The game they play in heaven...

There are times when I wish I was back in Oz. Not that I would complain (that would mean I was going native). But the opportunity to see the Wallabies play Wales at the Millennium stadium is one of those affirming times that make me glad I made the trek.

Maria happened to be spending the week at a course in Bradford upon Avon, which isn't terribly far from Bristol. We had thought about going to see the game between the Wallabies and Les Bleus in Paris, but we couldn't get Maria back to Bradford upon Avon in time. Thus we decided upon Cardiff and the clash between our men in gold, and the reining 6 Nations gland slam champions in Red.

I made the ultimate sacrifice, taking the day off work on Friday to catch the train from Hull to Bristol via Leeds. I looked the true Yorkshire-man, with my packed lunch and my thermos. Truth be known, my culinary preparedness had less to do with the tightness of my jeans (I just can't seem to get my wallet out) and more to do with the quality of the food and coffee on British trains. It was nevertheless a long 5 1/2 hour journey, made even longer by the group of 2 dozen 6th formers (year 11 and 12) which (and I mean which, not whom) got on at Manchester.

I can't really relate the relative merits of the Midlands scenery, as the whole of the country was blanketed in a thick fog which didn't abate throughout the day. I was happy to arrive at Bristol Parkway and happy also to be guided by Maria's suggestion of a movie and dinner. Maria had no voice, having been visited by the dreaded lurgy, and rather than enjoy my cultivated wit (or at least the half I had chosen to bring with me) she felt she would rather immerse herself in the gritty realism of a Ridley Scott film. Maria enjoyed the film and I enjoyed a hot dog. Enough said.

After the film we trundled into a British version of an American version of an Italian restaurant. The fact that the vegetarian half of our pizza was better than the meat feast half (no reaction from the staff) sums up what a strange experience that was. The bruschetta was good though.

We stayed at a services hotel that night and the next morning headed into Cardiff early. We had to pick our tickets up from the ground between 9 and 12, and the game didn't start until 2:30. We parked at a park and ride (with the attendants attempting to direct us back out of the car park), and hopped on a bus into the centre of Cardiff. Unlike most rugby grounds, Millennium Stadium is pretty much right in the centre of Cardiff. Once you have been to a game there this starts to make sense. Rugby is really at the centre of what it is to be Welsh. Where other cities may have parliament buildings or great financial houses at their heart, Welshman know what is really important in life, and they have stuck rugby right near the middle of their capital city. I like that.

It was really very cold in Cardiff, so we decided to stock up on some merchandise. We had no decent head wear, and Maria's scarf looked awfully flimsy, and we suspected that people might be in two minds as to who we were supporting, so we decided to get an Aussie flag as well. I think the effect was sufficiently supportive, and yet subtle.

We still had some time to wait for the game, and we hadn't had any breakfast yet, so we headed into a typical Welsh free house called the "Walkabout". I have never seen so many blonde Australian girls in such short skirts serving so much lager. It was one of those cold shower moments. You guys know what I'm talking about.

After a pint and some food we pottered around Cardiff for a while (yes alright, Maria took me into a department store so she could try on a dress. I'm not proud). We bought some hot pastry product, as is traditional on a day of rugby, I managed to find a mobile Guiness bar (the Welsh really know how to put on a party) and then we headed in to find our seats. I went and grabbed a couple of pints of brains to get me through the game. The Welsh team are actually sponsored by a beer company called Brains. The bitter is quite drinkable, although it was so cold in the stadium that my second pint was almost undrinkably cold by the time I got to it. Maybe I am going native...

Some rugby innovations are good. Like mobile Guiness bars. Sometimes it is tradition that makes rugby what it is, and Wales has tradition in spades as well. For instance, the first Welshman to leave the tunnel before the game is... a goat! With the Goat Major of course. The goat (Taffy) is mascot of the Royal Regiment of Wales. The Goat Major is a corporal. No, I don't really understand either. You can't fault the Welsh sense of the theatrical though.

Bit different from the ol' Ballymore, no?

The anthems before the game were great. We gave Advance Australia Fair our mightiest voice, but it was overwhelmed by the other 74,000 people at the ground subsequently singing Land of My Fathers. That is a sound I shall never forget.

The game was very intense, with the Australian captain knocked silly after only 2 minutes and having to leave the field. I think that some refereeing decisions could have been better, and losing Mortlock at the start didn't help, but overall the game was there to be won by the Wallabies and they kept kicking possession away.

I guess that the two most memorable reactions from the game were these: Firstly, when the Australian flyhalf kicked a field goal. and there was a shocked silence from the Aussie crowd. Then one guy about 3 rows behind us yelled 'what are you doing! We're Australians! We don't kick field goals! We're not bloody English you know! Who do you think your are, Johnny bloody Wilkinson!'. Australians have to be the only spectators in the world to disapprove of scoring points if its not done with the ball in hand.

The other reaction was after the game, as I was having a chat with a Welshman over a warm urinal. He consoled me with the wisdom that 'as long as its a good game of rugby, it doesn't matter who the winner is at the end. Unless you are playing the English of course. That's a different matter.' So we do have something in common with the Welsh after all. And it was a good game at that.

I can't describe the emotional ebb and flow of a game of international rugby shared with 75,000 of the most ardent rugby fans in the world. You'll just have to try it for yourself. Careful though - it could be addictive. We are already planning how to see rugby at Murrayfield, Twickenham, Lansdowne Road (when it reopens in 2010) and the Stade de France.

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Winter has come to Hull

We don't get much weather to speak of in Hull really, but we woke to some this morning...

Typically, it was on the day Maria had to drive half way across the country that the met office decided to send us some fluffy white stuff.

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Scottish Sojourn - 17th to 19th October

Autumn is probably the loveliest time to be in northern Britain. And the loveliest part of northern Britain in autumn could quite possibly be the Speyside region in Scotland. Over the weekend we had the good fortune to judge for ourselves.

Unfortunately I remembered to leave the camera at home, so you will have to make do with my largely inadequate descriptions to conjure up an image of the charm and tranquility of this part of the world.

I made an early dash from work on Friday and, after pausing briefly at home to arrange matters to Domino's liking and picking up some supplies from the fridge, I picked Maria up with a full hour and a half to get to the train station at York. What could possibly go wrong? Suffice it to say that we made the platform, disheveled and cranky, with at least 30 seconds to spare.

I won't go into the details of the train pricing in the UK. Frankly, you probably wouldn't believe it if I told you. But we found that for our journey from York to Edinburgh on this occasion it was actually cheaper to book first class. I didn't need much encouragement to do so, and we travelled to Edinburgh in style, passing the two and a quarter hours sipping our complimentary tea and coffee (mine was particularly nice about my hair), and munching our way through the supplies I had judiciously snarffled from the fridge earlier.

We arrived in Edinburgh in high spirits and met up with Shaun outside Haymarket station. The next part of the journey was not quite as luxurious. Imagine for a moment what it would be like to be stuffed into a two door VW Polo with three other sturdily built people and luggage for four for a weekend away. By strange coincidence, that's exactly what it was like for the drive from Edinburgh to Annabel's parent's house in Kinross, north of Edinburgh. Fortunately this was a mere 30 mile drive including a view of the Forth rail bridge from the road bridge.

In Kinross we were assailed by three dogs and Annabel, all of whom piled into Annabel's mother's estate with Annabel's friend Lindsay, while Shaun, Maria and I retreated to Annabel's car for the 100 mile journey to Tontearie. This journey, interrupted only briefly for a stop at a chippy, passed in what was classed as "fair conditions" (this being Scotland, "fair" meant driving rain with occasional deer hazards). However it was dry and brisk when we arrived late in the evening.

We settled in to our weekend retreat with drink and a good sit down in front of the wood burning stove. It occurs to me that the rise of television and the general deployment of central heating may have had a causal relationship. When wood burning fires became less common, I imagine that people found they needed something to occupy their vision on winter evenings. Regardless, it never ceases to amaze me how alluring is the presence of a wood fire, a treat for all the senses. Except for taste obviously. But then taste and smell are supposed to be approximately the same thing aren't they? I seem to have digressed...

We awoke, first thing the following afternoon, to our first real view of the countryside in which we found ourselves. The house in which we stayed was once a farmer's cottage and is nestled within a working cattle farm within the Speyside region, south of Inverness. The narrow, winding roads thereabouts take you through forests of gentle aspect and are furnished with road signs reminding you that its likely that you will be killed hitting one of the deer which roam in seeming abundance. The various shades of green, gold, red and brown foliage, whipped up by the bracing winds, swirl around, making you feel like you are in an advertisement for an expensive German car. And when you stop to look over the loch nearby, you have to look around to make sure you don't end up in anyone's post card photograph, so tranquil and perfect is the cold, clear lake under the cold clear sky. The cottage has recently been extended with a conservatory, offering uninterrupted views of the green pastures and beyond to the forested hills, seemingly clad in gold and mountains, grey and rocky above the winter snow line.

Into this impossibly blessed landscape we were propelled by the motive force of three excitable canines. Over the fertile hills and through the fields we tramped, making our own path and finding creative ways of overcoming barbed wire. The right to roam is one of Britain's more charming affectations, and it gives you a real sense that farmers are really just caretakers, looking after the landscape and passing it on to the next generation. Well it gives me that sense. I don't think I'll go looking for scottish cattle farmers to try out my idea.

The only other adventure to be had that fine Saturday was a trip into the nearby town. Whilst the womenfolk browsed the offerings at the deli and butchers, Shaun and I browsed the camping/adventure shops. It makes one feel very hardy and adventuresome looking through their range of thermals and waterproofs and boots and such. Trying out the walking poles made me feel particularly active. And having got that out of our systems, and with the womenfolk laden down with cheeses and various other food stuffs, we returned to the cottage for some serious indulgence.

Conservative MP Michael Gove wrote in the Times over the weekend that "the three things you can't economise on are wine, chocolate and socks". He was nearly right. I think I have economized enough on socks over the years that there must be a secret fortune owed to me somewhere around the place. And frankly I can take or leave chocolate (he says over the howls of dissent from the sweeter smelling slightly more than half of the population). He was dead on about wine of course. But how could he have so flagrantly forgotten cheese! To refer to your average supermarket cheddar as cheese in the same breath as a fine, matured or smoked Wendsleydale or a caramelized onion cheddar from Arran, is to seriously mislead and may lead to unexpected haughtiness in your vicinity (at least from this quarter).

So we tucked into some lovely grub that evening, including some wonderful cheese, some delightful venison (not the result of careless driving I might add) all washed down with a couple of perfectly serviceable bottles of big 14 reds. Many of you have probably heard me say that I simply cannot fall asleep sitting up unless I am driving. Well, a few good glasses of red after a bracing walk, a nice meal and a log fire complete with a warm dog on my feet seems to provide the stimulus. I'm not sure how I could arrange that for my long haul flights, although as the only carrier who probably wouldn't notice me setting fire to the seat in front of me, QANTAS could be an option at the moment.

The following day was filled with the sweet sorrow of our parting, first from the cottage, and then from Shaun, Annabel and Lindsay. As we boarded our train from Edinburgh back to York (via Carlisle of all places due to engineering works) we felt so refreshed from our weekend that we decided to buy the weekend, first class upgrade and go home in the style in which we would like to become accustomed.

As a side note, I would like to add that, to my surprise, the service in first class was, if anything, even more surly than in cattle class. I will never understand why British people can't be nice when they sell you a sandwich. Oh well.

If you have managed to make it to the end of my rambling account, well done - 10 out of 10 and a koala stamp, as Philip Adams would say. Until I have something interesting to write about, take care.

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6 months later... - 10 October 2008

Many things have happened in the past 6 months. The writing of the blog has not been one of them. We shall redress this imbalance henceforth...

Since so much time has passed since our last exciting installment, we shall update you with a monthly summary.

May included Maria's Herculean (or should that be Marathonian?) effort, completing the Beverley 10k in a personal best time! I even put my pint of Guinness down for long enough to cheer her over the line...

Also in May, we travelled to Catterick Barracks to enjoy Shaun and Annabel's company at the May ball for Shaun's regiment. The food, drink and merriment were all fine and abundant, and we shall enjoy recalling the occasion over tall drams long after my teeth have found better living arrangements.

Also in May (a busy month, surpassed only by some of those which follow) we went to London to help Cath, our neighbor and friend, celebrate the coming of her 4th decade. Half of Cath's family are dutch, so we found ourselves in a dutch pub in the West End until we were ejected and did the only decent thing; falling into a Chinese restaurant. A great night was had by all those who can't remember any different.

June included our first ever camping trip together. It involved a tent and everything! I even have a photo to prove it! We camped in Ripon near Fountains Abbey.

For my birthday, a group of malcontents including the aforementioned Cath, my professor Chris, my (now ex) neighbor from downstairs and [also ex] colleague, Antonio, Maria and I went for a ripping hot vindaloo at Ray's place at the end of the street. I only have half a tongue left, buth ith wath worth ith.

Toward the end of June we decamped to Frankfurt for the nuptials of our friends Gitte and Stefan. The polterabend very nearly killed us. I never want to see another shot of jagermeister again. After a touching ceremony (of which I didn't understand a word) we enjoyed a wonderful evening of revelry including speeches which were usefully translated from German by Gitte's mother, Kirsten. Unfortunately they were translated into Danish, so I have no idea what was said in the speeches either. A great time was had by all.


July saw the social event of the season with Maria's 400 and 20 12th birthday, celebrated with a murder mystery party held under a marquee in our back yard. Shaun and Annabel came down, and the theme of the evening, 'Death by Chocolate' was very popular amongst the members of the fairer sex.

July also saw us meandering across the country to Manchester one fine Friday evening to see the singing budgie strutting her stuff on stage. Yes, we went to a Kylie concert, and she didn't disappoint. What did surprise me was how many members of the crowd weren't gay men. Course this was Manchester I guess...

Toward the end of July we were joined by another intrepid traveller in the form of Cam, fresh from the States and just primed for some action, Hull style.

In August we drove up to Edinburgh for Shaun's moving to Germany party, which ended up being an impromptu engagement party. Shaun had proposed to Annabel in an impossibly romantic way whilst in the Maldives, so there was much to celebrate, and a good crowd in the mood for celebrating.

The end of August also meant the end of Maria's period of employ at the North East Lincolnshire council.

September gave us the opportunity for some well earned rest, so Maria cycled from Whitby to Scarborough( though some diabolical weather), then caught the train to Thirsk, where I picked her up and we traveled to the Lakes district. We had organized to stay in some quite rustic accommodation in the Lakes, known as 'camping barns'. We discovered that the level of luxury offered in these barns started at walls and a roof. At the other end of the scale, a working kitchen and proper wood stove were included, which felt like heaven after a few days on the bike. We climbed some spectacular passes and experienced the countryside in a way which you just can't do in a car. And I never want to do it again. No sport that leaves you with such a smarting behind can be in any way healthy in my books.

After we got back from the Lakes, I dropped one itinerant off and collected another one, leaving Cam to find his way to the continent, and finding a Dave in need of a lift to the Beaulieu Auto jumble.

With Maria busy in the first week of her new job, I spent a happy week with Dave, showing him the delights of the Yorkshire Moors and Dales and indulging in not a few pints of Yorkshire's finest ales. Truly, Yorkshire is God's own country, and anyway who says otherwise is a soft southerner! Seen from the opulent luxury of a mini, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. We ended our visit from Dave with a day at the Goodwood Revival, ogling some lovely cars and WW2 planes and having a generally fine time under the unseasonably warm September sun. But before getting to Goodwood, we paused for a day in Oxford to catch up with a visiting professor and gentlemen, and Maria's former supervisor, John. Oxford struck me as an unsettling place, pretty in parts, but not satisfying in the way that Cambridge was. Can't quite put my finger on why...

After dropping Dave off with some friends in Sussex we returned to Hull and the relative routine that should see us through to Christmas. The end of September occasioned the first birthday party of Sarah (aka Munch), the offspring of our friends Elaine and Andrew so we dutifully presented ourselves in Driffield and endured a splendid lunch of finger foods and lager.

October has also been a busy month so far. I have just started my PhD (only 5 years to go!). The weather turned quite cold and then got a bit warmer again, but its definitely getting darker. We're getting up in the dark at the moment at 6:30 and with daylight saving ending in a few weeks, we will start finishing work in the dark too.

The Hull fair has opened, and I believe that we are going along next week with Cath to sample its many and varied delights. Next weekend sees us venturing once more to Scotland for a break with Shaun and Annabel, and we are very much looking forward to that (though I can hear my liver weeping pitifully as I type).

So that's it from me. As much as I can squeeze 6 months (just about) into a few short paragraphs, that is your lot. But with a PhD thesis to write, I'm sure you shall be hearing from me more often, as nothing breeds procrastination like a hundred thousand words of self indulgent drivel!

That's the end of this somewhat disappointing bottle of South African shiraz, so till next time, take care, and complaints about my grammar can be kept to yourself.

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Fun in Farndale - 26th April 2008

The daffodils are out, and the best place in the UK to see them is Farndale in the North Yorkshire Moors. So off we went for a bit of horticultural ogling.

Each year thousands of people from all over the UK trek to the tiny little village of Low Mill for a glimpse of natural splendor which lasts no more than six weeks. The roads you drive down to approach Farndale are of the single lane, rock walls and hedges on either side variety, making the journey quite slow, but very picturesque. The other main impediment to rapid travel is the great profusion of pheasants currently out and about in the moors. We chased one down the road beeping our horn, as he simply wouldn't leave the bitumen! One of the park rangers told us that, as they are deliberately bred and released for the season, not all of them end up working out how the fly. The male ones are actually quite pretty and colourful, whilst the females are a dull brown.

The daffodils themselves didn't disappoint. Despite being the end of the season, with evidence of a certain amount of wilting, we got an unusually warm (20C) and sunny day which more than made up for it.

Of course, spring doesn't just mean flowers. The lambs were out frolicking and doing their best to look preposterously cute. I took the opportunity to shoot a few of them.

With my camera of course!

We took the 'scenic route' home, passing through many tiny farming villages. This is real James Herriot country and without a doubt the best part of England we have visited. We are looking forward to spending much more of our time in this area, which is not much more than an hour's drive from Hull.

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Mini Maladies - 22nd April 2008

Those who have ever owned a BMC orphaned car, know that they can make life a little interesting sometimes. I had such a typical experience this afternoon...

I decided to take a trip up to Malton this afternoon to pick up the cricket team's new kit (the old kit having been destroyed in the floods last summer). Malton is about a 30 mile drive north of Hull. The road to Malton is one of those North Yorkshire 'B' roads - the sort that Jeremy Clarkson tends to use when he needs to test drive the latest Aston Martin. So to be perfectly honest, my right boot was stuck firmly to the floor all the way there and half of the way back.

About half way back I noticed that the mini was cutting out at high revs and full throttle. I thought to myself, 'well it is probably time I had a look at the plugs and replaced the leads.' The problem got worse however, until I had no power at all and had to pull over to the side of the road. I had a good fiddle with the various leads and connectors under the bonnet, and when I tried again, the car started and was revving normally. 'Job's a gooden, time to offsky then' I thought.

Then I realized that the carpet was on fire. Apparently the floor had become rather warm. So I whipped the seats and various bits of carpet out of the car, stomped on the smoking bits, and waited for the car to cool down before continuing my journey. I must admit that this wasn't a problem I was ever likely to encounter in the mini at home, as it never had carpet in it in the five years I drove it. I can only deduce one of two things; either european safety regulations state that a car must detect if a driver is enjoying a casual interpretation of speed limits and must proceed to set itself on fire in order to protect the driver, or the numpty that restored the car last forgot about the heat shield. Still, all in a days work for a mini driver!

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Cardiff - 12th & 13th April 2008

We heard from Shaun that he and Annabel would be in Cardiff for the weekend, so we thought we would go down and see them and Tad who is currently studying in Cardiff.

So in the wee hours of Saturday morning (about 8:30am) we headed off on the series of motorways linking Hull and Cardiff, a journey of about 250 miles. We stopped about half way, at a set of motorway services on the M42 just south of Birmingham, and noticed an awful lot cars were parked in the car park. A lot of British cars in fact. It turns out that it was exactly 1 year to the day that the Longbridge factory shut down, and so a ‘Pride of Longbridge’ day was being held. A whole platoon of Rovers, Austins, MGs and other BMC orphans had gathered in the car park and were then driving to Longbridge in commemoration of the history of the plant and the cars built there. If only we had taken our mini, we may never have made it to Cardiff.



We booked a night in the same hotel in which Shaun and Annabel were staying, so we met up with them at the hotel and went to the new developments around Cardiff Bay for some lunch. Cardiff Bay houses the Millennium Centre, a performing arts centre with quite striking architecture.

After lunch we headed into town to meet up with Tad. Cardiff is quite compact and with a population of around 300,000, not much bigger than Hull. The five of us had a lovely stroll around the Millenium Stadium, the Castle and Bute Park before retiring to the hotel to freshen up and make arrangements for dinner.

It was obviously a busy night in Cardiff as no restaurants could fit a reservation for five in until nine o’clock, so we ended up meeting up in the bar at the hotel, which was quite nice, for a pub meal and a few drinks. It turns out that we must have been quite thirsty, as we eventually poured Tad into a cab at 3am before the long journey back to our beds. Thank goodness the hotel had an elevator! That one flight of stairs was probably insurmountable.

After a quick kip and a nice greasy breakfast we were back on the road.

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Steamy Pickering - 6th April 2008

Due to our being inundated with a request to continue blogging our activities over here in England, Maria and Fletch Abroad is back and the same as ever! As a result we have decided to organise interesting weekend activities to provide fodder for the blog. It’s a real trial I can assure you, but we do it for our adoring public.

For our first weekend after returning from our Easter holidays, we decided to check out the Spring Steam Festival. There is a railway line operated by a bunch of enthusiasts called the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. This particular weekend they had some visiting steam engines running on the line as well as their own stock. We grabbed Antonio, a colleague of Fletch’s who happens to live in the flat below us, filled up a thermos and drove from Hull up to Pickering, a journey of just over an hour.

Pickering station was extremely crowded and we had some difficulty getting a seat on the 2 pm train, as much of the train was given over to dining carriages for Sunday lunch. Drawn by Bittern, a Gresley A4 class locomotive which once pulled the King’s Cross to Newcastle leg of The Flying Scotsman, the train’s 18 mile journey to Grosmont was extraordinarily picturesque despite the weather which by this time had turned decidedly soggy.

Grosmont houses the maintenance sheds for many of the NYMR’s locomotives and we spent an hour or so having a goosy gander at the various steam engines before jumping on a train pulled by a similar locomotive called Union of South Africa. By now the weather had turned decidedly wintery, and the journey back to Pickering felt quite like Christmas.

The roads driving back to Hull were quite treacherous and we decided to do something that involved less driving the next weekend.

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The rain in Spain fell mainly on... Hull

Hi all. Southern Yorkshire has been hit by some severe weather over the past couple of days. This is what 3.8" of rain in 24 hours does to Hull:

The street at the end of our avenue -

Our avenue -


The water only came up to our doorstep - being on the third floor has some advantages after all!

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Months of madness!!

Yes I know! It has been months. But we were busy ok? We had socks to sort and napkins to fold… Oh yeah, and countries to visit, antipodeans visitors to entertain, new parts of the UK to explore, and a tragic mishap.

Now you are going to read on, aren’t you?

Just before Easter we visited Bologna, an Italian town housing a certain Jacqui, with whom we drank, ate, caroused and acted in a generally Italian way. The highlight of our visit was the University of Bologna, one of the oldest in the world, with a unique space for lectures in anatomy. A close second was an osteria, where we ate traditional Bolognese food with typically Bolognese indifference from the wait staff. If was fab. After three days of Jacqui we headed north to spend two days with our friends the Girolas in Milan. We had a wonderful time catching up with Stefano and Lianne and little Lewis, who has the cheekiest Italian grin of anyone not appearing in a Dolmio advertisement!

We had a quiet Easter, and the following weekend caught up with our friend John Moorhead in Cambridge. A more apt setting for such a meeting could not have been imagined. Cambridge in the spring is a sight to behold, and the Kings College Chapel is a real highlight of any English experience. Seeing John again was marvellous, and we were sad to part but are sure we’ll see him again before long.


The first long weekend in May saw us flog the mini to Newcastle for a visit to Tad’s Aunt Urzula, a very generous hostess. She took us to visit cultural Newcastle including the Biscuit Factory (modern art) and the Millennium Bridge and surrounds. The next day we travelled north to visit the Scottish border and enjoyed the worlds finest (non-pumpkin) scone. We also walked in the footsteps of Saint Aidan on Holy Island (also known as Lindisfarne) which is just of the Northumbrian coast. It is an island cut off from the mainland twice daily by the tide. It was the site of the first Christian monastery in England and as with all male Christian communities, brewed some fabulous alcoholic beverages. Our trip north was completed with a visit to Seahouses, a traditional English seaside town serving fish and chips with mushy peas. We bought some ‘rock’, a hard candy specific to English seaside towns. We have yet to bring ourselves to sample it.


The next two weeks passed with regular tedium, until the week of the Chelsea Flower Show. This extravaganza is so popular as to entice itinerant New Zealanders to visit. Maria joined Nana in London to peruse the horticultural delights that the south has to offer. On Friday Maria took Nana to the Lanesborough Hotel for high tea to celebrate Nana’s eightieth birthday. Nana decided to hock into the champagne instead.


It was a wonderful experience in opulent surroundings. Neither they, nor their waste-lines, will forget the afternoon of indulgence. That night Fletch joined the revellers in Covent Garden. On Saturday morning we bid Nana a sad farewell as she headed off to Jersey. We took the opportunity to visit the Tower of London, the Monument and the foyer of St Paul’s Cathedral. The interior was so packed as to make casual viewing most unpleasant. So we continued on to afternoon tea in Kensington, followed by an enjoyable dinner at the Big Easy in Chelsea with Dominic and Samantha. Fletch has finally found a decent steak in England. His world is a much nicer place. The next day we tried to visit the Natural History Museum, but having been repelled by wholesome family groups, settled on the Victoria and Albert Museum instead. We whiled away some time drinking coffee and reading magazines before our evening train from Kings Cross, which we discovered upon arrival had been cancelled, as had all of the north bound trains from London that day. So we walked to an alternative train station, caught a train, a coach, another train and another train, and a taxi, which finally got us home and to bed. Thankfully Monday was a holiday, allowing us to recover from our arduous journey (I can hear the tiny violins all the way from here).

The past ten days have been most eventful for us. Almost all of Fletch’s studio equipment was delivered, we celebrated Fletch’s birthday with a surprise BBQ attended by the better part of Fletch’s departmental colleagues. Maria out did herself once again and a great time was had by all. The next morning saw a farcical chase as a horribly hung-over Fletch attempted to coax, coerce, cajole and finally force Domino into his cage. He knew what this whole cage thing was about after his last visit to the vet a couple of weeks previously, and he was having none of it. After a projected battle in which Domino killed Fletch’s page boys, Fletch asked his troops ‘once more unto the breech’ and finally Domino was dispatched under Maria’s care to the vets where upon five of his teeth were removed. That ought to teach him. Fletch then called in sick to the departmental secretary Pam, who informed him that none of his colleagues had appeared for work either. Thursday was the exam board in Music, which made Thursday night the Examiners’ Dinner. Fletch was preparing to leave work when tragedy struck!!!!

Maria was stopping innocently at a level crossing. The car behind her attempted to squeeze itself into the mini’s not overly generous boot. It didn’t fit. Neither did the Jeep behind the car. Fortunately Maria was able to get the mini off of the train tracks before being mercilessly crushed by the Cottingham Express. However we wait with terrible anticipation as to the fate of the mini. And so we burn a candle in vigil this long June night (which lasts about six hours this far north of the equator). Maria is suffering in noble silence from a bout of whip-lash, and whilst having been told to suffer bed-rest, is being most recalcitrant. Fletch feels that firm remonstration is required for her own good (although the chances his castigation will render any resultant acquiescence are as slim as the chance that he gives up complete verbosity in favour of concision). The consequence of this bed-rest was that we missed the Trooping of the Colour. There shall be other occasions however.

We hope that wasn’t too long winded, and we promise to write more often in future. But we could be lying.

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Spring Update - 25 March 2007

Warning – Maria believes this entry to be too self-indulgent.

I realised a few days ago that my life is now almost complete; but a few weeks separate me from ultimate fulfilment. Perhaps I ought to explain:


Some would consider me a complex person. Once upon a time I aspired to such pretence myself. This week I realised that my ambitions are far more easily realised. I considered that fabulous wealth would be quite a handy asset. And yet I have done nothing to promote such an ambition thus far. The fact that I work in higher education, and Maria works in the civil service, means that this ambition won’t be satisfied any time soon. Perhaps my ambitions lay in universal acclaim, my professional and artistic skills at the pinnacle of popular endeavour. Unfortunately my own tastes are quite eclectic these days, and my opinions of the popular music industry such that I can’t really take it seriously, let alone aspire to it. So what would it take to satisfy the itch of dissatisfaction? You met one of the elements in my last update to our blog. Domino is doing well. He has started venturing forth from his tartan bungalow. He devours his biscuits bei nacht, and his new scratching post shows signs of wear, as does his wind up mouse. He really is a gentle soul, and I can’t wait for his intense fear of homo sapiens sapiens to fade.

My new studio is but weeks from completion. The false ceiling has been installed and the acoustic panels are on the walls. Only the internal fittings are yet to be installed and then I can call in the supplier to start delivering the equipment. The console will take about six weeks to build (it is bespoke, don’tchya know), so I’m till going to be a while, but I’m doing a commercial jazz recording over Easter at the Scarborough studios, so at least I can keep my ear in.

The final part of my holy trinity of smug contentedness (sorry mum) is the recent acquisition of a piece of motoring history. Many of you will know that I lust after the wonder that is the two door British sports car. And here she is:

At a monstrous 55 brake-horse power, she scares all but the mightiest of men! (I have already sourced an extractor/exhaust/carburettor needle kit to bring it up to Cooper spec, but you don’t need to tell Maria that just yet).
And so, with a cat, a mini and a recording studio, my life is complete. Anyone that knew me five years ago (when I had Doopee, drove a ‘golden brick’ and ran a studio at as my personal fiefdom) could probably have told you that, but sometimes we need to learn these things for ourselves.

In other, less self-indulgent news, we visited a restaurant with a difference not long ago. It is situated within a tourist attraction and research centre called ‘The Deep’. Billed as the world’s only submariam, it allows a dining experience nestled between tanks of a wide variety of fish, including sharks. I had ‘an halibut’. That one. No not really – you don’t get to pick your dinner. Shame really. But a fabulous night, to help us celebrate (it being valentines and all).

The last little while has included a couple of visits from Shaun. We thoroughly enjoy visits (hint, hint), and we hope he enjoyed it as much as we did.

Last night we enjoyed one of the perks of working in a music department; free tickets to the Hull Choral Union’s performance of Handel’s ‘ Israel in Egypt’, performed in the splendour of Hull’s Victorian City Hall. It was a fabulous night out, and my colleague, Colin, was virtuosic on the pipe organ.

We are looking forward to flying to Italy on Thursday, both to see my cousin Jacqui and our friends Stefano and Leanne and their baby Lewis, and to have a break from the hectic pace of our work commitments.

We’ll provide an update when we return, but for now, that’s your blooming lot for the week (Cundall, P., 2000).

Fletch’s Tip for New Employees

If your entire blog has been self-indulgent, you don’t need to write tips at the end of it.

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March Madness - 4th March 2007

March already? What happened to February? Well, we had better get you up to speed.

During January Shaun returned to Hull from his British odyssey. We enjoyed some of the local Thai cuisine together before seeing him off to the airport in the wee small hours of the morning.

Australia day was celebrated in Hull with overwhelming indifference. We celebrated by wearing our wallabies shirts to work and then heading to the ‘Old Grey Mare’ with our friend Cath for a couple of pints. They did have kangaroo steaks on the menu, which was a nice touch.

February heralded a shopping spree that netted us a house of furniture. We received our first dual paycheque since arriving in Hull and boy did we go to town. Grimsby town to be precise, with a transit van and a hankering for furniture. We came back with a sofa and armchair, a coffee table and hifi cabinet, a hifi for the said cabinet, and a spare bed which a workmate of Maria’s was giving away. So now if you come to stay with us, you can admire the spare bed. You can’t sleep in it since we don’t have a mattress and thus haven’t bothered to put it together, but you can admire it.

I managed to catch my first dose of the dreaded lurgy in February and actually took the unprecedented step of taking a few days off work. My flu matured nicely into a sinus infection which I still haven’t completely shrugged off three weeks later, although I’m back at work and am almost back to 100%. I really wanted to get back to work as I don’t want the University to get the idea that they can function without me! Talking of work, my studio completion date has been pushed back until mid April due to a stuff up with the ventilation system. I can’t wait to finally have my studio.

Maria has settled nicely into her new job, so much so that they have made her a project manager for some rather major government initiatives in the region. Our plans for world domination progress…

Toward the end of February a new member of the family came to live with us (in the corner of the kitchen to be precise). His name is currently Domino, though if he decides he prefers an alternative cognomen I’m sure he’ll let us know. He is a five year old domestic shorthair, almost identical in colouring to Ratty or Pushkina (for those whom knew either of them). We invited him to stay with us after he had been staying at a hotel for cats named ‘Caring for Cats’ in a town called Market Weighton not far from Hull. He is very nervous and currently lives in a little padded igloo that Cath originally bought for her cat Victor (which Victor completely ignored of course). He comes out and sits on the window sill at night and we can hear him eating his biscuits and using the litter tray, though he doesn’t come out of his igloo when we are in the kitchen. Given time I’m sure he will become more sociable. He has only been with us for a week, and he is less nervy now than when he first arrived.

We also had a visit from a thing called a ‘Tad’. He came down from Newcastle for the night and we had a good time confiscating all of the Australian wine from the shelves of the local off license. Tad stayed over at Cath’s house, and the two of them came over for a healthy breakfast (of sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, beans and toast). Both of them were looking decidedly green around the gills, but a hearty dose of cholesterol and about three plungers of coffee soon put them right.

And so we venture forth. By the end of the month we will be back on daylight saving time. The weekend before Easter we are planning on visiting my cousin Jacqui in Bologna and our friends Stefano and Leanne in Milan, and we are really looking forward to that. We hope you are all enjoying life, and we shall try write more regularly in future.

Fletch's tips for new employees
Never admit to having the flu to women. For some reason they seem to think its funny. If you have to ring in sick, tell them that your ears have shrunk to embarrassingly small proportions or that you have had a nasty accident involving the cat, the washing machine and your eyebrows. This will confuse them.

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Happy New Year! - 01 January 2007

Welcome to the new year. We hope that everyone celebrated in style and that 2007 brings everything you wish your way. We are glad to greet the new year, although we did it quietly. We did the countdown listening to the 'Last Night of the Proms' and greeted 01/01/07 with a glass of red and singing Auld Lang Syne. Just after midnight, the street lit up with fireworks and our neighbour across the street conveniently aimed their fireworks so that they went off immediately outside our window...we had a tremendous view!

The last days of 2006 passed quickly, encompassing Christmas and a visit from my brother, Shaun. On the 19th, freezing fog decended across Britain and here in Hull it meant that we couldn't see the houses across the street from the 19th to the 27th. The fog meant we had a white christmas, just not the traditional type.

We had a lovely Christmas. It was the first Christmas with just the two of us and we made lots of effort to make it a special day. We decided to go to midnight mass but had to find a church to attend. There is a Catholic church about 5 minutes walk from us, so Fletch rang to find out mass times:

Fletch: "Is there midnight mass tonight at St. Vincent's?"
Priest: "Yes, there is. We do midnight mass at 8pm".
Fletch: "8pm midnight mass...that's innovative".
Priest: "Not really, we've been doing it that way for 10 years".

Apparently it stops people coming into church after spending hours in the pub. This way, they can get their absolution first.

Eventually we found a church in a town 15 miles away that was doing an almost midnight mass. After mass, we indulged in some mulled wine and yule log and opened a present each. We then headed to bed, intending to get up early and make some Christmas phone calls. However, we slept in until after 10am, so we had to dispense with most of the phone calls and started on the feast we had prepared. We had a lovely breakfast of croissants and opened our presents. At 3pm, in keeping with British traditions, we listened to the Queen's Christmas Message and then tucked into our delicious roast lamb dinner. Fletch fell asleep after dinner, leaving me to drink another bottle of wine and prepare the brandy custard. We then attempted to make the Christmas phone calls, but this time too much wine and strong brandy custard proved an impediment to being able to use the phonecard correctly. So we gave up and went to sleep. Thus ended our first Christmas in Hull.

Boxing Day dawned slightly less foggy, so we decided to go for a walk. We were undecided where to walk so drove around for a while looking for somewhere suitable. We ended up at the Humber Bridge, which is a major tourist attraction in this region. It is one of the longest single-span suspension bridges in the world; so long that the towers at each end are noticeably further apart at the top due to the curveture of the earth. We strolled up to the bridge to have a look and then thought we'd walk across. We had a lovely stroll, although once you walk across you've got to walk back, so it was a round trip of about 5km.

On the 27th we got up very early and drove to the Tees Valley, near Durham, to pick up Shaun. He has been on active service in Iraq for the past four months and has two weeks leave in the UK. His plane was due to arrive at 10am, so we left at 7.30am to make sure we got there in time. Of course, this ensured that his plane was several hours late, but it was lovely to see him when the plane finally arrived.

The drive back to Hull took longer as there was much more traffic on the roads, but the fog lifted and we were able to see the magnificent Yorkshire Dales, which is where James Herriot lived and set 'All Creatures Great and Small' and his other books. We spent the afternoon taking Shaun around Hull and then enjoying a nice evening out with him.

The next day we had to visit the doctor. England has the rather unusual medical system whereby it is necessary to register with a doctor in the town where you live before you can get treatment. This entails making an appointment and then having a checkup with the nurse, who will decide if they'll take you on as a patient. This process takes several weeks and after this you are then able to make an appointment to see the doctor if necessary. Doctors work between 9am and 5.30pm and you generally need to book at least several days in advance. God knows what happens if you're sick outside 9-5. Apparently the doctor we have joined used to run one late-evening clinic and a Saturday morning clinic as well, but the NHS (National Health Service) closed it down for being too popular. That's the English for you.

Shaun stayed until Friday and then headed north to celebrate the New Year in Scotland. He's going to visit some other friends as well and then come back to Hull the day before he goes back to Iraq, so we'll see him once more before he leaves.

That's about all we've been up to. I start my new job tomorrow, which is quite exciting. My job is in Grimsby, Northeast Lincolnshire, so I have to cross the bridge and travel about another 40km. I'm going to take the bus for the moment, which means leaving at 7am and getting home about 12 hours later. I do get flexi-time in my job, so once I'm settled I will hopefully be able to figure out some more reasonable travel times.

So best of luck for 2007, and thanks for all the wonderful Christmas cards.

Fletch's Analysis of 2006 and Forecast for 2007
(Don't worry - tips will be back next time)

I thought that for the last post of '06 / first post of '07 I'd give a quick summation of our lives in numbers, complete with forecast for 2007.

2006
Places of residence (>1 month) = 5
Employers (each) = 4
Countries visited = 8
Christmas cards received = 38
Number of alerts from DFAT to
get out of the country we're in = 1
Number of theses submitted = 1

2007 (forecast*)
Places of residence (>1 month) = 2
Employers (each) = 1
Countries visited = 4
Christmas cards sent = >38
DFAT warnings = 0
Number of theses requiring
submission = 0

Here's hoping anyway!

*Note well, the scientific methodology that forms the basis for these forecasts is a combination of 2 well known statistical methods: 1) Blind hope, and 2) Pulling a number out of the air without any consultation (which is likely to get me into trouble).

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Christmas preparations - 17th December 2006

Christmas is almost upon us, so we thought we'd give our avid reader (Gladys, the one that listens to Philip Adams) an update on our preparations for Christmas. Its a quick update however, as we're only getting 7 hours of daylight at the moment, so we have to do everything more quickly in order to accommodate 14 hours of sleep into every 24.


Seriously though, the sun doesn't come up now until 8.20 and doesn't stay up past 15.40! It isn't terribly cold, but its forecast to get colder through the week, so I guess that there is half a chance of a white Christmas. We have our fingers crossed anyway.

Yesterday we went into town and did our Christmas shopping for each other. This was quite instructive such that we now have a far better understanding of which shops have what sort of merchandise. My favourite shop was House of Fraser. It is a bit like a David Jones, but all the staff were dressed up as elves and Santa and reindeer etc. They still had that superior accent of a top department store however, so the result was both incongruent and amusing. House of Fraser also got my tick as they stock some nice wines, including the De Bortoli Noble One (a half bottle of which is now in our fridge. Note to self: remove botrytis semillon from fridge and allow to chill on the bench before consuming).

I have ordered a half leg of lamb from the 'high class' butcher at the end of the street. I asked the butcher if he had any tips on cooking the lamb. He said to get the oven hot and then put the lamb in for a couple of hours. I'm glad I asked as I would never have thought of doing that...

We created a Christmas 'shrine' in our lounge room to give the flat a little Christmas flavour. Lots of Christmas cards have shown up, and we have a nice little booty of presents to open on Christmas day. Maria has come up with some decorations for the table for Christmas dinner, and we'll post some photos after the Noble One wears off (around new years probably).

If we don't get to talk to you on or before Christmas day, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Now pass the brandy custard...

Fletch's Tips for New Employees
Resourcing is an awfully complicated business in a big organisation like a university. I have discovered a few 'rules of engagement' when making bids:

1) If you ask for what you need, you probably won't get it.
2) If you do get it, it will take at least 6 months.
3) 'Blue Sky' thinking is better than 'Down to Earth'. If you need a new chair, bid for a new 'Centre of Excellence' comprising offices, smart lecture theatres, performance spaces, cafes, and a 1000 seat theatre. You may then get yourself: a chair.
4) Everything in the world that you may wish to buy COULD have a research outcome. Just think laterally.

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Old Friends and New Beginnings - 28th November 2006

Wow, the past two months have flown by! I can't believe that so much time has passed since our last blog update. The truth is, we've been busy. In fact, we've been to Australia and back and have been busily seeking employment and free lunches since our return to Hull.

As our last post indicated, Fletch took up a position with the university. They sponsored him for a two-year work visa and, British bureaucracy being what it is, we had to re-enter Australia for the visa to be issued.

Shortly before our trip home, however, we spent a day with some friends who were holidaying in the UK. They were in Scotland and we drove to meet them at Durham, which is roughly halfway between Edinburgh and Hull. We ended up spending the afternoon at a lovely restaurant called the Knitsley Mill, about 30 miles from Durham itself. We had a wonderful lunch and it was so lovely to spend a relaxing afternoon with great company.

We went to Australia at the beginning of October and spent three very busy weeks catching up with friends and family. We could have used another three weeks, time flew by so quickly. It was wonderful to see everyone, especially as it is likely to be some time before we return. However, it means that you all can come and visit us...the offer is open for anyone who is going to be in our part of the world.

We came back to the UK on the last day of October. The trip back was one of the most pleasant flights I have ever experienced. Between Singapore and London the plane was almost empty, meaning that Fletch and I were able to take up a whole row each (5 seats each) to lie down and rest. That is a good way to spend 13 hours in a plane!

Our arrival back in the UK coincided with a burst of cold weather. There were warnings at the airport and on the radio that November 1st was going to be "COLD" and, sure enough, the temperature dropped 10 degrees overnight. It has stayed cool, with temperatures varying between 2 and 12, but mainly around the 8 mark. The autumn colours came and the trees have almost finished shedding their leaves, which of course turns the streets a vibrant yellow slush. It hasn't been raining very much, so it has been clear and brisk, which is weather that I love.

The colder weather has meant that we have had to familiarise ourselves with the vagrancies of central heating. Being Queenslanders means that we really are pretty clueless about the heating! We thought we'd just flick a switch and the house would be toasty and warm. Unfortunately, we were wrong. We had to learn how to 'bleed' the system and a moderately faulty boiler means that we have to keep a vigilant eye on the pressure. Heating is very expensive as well, so we have to balance a warm house with high energy bills. As we're in the loft apartment, we lose a fair bit of heat though the ceiling, but we're getting better at regulating the temperature. I'm sure that we'll soon have it properly sussed (just in time for winter proper).

Fletch returned to work the day after we arrived back and has been busy settling into his role. I turned my gaze to the job ads and my dedication to the task has just paid off. Yesterday, I was offered a job as a Research and Policy Analyst with the local government. It is conditional on a few things (security and medical checks), but I'm hoping to start in the near future. It does mean some early mornings until we get a car - the job is on the other side of the river and the only bus leaves from the city centre at 7.30am, so I'll have to be up well before the sun (it currently gets light at nearly 8am and dark at about 4pm).

We don't have a great deal on our agenda for the next while. We're planning a quiet Christmas, just the two of us, which will be a considerable change from the rambuncous family gatherings we are used to. My younger brother will probably be coming to visit us in the New Year, which will be fun. Hopefully, he will be the first of many visitors! The only other event we have pencilled in for the moment is a big night out to celebrate the award of my Master of Philosophy. I found out that the degree had been awarded just after we arrived back in the UK, but the certificate takes a bit longer to be produced. Once it arrives here, it's party time!

Fletch’s tips for new employees

Its been a while since I have subjected you all to my weekly advice column, delving out extreme idealism, cultural sensitivity and towering humility. And since we are moving to a new format for Maria and Fletch Abroad, I thought I’d make a change to my advice column. I must admit I feel much more industrious having swapped my 41 hours a week at work ‘holiday’ for my 36.5 hour a week ‘working’ life. So for the next little while at least I’m going to present some insights into being an employee for a big, publicly funded institution. As I have always worked as a contractor before, some of the perks and absurdities are new to me. And so to this weeks advice;

Learn the subtle and mysterious art of the free lunch.

Many of you would argue that there is no such thing as a free lunch. I was tempted to lament the same having been knobbled (in the words of Jim, the Drama technician) into being the Departmental Safety Officer, the Fire Warden and the Display Screen Equipment Assessor, all in my pursuit of free lunches. Let me explain.

Universities have a staff development department. Staff development departments offer courses in time management to people who are too busy to attend, and so forth. They rely on ‘bums on seats’ in order to justify their existence, and so must offer incentives in order to get good attendances. Ergo, the ‘free lunch’.

Now people know that they can get a free lunch at these training sessions, so they sign up for courses, and to be fair, they do their best to seem interested. The development department has become cluey to this of course, so they often put their feelers out, asking for expressions of interest in potential courses. This is really code for ‘put up your hand if you want to come to a course without a free lunch’ as you have to commit to it before knowing the details.

Finally, the lunch often turns out not to be free; not that they charge you money, but having been trained in something they expect you to do something about it (thus my being knobbled early in the piece). However if you follow some basic rules, you can get a properly free lunch.

Rule number 1: Don’t ever put you name on a list for a course which hasn’t been scheduled and advertised with an inclusive meal. If people seem interested in improving themselves willy-nilly then western civilisation will surely crumble.

Rule number 2: Only ever attend events which are totally irrelevant to you or which you would not be reasonably expected to attend. For example, there is an open meeting on Virtual Learning Environments coming up in a couple of days which I am very keen to attend. There is no reason for me to be there, and little chance anyone would recognise me, so I am unlikely to get knobbled into doing anything. There is a free lunch however, and since the meeting is being attended by the VC, all the DVCs and a few Deans, it ought to be a very good one.

Rule number 3: If all else fails, remember that there is sufficient nutrition to keep you going until tea time in Assorted Cream Biscuits, just so long as you eat enough of them. And no meeting or training ever happens without Assorted Creams.

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Settling in (for a whole couple of weeks) – 24th September 2006

What a month it has been since our last Blog update! As you know, I had job interviews with Morley College in London, RSAMD in Glasgow and at the University of Hull in Kingston upon Hull. As it turns out, it is the University of Hull that desperately needed my towering expertise (and staggering humility) and thus did I begin my new life as a full time employee on September 11. I should give a quick narrative of the events to give you an idea of how Hull was evidently ‘meant to be’.

I had my interview for the Hull job on the 30th of August, having had interviews in London and Glasgow the previous week. I travelled up to Hull on the Tuesday night before the interview, and had a good rest at the hotel organised by the University. I arrived at the university at 10 o’clock on Wednesday, confident and alert. I gave a presentation, complete with slideshow, at 10:20 on ‘The role of music-technology and popular music in the University of Hull and in Hull’s urban regeneration’. My lexicon of higher education buzz words came in particularly helpful for this. The presentation was attended by the Director of Studies for Music, the Head of the Drama and Music department and a couple of lecturers from within the department. The presentation and question and answer session seemed to go down a treat.

After a presentation by my competitor for the post, Peter, the lecturer who has set up the new Jazz and Popular Music course, gave us a tour of their facilities. Since the new studios aren’t likely to be finished until Christmas, this meant looking at a corridor and an empty room, although there is already a composition suite and a couple of labs of computers ready for teaching. A buffet lunch was provided in the Recital Room, and I took the opportunity to get to know the backgrounds and interests of the lecturers present.

My interview was at 2:30pm, and was a panel of 6, including the aforementioned Director of Studies - Music, the Lecturer in Jazz and Popular Music, the Lecturer in charge of the department’s ‘Reach Out’ activities, the Head of the Drama and Music Department, the Director of Commercialisation at the University, and the Dean of Arts. They formed a formidable collection of men in suits. The session lasted about half an hour, after which I returned to the hotel to collect my luggage, and got on a train back to London.

At this point I hadn’t yet heard back from RSAMD about the job in Glasgow. I was a bit worried because Hull seemed to want to move fairly quickly once they had made their selection. This feeling was confirmed when they rang me, before I had managed to get on the train back to London, to ask whether I wanted the job. Not knowing what RSAMD were going to do, I asked to be given the night to ‘discuss the move with my wife’ before giving them an answer the following day. I then rang the head of HR at RSAMD from the train back to London, and she returned my call to say that they had selected someone else for the position, but that I had given a fine presentation and thankyou very much. So, Hull it is!

The next day, and back at work, I rang to confirm with Hull that I would be happy to accept the job and that yes, I could start on the 11th of September. After a busy morning talking to their HR department, Work Permits UK and the Immigration office, we managed to ascertain that I could start my job on the working holiday visa, and go home to get a new visa once my work permit had come through. This was by no means an easy exercise, as the advice given to employers here is somewhat different from the advice given to potential employees, and not nearly as vague.

While I was wrangling with the home office, and pretending to be selling PA systems, Maria was telling everyone at her work about my new job. As it happened, one of Maria’s Cow-orkers was originally from Hull and has a sister that lives in Hull. His sister’s plasterer happened to have a flat for rent across the road from his sister, but which we would have to decide on that weekend since he already had an application in on it. Since I had to work on Saturday, Maria jumped on a train up to Hull, took a look at the unit and took some photos for me, gave the landlord a security deposit, and said we’d move in on the 7th.

We had already booked some holiday time around this time, as we had originally intended on going up to Scotland for a break. We were therefore able to use this time to move up some bare essentials, and make a trip to Ikea to get a bed and a wardrobe since the flat is basically unfurnished. So by the 11th I was basically settled in and Maria returned to London on the 13th to do the last month of her contract.

Maria has been the incredible mover of things the past couple of weeks. This weekend she managed to get her bike, my keyboard (which is the width of a piano) including stand, and our rugs, from London to Hull on the train. We had originally planned to share the weekend travel, me coming down to London as much as her coming up to Hull, but for various reasons it has worked out that she has done all the travelling, and an incredible job she has done.

To add to the potential ‘rightness’ of this move, Maria has secured an interview for a job within the local museum sector on Thursday, and is currently out doing her research on the local museums and their collections. I have joked that the job, which pays slightly more than mine, would help soothe the irritation she has of needing a ‘Dependency Visa’ to accompany my work permit. Kind of joked, anyway.

So you can see that everything seems to be falling into place here, and Hull is one of the loveliest places I have ever been, with warm, friendly local people and plenty of nearby cafes and lots of performing arts and galleries and museums and suchlike. Once Maria finishes work in London, things will settle down into a lovely, productive routine here in Hull, and we are really looking forward to making our home here for at least the next 2 years. One thing will delay that slightly however. By the grace of God and the unknown and unknowable foibles of the great British bureaucracy, in order to work in my new job under my work permit, we must first return home to get a visa to come back again.

Maria and I are coming home for a 3 week visit from the 11th of October to the 30th. We are really looking forward to seeing everyone and sharing our tales of daring-do, and boring you all witless with endless photos, and catching up on all the local gossip and events since our departure so many months ago. So let us know your availability for catching up, as we have lots of people to squeeze into 3 short weeks!

Fletch’s tip for new travellers

When moving to a new town and not owning any furniture, immediately make friends with someone who is renovating their house. They will attempt to foist every bit of spare furniture they have on you (‘well, you know you just can’t do without a purpose built scrabble table these days…’) and may even offer to help carry it into your flat. Such friends may be difficult to find in the south of England, but here in the north, the only seeming requirement for lasting friendship is that you aren’t a chav.

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Culture and jobs....20th August 2006

Summer officially ended on Sunday the 31st of July, when the sun didn't rise and the temperature literally dropped from 35C to 20C overnight. Low lying cloud and cold winds from the Arctic have become the norm. The sun shows a propensity for humour, surprising us with its appearance at about 6pm but otherwise failing to break through the morose cloud cover through the rest of the day. We have hardened ourselves to the reality that our time in the sun is over for the year.

Sunday July 31st was also the day that we moved into our new house. We now live on the Isle of Dogs (which is surprisingly void of dogs), in the shadows of Canary Wharf. This district is also known as 'Docklands', no prizes for guessing what went on here in days gone by. Nowadays, Canary Wharf (which Fletch is convinced was originally called Cannery Wharf) is the financial centre of London. Over the past few years, there has been a significant building and redevelopment program and Canary Wharf is a mecca of towering glass and concrete architecture and carefully sculpted gardens. It is one of the few areas of London that can be described as clean and the streets are wide, parks are plentiful, cars are almost non-existent (although the five thousand car parking spaces under the buildings at Canary Wharf mean that cars do come here, I'm not sure how they get in and out of the parking stations without being seen). Of course, no-one who works at Canary Wharf actually lives here, which means that outside of business hours, we have access to one of the lovelier areas of London without the crush that seems ever-present in this city of eight million.

The highlight of living in this area, however, is the DLR (also known as the Docklands Light Railway). When we told our various colleagues that we had moved to Docklands, the initial response (from every single person) was “Wow, you'll get to ride the DLR every day”. This mystical mode of transport resembles a roller-coaster and travels some thirty feet above the ground. It also does not reach the 'sardines in a can' saturation of the tube, which means that you can travel in peak hour without emerging feeling as though you've just been in a scrum. The DLR vehicles drive themselves, which can be a bit disconcerting when you're travelling in the front seat, and are almost entirely glass. It is a far more pleasant way to travel than underground, although we do have to take a tube for the last part of our journey. I haven't started riding my bike from here as yet – the main roads from Canary Wharf to the West End resemble a highway and I'm yet to locate the cycling map for this area, so it's public transport for both of us at the moment.

July 31st was also the day that we decided we would make August our 'month of culture'. We are living in the musical capital of the world, so we are going to make the most of it. We found out that the Proms are on – we had heard of the Proms but didn't realise that it was 56 days straight of classical concerts (sometimes as many as three a day) – found out that tickets were as little as £6, worked our way through the concert listings and arranged tickets to see a number of concerts. Thus far, we have seen (for those of you who take an interest in such matters, I shall list them in full):

Motzart - Piano Concerto in C major
Ravel - Piano Concerto in G major
Musorgsky (Orch. Ravel) - Pictures at an Exhibition
S. Stucky - Second Concerto for Orchestra
– this is a new composition and only the second time it was played anywhere in the world. It is my Prom favourite so far, the performance was incredible.
Dohnanyi – Symphonic Minutes
Bartok – Piano Concerto No. 3
Stravinsky – Rite of Spring (Fletch's Prom favourite thus far)
- after this performance, the orchestra did an encore of something by Brahms and then one of the double-bass players and two violinists gave an impromptu performance of a Transylvanian folk dance...unexpected and very exciting.

Still to come, before the end of the month, are Beethoven's 9th and Sibelius' violin concerto (and a few more but the names escape me).

The Proms have been great fun. The atmosphere is incredible – they are staged at Royal Albert Hall, which is one of the most visually stunning performance spaces (although Fletch says that acoustically it isn't all that great – a domed roof...) I have ever seen. The interior is almost entirely red velvet and gives a very regal air to proceedings. There is a 'mosh pit' in front of the orchestra (these are actually the cheapest tickets (only £5), but you have to queue up on the day to buy them) that has been packed at every performance. Many of the people in the pit are Proms regulars and have a number of traditions – our favourite is the shouting of 'Heave – Ho' when a piano lid is lifted.

In addition to our classical extravaganza, we indulged in a little musical theatre to celebrate our second anniversary (yes, it really has been that long). We had dinner first and our culinary venue of (Fletch's) choice was a seafood restaurant called Loch Fyne. Loch Fyne sources all of their produce from Scotland, and the oysters and tuna steaks provided a near religious experience for Fletch. I had an halibut (said in the appropriate pythonesque way), and we even managed to find a lovely Marlborough sauv. blanc to wash it down.

Sufficiently supped, we ambled down to the Adelphi theatre for the evening's performance of Evita. It was lovely. We laughed, we cried, we got told off by the usher for trying to sneak down to better seats before the intermission. All in all it was a wonderful way to celebrate our anniversary. And Fletch says to say that I looked gorgeous in my new black dress.

Some words from Fletch

To cap off our month of culture, we are hoping that the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama (yes, Scots do refer to it by its acronym RSAMD) is going to fall all over themselves to make sure that I accept a job offer. Here's hoping anyway. I'm going up to Glasgow on Wednesday for a Thursday interview, and armed with the folio that Maria helpfully posted to them yesterday, I'm sure that they won't be able to resist my amicable charms. They'd better anyway, as Team Fletch has pulled out all the stops to try and make sure I don't come back to Brisbane any time soon! A huge thanks to Cathy for taking phone calls at absurd hours of the morning and shovelling through all of our stuff just to find a couple of CDs, to Joe for giving up so much time in the leadup to his wedding on my behalf [congrats guys, we hope you had a great day], to Greg for spending part of his holiday on Team Fletch, to mum for driving all over the countryside, and to Christopher for his hard-drive space, download quota and his time). With such a committed team, I can't help but get the job! Be that as it may, I don't want to hatch all of my counts before they chicken, so I also have an interview in London on Tuesday and in Hull (for two different jobs) on Tuesday week. I know that prayers are being said for me and I thank all those with their fingers firmly crossed on my behalf. I can think of no better job for me than spending all of my time recording classical ensembles and big bands, so here's hoping.

We'll be sure to let you know once we know how its all panned out. Till then, as Confucius said, Wok on!

Fletch's tips for new travellers
An odd coincidence in London is that the more you pay for a cup of coffee, the less like coffee it tastes. The best coffee I have had in London costs 1pound 10p and is truely fantastic. In comparison, a cup of Starbucks costs at least 1pound 90p, but you have to pay another 30p for a second shot of coffee, just to bring it up to standard strength. Incidently, the best cup of coffee was from a place called the 12 Bar Cafe in Denmark Street, near the junction of Tottenham Court Rd, Charing Cross Rd and Oxford St. Sometimes we feel like we're in London to play monopoly.

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