, all weekend though we did have to go and bring him in when we saw a baby bird sitting on the patio

Charlie may not be the world's greatest hunter (I am sure that he wouldn't like me to tell you this but when he was a kitten, while his sister was out bringing down all manner of big game, he used to hunt worms and bring them into the kitchen) but even he might not have been able to resist what amounts to a free Big Mac sitting in his garden. Eventually it went, we know not where.

Thanks to Margo and Patrick for the phone calls today. It means a lot to know that I haven't been forgotten. Hope to see you guys soon.

Better go now before I stretch Rory's speed reading capabilities too far and his head explodes.

Last train out of Sydney, oops, I mean Fenchurch Street

It is the day of the General Election here in the UK. If we were in Korea the government would have kindly given us the day off so that we could all go to the beach to ignore it until it was all over. (Plus, we would have spent half the day making jokes exchanging 'l's for 'r's or trying to explain to the older students why pronunciation is so important for meaning) As it is, I don't have to work anyway so no biggie. I am also unable to vote, alas, since I could never make head or tail of how to get a postal vote, plus I couldn't have predicted that I would be back in the UK by the time of the Election. Thus I am destined to spend the whole day in a darkened room, rocking slowly backwards and forwards, muttering 'Not Michael Howard, please not Michael Howard...' until my sister comes home and snaps me out of by taking me to the polling station to watch her vote.

Yes, I am back at my sister's house this week. We came back from Felixstowe on Monday

bringing the poor cat with us. He cried all the way to Purfleet so I was forced to go to sleep to ignore him. Fortunately, my sister, the driver, is made of sterner stuff. It is quite nice have the cat around, right now, he is attempting to get onto my knee while I am pretending not to notice him. He likes to spend the night running between my sister's room and the living room where I am sleeping on a pile of cushions on the floor, so to minimise the amount of sleep that either of us get. I think that this is to try and get us to nap later in the day so he can curl up beside us for a bit. It seems to be working, with me, anyway.

Tuesday was the day I got to do two of my favourite things. I went book shopping then rounded it off with a touch of shoe shopping. Now I am not obsessive about either really, no honest, but having spent two years in a countries where either of these is a trial it is, quite honestly, a joy. I went into the book shop, where it appeared that the whole place was one big English Language section and contained more than the usual 'Chicken Soup for the Unusually Needy and Perpetually Sad' and an old John Grisham, the way that the Korean bookshops tend to. I ran straight to the Travel section in order to get some more inspiration. I couldn’t find that book that I wanted (Vroom with a View by Peter Moore, about driving round Italy on a 40 year old Vespa) but my eyes were caught by a couple of others. Then I got sucked in by the '3 for the price of 2' labels on some of the books. I rounded up three of these worthy souls and was merrily skipping to the cash register when I spotted the Peter Moore book that I had come in for. It was too late to say no and I left the shop with four books.

But promised myself that was that. I didn't need to go to the shoe shop. Well, not need exactly. I have bought one pair of shoes already since I came back and have a couple more that survived the rigors of Korea. But when Penny suggested that I could always just go in and look… well, you can imagine what happened next.

That evening, wearing my new sandals, which only nearly severed two of my toes later so not bad for a first wear, I went into London to meet my mate, Matt. You might have heard of him as the guy that I used to live with in Streatham or the guy that drove for three days so I could see some elephants when we were in South Africa. We met in a pub, where else, and he convinced me to drink some bitter for a change rather than my usual lager. Working on the basis that after 3 years of Hite, Cass and OB, anything with any taste at all was not normal to me, I went for it (plus the bar staff hand out samples in the cutest leprechaun-sized tankers) and a BLT baguette too.

Something that controls fate out there in the stratosphere has ruled that me and Matt can only meet every two years. I went off to Oz and by the time I came back he was in Africa. After a year in Ireland I went out to meet him. Two years later, he came back just as I was on a plane going to Korea. I met him when I came back and then flew back to spend another two years away so as not to upset the status quo. So it is always a pleasure to meet him and try to cram two years worth of memories into a couple of hours and a couple of pints. He shared his attention between me and the bicycle that he had chained to a lamppost outside and was keeping a close eye on. Getting sucked into the conversation meant that all too soon it was time to go back across Tower Bridge (the famous one, the one with the towers) to Fenchurch St station.

Matt was fiddling with the complex security system on his bike, I think that it is called a lock, and time was ticking away to the last train so I took a head start off over the bridge. I was pegging it as fast as I could, trying to ignore my sandals grim determination to pierce the skin to the bone before we hit the other side. Puffing and panting, I was making good time and Matt just casually sauntered up on the bike, not even breaking a sweat.

In the end, I needn't have got myself in such a tizz as we made it with ten minutes to spare. Leaving each other with promises to try and meet again before the two year deadline, I went through the gate and into the strange world that is The Last Train Home aka the Booze Train.

TLTH leaves Central London at 23.40, the pubs close at 23.30 so people don't have a good chance to calm down before getting on the train. I haven't caught TLTH for a few years and had forgotten what it was like. I climbed on board and settled into a seat to mull over the evening in seclusion. Nearby there was a group of four women discussing the merits of the barman they had met that night. Then a couple walked onto the train in fits of hysterical drunk laughter, 'hehe, everyone is looking at us',' shhHHHH!!!', and tumbled into the seats just next to mine.

Aware that they might have drawn a bit of attention to themselves the woman had a logical way to deal with it and settle people's minds. She stood up, held her arms up and fessed up

'I'M DRUNK EVERYBODAY, S'ALRIGHT'

and fell back into the seat behind her.

Being a gregarious couple, it wasn't long before they had started to talk to everyone around then while I sank into my seat feeling the unusual feeling of being more sober than anyone else around. The drunk couple had, by that stage, rounded up a couple of lone travellers to sit with them. TLTH is the total opposite of the Train To Work, where it is pretty much forbidden to talk. If you should happen to do so, say you have just bumped into your long lost sister who you haven't seen since you both left the orphanage twenty years before and you are trying to swap phone numbers before she gets off at the next station, everyone around you will tut, sigh and stare at you in an effort to bring silence back to the carriage. Usually that silence is peppered with loud snores from the back.

So if the TTW is a cold and lonely place, TLTH is a warm and friendly place where the noise is punctuated with slurring and declarations of love for people you have just met, along with the creeping feeling that you might be pissing everyone else off but not caring anyway. I remember many years ago, when I was going home after gatecrashing a painfully fashionable Andy Warhol party on Oxford Street, I made many friends by handing out the Chuppa Chups that I had filled my pockets with at the party. ('You look like you need a Chuppa Chup… and you look like you need a Chuppa Chup….etc')

But not being fuelled by alcohol and being in a more introverted mood I was happy to let other people be the centre of attention for once. But it wasn't to be and soon I was in a conversation, having my shoes admired by the man (my new shoes!) and being invited to put my feet in his lap. Fortunately the next stop was mine and I got off at Barking to change trains. Here I met a much less drunk man who was also going to Purfleet and we chatted all the way home.

Yesterday, I met my friend, Heather, again and went to our old workplace, Selfridges

where someone asked us if we needed any help as we stood in the middle of the Food Hall noting all the changes. After a morning of walking around, in different shoes to give the scars a chance to heal, I went to my sister's office to bug her for a bit and then we went to the Natural History Museum to look at the dinosaurs.

I had forgotten what a great building the museum is in and the displays are good too, we fought off small children so that we too could have a chance to play with all the interactive bits and pieces.

And the best bit about the museum is that it is FREE, which is a damn sight cheaper than the arm and a leg that the Tower of London is charging.

Then it was home to clear up the cat sick (thanks, Charlie) and admire my new shoes from afar. Today I am waiting on phonecalls from various places before I go anywhere. The cat is no longer talking to me since I scared the bejesus out of him by using the vacuum cleaner earlier. I coaxed him out from under the bed but since he seems to believe that this was the start of the apocolypse he has run off to sulk in the living room. What makes it worse is that I wouldn't have had to vacuum at all today, therefore convincing the cat that the end was night, was it not for the fact that he threw up all over the carpet last night.

It's all go in Felixstowe

Today was the 35th Annual Ipswich to Felixstowe Vintage Car Rally, something which representatives of my family have been going to for the last 30 years. I haven't been in a long old while. Now, any of you that actually know me know that I have a hard time trying to distinguish between cars and cantaloupe melons. I don't drive, can't drive, only recognise my sister's car if she is sitting in it but I had been charged with the task of taking some photos of the old cars, motorbikes and, most importantly, scooters for my brother and sister-in-law. This meant that I stood there, camera in hand, asking my sister, 'is this an old one.... how about this one?' as the cars drove through Felixstowe on their way to the seafront and the promside finale.

We both took turns with the camera, me and Penny, and came up with some real beauties. Some of the shots even had the cars in them but there were also several great shots of the wall across the road from us and, in fact, some new cars.

We were waving to the drivers of the vintage cars but trying not to wave to anyone that was just in an oldish car for fear that they might take offense. And these are some of the things that we saw

A few years ago my mother was horrified at the rally to see a car that was the same as the one that she learnt to drive in. Followed by one the same as her brother's first car. I guess that was the year that she started to feel old!

She used to drive a VW campervan when we were kids but she never managed to get her mitts on one of these

We were under strict instructions to get photos of bubble cars (very small cars indeed) and I think that we did ourselves proud with this shot

And, although Auntie Doll had put the lamb in the oven to roast, we had to stay until the buses turned up

Then it was back to Auntie Doll's for a roast dinner and then home to torment the cat.

and count how many cellphones we really did have in the house

Probably too many. The one on the left is the one that I have been borrowing off mum over the years. It is big enough to type messages with two hands and all ten fingers. The one on the right is my new phone which feels like a toy. This was my phone in Korea after one of my students had finished with it and her sticker pack one day

It is May Day tomorrow (hum, no today but the bank holiday is tomorrow) so we are staying here until Monday afternoon or so then back to London, Essex anyway.

Thanks for the phonecall, Patrick and Heimi, I hope that I get to speak to you next time but just hearing your voices made me smile.