Catch up

It's been a busy last couple of weeks, and while I have lots to share I also have lots of work to do. Damn career getting in the way of my personal life.

Last Wednesday Angela and I went to see Phoenix at Brixton Academy. It was all a bit Three Stooges getting there, as we completely missed the stop, were laughed at by some 13 year old girls, and then had to make our way back. However it was all worth it as Phoenix were AWESOME! I have to admit that I wasn't the biggest fan of Phoenix, having only heard their old album thanks to Nathy putting it on my iPod, but agreed to go and keep Angela company. But the venue was fantastic, the sound and lighting were amazing, and Phoenix just bloody rocked it. To top off the night Angela saw a drug deal on street as we were waiting for a bus!

Last Friday we went to Wimbledon dogs for Matty's 35th birthday. Happy birthday Matt! And apologies to dad for waking you up super early Saturday morning to get your advice for race seven. I was drawn to #3 Barney's Giggle, but then saw #1 - Graham's Gooch. So I called dad, was given a quick lesson in reading the form guide (never go for the dog that has consistantly run 2nd as they don't want to win, instead go for the dog that has had a 1st recently). While everyone else went for Barney's Giggle I backed Graham's Gooch, who romped it in and won me a nice little purse! I bet on seven races, won three, lost four, and managed to come out £1 up overall. After the races Amber and Stuart and I went to the local pub - The Corner Pub - for a nightcap, while Charlotte and Jack retired for the evening, and the mo's went to a mo club in Clapham. Well, didn't they miss out! At the Corner Pub there was a 50th birthday party complete with a table of nasty cold party food (garlic chicken balls, mini sausages, stale chips) and karaoke. We enjoyed the atmosphere and cheap drinks before making our way to the station and catching the train home.

Saturday I was planning on going to Camden markets, but only made it as far as Clapham Junction with Angela. This was okay though, as we found the most delicious markets and enjoyed some cheese and ham and potato tapas goodness.

Saturday night was Hallowe'en, and Amber and I were excited about the opportunity to dress up like idiots. Amber was a nun and I was death by mirrorball, with (British teen favourite) dark eye makeup, bits of mirrorball scattered across my face, and a bleeding wound on my forehead. After X Factor we made our way to a party being held by my old manager at The Government Agency, Keef. There were costumes and spider webs and Bundy Rum and monkeys and carved pumpkins and Monster Munch chips, and it was honestly one of the best house parties we'd ever been to.

And this week is another big one, with Model Mondays last night, movies tomorrow night, Bonfire night (my third favourite night of the year!) on Thursday, and then packing Friday night because this weekend I am going to Belfast with Amber, Matt, and Mark!

I think I need a nap...

Football game = tick!

Last night I went to the Chelsea vs Atletico Madrid Champions League game at Stamford Bridge with Matt2 (aka Cute Matt, according to a colleague who as a crush on him).

We'd gotten our tickets as part of a package from Travel Zoo, and they included dinner beforehand and a ticket to avoid the plebs and enter the stadium through an express entrance. That's how I like it!

We were sat to the side of the pitch, near the end of the stadium, right next to the Madrid supporters. It was really strange - the "away" and the "home" supporters are completely separate. While the Madrid supporters were lively and entertaining, with their chants and barechestedness and scarves and standing up and general air of fun, the Chelsea supporters were a bunch of dead fish. Honestly, everyone just sat there deadpan unless there was a goal or near goal, at which point they would stand up and clap. The other strange thing is that there is no drinking in the stands, so everyone packs into the bar at half-time.

However, it was a good game. Kalou scored two rather exciting goals, Frank Lampard managed one, and the Madrid goalie made it 4-0 to Chelsea in the end.

It's no secret that I am not a fan of Ashley Cole, husband of Cheryl Cole of Girls Aloud and now solo fame, and well known philanderer. My hatred of Ashley Cole grew even more when he fell over and cried like a baby, was told to get off the pitch and skipped off like a girl. Within 10 minutes he was back on, running around, and missing the ball like Cheryl was missing the on switch to her microphone during her "live" performance on X Factor. After that I referred to him as B!tch Ar$e Cole for the rest of the evening.

At the end of the evening, when the final whistle blew, there was some more clapping from the crowd, before everyone turned and quietly made their way out. While there were some people that had had a few drinks and were merry, most people just slowly walked down the street towards the tube station, doing what I dubbed the "Chelsea shuffle".

It was a rather tame affair, compared to my last encounter with football fans a couple of weeks ago. Amber, Emma and I had been to the movies and were leaving just after the game had finished. There was a large group of drunken away supporters out the front of the shopping centre, and the police were using their favourite kettling technique - surrounding them so they can't move. Unfortunately they decided to kettle them in the shopping centre, closed down the doors, the restaurants and shops all closed up and we were stuck inside. We spoke to a security guard and were let out a side entrance, and exited amongst all of the policemen and policedogs trying to keep the hooligans at bay.

So it was a rather placid event last night, but still a lot of fun, and yet another thing I can tick off the list!

"Blue is the color, Football is the game, We're all together and winning is our aim, So cheer us on through the sun and rain, Cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our name."
Blue Is The Colour, Chelsea FC Theme Song

So much to say

Apologies for the really slack blogging lately. People actually stop by here expecting to read some dribble from me, but it’s dried up a little lately. I’ve got lots to tell, but I’ve been so busy I don’t have the time to write it up yet.

I have to tell you about my hilarious trip to Oktoberfest, with all the rides and steins of wine and celebrity look alike spotting and Disney-inspiring castles and lifetime worth of pork.

I have to tell you about my discovery of £2.75 passionfruit mojitos at the Elk Bar.

I have to tell you about my extremely early Saturday morning last weekend to watch the AFL grand final amidst a bunch of hooligan Australians.

I have to tell you (especially you mum, you would be so proud) about the fact that I have made friends with a heterosexual male.

I have to tell you about the time that I gatecrashed some Queensland University of Technology alumni drinks with a doctor and had to gloss over my academic past.

I have to tell you about the weekend that I nearly died from tiredness, because I had four events to attend in one day, and was so exhausted my teeth ached.

I have to tell you about the fleeting visit from Sue, and how my darling father told her to bring back whatever crap I gave her and that he would pay for the excess. (Don’t worry dad, I kept to the weight limit!)

I have to tell you about the quaint English wedding I attended, complete with ye olde chapel and choreographed dance routine and fireworks.

However, I have dinner with the hetero tonight, PowerPlate Wednesday night, dinner with Stacey or Angela Thursday night, work drinks on Friday night, Bondy and Beavis’s birthday party on Saturday night, Sarah’s arrival and NRL grand final and Brick Lane lunch on Sunday, Sarah staying over next Monday (Model Monday) and Tuesday, PowerPlate Wednesday, dinner with Kasia on Thursday night, and somethingorother on Friday night.

But in between all that I will try and find sometime to upload a photo montage of the fun that was Oktoberfest…

PS. Can you really die from tiredness? Or is this another theory that I have created, like when I said if you look a fox in the eye it will try to eat your face?

She's alive!

Just a quick blog entry to let you know that I survived Oktoberfest. I had a fabulously awesome time, which I will write about shortly.

In the meantime, I am going to wallow in my post holiday blues…

I'm Love(box)ing it

My claim that Lovebox is the best music festival ever was upheld with the event over the weekend!

However, a two day festival really does take it out of you, and I am a shell of a woman today. So rather than my standard descriptive narrative of my adventures you get subheadings and semi-coherent ramblings.

The Crew
On Saturday we had quite a crew – me, Angela, Amber, Stewart and Laura. We also met up with my old manager and his friend, and tried to catch up with Beavis, but it is rather difficult to co-ordinate such a large group. On Sunday it was just Angela and I, though we made friends with the crazy old festival dancing men (two old guys dressed in suits, wigs and Elvis sunglasses that Amber and I saw last year, and that Matt and Mark saw at Notting Hill Carnival, they must go to every festival) and anyone who happened to be standing around us at the time.

The Music
What we saw of Temper Trap was good, Florence from Florence & the Machine has got a fantastic voice, Friendly Fires played a great set at dusk, Ladyhawke was good once she had warmed up a little, and N*E*R*D were good but would have been better if the sound was turned up. There were two highlights for me, both from the Sunday lineup. The Correspondents were an absolute surprise, which we stumbled across as we came out of the vintage fashion fair because I was looking for a cardigan to keep me warm (but instead bought a super cute little dress). They were playing their style of 1930’s hip hop from a colourful bandstand in front of a massive two-story wooden tree house, under a tree hanging with oversized apples and pears. Fronted by a skinny man in black tights, white business shirt, black vest, teal satin tie, glasses and a comb over despite having plenty of hair, the Correspondents had the entire crowd dancing and cheering. The other highlight was Groove Armada, of course. They are the ultimate showmen and really now how to get the crowd worked up, starting off with Funk You Too, songs belted out by their new female vocalist Saint Saviour, moving into a mash up of Song for Mutya and Madder, followed by a magical performance of Down by the River. Unfortunately, as I had the most slamming headache and had to work the next day, we left early at this point, but heard Super Stylin on the way out.

The Stages
Lovebox truly out do themselves when it comes to staging and theming, which just adds to the fantastic atmosphere of the festival. The Gaymers stage had the aforementioned treehouse and bandstand, a helter skelter, a ferris wheel, and inflatable apples floating throughout the crowd. The All Star Bowling Alley was a hidden gem that we discovered on Sunday, where you could drink delicious cocktails and dance to retro tunes on a checkerboard dance floor. The Jose Cuervo was our home base on Saturday, as we sipped our tequila cocktails, listened to the various South American musicians, tipped our free cowboy hats, and snacked on corn chips with salsa. There were other areas that we unfortunately didn’t get around too, simply because we were having such a good time at the other ones!

The Drinks
Lovebox was all about the tequila, as far as Angela and I were concerned. Because it’s bad to mix drinks you know. So, we sipped margarita-like cocktails on Saturday, and tequila punch on Sunday. Mmmm, tequila…

The Food
A couple of years ago, Scott and Nathan and I went to the Toowoomba Food, Wine, Flowers and Cow festival, where I ate myself stupid on all of the glorious market food available. The selection at Lovebox was even better. You could have had hog roast, tacos, chorizo rolls, Japanese noodles, quinoa salads, burgers, sausages, waffles, bakery treats, fairy floss, fresh coconut milk, jerk chicken, and more. With such a wide and delicious selection on offer, I of course ate the same thing on both Saturday and Sunday – empenadas, aka espadrilles as I liked to call them. Little half-moon pastries filled with argentinian beef or spinach and cheese, that were just too good. And on the Saturday I couldn’t go past the churro stand for some doughy, sugary goodness, though I made everyone else eat them too so I didn’t feel so bad.

The Weather
Typically English. It rained on the Saturday, actually, no, it pelted down. We didn’t bring anything for such weather, so Angela and I made for the shelter of the treehouse but managed to get some free ponchos on the way. I stylised mine with a belt, so as to stand out from the other big white plastic blobs in the crowd. Sunday it was supposed to pour down, but the weather held out and was actually rather pleasant.

The Verdict
I freakin love Lovebox, and hereby declare it the best music festival I have ever been to and the best music festival I will ever go to!

Croatia holler!

I have been putting off writing a blog entry about my Croatia holiday for two reasons. Firstly, so much happened that the thought of having to type it all up was daunting. Secondly, I have post Croatia depression. Honestly, it was one of the best holidays I have ever had.

Before I get started on my day-by-day account of what happened, I need to introduce the main characters.
· Moi, your favourite blogger
· Bec, holiday organiser el supremo
· Charlotte, “my French friend”, who added a bit of class to the whole show
· Mark, aka Sparky, partner of Matt and everyone’s partner in crime
· Matt, aka Matty, a source of entertainment (even when he wasn’t there)
· Stuart, aka Stu, Scottish friend of the boys and the gayest man in the village
· Alan, aka The Force (he had a range of shirts bearing the name of emergency services), Matt’s friend from Australia

And then there are the secondary characters
· Tucker’s Daughter, the Australian guy who was travelling by himself because his girlfriend broke up with him, he was everyone’s best mate and tried to be the hero in every situation. Yes, he was “that” guy on the group trip.
· Peachy, who apparently looked like Hugh Grant, though we only ever paid attention to his pert bum
· Matchy Matchy, who wore the same little board shorts as Peachy
· Five Pounder, a kid that Sparky saw at the airport and bet me £5 was going to be on our boat (Sparky, I still owe you)
· Blink 182, an emo looking guy with a lip ring who was strangely good looking
· Josh and his girlfriend Savannah, our favourite people on the boat
· Zof, our faithful bartender on board and Matty’s best friend and Charlotte’s suitor by the end of the trip
· Merv, an American guy on the other boat that had chops like Merv Hughes
· Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, wog twins on one of the other boats that had the ugliest ponytails you have ever seen
· Emanuel, our boat, and Penelope and Labrador, the party boats – our flotilla, our Groove Armada if you like. We travelled together and moored together. The tour rep told us that in August there are 25 boats in the group (thank god we went in May).

Saturday
With less than an hour sleep under our belts (and some of us with several beers under our belts), we all bundled in to a taxi at 3am to Gatwick airport, and began the Girls and Gays cruise! Most of us slept on the plane, while others took photos of us, but we all pepped up once we landed in Split. After withdrawing some Croatian kunas (henceforth known as hakuna matatas) we hopped on the bus and headed down to the harbour to meet up with our boat, the Emanuel. On the bus trip I was talking to Sparky, and responded to something he said with an attitude-filled “Holler!” in the style of Missy Elliot. This became the catch phrase for the week. We killed a couple of hours walking along the waterfront and purchasing cheesy cowboy hats, before we boarded and enjoyed a mushroom surprise lunch en route to Hvar. Just a side note, when ever I refer to “we” or “the gang” or “hos and mos”, I mean the main cast of seven. So, we conducted our own walking tour around Hvar, traipsing up and down the back streets and taking lots of silly photos. Dinner was a quiet affair on the waterfront as we were all a bit tired, and we enjoyed our first pizza of the trip. Being so close to Italy, there are a lot of Italian restaurants in Croatia. We had an early night while the rest of the boat went out drinking and bonding until the early hours of the morning.

Sunday
The boat set off early and was all a-gossip at breakfast. Five Pounder had been jumping between boats the previous evening when he landed awkwardly and hurt his ankles. He spent the following two days in his cabin before visiting a doctor in Dubrovnik and finding out that he had fractured one ankle and shattered the other. With no travel insurance, he flew home for surgery. Anyway, mid morning the boat pulled into a calm bay and we all had a swim off the side of the boat. The water was cold, amazingly clear, and fabulously refreshing. After lunch of a strange dry mince and pasta sheets only lasagne, we arrived in Trstenik and had another swim. Sparky and I swam to shore with the aid of some cheap inflatables that we bought in Hvar, and Matty and Stu decided to swim double the distance to some (rather small) sea caves with the aid of an inflatable boxing kangaroo, whilst wearing a Bushtucker Man akubra hat. Needless to say, they got in to trouble. Matty popped the roo on the swim back, so Stu had to swim back to the boat and fetch a kid’s boogie board to rescue him. Afterwards Matt claimed that he had probably lost 2kgs during the adventure, though we pointed out that it was more than likely because he had stopped drinking beers for an hour and his beer gut had subsided. Trstenik was the smallest port we visited, with one restaurant and a shop that closed about 10 minutes after we docked, so dinner was a BBQ on the boat that night and we all retired fairly early.

Monday
By Monday we had started to settle in to a routine: get up, have cheese and salami on bread for breakfast, slather on the sunscreen, lounge on the top deck for an hour or so, head downstairs for some shade action, slather on the sunscreen, have a swim, have lunch, have a shower, slather on the sunscreen, arrive in port and sightsee. Dubrovnik was a wonderful little city. The old town is surrounded by walls, which Sparky and Bec and I walked around until we found Café Buza which sits on the cliff face and looks out to the Adriatic Sea. We met up with the rest of the gang and spent the afternoon cooling down in the shade, drinking, enjoying fabulously appropriate music (retro), watching cliff divers, and reminding each other of how awesome it was to be us at that point in time. After a shower and freshen up on the boat, we had dinner at some back alley restaurant that Matty got us dragged in to, followed by a couple of quiet drinks in an Irish pub (as is tradition when travelling with Sparky and Bec). Well, it was quiet until the rest of the freakin boat turned up and they were all crazy drunk. We stayed for a while and then headed back to the boat for a nightcap, but unfortunately Zof had clocked off. The rest of the boat partied like animals and made an absolute racket when they got back to the boat around 2:30am. The air-conditioning wasn’t working so we had our windows open, which gave me a front row to their antics. I finally managed to drift off to sleep when I was awoken by a screaching girl. Some of the boat had been drinking at the bar where Brit Lapthorn was last seen (first mistake) when they had an altercation with some locals, a glass was thrown, they tried to confront them (second mistake) and the locals pulled knives. The Aussies got in to a cab but the locals followed them, and then kept driving by the boat antagonising them. A couple of the boys decided to get off the boat and go talk to them (third mistake) so their girlfriends turned into banshees (fourth mistake), screaming for them to come back onboard (“I’ve put you in danger too many times Craig!”) and generally stirring everyone up. Fortunately the tour rep came out, told everyone to shut up and go to bed and lock their cabins, and the drama ended. Many stories were told about this over the following days, but I have no doubt that the drama was brought about because of the idiots from our boat.

Tuesday
Not surprisingly, breakfast on Tuesday morning was a quiet affair. But oh how I was falling in love with cheese and salami! We followed our standard morning routine before we pulled in to Mljet (pronounced Mlee-yet), and hired us some scooters. We lied to the man and told him that we had all ridden a scooter, before precariously pulling out on to the street and trying not to run into each other. Our first stop was the National Park, where the group had a swim in a huge salt water lake while Bec and I sat in the shade and took photos and shouted at them to perform poses. We spent the rest of the afternoon riding around the island, through little water side villages, past crumbling buildings, and up and down the mountains. It was fantastic! We picked up some drinks on the way back, had a few drinks and a swim near the boat, and watched the sun set. Then we went to one of the three restaurants and had a great dinner, where Matty entertained us with lots of PFSs (Price Family Stories). Mljet was probably the highlight of the trip; it was just an absolutely wonderful day.

Wednesday
We all woke up excited on Wednesday, because Bec had finished her course of antibiotics and could finally get her drink on! Korcula was the birthplace of Marco Polo, a fact that is commemorated by a museum that was closed and a styrofoam statue by the bay. Interestingly, the town is shaped like a fish, with the straight streets to the bay to channel the cool sea breezes, curved streets to the mountain to avoid the cold winds, and a wide straight street down the middle so that the people could run down to the bay and defend their city. The girls did some jewellery shopping (filigree, coral, and turquoise are the local trinkets) while the gays tagged along and ate ice-creams. We had a swim on the beach, which was surprisingly free of sea urchins (the spiny buggers were everywhere) but unfortunately there were still sea slugs, which Matty picked up and tried to squirt on us. Matt was hilarious, he brought along a pair of goggles and would spend twice as much time in the water as the rest of us, because he would hunt for treasure on the sea bed. All he came up with was some crappy plastic toys and a funny shaped rock, but he was pretty happy. After our swim we showered and dolled ourselves up, and celebrated Bec’s first beer on the top deck of the boat as the sun went down. Then we found ourselves a great table at a waterfront restaurant with a guy playing the guitar and had a really nice candlelit dinner. And got drunk. From there we went to a bar at the top of one of the turrets, where you had to climb a steep ladder to get up, and your cocktails were brought up in a bucket. We socialised with some of the people from the boat, and then split up as they went to Des Locos bar to make the most of happy hour and we went to Gaudi bar to make the most of being able to drink outdoors without wearing a jacket and scarf. Things got a little drunk and silly, and we had a great time, finally retiring to bed around 5am. We thought it was strange that no one from Des Locos had come to Gaudi, considering it stayed open a lot later, until we found out that people from the boat had gotten in to a massive bar brawl with some locals. Apparently chairs were being swung about, guys were doing fly kicks, and the Aussies were outnumbered. Matchy Matchy sustained a concussion and a fractured wrist and spent the rest of the holiday moping.

Thursday
Makarska was really nice, but my ability to appreciate it was limited by my screaming hangover. The mountains behind the waterfront village looked fake, and Bec claimed that they were actually made of styrofoam like the Marco Polo statue. The tour rep told us that she had been up there a couple of weeks ago and there was still snow at the top. Crazy when you consider that we were enjoying 25 degree sunshine in the port. We slept through breakfast and only woke up once we had gotten into port. Our ragamuffin group managed to get dressed and walk to the beach, where the cold Adriatic Sea revived us. Honestly, there is nothing better for a hangover than a fresh swim. We had an uninspiring lunch on the boat, before some of us went back for a second swim and some of us napped the afternoon away. I of course did the latter. We had dinner at another waterfront restaurant, as we just could not get enough of the gloriously warm weather and being able to be outdoors wearing just a t-shirt. The restful day was capped off with a couple of vodka cranberries on the back deck of the boat.

Friday
We made it down for breakfast on Friday (I wasn’t missing out on salami and cheese again), before the boat pulled in to a small port so we could have a swim at Copacabana beach. I have to say, the beach really ruined the song for me. The shore was dirty and sandy, unlike the pebbly beaches we were used to. And the water was waist-deep for 100 metres offshore, and full of sea reeds and little crabs that nibbled on your ankle. On the upside, Friday was activity day! Some people stayed on the boat, while others did a day trip to Bosnia, while the rest of us went on the river rafting trip in Cetina. After rafting in Tully and New Zealand, this was pretty tame, but still really fun. Not to mention that our skipper was hot! We arrived in Split late afternoon, back where we had started from, and already feeling a little sad at the thought of our holiday being over. We wandered the back streets and found a really nice restaurant for our last meal, where we had another hit of pag, a local cheese sort of like parmesan. The night was topped off with some drinks overlooking the bay, and then maybe another couple back on the boat.

Saturday
The last day of the trip wasn’t the best. We knew the holiday was over, and we had 12 hours to kill in between getting kicked off the boat at 9am and our flight leaving at 9pm. We stored our luggage and then set off on a hike to the swimming beach, during which Bec and I did a lot of heat-induced sighing. Then we set up camp in the shade in the park and had a little rest, while Matt and Alan decided to go on a hike around the foreshore. They walked for 35 minutes before finding a beach front bar, where they gave up on the hike and started drinking, while Sparky, Bec, Charlotte and I had a civilised and sober lunch back at the harbour. We spent the rest of the afternoon doing some souvenir shopping, eating gelato, and drinking in a little bar. With the sun still in the sky but the heat of the day passed (a glorious time of day), we gathered ourselves up and headed to the airport in a collectively sombre and reluctant mood.

I had the best tan, I mean time, in Croatia. It was a wonderful wonderful holiday, and given the opportunity, I would go back in a Split second (ha ha ha, get it, Split!).


"We're going where the sun shines brightly, we're going where the sea is blue, we've seen it in the movies, now let's see if it's true"
Summer Holiday, Cliff Richard

Who knew the Swedish were so much fun?

What a weekend!

After a couple of marmalade martinis with work colleagues after work on Friday, I trundled off home to finish packing for Stockholm and get an early night. Unsuccessfully. Thus began my long weekend of lots of fun and not lots of sleep.

Somehow I managed to get up and dressed in time for my 3am cab on Saturday morning. Yes people, at 3am I was leaving home, not getting home. I picked up Mark (aka Sparky) and Rebecca (aka Bec) and then we headed out to Stanstead.

Sparky had given me a heads up that Bec is the best person to travel with, as she is uber organised, and she didn’t disappoint. Bec had the airline booking number saved on her phone, her toiletries already packed in a clear ziplock bag, knew the best place to have a little breakfast snack, picked up some cheap duty free vodka, got us a prime position at the gate, and then saved us a great seat on the plane with plenty of room for our luggage. All Mark and I had to do was sit back and wait to wake up properly.

After two hours we landed in the middle of nowhere Sweden beside a tin shed – Vasteras airport. There’s not much to say about Vasteras as there wasn’t much to Vasteras. Apparently “customs” is the word they use to describe the hallway from passport control to the front door.

We caught the big gay bus (decorated with rainbow stripes) to the centre of Stockholm, dropped off our bags and then headed out for some traditional Swedish meatballs with cowberry and a bit of tacky souvenir shopping. Then it was back to the hotel for a rest, shower, and more than a litre of vodka before we hit the town.

The first stop was a cosy little bar in the Old Towne, where we just missed the live music and paid the equivalent of £9 or $20 for a vodka, lime and soda. After this we headed out to find some fun and, thanks to the advice of a random bouncer, we found it on the Lady Patricia! Lady Patricia is the funnest boat I have ever been on – three levels of different music and bars and funny Swedish people. We found a live band playing down one end and it was like someone hit the boogie switch, because the three of us literally walked into the room and started rocking out. The evening was a blur of sneaky drinks from Bec’s makeshift hip flask, new friends, poor English, expensive cab rides, lying to the concierge, embarrassing photos, and a hell of a lot of fun!

We somehow managed to drag our sorry butts down to breakfast on Sunday morning, but needed a little nap afterwards to brace ourselves for the cold and steel our nerves for the boat cruise. Hangovers in tow, we took a cruise around the archipelago and saw such amazing sights as the frozen waterfall, the Tivoli Gardens theme park, lots of yellow and orange coloured buildings, the house of a media magnate, some museums, and other interesting things. To be honest, I don’t remember much of the commentary (apart from the guide weaving his autobiography into it) because I was freezing. The rest of the day was great though – we did some more shopping, had dinner at the Boefheus (beef house), watched the most hilarious game show in Swedish, and enjoyed the falling snow.

Monday saw us all feeling a little more chipper, so after another great buffet breakfast (apart from when I set the toaster on fire) we went to a nearby park and mucked around in the snow, before heading to Skansen outdoor museum. Skansen “is the first open air museum and zoo in Sweden and is located on the island Djurgården in Stockholm. It was founded in 1891 by Artur Hazelius (1833-1901) to show the way of life in the different parts of Sweden before the industrial era.” I can only assume that Skansen is a bit like Sovereign Hill in Victoria, however all of the buildings were shut so I can’t be sure. That didn’t really matter, as we had a fantastic time walking around the old buildings in the snow, imagining what life would have been way back then, whilst taking photos on our digital cameras and drinking our Red Bulls. Sparky was a brilliant model, pulling any pose and climbing on any structure that Bec and I requested him to. The animals were the best part – reindeer, seals, bison, and brown bears. It doesn’t sound that exciting, but it was a bit of action in an otherwise rather quiet place. Our final hours in Stockholm were spent doing some more gift shopping, with some tapas and drinks in the Barcelona bar (very multicultural of us) before heading back to the airport.

London welcomed us back with a cold bitch slap and a long and tiring train ride to Liverpool Street, where we splurged on a cab home and declared it a spectacularly fun weekend!

Mum and dad

A big shout out to ma and pa for coming all the way over to London to visit me! Even though dad claimed it wasn’t the reason for the trip, I know it was.

In the five days we spent together we managed to fit in the London Tower experience, a bus tour, the theatre, Covent Garden, the Transport Museum, the world’s most expensive Thai dinner at the Sugar Hut, the Globe Theatre, a river cruise, shopping at Harrods, Tuesday night trivia, a slightly drunken dinner at the Atlas, High Street Kensington, the Thames River Festival and parade, and more public transport than my parents have ever encountered before.

We had a super fun time, and despite being a little tired and a little grumpy some days, I enjoyed having them here so so very much. I miss them already and can’t wait to see them in two-and-a-half months.

So, thank you mum and dad, love you hard…

So much fun, so little time

I have never been as excited about a trip as I was about our little sojourn to Copenhagen. Maybe it was because it was free, maybe it was because it was on the Continent, maybe because it was to go and see cheesy Danish pop. Whatever it was, I barely slept on Thursday night because I was so excited.

Amber and I got up super early on Friday morning, hauled ass out to Heathrow, and embarked on 24 hours of power. Copenhagen isn’t a huge city; probably about the size of Brisbane I guess. But Amber and I were determined to fit it all in.

We arrived in Copenhagen around midday, caught the metro into the city centre, withdrew some kroners from a cash machine, and immediately enjoyed the wares of a local hotdog vendor. Man, the Danes love their sausages. Fortunately, so do Amber and I. The next port of call was the House of Amber, where Amber bought herself a pretty little ring. With at least half a dozen HOA’s in Copenhagen, the Danes also love their amber. Then we checked in to the hotel and put on extra layers of clothing before hitting the city for some kitsch tourist action.

So, we braved the cold (about 14 degrees or so, but with a biting wind) and hit the main shopping precinct. Amber bought some new makeup (she abandoned all of hers at Heathrow customs for some reason) and we enjoyed our first decent coffee since Paris. There was just enough time for Amber and I to purchase a Viking and Danish puffing troll hanging mobile respectively, before we boarded the Hop On Hop Off bus tour. I love a good bus tour. And it would seem that the Danes love a good statue, as I have never seen so many in a city before. One of the highlights was the Little Mermaid statue, despite the rude and thoughtless crowds.

Back in the city centre after the bus tour, Amber and I thought we would check out the venue for the Alphabeat gig and pick up our tickets – our names were on the door you know. I thought that the gig was going to be in a club, but it turned out to be at the Tivoli Gardens, a huge amusement park in the middle of Copenhagen. Supa fun! Amber and I went on a chair-o-plane that was 80m high, and one of the scariest things I have ever been on. Just ask Amber, she still has marks on her arm from my fingernails when I thought my safety belt was undone. After that, we went on a much tamer triple loop rollercoaster to calm my nerves. A couple of amusement games later, I walked out with a stuffed hippo toy and Amber with an ugly rubber light-up alien bouncy thing. Honestly, I don’t know what it was.

We had a quick power nap before donning our party outfits, complete with our new black wool tights that cost us 135 kroner each. Or about £13 each. Or about $AUS30 each. Ouch! But damn were they warm, and we both agreed that they were worth every kroner! A quick tuk-tuk ride back into town (Amber and I’s favourite mode of transport), a pre-gig drink at a local bar, and then we made it to the Tivoli just in time for Alphabeat. Despite a crowd of thousands, we scored ourselves a fantastic spot really close off to the side of the stage. I think the reason we got such a good spot was because no one wanted to stand near the cranky old crab of a woman behind us. I stepped back to let someone through and she started yelling at me in Danish, despite my apologies. I felt rather bad, until she let loose with the same abuse to anyone who dared walk near her. Amber and I dubbed her "Crazy Mum" and tried to direct the moving crowds toward her for the rest of the night.

But Alphabeat were AWESOME! Seriously, so much fun! The male lead singer (who incidentally looked like Rick Astley) was absolutely crazy and totally entertaining. And for a pop group, they sounded really good, as good as on their album. Amber and I danced our little butts off, but were pretty much the only ones. Apparently the Danes don’t really love to dance.

After the relatively short gig (they have only released one album) Amber and I tried to suss out where the after party was, to no avail. So instead we found ourselves at a cosy little bar with a live band. Their white wine went down easily and Hoegaarden was served in a glass as big as your head, literally, so we decided to stay. Over a course of several hours we befriended some brewers from Sheffield and Italy, a middle aged man and his tango partner, and a kid that sort of looked like Perez Hilton. As anyone who has met us can attest, Amber and I know when to call it a night, so we hailed another tuk-tuk driver who tucked us in with a blanket and whisked us home.

However, there was a rather enticing little bar at the end of the street where we were staying, so Amber and I decided to have a nightcap. The hostess asked if we where on the list, and Amber tried to convince her that I was. I think she liked our cheeky attempts, because she let us in and encouraged us to spend big at the bar. Which we did, although it was only on one glass of champagne. Amber and I put on a show for the punters by doing shadow puppets and dancing behind a back-lit curtain, before stumbling down the street and into our hotel.

We awoke early in the morning to the most horrid of hangovers that god has ever cast upon a drinker. It was truly awful. We showered and packed before heading down for a life-saving buffet breakfast. Oh, there was cereal and fruit and cold meats and several cheeses and pate and bread and frittata and eggs and delicious crispy bacon. We left for the airport feeling much better.

There was the obligatory duty free shopping, before boarding a plane back to London at midday.

Best. 24-hour holiday. Ever!

But now I have Post Alphabeat Depression. Sigh…

V Festival

V Festival was fun.

If you are not my mother and would like the full rundown then let me know...

Lovebox, exciting and new…

I loved Lovebox!

I’ve never been to a multi-day music festival before, so really had to pace myself. Amber and I got to Victoria Park around 3pm on Saturday and headed straight to the chair-o-plane. Once that was out of the way, we grabbed ourselves some cider and fronted up to see The Black Seeds who were awesome! I can’t believe they are from New Zealand… We mooched around a couple of other stages, befriended some Aussie girls who were attacked in a free merchandise scramble, and somehow managed to miss the Midnight Juggernauts. Instead, Amber and I wheedled our way to the front for Groove Armada, who again put on a fabulous performance. It was the showmanship that really made the set. There were fireworks and confetti and ping pong balls and super-sized balloons – all my favourite things! After Grove Armada we met up with the Barley Mow crew, who had scammed themselves backstage wristbands for the day. Ever the gracious hosts, they took turns in slipping their bands off and letting Amber and I have a look at how the VIPs do it. Laura took me to the back of the stage for Manu Chao, hiding behind the curtains and looking out over the audience. Loved it!

I sensibly packed myself up and trundled home at 11pm, wanting to get a good night’s sleep for day two. Whereas Amber went hell for leather and partied all the way through until the next morning, therefore piking on Sunday’s festivities. Piker Amber!

Sunday I met up with the Barley Mow crew and headed in with them early in the afternoon. I was totally rocking it out in my boots, skinny black jeans, leopard print top, and cardigan – “granny rock” I dubbed it. Sunday was super fun, as I played Eddie’s wingwoman, mislead rock magazine marketing peeps, rode the chair-o-plane again (without hands!), played a lot of leg guitar, and performed some utterly elegant dance routines. Goldfrapp were gorgeous, the Flaming Lips were a lot of fun, Pnau were pumping, and the Dandy Warhols sucked because every schedule had them on at a different time so we missed them. Pthbbbbb! I ignored Greg’s argument to call in sick on Monday, and instead took myself to bed at the rather reasonable hour of midnight.

It was very difficult getting up Monday morning to go to work, but totally worth it.

I love you Lovebox!