This is saying goodbye to England, again.

*

My time in England, and Europe, with Karlos - was really special. Being able to visit my home country after so long living away was always going to be great, but bringing Karlos along with me - so he could finally see where I am from and understand my roots, and therefore me, better - was amazing. It was a wonderful two months emersing myself in time with family, friends, English history and culture. Oh yes! Believe it or not, we do have a culture that extends beyond rain, cups of tea, whinging and football hooligans! Just what made me think two months was going to be enough - god only knows! It wasn't.

*

We had a wonderful time with my family in the north, and it was really special staying at my Nana and Grandad's house - a place where I spent many, many days of my childhood - playing, laughing, and learning. To have Karlos there with me was really bonding for us. We were in a place so far from where we met, where he grew up and has lived his life - in another country, in another continent, in another hemisphere. A place where so much of 'me' belongs - and he could finally connect with that. We visited lots of my family - on their farm, at their local pubs, in their sitting rooms - and Karlos fit in like he had been a part of me for always. I am only sorry we didn't have time to visit all of my family members, and that those we did visit couldn't have been much longer. But my heart will always be there - and I will return soon.


(One of several family dinners and catch ups).

*

We had a wonderful time with my best friend, Vicky, in the south west - and it was really special staying with her and her lovely partner, James, and having Karlos and James hit it off like long lost friends, whilst Vix and I hung out like no time had passed at all between our last catch up. Vix and I have grown up together - we have been best friends since we were just 3 years old - starting school together, learning lessons and growing together, performing in plays together, swotting for exams together, playing sport together, going on holidays together, crying over boyfriends together, laughing over silly friends together, and singing into our hairbrushes. And when I left England in 2000, our friendship survived 11,000 miles and a 12-hour time difference, and scheduled telephone calls if ever we wanted a chat. It survived 4 years apart, a time when I moved back and we turned 20 together, but then another 4 years apart. But the moment we saw each other again, we picked up exactly where we left off - and after the initial squeals and tears and hugs, we were soon just two old, comfortable friends. Nothing had changed. Even though we have both grown up - and Vix is now a teacher and owns her own house and is very grown up indeed - we are still those two young girls making sense of the world and sharing life's happiness together. And even though I still wish I could pack her in my suitcase and bring her back to NZ with me, I am happy knowing how strong our friendship is. And we spent many hours laughing at the lads - Karlos and James - and their new bromance. Becoming almost as close as Vix and I - sharing private jokes and being as thick as thieves. Those were happy days.



*

I caught up with many more friends (although the friends I didn't have time to visit were unfortunately a much larger number).

I caught up with some of the girls I went to primary school with and the changes and the constants never cease to amaze me. We are still the same girls, still the same personalities, still getting the same enjoyment from each others' company - but now one of us is married, and two others are mums, and many own houses, and there has been university and travelling and lots of other grown up things - and we are no longer innocent. Life has swept us along in many different directions - but we have still maintained a connection and a bond with each other and that is so special. And that is something my life in NZ will always be missing.



I also caught up with the lovely Alison McCausland, someone who I've known since I was a very young girl, someone who not only encouraged my acting abilities, she wholeheartedly believed in them and provided me with so many opportunities to be on the stage. We caught up and watched some videos of our old plays... transporting me right back to another part of my life...

*

And at the end of my time in England, sitting in Heathrow airport with tears escaping from my eyes and Karlos holding onto me tightly, I realised something: whilst I wished for more time with family, and more time with long-lost friends, and enough time to make it to Greece - it wasn't meant to be, this time... And no matter how much time I spend in the UK, and Europe, it'll never, ever be enough ~ and this is what keeps me tied to the place... and forever thinking of my 'next visit.' But visit it will always be.

~ Comet xo

This is Yorkshire, duck! And I heart London!

After our car had been seized in Yorkshire, we spent a lovely few days with my aunty and uncle in Wetherby - and they managed to restore my faith in 'the best of Britain' and just how jolly and generous the people of my home country can be. It was just lovely being with them, talking about family matters (my aunty Lynn is currently working on our family history - my mum's side of the family - and we have dozens of relatives in South Africa, my great Grandad having immigrated to England when he was a young man). Lynn and Geoff are also extremely well travelled, so it was wonderful sharing stories and getting advise from them (they have previously lived in Zambia and Namibia) and I wish more than anything (as with all my family) that my time with them could have been longer. Lynn and Geoff are actually my great aunty and uncle - but they are so young in spirit that the only thing great about them is how awesome they are ♥



*

And so, after what should have been longer in Yorkshire, we caught a train to East London - Colchester - to stay once again with Zoe Bamford (who kindly put us up when we first arrived in England 2 months ago). This time we were ready to explore the big smoke: London. And of course to spend more time with Zoe, having good times.


Our time in London City istelf, was brief - but comprehensive! I of course have been to London before, so I plotted out a route that would help Karlos to see all the best touristy bits (the stuff that would be relevant and interesting to us both) in just one day - and it went something like this:

We got a train from Colchester to Liverpool St station, and we then went for a walk along the Thames, taking in the view of Westminster, to the west, as we headed east - towards The Globe, to purchase tickets for a show - any show - so long as it was on 'tonight.' On the way we had views of St Paul's Cathedral amongst other things.





After we had scored tickets for Shakespeare's 'Merry Wives of Windsor' (not the £5 standing seats, unfortunately - as even though there are 750 per every show, they were all sold out! So we had to splurge for the £29 'gods seats') - we then went to Pizza Express for a yummy, cheap lunch.

Next - we got the tube to Westminster - and here we were the mother of all tourists - taking snaps of Big Ben (which is actually the bell, inside the clock tower - and YAY we did get to here is ding dong), and the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey, and any statue of any national icon, or monarch at any point between all three. We battled with rude tourists (usually the French variety who don't know how to say "excuse me") and watched protesters who were anti-Irag war, who had set camp. Often I think this is the centre of it all - here in London - but always I seek to move on after an hour or so. Fortunately, Karlos had no interest in seeing the tombs of long-dead monarchs, or modern-day politicians... so we moved on before too long.




Continuing westward, we walked through St James' park on the way to Buckingham Palace. Here, we spent some time watching an old cockney man feed the squirrels - with nuts from his top pocket. It was adorable! The squirrels were a slightly timid of us passers-by, but not afraid of this old man at all - as soon as they had their nut they would scurry up a nearby tree to break into it and eat it, and then as soon as they were done they ran straight back to him to get another. I imagined he had done this, on the same bench, for quite some time. I do love squirrels - there are worse ways to waste time I suppose.




Eventually, we managed to tear ourselves away from the squirrels (ok - Karlos managed to tear me away!) and then we reached Buckingham Palace. Again, I was grateful to learn that Karlos had no desire to view "another bloody old house." I resisted the urge to make him understand the importance of Buckingham Palace (purely out of my inbred patriotism), as I didn't want to convinvce him to change his mind - I was on a tight budget after all, and the admission fee for B.P is not cheap! So we spent some time watching the guard's outside - do absolutely nothing - and had the usual tourist moment of taking pictures of each other outside the palace gates, me making him retake mine, again and again, until I was almost in tears at how I couldn't take a single good photo due to "bad hair," and him scolding me telling me I look lovely. And then we moved on.



We got the tube, still westbound, and got off at Hyde Park corner... Harrods. Whether you like shopping or not, whether you have money to spend or not - Harrods is a 'must see' in London. We wandered the various floors for a little while - I found myself a toilet complete with perfumes and creams free to use - and eventually we found an exit (veeery easy to get lost in there) shortly followed by a bakery (where Karlos told off a little boy for sticking his podgy finger into a chocolate cake on display and licking it - I thought the kid was gonna cry!), before we finally found a healthy joint selling sandwiches etc.



We could have sat in the sandwich bar aaaaall day - it was late afternoon now, and we had covered so much ground our feet were aching more than our growling stomachs. But no rest for the wicked - I had big plans - which involved a walk from Kensington Gardens into Hyde Park.... a long way - so we decided to get the tube even further west, and then walk back towards Hyde Park corner. A little optimistic a plan - halfway through Kensington Gardens my feet really started to hurt - and we had to stop for a rest. Karlos was fine with this... grateful probably... Hyde Park is around 400 acres in size! No amount of it being pretty would make up for a day's worth of walking already - so we flagged it.



We had enough time to get a tube to Trafalger square, as we headed back eastward (towards The Globe) before our play at 7pm. So we stopped there for a little while, and then found a (my favourite) 'Pret a Manger' cafe for a nice healthy tea.



Our day in London was slowly coming to an end... we got another tube, closer towards the Globe, and walked towards it over Millenium Bridge. And I couldn't think of any better way for us to finish our day in London - than a performance at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Bravo!




We spent a few more days, out east with Zoe - chilling out and having a laugh. It was so easy to feel at home with Zoe - she's a good friend of Karlos' and I really enjoyed getting to know her. Karlos cooked us both tea one night; I managed to get my hair done at a hairdresser's round the corner (first time in 4 months - heaven!); we met her gossipy next door neighbours(!), and their dog - a staffy - who was afraid of a feather, hahaha; and we finished up with a wicked night out on the town with Zoe and some of her mates. All in all - bloody tops.



I ♥ London!

~ Comet xo

This is a seize and an arrest!...

It is moments like these when you remember why you left a cuntry. (Not a spelling mistake).

As much as I love England, and boast of it's many qualities - there is something fundamentally retarded about being able to purchase a car, but not being able to insure it.

I will explain...

Karlos and I purchased a car in the UK, primarily because it was a quarter of the price to rent a car, and we would have the option of selling it again before we left. We gave the address of my best friend, and the car dealer happily, and easily, drew up the ownership papers for us.

The next day we tried to insure the car, but - despite me being an engish citizen, and us both having international driving permits - no one would insure us because we are not residents, i.e. do not have a permenant address in the UK, and do not have a british drivers licence. But I have grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, etc etc, all who live here and I can use as an abode. I am a british citizen, with a New Zealand driver's licence, and an international driving permit that is recognised in the UK. I am also an AA member in New Zealand (talking to AA in the UK). But none of that was good enough.

So - because car insurance is the law in the with no exceptions - we were in a catch 22. We own a car that we cannot drive, legally. So what did we do? We stuck a proverbial middle finger up to the authorities and drove anyway. We would drive with extreme caution to avoid any potential accidents, and, well - we'd take the chance.

So we drove for one and a half months with no troubles. We drove to France, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, all over England, Ireland, and Scotland... before trouble eventuaslly caught up with us in Yorkshire, northeast England...

*

The police car pulled in front of our car, after following us for several miles. He turned on his "follow me" sign. "Shit," we both agreed.

"Hello sir," the lovely policeman said to Karlos. "Nothing wrong with your driving there, but one of our roadside cameras has scanned your licence plate, and it doesn't show you having insurance in our database."

"Ummm... we don't." Karlos replied honestly.

"Oh, I see," the policeman continued, "you do know it's the law to have car insurance?"

"We're from New Zealand," Karlos replied, with the usual, desperate plea of 'please let us off we're ignorant tourists.'

"Yes, but it is the law here, and you shouldn't have been driving without it. You're breaking the law."

We knew we were, we couldn't argue. Karlos explained how we had tried to get insurance, but no one would cover us - and the policeman asked him to come sit in the back of his car whilst he looked into the matter further. Meanwhile, I sat on the side of the motorway in our car - wondering what on earth was going on... for about half an hour.

Eventually, Karlos and the policeman came back to me, to explain that - despite the officer doing everything he could to help us, even calling insurance companies on our behalf, and getting the same "no chance" response that we did - the car was being seized and Karlos was under arrest. I burst into tears at being so utterly p*ssed off with "stupid bloody english rules that make no sense."

The policemen explained that Karlos would likely only get a caution, but he was still obliged to take him into the station. Another policeman arrived shortly afterwards, to drop off a third policeman - who then drove me to my aunty's house nearby, before taking our car off to the compound. To get the car back - we would need to pay a 150 quid fine, and prove we now have the car insured. Impossible, given that was the reason why we were in this predicament in the first place. The car was basically being taken away from us - british residents in a similar situation would have recieved a 500 quid fine. We could not be treated in the same way, as we could easily leave the country without paying our fine (which of course we would have). So it was bye bye car.

The policeman was just doing his job. He was a nice man, who helped us all he could and sympathised for us. It wasn't his fault.

Karlos spent an hour or two at the police station, inside a little cell and even had to give DNA samples! Eventually though, he was dropped off at my aunty's - with a caution and no further fines, as promised. And we spent a bit of time trying once again to insure the car, even my uncle tried to insure it for us - but to no avail.

In the end we decided - sod it. The car cost us 600 quid. What we saved on insurance in the first place, we lost buy loosing the car - so technically we broke even. And at least we now didn't have to spend the last week of our trip cleaning the car, listing the car and trying to sell it. We were free birds - thankfully not jail birds - and the cost to get to London by train was cheaper than the cost petrol would have been, anyway. So we were happy to conclude it was the best thing all round.

Perhaps it was devine intervention... if Karlos had been involved in a car accident, without insurance - he would certainly have faced jail-time.

We don't know what has become of the car. After a fortnight it would have been sold, or scrapped. I hope it was sold - the frost plug was about to burst any day... so I hope it gave the system some grief, by selling a faulty car to someone who demands recompense!

We really had the last laugh. ;-)

And my aunty and uncle restored my love for england - reminding me that her people, beyond all the illegal immigrants, football hooligans, and chavs... really are a wonderful lot.





Peace and love,

~ Comet xo

This is Bonnie Wee Scotland!

I have always been in love with Scotland. Something about the rugged countryside; the cool nip of the air; and those warm, rolling accents. There is also the whisky, and the toffee. When you're in Scotland - everyone wants to be Scottish. The Scots have a deep sense of pride - they are lovers and fighters, and know how to have a good time. I've been to Scotland often enough, and read enough scottish literature - to be excited every time I return. Every other word becomes 'wee,' and 'bonnie' is inserted at every given opportunity. Let me provide an example: on arrival into Edinburgh, after finding a camping ground surrounded by tall oak trees, and heading into the city centre, wrapped in as many layers as I could manage (as it's only 15 degrees, despite it being summer), glancing up at Edinburgh Castle, flanking the city streets - I couldn't help but exclaim: "Aaaaah - she's a bonnie wee place, is Scotland." And off we went in search of haggis...


Haggis, whilst slightly unpleasant sounding (a sheep's stomach stuffed with ground sheep's heart, liver, lungs, oatmeal, onion, and seasoning) - is actually really yummy, and not to be missed when visiting Scotland. Often served with 'neeps' and 'tatties' (mashed swede and potatoes) - you can also find it on most cafe menus - on top of toast or a jacket potato, or with salad. Our haggis came without the sheep stomach, thankfully! - and was more like a delicious mince stew, with a healthy dollop of mashed spuds on the top. Full of the stuff that would put hairs on your chest! (Probably a good thing in Scotland). I surprised myself at going back for second spoonfuls...


We spent a few days in Edinburgh - but as always, it was never enough. Wandering around Edinburgh's cobbled streets, in and out of shops, and pubs, and taking in all of the street performers along the Royal Mile - it's magical. You can feel yourself slipping back in time with all of the other Scots and visitors who have walked these streets, and supped in these pubs before you. We were of course in Edinburgh for the festival - a month long of performances of every description, from every country, at every venue available - so at every turn there were bagpipe players, marching bands, and an array of actors and dancers and singers trying to entice you to their performance(s) over the coming days.


We escaped from the performers (and the onset of rain) in a local pub, on the Royal Mile, and watched the world continue outside. We spent several hours inside this pub, drinking Jameson (soooooo sorry, Scotland - I do so prefer the Irish tipple) and chatting with an old Scotsman, telling tales of his country through the last half dozen decades. A lot of the time we couldn't understand his thick accent - but it mattered none.


That same night, after we left our old friend in the pub, we darted up the wet streets of the Royal Mile, bought some delicious hot and salty chips, and made our way to a festival play - an amazing performance of the new age play 'Art.' I have one thing to say. If ever you see 'Art' advertised as playing - beg, borrow and steal to get yourself some tickets! It is a short play, quite simply about 3 friends - one of whom pays a lot of money for a white painting, on white canvas, and the plotline is basically the reaction of his two friends towards this. It sounds lame. I thought so too. But it isn't. It is extremely clever and engaging; it questions - what is "art," friendship and can deeply formed opinions and prejudices be changed; and is incredibly funny, emotive and thought-provoking. A wonderful play for 3 talented male actors to perform, if ever you get the change. A bit more info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/)


And so! After a wonderful couple of days in Edinburgh - we travelled further north, to the shores of Loch Ness, and found a camping ground in a place called Drumnadrochit ~ on the western side of Loch Ness, and not far from the ruins of Urquhart Castle. I have been before - and was fully aware that the opening hours of Urquhart Castle were the usual 9am-5pm, charging an extortionate price (currently £7.00) - so we went after closing, climbed the fence, and walked down to the castle ruins to explore - at dusk! Much more fun. And also giving you the same sense of going back in time... wandering around imagining the people that would have once been walking here before you. It was really special - feeling the wind whip around your face, the cool evening air touch your cheeks, and the sounds of Loch Ness, eerily lapping the shoreline. We only left when it became almost too dark to see clearly.



We spent the next few days exploring Loch Ness, and the area between Drumnadrochit on the north west side, through to Inverness on the north right. Firstly, of course, we took a boat tour across Loch Ness - well, some of it - it's far too large to tour in one go. Loch Ness is incredibly eerie - even on a bright summer's day, there is still a hanging mist and greyness to the air - and it's also incredibly deep. Even when we were 2-3 metres from the edge of the lake, our captain's depth measuring devise told us we were at a 12m depth. The Loch is shaped like a giant 'U' - very deep, and very sheer. You can't help but imagine prehistoric beasties lurking below...



After Nessie hunting, we went to the Culldon Battlefields - a place where the final battle of the Jacobite Rising took place, in 1746 (the Jacobites, led by Charles Edward Stuart, sought to overthrow the reigning House of Hanover and return the House of Stuart to the throne. They were unsuccessful). My main reason for wanting to visit - even though I do have a strong interest in British history, particularly in the 16th-18th centuries - is because I am a HUGE fan of Diana Gabaldon's 'Outlander' book series. For those of you who know what I am talking about... this is where the fictional 'Jamie Fraser' battled at the end of Gabaldon's second book 'Dragonfly in Amber.' And I even found:



Hahaha - you can imagine how excited I was! Yes, Jamie Fraser is of course a fictional character - but I studied Revolutionary Europe at University, and have always found Gabaldon's stories fairly accurate in their historical context, and certainly an interesting way of viewing, and imagining 18th century Scotland. If any of you women out there have a penchant for Scots Warriers - reeeeead the 'Outlander' series! Anyway - the Culldon Battlefield really is a breathtaking place to visit - the sense of battle and of loss remains, stagnant in the air - if you know enough about the battle. To those that don't, admittedly, it probably seems little more than a large, overgrown field.



We continued our historical journey into Scotland - next stop was a bronze age cemetery. A sense of Stonehenge, and that time, swept over me - and to be honest, it's really hard to get your head around the idea that almost 3000years ago a settlement of people were burying and honouring their dead. 1000s of years before our current world, as we know it, existed. And that we were walking amongst the remains... mind blowing. Also! For those that are still interested in the Gabaldon saga - look what else I found:



Hahaha! I had googled 'Craigh Na Dunh' (the ancient stone circle, outside of Inverness, where Claire Randall stepped through a cracked stone and was transported back 200 years to 1745 - the basis of the 'Outlander' series) - but it was a work of fiction. So this is as close as I could get. It's too small for someone to easily step through - but boy was I excited to find this! (Ok, no more talk of Outlander now, I promise! - read it though!)

Our historical journey really became more of a journey of 'historical literature' - as Shakespeare was the motive behind our next stop. Cawder Castle... (you with me?) fictional castle of the Thane of Cawdor... (there yet?) - none other than: MacBeth. This one is for you, John Wilson!:



We loved our time in the Scottish highlands - we slept in our car, as the rest of our European Adventures, and we ate sausages from disposable coal BBQs. One night we went for a jog along the road towards Urquhart Castle - and I thought how I could spend many more happy days in Bonnie Wee Scotland...




But our journey had to continue.

Before getting back to England, we travelled south once again, and stopped at Stirling - slightly north west of Edinburgh - to visit the William Wallace Tower. And here we spent a wonderful day climbing the tower, learning about Wallace and other Scottish patriots during the battles of Scottish Independence (late 13th - early 14th centuries). Braveheart - is a good (albeit theatrical) starter to this history - but there is much more to it than that. Wallace's part in Scottish freedom (not quiiite like it is depicted in 'Braveheart' by the way) is remembered all throughout Scotland, with even a plaque to honour him, opposite one for Robert the Bruce, outside the entrance of Edinburgh Castle. No trip to Scotland would be complete without emersing yourself in this part of the Scottish past... we finished our time here watching the sun lap the fields of Stirling, from the top of the Wallace Tower, before climbing down to the bottom and listening to the stories of an euld Scotsmen, renacting times gone by, whilst we sat in the grass under the summer sun.

This is Ireland! To be sure!

Going to Ireland with Karlos was awesome. Not long after we very first met, at the beginning of 2007, I went to a St Patrick's Day BBQ at his place and he spent most of the early evening making me laugh with his Irish accented 'potato joke.' Our close friends in NZ will know the 'potato joke' well, mostly for the fact that I am the only one that ever found it funny. And I really did - mostly because Karlos and his feigned Irish accent was just so darned endearing.

(Insert Irish accent here:)

"What's oval, dirty, and only has one toe?"

"A po-ta-toe!"

And so - my little Irish descendant and I (his mother's family are O'Hanlan's), arrived together in Ireland - planning several days of walking through the emerald green countryside, and pub-hopping.

Dublin was our first stop - we came by car on the ferry from Liverpool - and found ourselves a youth hostel in the city centre so we didn't have to faff around with taxis to and from camping grounds. Karlos deserved to drink, not drive. This was Ireland! So we went to a pub right next door to our hostel, filled ourselves to bursting with Irish stew, and then wandered along The Temple Bar district and hopped in and out of many a pub. The Irish know how to have a good time, to be sure (to be sure).

We headed south on day two and stopped in a town called - Kilkenny.




We found a camping ground there - and wandered streets of buildings painted pink, yellow, green, blue, and met locals in pubs over pints of beer. The Irish accent filled our ears and was a treat to hear. Often we couldn't understand a bloody word they were saying - but it didn't often matter. We found a pub with an Irish band playing traditional favourites - we were about the only people in the bar who didn't know the words to sing along - but we jigged out with the best of them, none-the-less. Some lady got chatting to Karlos and I and told him he was lovely, and I was lovely and that he needs to look after me as ladys like me don't come around often. I was pretty happy about that. We both were. We got back to our camping ground rather late, and had another hilarious time trying to get the bed pumped and ready whilst half smashed.

We moved on again on day three - continuing south to Cork, as Karlos has family history in Co Cork, and stopped for lunch in a bagel cafe. Cork was a gorgeous town and, even though I don't often enjoy shopping, looked like a place I would love to come with a full wallet. We stopped in a furtniture store and we (mostly I) admired types of dining room table sets I would like us to buy when we get back to NZ and settle together.

As we sat in the sunshine eating our bagels, we were approached by an Irish man named... wait for it... Patrick! Who wanted to chat with us. We humoured him for some time, until our bagels had long been eaten, and watched him rush off and tell us 'give me two minutes,' before he came back with printed information on Charle Upham, a celebrated Kiwi who he had an interest in. It was very sweet, if a little - odd.

We arrived in Kilarney later that day and spent the next couple of days there. I just love Kilarney, and Karlos also has history in County Kerry, where Kilarney lies, so it was perfect. We spent an entire day walking through the Kilarney national park, through green fields, and past crystal clear lakes, and in between native trees - and lots of ferns! The countryside reminded us very much of NZ, in parts. After 4 hours walking, Karlos had "had enough," and so we retreated to the pub next to our camping ground, before spending the evening BBQing and watching the sun and misty night air descend on the mounatins flanking Kilarney. A wonderful place.


Car issues have been plaguing us. It appears our bargain 600 quid car has a leak - in the radiator, or cooling fluid tank, or something or other - Karlos has it all under control, and my job is to remain positive that 'keep topping it up with coolant' should do it. I'm sure it will be fine - the car still runs, and the temperature is stable - so we should still be able to drive it up to Scotland and back south again, before flogging it on to some unsuspecting car dealer.

And so, after another fun night spent back in Dublin, including a tour of the Jameson Distillery, and another evening spent in a youth hostel which taught me that I really have outgrown youth hostels these days - we boarded to carferry back to England, en route to Scotland, the next stop.


As each day goes by I am finding myself becoming a lot calmer and a lot happier. Days spent on the road, to come and go as we please, is having a wonderful affect on me, generally. I think about coming home to NZ a lot, what I plan to do in the future, and how I see myself settling down and so on. And I find myself excited, and full of passion life, more than ever. Shit really does happen - but life is what we make it.



Peace and love and fiddle-dee-dee from Ireland.

~ Comet xo

This is Stonehenge, Shakespeare and Ricky Gervais!

*

Karlos and I had the most wonderful two weeks. Quite the English pilgrimage, really. First we went to Bournemouth to watch Ricky Gervais in his latest stand-up gig, 'Science;' then we went to Stonehenge and imagined what, or rather who, could have been there thousands of years before us; then we spent time in Devon, where I introduced Karlos to clotted cream (among other things); and finally we explored Shakespeare's town - Stratford-upon-Avon. Even drinking in a pub that Shakespeare himself is believed to have once drank in. It just was totally rock your socks awesome. We had lovely sunny weather, and lots of happy days travelling and exploring together.

*



Ricky Gervais is a legend. Many people may not find him as funny, or as awesome, as I do - but, whether you are a fan or not, you simply cannot deny the incredible career he has had/is having. He is undoubtedly talented - the awards speak for themselves. From his early days in radio, to his self-created hit TV shows 'The Office,' and 'Extras' - the former being aired in 80 countries around the world, including 8 remakes such as the equally sucessful American version - through to his recent cinema success of late; he sure has been busy. Not forgetting he's also toured the world with four stand-up comedy shows, and has series' of "record-breaking" podcasts to also add to his credit. Ricky's style of comedy, and way of looking at the world is appreciated, by many.

We were lucky enough to have scored tickets in 'Row E,' aka - row number 5. That's right! We were just 5 rows away from Mr Gervais himself. I was so excited! I had actually purchased the tickets months earlier, back in NZ when I was still working at the University of Auckland. As soon as I heard news Ricky was touring England with his comedy show 'Science,' in July, whilst we would be there - I was online and had tickets in minutes.



Ricky didn't dissapoint. His honest, un-politically correct way of discribing the world, and knocking anyone on a high horse down, never ceases to make me laugh out loud. "Mong," he said. "You can't say 'mong' these days... but, oh wait - yes you can! 'Mong!' There I just said it. 'Mong, mong, mong, mong, mong.' Even mongs can say 'mong!' It's the easiest word you can say. 'Mooong.'" Hahahaha - even mongs can say mong! I love it!!! No one was safe from Ricky's jibes, not even himself. I laughed continuously for 2 hours, cringing in parts - but leaving feeling as though we had seen a great show. If only he had seen the two chavs in the row in front of us, who spent the entire time taking flash photos (even though you weren't supposed to) and snogging. They were repulsive, and I really wanted Ricky to do a chav bit. Maybe next time...


After a day spent in Bournemouth, where Ricky's gig was - a very typical English beachside full of the overdressed and underdressed; overpriced souvineer and icecream stalls; and tacky gaming arcades in dark rooms of artificial lighting (which always made me think it was an odd thing to do - to go to the beach yet want to spend your time there indoors... anyway!) - we travelled up from the south coast to visit Stonehenge. In Avebury.

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Stonehenge is something very difficult to describe. I could tell you the history and known facts about the place, but the magic can only be felt, and the importance of the place can only truly be understood - by simply going there, and feeling it for yourself. It is incredible. I grew up not far from Stonehenge, and yet again it is another place I was only truly appeciating by being back as a visitor...

You pay the ludicrous seven pound entrance fee, collect your audio guide (a handheld device that tells you certain information when you punch in certain numbers), and walk across the fields towards the mighty stonehenge standing up ahead of you. You can only stare and imagine, trying to take it in.



You wonder - what great powers laid these large stones in their current place? Was it man power, or something supernatural? No one can be sure - but to have brought the stones here from as far as Wales, and laid them in specially dug out holes in the earth, carefully placing some stones on top of others to forming a large stone circle - only something powerful could have possibly achieved this. And the overarching question is - is man powerful enough to have created this? In a time before machinery played a crucial role in man-made creations. The laws of physics dictate - not. It makes your spine tingle.



Thoughts also lead to the purpose of the stones. They are all laid in a carefully planned out positions - with stones marking sunrise and sunset, and the summer/winter solstice. It is as though the sun itself designed stonehenge.

Being there, and witnessing the age of the earth, through stonehenge, was humbling. It made me want to seek out a bookshop and read as much as I could about english history; you crave the knowledge. The insight.

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We continued travelling south west, and reached Devon. A pretty county, south of Somerset, north of Cornwall. The weather was typical english summer - warm, and bright, but not too hot. My friend Annie has a caravan that she keeps on a farm, in Devon - in a place called Nomansland (we thought she was joking, refering to the fact that it is so far out in the countryside - until we saw the street sign!) - and she offered it to us for as long as we liked. We decided to stay for 2 nights - so we called the farmer to make arrangements.



When we arrived, Farmer John set the caravan up in one of his fields, along with several other campers/campervaners and we spent the next few days living amongst cows and chickens! It was an actual working farm, and campers can help milk and collect eggs etc if they want to. Surrounded by green fields and open countryside - we immersed ourselves in nature (aka the smell of cow muck) and tranquility (aka no bars or internet) and were quite happy about it.

Karlos eating Devon's famous 'clotted cream':



We went to the local pub one night, a mile or so's walk away from our farm, and spent the evening drinking and chatting with some locals. Walking back to the farm was a little scary for me - pitch black, in the middle of open countryside - I was grateful to have a torch, but not grateful for a slightly intoxicated Karlos telling me that every strange light in the distance could be a ghost!

Our time in Devon culminated with a trip to Exeter city, to stay with another of my Icelandic friends, Hrefna (aka fluff!), and her lovely boyfriend Andy. Fluff cooked us a delicious dinner of lasagne and salad, and Andy shared some of his best wine. We could have spent all evening chatting about our travelling adventures, and their travelling adventures... but instead we hit the town! A very spontaneous and much fun evening. We met some of fluff and andy's friends and ended the evening true english styles - with fish and chips at 2am.



We could easily have stayed in Devon longer... but time to explore more of the UK, with only a month to go, was running away with us. So we travelled northbound once again - and reached Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's town, where we stopped for a few days.

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Karlos and I are both thespians - and have both performed in a number of shakespearian productions - so I knew Karlos would appeciate a tour of the bard's home town.

Our first night we went for a meal and a drink in a little pub, that "looked nice," only to discover it was a few metres away from Shakespeare's house, and a pub he was more than likely to have once drank in himself - seeing as it had been operating for 400 or so years. It was incredible. I spent some time just thinking about it, taking it all in, imagining what it would have looked like in Shakespeare's day and picture him sitting in the corner, drinking, chatting with his mates about "the latest play" he was writing!





And our time in Stratford was much like that - a walking tour of a city - seeing the school Shakespeare once went to (still a school to this day - imagine that! My classroom used to be Shakespeare's!!!!), the house he was born in, his daughter's house, his grave in the local church, and so on.



We were also fortunate to see an outdoor performance of 'Macbeth,' down by the river avon, in a park "quite close to the RSC!" It was performed (and produced) by a young group of 5 actors, who had shortened the play to just 1.5 hours, inserted their own creative licence with a narrator who strummed a small guitar and sang songs to fill us in and keep us up to speed, and a greek chorus style adressing of the audience. The witches were ugly face puppets on long sticks, that 3 of the actors controlled and gave voices to - which was a very artistic, and clever way of doing it. The actors shared roles, with one man playing Macbeth throughout - using their physical movements and voice to clearly define characters. They also made full use of the space, performing from all sides of the audience - mostly in front, with an extremely minimalistic set - and carefully selected props for specific moments - e.g. a large, free-standing wooden frame being used for both a doorway and a mirror. It was a well-performed piece, due to the talent of the group; it was modern; inventive; funny; and completely engaging. The name of the company is the "Pantaloons" and I believe they tour the UK with a different play every year - if ever you see their name advertsied - get tickets to see their show! They are amazing. Actually - the show was free - but you can give a donation at the end. Karlos gave 10 pounds, he loved it that much.

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And so, after a couple of weeks of pure english pilgrimage... we returned to the north of England, to the Peak District, for another couple of days with family.

With love from merry 'ol England,

~ Comet xo