Vaguely alive after a brief snooze a restorative breakfast was had at Hotel du Vin before Nigel slipped off back to the smoke leaving Gay George (Not Actually Gay) and our subject at a touch of a loose end.
The wonders of red tea as a time filler are not to be under-estimated. The sense of drinking 3 bottles before 1400 is.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Driving Miss Daisy
Back from Australia (passim) obviously the sensible thing to do was to have a ridiculously heavy weekend and as our readers will know he always takes the sensible option.
Friday night had him down in London at a testimonial dinner for that great servant of Glamorgan cricket, David Hemp, in the Long Room at Lords. He was, to say the least, embarrasingly excited to be in the greatest of venues surrounded by history (and Dougie Brown's wife in a leopard skin dress was a bonus) and despite his best efforts to force up the various auction prices for David's benefit without actually buying anything he failed miserably. How much tat he bought is not entirely clear, how much cash he spent is.
A fatal dose of jetlag rather finished the night off a touch to early for him but with Nigel picking him up early the next day this was perhaps no bad thing.
Last year the lovely Dennis gave him for his birthday a driving day (Ferrari -v- Porsche) and at last the day had come round. He had managed to persuade Nigel to come with him (and indeed to chauffeur him there) as well as Graham.
Sadly Graham had rather foolishly double-booked with a wedding and his lovely wife was not having any of his excuses so his ticket was, it was thought, a waste of money.
How exciting does a day spent racing Ferraris and Porsches sound? Very. How exciting is the reality? Absolutely none.
Perhaps arriving in a Porsche (and a better one than the one to be used) is not a great way to start but then discovering that the "lap" is two 300 yard straights connected by two hairpins and one gets three laps in each car is a pretty poor middle. Discovering that whilst you are doing this there are another 4 or 5 cars on the "track" of people doing a rally day (which of itself was utter pony - standard Evo 7s with paint jobs goind round the "track") is a shocking end as well.
The rain and biting cold took the shine off as well.
Thoroughly hacked off the two of them called it a day and headed back to Birmingham for a night on the turps with Gay George (Not Actually Gay) and some seriously restorative red "tea" (which appeared to come from wine bottles).
A first class curry was shovelled down before the lovely Dennis joined them and they headed off to Red bar. Drinking a bar out of pink Champers is one thing but drinking that same bar out of Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch (Chambord)
is quite another. Despite their efforts they couldn't quite finish off the last of the Sambucas.
Calling it a night at 0430 was probably a wise option
Friday night had him down in London at a testimonial dinner for that great servant of Glamorgan cricket, David Hemp, in the Long Room at Lords. He was, to say the least, embarrasingly excited to be in the greatest of venues surrounded by history (and Dougie Brown's wife in a leopard skin dress was a bonus) and despite his best efforts to force up the various auction prices for David's benefit without actually buying anything he failed miserably. How much tat he bought is not entirely clear, how much cash he spent is.
A fatal dose of jetlag rather finished the night off a touch to early for him but with Nigel picking him up early the next day this was perhaps no bad thing.
Last year the lovely Dennis gave him for his birthday a driving day (Ferrari -v- Porsche) and at last the day had come round. He had managed to persuade Nigel to come with him (and indeed to chauffeur him there) as well as Graham.
Sadly Graham had rather foolishly double-booked with a wedding and his lovely wife was not having any of his excuses so his ticket was, it was thought, a waste of money.
How exciting does a day spent racing Ferraris and Porsches sound? Very. How exciting is the reality? Absolutely none.
Perhaps arriving in a Porsche (and a better one than the one to be used) is not a great way to start but then discovering that the "lap" is two 300 yard straights connected by two hairpins and one gets three laps in each car is a pretty poor middle. Discovering that whilst you are doing this there are another 4 or 5 cars on the "track" of people doing a rally day (which of itself was utter pony - standard Evo 7s with paint jobs goind round the "track") is a shocking end as well.
The rain and biting cold took the shine off as well.
Thoroughly hacked off the two of them called it a day and headed back to Birmingham for a night on the turps with Gay George (Not Actually Gay) and some seriously restorative red "tea" (which appeared to come from wine bottles).
A first class curry was shovelled down before the lovely Dennis joined them and they headed off to Red bar. Drinking a bar out of pink Champers is one thing but drinking that same bar out of Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch (Chambord)
is quite another. Despite their efforts they couldn't quite finish off the last of the Sambucas.Calling it a night at 0430 was probably a wise option
Australia - a retrospective
Certainly it would appear that Australia has kept some of our readers entertained which is of course all the editorial team here at Bogun Towers was hoping for but as well as providing a splendid supply of stories it was actually a splendid holiday all ends up. As was observed on many occasions sailing into the sunset with some of your closest chums as the world's finances go to hell in a hand basket is a pretty decent way to relax.
Hopefully inspired by his holiday his recent lethargy (and therefore our lack of stories) will not return.
Hopefully inspired by his holiday his recent lethargy (and therefore our lack of stories) will not return.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Australia - Part 17
As if to prove the point that the trip to Surfer’s Paradise was a mistake they awoke in Manly to brilliant sunshine and not a cloud in the sky.
Clearly the beach beckoned and whilst Boris disappeared off to his office (his spare room) Nigel and our subject plonked themselves on the beach. Our subject by some miracle had up until this point managed to avoid sunburn but this could not last and by now convinced he could resist the noon sun decided not to bother with sun-tan lotion as he lay there for 3 hours between 1100 and 1400. He is now somewhat scarlet.
Fortunately for him and his medical insurers he had agreed to meet the lovely Sam and her daughter (Tilly) for a late lunch which took him off the beach. A splendid afternoon of reminiscing and chatting followed truly enlivened by the following, “do you want to hold her, she can be quite sicky”; “love to, I’m sure I’ll be right”; “ok here you go”; “golly she really does look just like you…oh, she is quite sicky isn’t she”; “I’ll get some tissues.”
Glenn by this stage was back down south and they all met up in the Wharf bar to prepare for their final hurrah in Australia back at the Shore Bar. Suffice to say a rather heavy night was had by all. A cast of thousands and beers of a similar number duly followed. The details remain a little hazy but the evening is perhaps best summed up by the discovery of our subject asleep on a sofa in just his underwear (glowing bright red) at around 0230.
Clearly the beach beckoned and whilst Boris disappeared off to his office (his spare room) Nigel and our subject plonked themselves on the beach. Our subject by some miracle had up until this point managed to avoid sunburn but this could not last and by now convinced he could resist the noon sun decided not to bother with sun-tan lotion as he lay there for 3 hours between 1100 and 1400. He is now somewhat scarlet.
Fortunately for him and his medical insurers he had agreed to meet the lovely Sam and her daughter (Tilly) for a late lunch which took him off the beach. A splendid afternoon of reminiscing and chatting followed truly enlivened by the following, “do you want to hold her, she can be quite sicky”; “love to, I’m sure I’ll be right”; “ok here you go”; “golly she really does look just like you…oh, she is quite sicky isn’t she”; “I’ll get some tissues.”
Glenn by this stage was back down south and they all met up in the Wharf bar to prepare for their final hurrah in Australia back at the Shore Bar. Suffice to say a rather heavy night was had by all. A cast of thousands and beers of a similar number duly followed. The details remain a little hazy but the evening is perhaps best summed up by the discovery of our subject asleep on a sofa in just his underwear (glowing bright red) at around 0230.
Australia - Part 16
Their last day in Surfer’s Paradise broke with at least the hint of sunshine that had been so lacking from the previous days and so after a quick breakfast and hunt for Ugg boots they decided to risk one last trip to the beach.
A 30 mile beach is an amazing thing and it does give magnificent views up and down it but a) it means every part of it is very empty and b) there is nothing to break up the winds rolling in from the South; so despite the sun they had very little to look (shurely oggle? – ed) at and found themselves being eroded again by the fine sand in the wind.
A display of typical British pluck kept them going through an hour of this but by then they were all thoroughly hacked off. Boris and our subject suggested another trip to Wet and Wild but Nigel was having none of it so they decided to go and explore the culture of Brisbane.
Never ever rely on a sat-nav system to find you “culture”. The splendid device they were relying on took them to the Museum of Contemporary Art apparently; sadly whilst the address was certainly real the Museum was not.
Falling back on that old traditional technology of the guide book they decided to visit the Museum of Queensland on the basis that it probably existed. It certainly did and it was not quite as post-modern as the Museum of Sydney but lacking a stuffed crocodile (a plastic crocodile is no replacement)
it was not as good as the Museum of Australia.
The culture done off they went to the airport. Again over-reliance on sat-nav is a dangerous thing but eventually they did manage to actually make it to find their flight was a) 30 minutes later than they thought it was and b) delayed as well; hurrah.
Boris volunteered that the taxi queue at Sydney airport could be horrendous in peak hours and so normally he would book a car but that it would be all right as they would not be getting in at peak hours. All the rules of good narrative therefore dictate that the queue was horrific and they had to get the train and the ferry and we are pleased to report that the rules were not broken.
The less said about trying to check into their hotel at midnight the better although the discovery that they had been booked into a double and not a twin was quite sour.
A 30 mile beach is an amazing thing and it does give magnificent views up and down it but a) it means every part of it is very empty and b) there is nothing to break up the winds rolling in from the South; so despite the sun they had very little to look (shurely oggle? – ed) at and found themselves being eroded again by the fine sand in the wind.
A display of typical British pluck kept them going through an hour of this but by then they were all thoroughly hacked off. Boris and our subject suggested another trip to Wet and Wild but Nigel was having none of it so they decided to go and explore the culture of Brisbane.
Never ever rely on a sat-nav system to find you “culture”. The splendid device they were relying on took them to the Museum of Contemporary Art apparently; sadly whilst the address was certainly real the Museum was not.
Falling back on that old traditional technology of the guide book they decided to visit the Museum of Queensland on the basis that it probably existed. It certainly did and it was not quite as post-modern as the Museum of Sydney but lacking a stuffed crocodile (a plastic crocodile is no replacement)
it was not as good as the Museum of Australia.The culture done off they went to the airport. Again over-reliance on sat-nav is a dangerous thing but eventually they did manage to actually make it to find their flight was a) 30 minutes later than they thought it was and b) delayed as well; hurrah.
Boris volunteered that the taxi queue at Sydney airport could be horrendous in peak hours and so normally he would book a car but that it would be all right as they would not be getting in at peak hours. All the rules of good narrative therefore dictate that the queue was horrific and they had to get the train and the ferry and we are pleased to report that the rules were not broken.
The less said about trying to check into their hotel at midnight the better although the discovery that they had been booked into a double and not a twin was quite sour.
Australia - Part 15
Recovered from the exertions of the Prince Albert they awoke looking forward to a day on the beach cashing in on Surfer’s Paradise’s legendary reliability for sunshine. 
Safely ensconced on the beach they were delighted to be part of the proof that the reliability is not fool-proof and lay on a beach in the shade as the 30 knot wind whipped the sand up and slowly eroded them away. Essentially it was not far removed from a day at the beach in the Orkneys.
Having given up on this exercise in futility they decided to see if the pool at their hotel was at least sheltered from the wind.
It was not. Undetered they decided to brazen it out and enjoy their beach holiday although an hour of this nonsense had them uncontrollably shivering and calling for mugs of hot cocoa to keep them going.
By now thoroughly hacked off with the weather they decamped to the “Wet and Wild” theme park full of water flumes and other amusing water based entertainment.
Being wet in the gale was not a recipe for improving their core body temperatures but they did at least have some fun throwing themselves down some quite ridiculous slides. Boris nearly got them all thrown out by hopping over the fence of a clearly closed ride and throwing himself down it without the necessary inner-tube but the imperturbable diplomacy of Nigel saved the day, “you do realise we have paid for this?”
Several rides later the lads adrenalin levels were fully restored and Nigel had reached his limit of fun so before the storm really broke they gave that up.
Their last night in Surfer’s was designed as a real night on the turps (what the hell of all the other nights been one might ask) and they quickly began a thorough exploration of the various clubs of the strip. Remarkably they were treated as VIPs although this may have been due to the fact that in many of the places they were the only people in.
The “Bedroom” was their first port of call but before long our subject bailed out to his real bedroom. The text sent by Boris just after he left was unwelcome, “mate they are hosting the finals of the local Miss Underwear competition, come quickly” particularly as it was not received until the morning.
Boris and Nigel ended up moving on to Hollywoods which by all accounts is a strip club that even the blind can enjoy but they were safely tucked up in their beds no later than 0400.
Safely ensconced on the beach they were delighted to be part of the proof that the reliability is not fool-proof and lay on a beach in the shade as the 30 knot wind whipped the sand up and slowly eroded them away. Essentially it was not far removed from a day at the beach in the Orkneys.
Having given up on this exercise in futility they decided to see if the pool at their hotel was at least sheltered from the wind.
It was not. Undetered they decided to brazen it out and enjoy their beach holiday although an hour of this nonsense had them uncontrollably shivering and calling for mugs of hot cocoa to keep them going.By now thoroughly hacked off with the weather they decamped to the “Wet and Wild” theme park full of water flumes and other amusing water based entertainment.
Being wet in the gale was not a recipe for improving their core body temperatures but they did at least have some fun throwing themselves down some quite ridiculous slides. Boris nearly got them all thrown out by hopping over the fence of a clearly closed ride and throwing himself down it without the necessary inner-tube but the imperturbable diplomacy of Nigel saved the day, “you do realise we have paid for this?”
Several rides later the lads adrenalin levels were fully restored and Nigel had reached his limit of fun so before the storm really broke they gave that up.
Their last night in Surfer’s was designed as a real night on the turps (what the hell of all the other nights been one might ask) and they quickly began a thorough exploration of the various clubs of the strip. Remarkably they were treated as VIPs although this may have been due to the fact that in many of the places they were the only people in.
The “Bedroom” was their first port of call but before long our subject bailed out to his real bedroom. The text sent by Boris just after he left was unwelcome, “mate they are hosting the finals of the local Miss Underwear competition, come quickly” particularly as it was not received until the morning.
Boris and Nigel ended up moving on to Hollywoods which by all accounts is a strip club that even the blind can enjoy but they were safely tucked up in their beds no later than 0400.
Australia - Part 14
The horrific jalopy had to be returned of course and in light of the distance limitation (100 km) some rather delicate handling of the situation was going to be needed. To everyone’s concern our subject was first up from his drink induced coma and set off to return the thing.
Not to his surprise it would not start but 15 minutes with the hood up and some lump hammer engineering had her purring like a tuberculosis ridden kitten and he was off to the shop.
Post-inspection the rental girl sauntered up to him and asked, “where exactly did you go?”; “err, we just pootled around you know”; “well it has done 360 kilometres, that’s a record”; “oh really”; “yes, that’ll be an $80 mileage charge.” Fortunately he did not mind and just forged Boris’s signature again.
A quick flight down to Brisbane was the main highlight of the day and then they settled down in Surfer’s Paradise for a couple of days of hedonism.
The first night ended up in the Prince Albert pub/club attached to the local casino populated by all the local girls and boys on their only night off of the week larging it up massive.
The pub itself was an horrific pastiche of a mock-tudor English pub (all set indoors including the beer garden) and as the beers flowed they began to speculate if their fellow drinker would know what a Prince Albert actually was (for the benefit of his mother it is a type of piercing that only boys can have).
Boris decided to resolve the debate by enquiring of two 18 year old lasses if they knew. How he could possibly have made such an approach without appearing to be a complete sleaze bag is quite frankly beyond us and to no-one’s surprise he failed.
Their light fantastic well and truly tripped they called it a night making their way back to the hotel through a rather ominous and perhaps prescient tropical thunderstorm.
Not to his surprise it would not start but 15 minutes with the hood up and some lump hammer engineering had her purring like a tuberculosis ridden kitten and he was off to the shop.
Post-inspection the rental girl sauntered up to him and asked, “where exactly did you go?”; “err, we just pootled around you know”; “well it has done 360 kilometres, that’s a record”; “oh really”; “yes, that’ll be an $80 mileage charge.” Fortunately he did not mind and just forged Boris’s signature again.
A quick flight down to Brisbane was the main highlight of the day and then they settled down in Surfer’s Paradise for a couple of days of hedonism.
The first night ended up in the Prince Albert pub/club attached to the local casino populated by all the local girls and boys on their only night off of the week larging it up massive.
The pub itself was an horrific pastiche of a mock-tudor English pub (all set indoors including the beer garden) and as the beers flowed they began to speculate if their fellow drinker would know what a Prince Albert actually was (for the benefit of his mother it is a type of piercing that only boys can have).
Boris decided to resolve the debate by enquiring of two 18 year old lasses if they knew. How he could possibly have made such an approach without appearing to be a complete sleaze bag is quite frankly beyond us and to no-one’s surprise he failed.
Their light fantastic well and truly tripped they called it a night making their way back to the hotel through a rather ominous and perhaps prescient tropical thunderstorm.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Australia - Part 13
With Glenn sent safely on his way their options in Airlie Beach were a little light and strangely having rejected the most obvious – getting molitored in a local bar – they decided to rent a car and drive down to the Eungella National Park. Over our subject’s objections they insisted on renting a Mini-Moke for the monstrously long drive down the Bruce Highway. 
With the car rented the girl explained that it was a term of the rental that they could not go more than 100 kilometres from the base. Eungella is about 180 km from Airlie.
Undeterred they set off nonetheless and were quickly hurtling down the motorway in a totally inappropriate vehicle. The vehicle would have been inappropriate if it was in prime condition but seeing as it was carrying one or two technical MOT failures it was even more fun (the collapsed suspension, seized rear brake drum and bald tyres being the highlights). Despite this through some careful nurturing and two quick mechanical stops (of the lump hammer hitting school of engineering) they managed to reach the end of the metalled road leading to the Fitch Hatton Gorge.
The car abandoned and with no idea of how much further they had to go they set off on the rarely travelled track up into the rainforest equipped most practically with 2 litres of water, some factor 15 sun cream and sandals/flip-flops.
It quickly became apparent that the lack of a metalled road was the least of their problems as they hiked up into the mountains and found ford after ford which would have swept the vehicle away had it attempted the passage.
Several miles into the rainforestthey stopped off at a pool apparently “guaranteed” to provide sightings of Platypus. Safe to say it did not live up to its promise, although it did provide a terrapin.
Many miles further on they eventually came to the Araluen Cascades
with some very fine fauna enjoying a paddle in the pool under the falls.
With the light beginning to fade they decided to get back to their vehicle and trekked back down through the jungle, spotting a Wallaby with a joey in her pouch on they way.
Hoonering back up the Bruce highway shook them to pieces again although with the hood down that was the least of the problems as they got beaten around the head by 100 kilometre winds.
Their last night in Airlie was a vaguely quiet affair with Boris being the one to be falling asleep early this time round and after a few beers and sambucas in Beaches surrounded by 18 year old girls they decided to call it a night.
With the car rented the girl explained that it was a term of the rental that they could not go more than 100 kilometres from the base. Eungella is about 180 km from Airlie.
Undeterred they set off nonetheless and were quickly hurtling down the motorway in a totally inappropriate vehicle. The vehicle would have been inappropriate if it was in prime condition but seeing as it was carrying one or two technical MOT failures it was even more fun (the collapsed suspension, seized rear brake drum and bald tyres being the highlights). Despite this through some careful nurturing and two quick mechanical stops (of the lump hammer hitting school of engineering) they managed to reach the end of the metalled road leading to the Fitch Hatton Gorge.
The car abandoned and with no idea of how much further they had to go they set off on the rarely travelled track up into the rainforest equipped most practically with 2 litres of water, some factor 15 sun cream and sandals/flip-flops.
It quickly became apparent that the lack of a metalled road was the least of their problems as they hiked up into the mountains and found ford after ford which would have swept the vehicle away had it attempted the passage.
Several miles into the rainforestthey stopped off at a pool apparently “guaranteed” to provide sightings of Platypus. Safe to say it did not live up to its promise, although it did provide a terrapin.Many miles further on they eventually came to the Araluen Cascades
with some very fine fauna enjoying a paddle in the pool under the falls.With the light beginning to fade they decided to get back to their vehicle and trekked back down through the jungle, spotting a Wallaby with a joey in her pouch on they way.
Hoonering back up the Bruce highway shook them to pieces again although with the hood down that was the least of the problems as they got beaten around the head by 100 kilometre winds.
Their last night in Airlie was a vaguely quiet affair with Boris being the one to be falling asleep early this time round and after a few beers and sambucas in Beaches surrounded by 18 year old girls they decided to call it a night.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Austalia - Part 12
With the gang safely ashore a heavy night on the turps was dialled in with Glenn heading off up north tomorrow. Matters kicked off with supper in a local Thai place that rather oddly had no alcohol having sold out. Judging by the state of most of the locals that does not surprise us.
No booze was bad enough but starters out of the microwave really did leave them chuntering away but at least the chef came through at the last minute with some decent and fresh mains.
Sustenance acquired they headed off to Magnums full of confidence and cheer. Magnums itself was full of drunks and beer; along with a live performer who was not actually too pony.
Sitting next to them was a group of English including a poor girl being frankly mauled by a mildly tipsy local. Our subject suggested as a saving technique to her that she and Glenn should swap seats and see what happened. They did and it became apparent that the local was a little more than tipsy - he did not notice the switch, a lucky break for Glenn although strangely he did not think so.
With the drunk thrown out for over-aggressive fondling of Glenn they stepped up the pace with a quick cheeky round (or three) of Sambucas before moving onto Beaches.
Finally they got to talk to some passable girls and our subject impressed all by doing his usual and falling asleep. He was duly red carded home. Nigel quickly followed suit having thrown a pint all down himself and being unwilling to squelch around stinking of beer all night although, as that is what almost everyone else was doing, we do not quite understand why.
Meanwhile Boris and Glenn set the world alight tripping the light fantastic and throwing their impressive shapes before stumbling back in around 0330 and waking everyone else up.
Fortunately for Glenn, Nigel awoke at 0845 just in time to wake Glenn up from his very sound and not very sober slumber to dash to make his Greyhound at 0910 up to Cairns. We pity whoever has 12 hours sitting next to him on that trip.
No booze was bad enough but starters out of the microwave really did leave them chuntering away but at least the chef came through at the last minute with some decent and fresh mains.
Sustenance acquired they headed off to Magnums full of confidence and cheer. Magnums itself was full of drunks and beer; along with a live performer who was not actually too pony.
Sitting next to them was a group of English including a poor girl being frankly mauled by a mildly tipsy local. Our subject suggested as a saving technique to her that she and Glenn should swap seats and see what happened. They did and it became apparent that the local was a little more than tipsy - he did not notice the switch, a lucky break for Glenn although strangely he did not think so.
With the drunk thrown out for over-aggressive fondling of Glenn they stepped up the pace with a quick cheeky round (or three) of Sambucas before moving onto Beaches.
Finally they got to talk to some passable girls and our subject impressed all by doing his usual and falling asleep. He was duly red carded home. Nigel quickly followed suit having thrown a pint all down himself and being unwilling to squelch around stinking of beer all night although, as that is what almost everyone else was doing, we do not quite understand why.
Meanwhile Boris and Glenn set the world alight tripping the light fantastic and throwing their impressive shapes before stumbling back in around 0330 and waking everyone else up.
Fortunately for Glenn, Nigel awoke at 0845 just in time to wake Glenn up from his very sound and not very sober slumber to dash to make his Greyhound at 0910 up to Cairns. We pity whoever has 12 hours sitting next to him on that trip.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Australia - Part 11
Indulgence ship’s log day 7
Our last day at sea and our stores are now looking a little parlous (although supplies of beer and fruit juice remain good). A chance discovery of 36 bottles of mineral water has been mildly irritating considering the taint of the fresh water tanks they have been drinking (between the beer and the fruit juice) for the last week.
The First Lieutenant was in a shocking state this morning and could barely be turned out from his bunk much to the Master and Commander’s disgust. We do not anticipate a mention in despatches for him.
A quick run ashore for some critical supplies (skinny cappuccinos and croissant) and we were back at sea and running before the wind back to port. As the days have gone on we have become very accustomed to our good vessel’s little quirks and have been squeezing out more speed and after some careful retrimming of the fore and aft water tanks by Chief Buffon we were racing along at 11 knots and 4 fathoms.
With the First Lieutenant out of commission passed out on deck sleeping off the night before the voice of caution was lost from the crew and the rather brave decision to cut the corner and come between Pioneer Rocks and the shore nearly ended in tears as the depth gauge plummeted alarmingly. With the Chief Purser keeping a keen eye out on the depth and intoning it out like the dead pan voice of Davy Jones himself, “18 metres, 15 metres, 9 metres, 4 metres, 1.2 metres” all hands went into a shameful panic but the good vessel was just pulled through the narrow channel as the tide sunk alarmingly.
We can report that thankfully this brush with death set the First Lieutenant’s jam tart a racing and the rush of adrenaline quite cured his hangover.
A gentle sail up into the harbour
and our journey comes to an end at last. Safely berthed the last of the supplies were quickly demolished in a final meal in the gun room with some rather interesting combinations. The cheese and plum sauce crackers being a particular novelty.
And so noble Indulgence we salute you, a fine vessel with bags of speed and character and the decency not to kill the entire crew despite their best efforts.
And now the dry land shenanigans begin…
Our last day at sea and our stores are now looking a little parlous (although supplies of beer and fruit juice remain good). A chance discovery of 36 bottles of mineral water has been mildly irritating considering the taint of the fresh water tanks they have been drinking (between the beer and the fruit juice) for the last week.
The First Lieutenant was in a shocking state this morning and could barely be turned out from his bunk much to the Master and Commander’s disgust. We do not anticipate a mention in despatches for him.
A quick run ashore for some critical supplies (skinny cappuccinos and croissant) and we were back at sea and running before the wind back to port. As the days have gone on we have become very accustomed to our good vessel’s little quirks and have been squeezing out more speed and after some careful retrimming of the fore and aft water tanks by Chief Buffon we were racing along at 11 knots and 4 fathoms.
With the First Lieutenant out of commission passed out on deck sleeping off the night before the voice of caution was lost from the crew and the rather brave decision to cut the corner and come between Pioneer Rocks and the shore nearly ended in tears as the depth gauge plummeted alarmingly. With the Chief Purser keeping a keen eye out on the depth and intoning it out like the dead pan voice of Davy Jones himself, “18 metres, 15 metres, 9 metres, 4 metres, 1.2 metres” all hands went into a shameful panic but the good vessel was just pulled through the narrow channel as the tide sunk alarmingly.
We can report that thankfully this brush with death set the First Lieutenant’s jam tart a racing and the rush of adrenaline quite cured his hangover.
A gentle sail up into the harbour
and our journey comes to an end at last. Safely berthed the last of the supplies were quickly demolished in a final meal in the gun room with some rather interesting combinations. The cheese and plum sauce crackers being a particular novelty.And so noble Indulgence we salute you, a fine vessel with bags of speed and character and the decency not to kill the entire crew despite their best efforts.
And now the dry land shenanigans begin…
Australia - Part 10
Indulgence ship’s log day 6
Our stores are beginning to run a little short, the soft tack is weevilly, the fruit has seen better days and all our meat is gone; fortunately we have literally gallons of fruit juice and even more beer.
A rather breezy night with some cheeky chop and occasional showers which would not have been an issue had the Chief Buffon not elected to sleep on deck.
With some decent wind we decided to sail out of the anchorage until the depth alarm went off (it was showing 0.6 metres (they draw 1.8 metres)) and it was decided that the iron donkey was probably a safer course of action.
As we reached the open seas the winds freshened quickly and the washing was all deployed and with the ballast on the windward side (i.e. First Lieutenant and Chief Buffon) the good ship really showed her class bowling along at 11 knots and 3 fathoms.
Lunch was a rather strange a affair enlivened by the Master and Commander’s attempts to fix the tender’s outboard (it has broken again) and tearing the start cord out of it. Not a helpful step. He had however sensibly already untied from the Indulgence and was drifting away at an alarming rate of knots.
Much to his relief and everyone else’s surpise the Chief Engineer dived in and swam over to help him paddle back to safety.
A further treat was the Chief Buffon's discovery of a novel use of a snorkel mask - preventing tears whilst chopping onions.
Some more hard sailing in the afternoon
brought us back into Hamilton Island for a sheltered night in light of the weather predictions and so no anchor horse up of the day today but the Master and Commander did at least horse up the parking only not putting a hole in the boat thanks to the good lady fortunately placed on the pontoon who managed to hold them off; at the expense of two broken arms.
With port duly made and so many days at sea behind us the crew did what every sailor would do in such circumstances, doned their best shore-going rig and hit the local bars and nightclubs. The rather astonishing local licensing laws prevented them ordering straight Sambucas and despite their best efforts at persuading them that “Sambuca on the rocks (with just one little rock)” was a recognised cocktail they were thwarted.
The Chief Purser was found in a dishevelled state in the early hours in the cockpit and the rest are a similar shower.
Our stores are beginning to run a little short, the soft tack is weevilly, the fruit has seen better days and all our meat is gone; fortunately we have literally gallons of fruit juice and even more beer.
A rather breezy night with some cheeky chop and occasional showers which would not have been an issue had the Chief Buffon not elected to sleep on deck.
With some decent wind we decided to sail out of the anchorage until the depth alarm went off (it was showing 0.6 metres (they draw 1.8 metres)) and it was decided that the iron donkey was probably a safer course of action.
As we reached the open seas the winds freshened quickly and the washing was all deployed and with the ballast on the windward side (i.e. First Lieutenant and Chief Buffon) the good ship really showed her class bowling along at 11 knots and 3 fathoms.
Lunch was a rather strange a affair enlivened by the Master and Commander’s attempts to fix the tender’s outboard (it has broken again) and tearing the start cord out of it. Not a helpful step. He had however sensibly already untied from the Indulgence and was drifting away at an alarming rate of knots.
Much to his relief and everyone else’s surpise the Chief Engineer dived in and swam over to help him paddle back to safety.A further treat was the Chief Buffon's discovery of a novel use of a snorkel mask - preventing tears whilst chopping onions.
Some more hard sailing in the afternoon
brought us back into Hamilton Island for a sheltered night in light of the weather predictions and so no anchor horse up of the day today but the Master and Commander did at least horse up the parking only not putting a hole in the boat thanks to the good lady fortunately placed on the pontoon who managed to hold them off; at the expense of two broken arms.With port duly made and so many days at sea behind us the crew did what every sailor would do in such circumstances, doned their best shore-going rig and hit the local bars and nightclubs. The rather astonishing local licensing laws prevented them ordering straight Sambucas and despite their best efforts at persuading them that “Sambuca on the rocks (with just one little rock)” was a recognised cocktail they were thwarted.
The Chief Purser was found in a dishevelled state in the early hours in the cockpit and the rest are a similar shower.
Australia - Part 9
Indulgence Ship’s log day 5
Ships stores are beginning to run a little light although beer and fruit juice remain in very healthy supply.
An early morning dip was ordered to help de-louse the crew although the First Lieutenant took some 20 minutes to build up the courage to jump off the side. The Master and Commander swam round the island returning to the vessel in some distress crying out for the vinegar having been stung on the head by jellyfish.
Our first leg today was over to Tongue Bay with a fine wind running behind us. Having anchored up we made landfall and trekked to the highest point to take bearings.
The Chief Buffon was bothered all the way up by a rather large hornet which duly stung him on the head before itself dying crushed between his hand and his shoulder.
Having gathered their bearings they headed down onto the beach
and engaged in some reconnaissance. A group of native girls asked them to take their picture but seemed strangely unimpressed when First Lieutenant suggested they should substitute the traditional, “cheese” with, “lesbians.”
Some exploration of the shallows revealed a small shark swimming around their legs and a number of manta rays looking for a good meal (of their toes).
Having returned to the vessel we sailed north to Border Island (setting a new speed record of 10.3 knots) and having made a horse up of the first attempt to anchor (managing to drop ours on another ship’s) managed a much better result second time round. A fine luncheon of carbonara followed by banana surprise lifted spirits in the very challenging swell.
A final sail westwards through Hook Island passage and despite the best efforts of the Master and Commander to snap the mast off with 3 quick crash jibes in succession they safely made it to anchorage in Marcona Inlet and our overnight stay having completed 26 nautical miles for the day.
Second anchor horlicks of the day was dropping the blasted thing in the wrong place rather too close to another vessel. Much agonising was had about whether they could get away with it and the likelihood that they might swing into the other ship before the Chief Purser asked, not unfairly, “is there any reason we can’t just move” to which the only honest reply was given by the Chief Buffon, “none other than we would need to admit that we horsed it up.” Sensibly the horses skull and cross bones was raised along with the anchor and they moved to a safer spot.
Ships stores are beginning to run a little light although beer and fruit juice remain in very healthy supply.
An early morning dip was ordered to help de-louse the crew although the First Lieutenant took some 20 minutes to build up the courage to jump off the side. The Master and Commander swam round the island returning to the vessel in some distress crying out for the vinegar having been stung on the head by jellyfish.
Our first leg today was over to Tongue Bay with a fine wind running behind us. Having anchored up we made landfall and trekked to the highest point to take bearings.
The Chief Buffon was bothered all the way up by a rather large hornet which duly stung him on the head before itself dying crushed between his hand and his shoulder.Having gathered their bearings they headed down onto the beach
and engaged in some reconnaissance. A group of native girls asked them to take their picture but seemed strangely unimpressed when First Lieutenant suggested they should substitute the traditional, “cheese” with, “lesbians.”Some exploration of the shallows revealed a small shark swimming around their legs and a number of manta rays looking for a good meal (of their toes).
Having returned to the vessel we sailed north to Border Island (setting a new speed record of 10.3 knots) and having made a horse up of the first attempt to anchor (managing to drop ours on another ship’s) managed a much better result second time round. A fine luncheon of carbonara followed by banana surprise lifted spirits in the very challenging swell.
A final sail westwards through Hook Island passage and despite the best efforts of the Master and Commander to snap the mast off with 3 quick crash jibes in succession they safely made it to anchorage in Marcona Inlet and our overnight stay having completed 26 nautical miles for the day.
Second anchor horlicks of the day was dropping the blasted thing in the wrong place rather too close to another vessel. Much agonising was had about whether they could get away with it and the likelihood that they might swing into the other ship before the Chief Purser asked, not unfairly, “is there any reason we can’t just move” to which the only honest reply was given by the Chief Buffon, “none other than we would need to admit that we horsed it up.” Sensibly the horses skull and cross bones was raised along with the anchor and they moved to a safer spot.
Australia - Part 8
Indulgence Ship’s log day 4
Stores remain well stocked indeed following the discovery of enormous quantities of fruit juice hidden in one of the cabins the crew has been ordered to drink fruit juice at every opportunity, sadly no order can overturn the natural desire for beer at every opportunity.
The wind has at last set fair and we made fine time and cast a fine bow wave
as we made our way south from Hamilton towards the Solway passage (noted on the charts to be particularly dangerous) and into Whitehaven Beach (the handbrake turn into the anchorage was much appreciated by all the sailors watching).
Immediately after luncheon as we explored northwards along Whitehaven Beach the helm (Chief Buffon) was somewhat perturbed as two seaplanes appeared from under the sail leading the helm to observe, “I don’t mind watching out for other yachts but bloody planes is a bit bloody much” and for the First Lieutenant to observe that it was like Heathrow.
A quick reconnaissance of this fantastic beach (passim)
was all we could squeeze in before sailing over to our overnight berth on Chalkie’s beach. The usual shore party discovered a splendid little beach with unspoilt forest stretching away beyond it. 
Our anchor horlicks of the day was to drop the anchor on some coral causing a shocking amount of damage.
Overall 20 knots under the belt and morale is very high, particularly following the discovery of another 2 crates of beer.
The injury report for today is limited to the First Lieutenant’s apparent heart attack but a healthy puke over the side seemed to set him right.
Stores remain well stocked indeed following the discovery of enormous quantities of fruit juice hidden in one of the cabins the crew has been ordered to drink fruit juice at every opportunity, sadly no order can overturn the natural desire for beer at every opportunity.
The wind has at last set fair and we made fine time and cast a fine bow wave
as we made our way south from Hamilton towards the Solway passage (noted on the charts to be particularly dangerous) and into Whitehaven Beach (the handbrake turn into the anchorage was much appreciated by all the sailors watching). Immediately after luncheon as we explored northwards along Whitehaven Beach the helm (Chief Buffon) was somewhat perturbed as two seaplanes appeared from under the sail leading the helm to observe, “I don’t mind watching out for other yachts but bloody planes is a bit bloody much” and for the First Lieutenant to observe that it was like Heathrow.
A quick reconnaissance of this fantastic beach (passim)
was all we could squeeze in before sailing over to our overnight berth on Chalkie’s beach. The usual shore party discovered a splendid little beach with unspoilt forest stretching away beyond it. 
Our anchor horlicks of the day was to drop the anchor on some coral causing a shocking amount of damage.
Overall 20 knots under the belt and morale is very high, particularly following the discovery of another 2 crates of beer.
The injury report for today is limited to the First Lieutenant’s apparent heart attack but a healthy puke over the side seemed to set him right.
Australia - Part 7
Indulgence ship’s log day 3
Stores remain good and morale likewise.
The winds have been a little variable, approaching non-existent, but through some careful manoeuvring and a dose of patience, well from some of the crew, some very slow miles were put into the log although to make their date with Hamilton Island some iron donkey work was needed.
No serious injuries to report but the Chief Buffon is beginning to lose patience with stubbing his toes on the helm and the Chief Engineer likewise with bashing his head on the boom.
The Chief Buffon reported spotting a whale spout but no sign was seen thereafter of the mighty beast but a couple of pods of dolphins enlivened the day.
Having made Hamilton the berthing at where was rather exciting as the Chief Engineer ran around with a raving bender (shurely roving fender? – ed) whilst the Master and Commander only failed to stack the vessel into the pontoon thanks to the sacrifice of the Chief Buffon’s shoulder.
An enormous amount of booze was thrown down their necks but fortunately not depleting the onboard stocks as it was acquired at cutlass point from the friendly tavern (populated by a very friendly curlew) on the island.
Stores remain good and morale likewise.
The winds have been a little variable, approaching non-existent, but through some careful manoeuvring and a dose of patience, well from some of the crew, some very slow miles were put into the log although to make their date with Hamilton Island some iron donkey work was needed.
No serious injuries to report but the Chief Buffon is beginning to lose patience with stubbing his toes on the helm and the Chief Engineer likewise with bashing his head on the boom.
The Chief Buffon reported spotting a whale spout but no sign was seen thereafter of the mighty beast but a couple of pods of dolphins enlivened the day.
Having made Hamilton the berthing at where was rather exciting as the Chief Engineer ran around with a raving bender (shurely roving fender? – ed) whilst the Master and Commander only failed to stack the vessel into the pontoon thanks to the sacrifice of the Chief Buffon’s shoulder.
An enormous amount of booze was thrown down their necks but fortunately not depleting the onboard stocks as it was acquired at cutlass point from the friendly tavern (populated by a very friendly curlew) on the island.
Australia - Part 6
Indulgence Ship’s log day 2
Ship’s stores generally bearing up although gin supplies strangely depleted, the First Lieutenant is assumed to be guilty but he had drunk all the evidence.
A fine breakfast of ham and Coon (it is a type of cheese gentle reader) and an early start was made after a quick swim with the sharks.
The sea was somewhat placid this morning like a mill pond perhaps and sailing was quite a challenge but through constant attention to our trim an average speed of 6 knots was maintained (by trim do you mean throttle? – ed).
After a mid-morning snorkel around Blue Pearl Bay followed by some nourishing soup for elevenses they moored up for luncheon conveniently enough in Luncheon Bay. A fine selection of sea food including some disturbing creatures that are apparently Alien face-huggers but more properly called Balmain Bugs topped off the feast.
More snorkling in Manta Ray Bay and some fine mid-afternoon sailing took us back to Stonehaven Anchorage for the evening.
Anchor horlicks of the day was the amusing discovery that the anchor fairies had put a knot in the blasted chain which made dropping it quite a challenge.
As usual some quick reconnaissance of the shore was put in before it got too dark and the brave away crew invested most of the local shore.
Chief Buffon spotted a couple of sharks but the rest of the crew would only believe that they were a pair of Bullshit Sharks. 
The return journey was “enlivened” when Master and Commander managed to flood the engine on the tender and they had to start paddling back
but fortunately after only 30 minutes of frantic efforts by Chief Buffon at restarting the beast it sprang back into life and they just made it back to the vessel before last light.
Ship’s stores generally bearing up although gin supplies strangely depleted, the First Lieutenant is assumed to be guilty but he had drunk all the evidence.
A fine breakfast of ham and Coon (it is a type of cheese gentle reader) and an early start was made after a quick swim with the sharks.
The sea was somewhat placid this morning like a mill pond perhaps and sailing was quite a challenge but through constant attention to our trim an average speed of 6 knots was maintained (by trim do you mean throttle? – ed).
After a mid-morning snorkel around Blue Pearl Bay followed by some nourishing soup for elevenses they moored up for luncheon conveniently enough in Luncheon Bay. A fine selection of sea food including some disturbing creatures that are apparently Alien face-huggers but more properly called Balmain Bugs topped off the feast.
More snorkling in Manta Ray Bay and some fine mid-afternoon sailing took us back to Stonehaven Anchorage for the evening.
Anchor horlicks of the day was the amusing discovery that the anchor fairies had put a knot in the blasted chain which made dropping it quite a challenge.As usual some quick reconnaissance of the shore was put in before it got too dark and the brave away crew invested most of the local shore.
Chief Buffon spotted a couple of sharks but the rest of the crew would only believe that they were a pair of Bullshit Sharks. 
The return journey was “enlivened” when Master and Commander managed to flood the engine on the tender and they had to start paddling back
but fortunately after only 30 minutes of frantic efforts by Chief Buffon at restarting the beast it sprang back into life and they just made it back to the vessel before last light.
Australia - Part 5
An early start for the boys (0600) with a view to setting to sea as soon as possible was thwarted by the ridiculous health and safety briefings (sic) they had to endure for literally hours and they only finally managed to put to sea at 1230 but their spirits were not crushed by the crushing tedium of such red tape and the boys kept their spirits up when our subject stabbed himself with a frozen prawn.
Eventually however with a fine wind and some splendid weather they set off into the great unknown on the good ship Indulgence.
Indulgence Ship’s log day 1
Our good ship is fully provisioned for a 7 day voyage of discovery and well crewed; consisting of Master and Commander Boris
, First Lieutenant Nigel 
, Chief Purser Dogs 
, Chief Engineer Glennjamin 
and the Chief Buffon. 
Journey began at 1230 local time and the vessel was moored up by 1730 in Nara Inlet
having covered some 23 nautical miles.
Notable incidents included
1. A rather close call with a 60 foot dive boat as the skipper tacked us under their bow at very close quarters despite the warning shouts from the First Lieutenant and the Chief Buffon. Astonishingly despite the incompetence of the manoeuvre and the panic on board the ship the crew of the near casualty were impressed by their courage and yelled across “top sailing mate.”
2. Evading the hot pursuit of a Customs Clipper sent after them.
3. The near loss of the anchor when Chief Buffon accidentally dropped it without putting it on the winch, the sterling efforts of the crew in re-shipping the anchor without the use of the said winch is to be particularly commended.
Having moored up the First Lieutenant, the Chief Engineer and the Chief Buffon took the ship’s pinnace to the clearly virgin shore and having carefully navigated the mangrove lined channels made landfall and investigated some of the native flora and fauna. During this away trip our ship suffered its first casualty with the Chief Buffon suffering a cut foot on some rocks and thus the first white blood was spilt on these foreign shores.
The First Lieutenant stuck closely to the well known motto when exploring such territories, “leave nothing but foot-prints, take nothing but memories…unless it gets in your way” and smashed his way through some inconveniently located trees.
The Chief Buffon has just collapsed from heatstroke but else all is well.
Eventually however with a fine wind and some splendid weather they set off into the great unknown on the good ship Indulgence.
Indulgence Ship’s log day 1
Our good ship is fully provisioned for a 7 day voyage of discovery and well crewed; consisting of Master and Commander Boris
, First Lieutenant Nigel 
, Chief Purser Dogs 
, Chief Engineer Glennjamin 
and the Chief Buffon. 
Journey began at 1230 local time and the vessel was moored up by 1730 in Nara Inlet
having covered some 23 nautical miles.Notable incidents included
1. A rather close call with a 60 foot dive boat as the skipper tacked us under their bow at very close quarters despite the warning shouts from the First Lieutenant and the Chief Buffon. Astonishingly despite the incompetence of the manoeuvre and the panic on board the ship the crew of the near casualty were impressed by their courage and yelled across “top sailing mate.”
2. Evading the hot pursuit of a Customs Clipper sent after them.
3. The near loss of the anchor when Chief Buffon accidentally dropped it without putting it on the winch, the sterling efforts of the crew in re-shipping the anchor without the use of the said winch is to be particularly commended.
Having moored up the First Lieutenant, the Chief Engineer and the Chief Buffon took the ship’s pinnace to the clearly virgin shore and having carefully navigated the mangrove lined channels made landfall and investigated some of the native flora and fauna. During this away trip our ship suffered its first casualty with the Chief Buffon suffering a cut foot on some rocks and thus the first white blood was spilt on these foreign shores.
The First Lieutenant stuck closely to the well known motto when exploring such territories, “leave nothing but foot-prints, take nothing but memories…unless it gets in your way” and smashed his way through some inconveniently located trees.
The Chief Buffon has just collapsed from heatstroke but else all is well.
Australia - Part 4
A new day dawned which thanks to the events of the night before, the impact of Daylight Saving Time and the rain was rather unwelcome as they all nursed hangovers of varying horror and looked forward to a day of travelling with similar levels of dread.
The taxi driver was no doubt delighted to learn so much about the goings on of the night before although perhaps not as delighted as our subject who had somehow wangled to ride in the front with some space whilst Nigel rode in the cramped back with our subject’s rucksack in his lap.
The flight to Brisbane was relatively painless but then the JetStar computers all broke down and their systems went to utter hell in a hand-basket so the hour in Brisbane airport rapidly expanded into 4 very long and dull hours, fortunately Dogs was there to finally join the party which improved matters somewhat at least.
Having eventually made it to Airlie Beach (ironically it does not have a beach) they quickly donned their glad rags and headed into town to try and rustle up some “crew” and as everyone knows the best place to rustle up experienced crew is from the crowds of gap year students to be found in the hostel bars although inexplicably on this clearly very rare occasion they did not prove fertile grounds for the press gang.
The taxi driver was no doubt delighted to learn so much about the goings on of the night before although perhaps not as delighted as our subject who had somehow wangled to ride in the front with some space whilst Nigel rode in the cramped back with our subject’s rucksack in his lap.
The flight to Brisbane was relatively painless but then the JetStar computers all broke down and their systems went to utter hell in a hand-basket so the hour in Brisbane airport rapidly expanded into 4 very long and dull hours, fortunately Dogs was there to finally join the party which improved matters somewhat at least.
Having eventually made it to Airlie Beach (ironically it does not have a beach) they quickly donned their glad rags and headed into town to try and rustle up some “crew” and as everyone knows the best place to rustle up experienced crew is from the crowds of gap year students to be found in the hostel bars although inexplicably on this clearly very rare occasion they did not prove fertile grounds for the press gang.
Australia - Part 3
Duly refreshed they headed off for some sharpeners in the Wharf bar and then hitting the best restaurant in town, Whitewater, for a splendid feast and the finest wines. The meal was somewhat ruined however by the need to bolt it down so they could race to the nightclub to which all the long-legged beauties walking past were clearly heading.
Having joined the queue of the eye-wateringly trendy Shore club it quickly became apparent that the doormen were of the discerning type (their knuckles only just scraped the ground) and one had to pass an interview to be allowed in. Much to everyone’s surprise our subject was allowed to speak to the doorman and to even greater surprise they were let in.
A quick sambuca and soon all the dance moves were being deployed from “little fish-big fish” through to “cardboard box” and even to that most challenging of dances “bless this crowd” they set the place aflame and really impressed the locals with their array of moves and innate timing and snake-like hips (are we shure of our factsh here? – ed).
Our subject sensibly called it a night just after 0100 but the others tripped the light fantastic all the way through to chucking out time before returning to the hotel. Nigel proceeded to break into the bar and when the receptionist caught him with some bottles of beer behind the bar she called the local police on them who promptly came screaming up with the sirens blazing.
Fortunately the local boys in blue are not the brightest and through the simple medium of standing 15 metres away from the scene of their crime they foxed the fuzz.
Having joined the queue of the eye-wateringly trendy Shore club it quickly became apparent that the doormen were of the discerning type (their knuckles only just scraped the ground) and one had to pass an interview to be allowed in. Much to everyone’s surprise our subject was allowed to speak to the doorman and to even greater surprise they were let in.
A quick sambuca and soon all the dance moves were being deployed from “little fish-big fish” through to “cardboard box” and even to that most challenging of dances “bless this crowd” they set the place aflame and really impressed the locals with their array of moves and innate timing and snake-like hips (are we shure of our factsh here? – ed).
Our subject sensibly called it a night just after 0100 but the others tripped the light fantastic all the way through to chucking out time before returning to the hotel. Nigel proceeded to break into the bar and when the receptionist caught him with some bottles of beer behind the bar she called the local police on them who promptly came screaming up with the sirens blazing.
Fortunately the local boys in blue are not the brightest and through the simple medium of standing 15 metres away from the scene of their crime they foxed the fuzz.
Australia - Part 2
A short night’s sleep (well 20 hours for Nigel but you get the picture) left them wide awake and raring to go and after a spot of brekkie (and some volleyball for Boris) they set off into the city for some touristy type nonsense. Sadly the fantastic weather of the day of their arrival had broken and it was, rather miserably, raining.
Boris had been inveigled upon to take them to a museum and despite living here for 8 years it turned out that his knowledge of his home town is a little lacking and he took them to the only museum he knew the totally rubbish
(shurely post-modern? – ed) Museum of Sydney 
and they now know more than they ever felt they wanted to know about the first Governor’s mansion.
Boris’s abject failure in the museum stakes was duly punished and he was sent of to sail in the pouring rain whilst they walked the streets, in the same pouring rain, in search of the Museum of Australia and, crucially, a stuffed crocodile.
Eventually the drowned rats did so locate and the Museum has clearly been laid out with idiots like them in mind as it had a stuffed crocodile located just past the ticket booth.
Sadly the poor beast is rather poorly lit.
Their need for taxidermed crocodilians duly sated another burning thirst had to be sated and one of the bars by the Opera House was lucky enough to get their custom.
A quick ferry trip back to Manly and Nigel and our subject popped into the wharf bar for a quick sharpener. A group of girls kept on looking their way before one of their number, sadly the least attractive one, wandered over and posed the puzzler, “what fucks like a tiger and winks” to our subject; when, after much agonising he replied, “I do not know” she just winked at him.
Clearly that was all too much for them so they shot off for another late afternoon nap.
Boris had been inveigled upon to take them to a museum and despite living here for 8 years it turned out that his knowledge of his home town is a little lacking and he took them to the only museum he knew the totally rubbish
(shurely post-modern? – ed) Museum of Sydney 
and they now know more than they ever felt they wanted to know about the first Governor’s mansion.Boris’s abject failure in the museum stakes was duly punished and he was sent of to sail in the pouring rain whilst they walked the streets, in the same pouring rain, in search of the Museum of Australia and, crucially, a stuffed crocodile.
Eventually the drowned rats did so locate and the Museum has clearly been laid out with idiots like them in mind as it had a stuffed crocodile located just past the ticket booth.
Sadly the poor beast is rather poorly lit.Their need for taxidermed crocodilians duly sated another burning thirst had to be sated and one of the bars by the Opera House was lucky enough to get their custom.
A quick ferry trip back to Manly and Nigel and our subject popped into the wharf bar for a quick sharpener. A group of girls kept on looking their way before one of their number, sadly the least attractive one, wandered over and posed the puzzler, “what fucks like a tiger and winks” to our subject; when, after much agonising he replied, “I do not know” she just winked at him.
Clearly that was all too much for them so they shot off for another late afternoon nap.
Australia - Part 1
After a mammoth flight eventually they arrived in Sydney first thing in the morning and quickly jumped on the ferry 
over to Manly to meet up with Boris. Booking into the hotel was a bit of a challenge (Nigel’s usual lack of patience not helping matters) but with a quick break to wander back to the ferry to meet up with Glenn eventually they were all gathered and after a quick dip in the ocean the beers started at a sensibly early hour in Charlie’s bar.
As is becoming increasingly common his accursed bank has placed a ban on his card whilst abroad and so he is reduced to tapping up the lads for his supplies of funny money. Glenn gets the thanks for the lunchtime drinks and Boris for supper.
Despite their bravado the lunchtime drinks could not last and a nap was the order of the day before their now reduced numbers went out for supper (Nigel being too insensate from jet lag to make it out of his bed).
His lovely friend Sam and her new husband Wayne came down to meet up with him in Hugo’s (a new painfully trendy bar on the water) and catch up on all their respective news (Sam is a very new mother) before the three lads squeezed in some quick late drinks in the Wharf Bar (passim).
over to Manly to meet up with Boris. Booking into the hotel was a bit of a challenge (Nigel’s usual lack of patience not helping matters) but with a quick break to wander back to the ferry to meet up with Glenn eventually they were all gathered and after a quick dip in the ocean the beers started at a sensibly early hour in Charlie’s bar.As is becoming increasingly common his accursed bank has placed a ban on his card whilst abroad and so he is reduced to tapping up the lads for his supplies of funny money. Glenn gets the thanks for the lunchtime drinks and Boris for supper.
Despite their bravado the lunchtime drinks could not last and a nap was the order of the day before their now reduced numbers went out for supper (Nigel being too insensate from jet lag to make it out of his bed).
His lovely friend Sam and her new husband Wayne came down to meet up with him in Hugo’s (a new painfully trendy bar on the water) and catch up on all their respective news (Sam is a very new mother) before the three lads squeezed in some quick late drinks in the Wharf Bar (passim).
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Australia - Bangkok
Imagine our joy as he settled down in his dog class seat only to be approached by the chief steward who, having checked he was travelling alone, ushered him up the stairs to the fat cat class seats. A lovely night's sleep stretched out on a fully flat bed has left him feeling very refreshed as he sits in the Business lounge at Bangkok airport waiting for the 'plane to be refuelled.
Meanwhile Nigel has spent the journey so far stuck at the back and so incensed was he at the shocking fact that our subject got upgraded whilst he, a gold card member, was not that he made, by all accounts, quite a scene. Clearly the stewardesses have seen that sort of nonsense before and sorted it out by pouring red wine all over him.
He is now prowling the airport searching for a new clean shirt.
Meanwhile Nigel has spent the journey so far stuck at the back and so incensed was he at the shocking fact that our subject got upgraded whilst he, a gold card member, was not that he made, by all accounts, quite a scene. Clearly the stewardesses have seen that sort of nonsense before and sorted it out by pouring red wine all over him.
He is now prowling the airport searching for a new clean shirt.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Australia - The prologue part 2
Our customer services team has noted our most recent comment and we can only apologise to our poor reader. We trust that this latest Australia trip will provide some material for you to return to the happy fold.
Australia - The prologue
After a few weeks well deserved break your very hard working correspondent is being despatched by the editorial team to cover the latest visit to Australia by our subject. This trip features Naughty Nigel, Glenn, Dogs and Boris.
Matters have started well as he confidently declaimed to Nigel a few days ago, "don't be silly Nigel of course one does need a visa for Australia it is one of the colonies."
Imagine his joy at being corrected at check-in (by the splendidly named Suzicassandra). A few telephone calls to Australia and the greasing of some palms fortunately had matters resolved. Nigel's mood at being informed this happy news as he sat on the Heathrow Express can only be guessed at.
Nigel, shocking flying snob that he is, is truely appalled at the idea of travelling in the back of the plane, "do they even have movies back there?" being his latest outburst.
Next stop Bangkok.
Matters have started well as he confidently declaimed to Nigel a few days ago, "don't be silly Nigel of course one does need a visa for Australia it is one of the colonies."
Imagine his joy at being corrected at check-in (by the splendidly named Suzicassandra). A few telephone calls to Australia and the greasing of some palms fortunately had matters resolved. Nigel's mood at being informed this happy news as he sat on the Heathrow Express can only be guessed at.
Nigel, shocking flying snob that he is, is truely appalled at the idea of travelling in the back of the plane, "do they even have movies back there?" being his latest outburst.
Next stop Bangkok.
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