Yee, Haa

We have spent the last 12 days and nights in Tamworth for the Australian Country Music Festival. It was our first time and certainly an impressive experience but not one that I think will be repeated. We arrived on the Wednesday before the official start of the festival to find Tamworth already packed. Most Caravan Parks do not take bookings, using a first come first served basis, so some people arrive as soon as the start of January to get the site of their choice. After looking at a couple of very marginal sites we were very lucky to check with a park that we had previously been advised was full, and were offered a grassy site with a small shade tree and backing onto the river. An added bonus was the park had a pool which proved very popular as the temperature was in the high 30s every day.
We had been offered accommodation at a friends farm, however we were hesitant about adding a further strain to their precious water supplies, so finding this site saved us from that option. In Tamworth every available piece of council park, sports ground, showground and race track were covered with tents and caravans. There are close to 50,000 visitors to the town for the festival, including 800 registered performers, playing in 57 different venues. I think everyone in Australia who can play a guitar and knows at least one country song comes to Tamworth. The choice of performance options was amazing with some venues starting the day bush poets at 7.30 am and closing at 3 am with the “Jim Beam” “VB” or “Bundy Rum” party girls club night, and half a dozen artists in between times. As it was so hot each day we spent most of the days inside air conditioned clubs, pubs or shopping centers, yes even the shopping centers had stages set up and a range of artists performing all day. There were artists performing in places like the Red Cross Hall, Scout Halls, Masonic Hall and even a railway carriage at the station. The acts we saw during the festival, which were more bush bands, folk styles and country rock styles rather than the typical “country ballad” style are as follows with my star rating (out of 5 stars). These shows were free except for the ones with a #. I don’t know how many times I heard “Copperhead Road” “Duelling Banjos” “The Longyard” and “Waltzing Matilda”. They all love them here, and whilst there was no traditional Sudanese performers I did buy a basket from a young lady from Ghana.
Rod Dowsett ***
Handpicked *****
The Blow Flies ***
Chris Callaghan and the Outback Idle Band **
Errol Gray **
Jetty Road ***
Simply Bushed *****
#The Wolverines *****
#Eric Bogle *****
#John Williamson & Warren H Williams ****
Casey Chambers with Bill Chambers and Troy Cassar Daley ***
Missy Higgins ****
Lee Kernaghan ****
Tania Kernaghan **
The McClymotts ***
Kristy Lee Ackers ***
Finn MacCool (with Phil Emmanuel) ****
Gleny Rae Virus & her Tamworth Playboys ****
Matt Manning **
Nathan Charlton **
The Young Balladeers ***
Tracy Coster **
The Jillaroos ***
Chad Morgan **
Red Hot Poker Dots *** (The female lead does a balancing act on her base fiddle)
The Sunny Cowgirls ***
Slim Connor *
Those Gals *
We also went to the outside broadcast of the Today Show, and the Tamworth regional Art Galley (air conditioned and no music) and listened to some bush poets at the Nundle Pub on our last day. This is not to mention the many buskers in the main street. I wonder if there is anywhere else in the world that three blocks of a city’s CBD is closed down for 10 days and constantly filled with performers and audiences.
We only saw a small part of the available shows and were exhausted at the end of each day, but fortunately the nights cooled down so we slept well.
I don’t know if I would go again, but for any one who enjoys, a party, heat and lots of music and crowds you need to experience it at least once in a life time. Hope you like the pics.
Yee Haa, Sue & Chris (we didn’t take Olly to Tamworth and thanks to Dot & Strobe for looking after him).

Some health notes

My friend Damien has been given notice to quit by his avaricious landlord who is caught up in the hype he reads in the financial pages; a self fulfilling prophecy that rentals are at an all time low and rents are rising faster than a Bakers Delight bun. I suggest to him that he should get in contact with the Zurich financier Urs Schwarzenbach and his wife Francesca who are having difficulty occupying their fifty million plus Balmoral waterfront spread consisting of main house and two pavilion style guest houses, owing to the ongoing demands of their nearby harbour-front property in Burran Avenue, their chateau on lake Geneva, their polo farm Thames Side Court in Oxfordshire , Culham Court their eighteenth century Georgian mansion on 260 hectares at Henley-on-Thames and Redbank homestead at Jugiong in rural Australia. “Really just getting around the dusting is more than a lifetime’s work” pleads Francesca. You can’t but feel sympathy for anyone trying to occupy so much real estate and Damien, a neo-Marxist, was in tears as I related to him their sad plight. Its not just the physical demands either like climbing all those stairs – yes Mosman waterfront and those Georgian mansions are notorious for their stairs – but add that to the mental and spiritual demands of keeping up with the neighbors and your in the high risk category for affluenza one of the killer diseases of this new century.
Affluenza, discovered by British Psychologist Oliver James, the symptoms of which are the relentless pursuit of property, perfect bodies and status, is said to be at its nadir in Sydney this year. Dr. James, who conducted research, in seven countries found Sydney; “in thrall to American values and a puritan work ethic that robbed life of joy and real meaning” and “packed with career obsessed workaholics”. “when they are not working the longest hours in the developed world they pursue perfect bodies through joyless fitness regimes, or obsess about property prices”. Well I take my career pretty seriously though at 61 years of age you could call me a late starter and there are those who regard my fitness regime and property portfolio as equally non existent so perhaps I was not included in Dr. James’ study group.
The problem with Dr James view as I see it is one of ivory tower bias. Dr. James comes to Sydney and due to his very good international connections winds up staying with Urs and Franscesca at Balmoral learning only of their poor plight and having to do a fair deal of dusting and pool cleaning himself. Had he the good fortune instead to have come to work/stay with Damien and I he could have had a much more optimistic experienced of Sydney. My mate Sewer Sider – around here people are much more likely to have tags than names - would have been glad to make room for him at what was once the Enmore Post Office. One of the rubbish rooms could easily have been cleared and if he visited during summer he would have enjoyed the fresh Botany breeze through the trendy retro glass free windows. Here he would have been at no risk, at least from affluenza, and as long as his shots were up to date he shouldn’t have to worry too much about sharing with roaches and assorted vermin. Enmorites are proud of their town and have fought long and hard aided by the proliferation of housing commission and half way houses to keep Real Estate Agencies to a minimum. It would not surprise me if Damien’s landlord found himself on the receiving end of some pretty indecipherable graffiti
Here the good Dr. would have found folk who at the end of the award - one percent below poverty line - wage day have no need too buff any other part than the beer belly. “bewdy Doc have another one, your shout”. “Affluenza, nah, Emphysema, Bronchitis, lots-o-that around this summer and Micky’s missus got a pretty serious rash but I’ve never heard of affluenza, what is it? Some new virus?” You see, two sides to every coin. Go to the Schwarzenbach’s Damien, show them the work you’ve done on the new manifesto, you’ll see they’ll take you in, probably give you and your descendants lifetime tenure for showing them the way out from under their frightful burden. Go and show them the way.
Robert

Tamworth

Fancy meeting the "schnoz" in Tamworth. we had a very nice conversation with Laurie in Tamworth and even organised a phone call to London to talk to his bigest fan.

It's snowing!

Hi everyone

I had the most delighful morning today, awaking to snow covered trees and streets! It was so exciting and bizarre to see our usually green lawn - white! Such a magical sight! I just starting screaming and ran around the flat saying, "It's snowing! It's snowing!" Woke up all my flat mates and we raced out to the balcony to take photos in our pjs!

Then I had to decide whether or not to walk to work and how one does that in the snow! But I decided to brave the snow and get out in it! So on top of my work outfit, I wore a woollen cardigan, a light jacket, my leather coat, two scarves, my sheep's wool hat, leather gloves, plus two pairs of socks under my gum boots! I was too excited to feel the cold anyway and enjoyed making snowballs on my walk to walk. It's suppossed to be -8 degrees tonight - the coldest night this year!

Enjoy the photos! Love Kel

All the good news

With nothing really pressingly important to say this week – now now settle down, there most certainly will be a class and no Gabby you may not be excused – and having recently the time with the children leaving home and my ongoing gate duties, to read the paper almost every day, I thought I could summarize for you whose busy lives provide no room for such indolence, the week as it was represented by Granny and The Terror.
Granny will be the primary source, I only take a dip in The Terror whilst topping up the blood sugar levels with Bec and Leyton, the road carnage count and tea in the lunch room. Why wouldn’t a girl wear half a million worth of jewelry to the tennis, you’ve got all these jewels you want to wear them, I mean is it any sillier than having a Tower of London to keep them in.
David Hicks’s publicity agent has certainly got the mo-jo working. The big three Howard Ruddock and Downer have all seen fit to comment this week. Ruddock, the lawman, doesn’t know what Hicks has done yet, the message bottles keep running into half submerged containers and smashing but he’s optimistic that one will eventually get through. Downer met a bloke whose mate’s cousins girlfriend knows a retired marine with a cleaning company that recently hired a Cuban whose cousin mows the lawn at Guantanamo and saw Hicks once. Some of the message was lost in translation but the general feeling was that Hicks was doing fine. Have a nice day! Howard commented in the circular fashion he has perfected the gist of which is nobody told him. Letter writers I’m pleased to say have formed their own much more rational assessment of the situation and are unanimous in their condemnation of both our’s and the US’s attitudes on a daily basis.
Julia Guillard is trying to push some barrow about the glass ceiling and motherhood. She recons male pollies should be asked questions like “how’r you going to balance child rearing with being Prime Minister”. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous, I mean next thing she’ll want to know their beauty treatments. If she really wants to make it in politics she needs to fat up like Amanda and ask Bronwyn to recommend a hairdresser.
The realy good news is that that gorgeous, clever honeypot Maxine, yes Maxine McHugh is going to be “advisor on Strategy” to our next Prime Minister. Oh it does set my heart aflutter to think that though I can no longer see and hear her relieving Kerry (let me put you on notice Kerry I’m so jealous) on the seven thirty report I’ll know she’s there behind every new strategy.
UAI’s Vs Bucks as a university enrolment strategy has been getting the airing it always does at this time of year. I recon the sooner we see the sense of the Japanese system where kids flog themselves from kindie on and those who don’t suicide or wind up in mental institutions qualify for entrance to uni and the inevitable degree three or four years later. The uni time is regarded as a well deserved vacation, the reward for all that slog.
Statistically speaking I’m becoming the norm in Australia and physically I’m looking more like him too. ‘The single person household is our fastest growing household type, projected to account for 34% of all households by 2026” (thank you Hugh Mackay) Ah where would the weekend edition Jurnos be without the Statisticians and Pollsters to fill a page and the good news is that I’m no longer regarded by you – non single person households, as a deviate or even worse an old maid as I once was. That’s what I call a good news story.
Lets see Tamworth Music Festival – who cares? – Ok just some sour grapes. The Popes stumbling a bit but his spin doctors will take care of him. The Iemma Labor Govt couldn’t do a better impression of a drunken bigot if they hired Kevin Bloody Wilson as advisor on strategy yet the Libs can’t even get their names spelled right. What’s his name? Debutante? The one whose policy is something like “one of the same with an extra spoon of sugar please” paddles a canoe across the harbor. Who cares? Come out and open for Australia in the next one dayer and I might take notice.
This aptly named Exclusive Brethren with their Select Vessel – what – leader seem to have very deep pockets for small businessmen. We’ll be hearing more of them I’m sure.
Easily the most boring page everyday is the report on the American election. Hillary nominates for president. Doh Just think of it, still eighteen months out and it gets a full page, imagine when it’s only a month off, it’ll be like the tsunami all over eight and twelve pages of blah. Calculate the greenhouse gas emissions and wasted forests.
Lucky for you Gab I don’t read the sports section, oh yes I’ve been known to collapse Norm like, in front of a cricket match on the telly but that tennis stuff, it’s just too zippy for my liking. Good to see the youth of Australia though upholding little Johinie’s favorite Anzac tradition. Draped in our flags we shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them at the tennis, we shall fight them at the cricket (if only they would bring back full strength beer). So that’s it for the sports report and if you want a business or real estate report you’ll have to go on line, and if you cant go on line that stuff doesn’t matter anyway
That’s just about all for now though I shant go without mentioning a couple of topics that were on the minds of the letter writers (my favorite section closely followed by the obituaries) Sheik Taj el Din al Hilaly’s PR is working her bum off, pay attention Debbenaught, want to see your name in the paper, hire this girl. Look what she’s done with his name, even I can spell it.I cant wait to see him on celebrity big brother and dancing with the stars. The loss of a cycle lane from the M2 is also on the correspondents minds and as a bicycle rider who hates to be stuck behind a cyclist in my alter ego as a driver I’m afraid I’m going to have to disqualify myself from the panel of judges on this one
Class dismissed and don’t forget you have only seven days left to submit your coments and blogs before next weeks class.
Prof. R.A.O’Keefe Hon. B.M. M.B. U.M.B. B.U.M. Ret.

PS The biggest public relations coup this week was pulled off by Toyta. It seemed that every polly,corporate giant, and celebrity wanted it known that they either had a Pyrus or one on order. This did not escape Toyotas marketers who followed up with ads during last nights cricket coverage.

Pretty things at the V+A

Well, after Robert's latest blog (what's he on about with 3 dicks!?!?!) and my mother looking 'rough as guts' with a tattoo, I think it's time this blog had a bit of culture! Uh oh, have I been in England too long and turned into a snobby Pom? Never! But here are some photos of the cool stuff I checked out at the Victoria & Albert Museum on the weekend. Loved the 60s fashion collection - so swinging sixties! Lots fo love xx Kel

Elvis Festival

People you see in Parkes

Three heads are better?

I spent most of this week at the gate, a lonely task well suited to Cerberus the three headed dog guardian of the underworld. Three heads that’s what I need, on each for incoming and outgoing traffic and one to concentrate on my book. At the very least I’d always have someone to talk too, a notion I suggested to a co worker who had come to relieve me. He seemed to think three dicks would be better so you could fuck yourself, a notion which falls to pieces under the simplest of logic, but which set me thinking of that old truism; "be careful what you wish for", imagine if his was one of the other heads. Lets see if I can paint for you a picture of the gate, situated on the north east corner of the Bunning’s barn and surrounded on both sides by Edible Oils, an organic oil refinery it separates the car park from a semi roofed passageway where bricks and pavers are stored along with pallets of cement, lime and such. An arid setting where organic nature finds no foothold, where the the gatehouse, not unlike the Queens boofheaded guards one, provides some shelter till about midday when the sun begins to fill it from bottom to top. By this time a thin line of shade has appeared on the western side of the passageway to provide some relief from the sun, but here it is very exposed to the breeze come wind which arrives in the afternoon, stirring up the mounds of cement lime and sand that has leaked from the broken bags. This whole scene of concrete, pallet racks and iron railings is suitably decorated with streamers of shredded plastic wrap, that stuff that all pallets are nowadays wrapped in that takes a couple of billion years to disintegrate, like transparent flags of the anonymous corporations that produced them. Does this sound anything like the gates oh Hades? Maybe not but it certainly aint Heaven either. Now those of you crying oh poor Robert (as I know so many are) put away your tear rags. I’m tough and anyway the gate also has its advantages not the least of which being that I can sit as much as I want (Oh happy feet) I can also read, I finished the first two sections of Saturday’s paper today, the day of issue. First time I’ve done that since I stated work. There’s definitely not as much satisfaction in yesterdays papers. (that’s two I owe you Mick) That reminds me, from my gate (did I say my) looking down the passage to the timber yard where we have packs of so called treated pine sleepers, ironically packaged with the iconic name IRON WOOD emblazoned in foot high stencil I noticed a line of orderly customers waiting for our* cutting service and just for a split second I thought they were going to a Rolling Stones concert (or at very least a Faces one) (*I’ve got to be careful with these pronouns, there so revealing.) Anyway it’s a pleasant change of pace to sit and read and wear my Sydney Acubra all of which I’ve been told not to do but go on doing without the least of guilt or reprimand. In fact I think they’re beginning to like the way my hat makes me look like Dick Tracy or Leonard Teal in Homicide though he wore one of those narrow brimmed racing fraternity jobs. Bunnings’s not altogether unconscious of the properties of image. I never properly check receipts against the stock customers are taking but rather like HM Customs give them the "you’ve been lucky this time boy but maybe not next" look. I don’t care if I’d wanted to be a police man I’d have done it long ago and retired on the graft.
Now I’m going to give you all a break now and publish though I’m not looking forward to that OLD BLOGGER stuff I have to submit to.
Later Robert

Off to Gracelands

Well, since spending the last 4 weeks in the Elanora Heights Luxury Tourist Park we are heading off to Parkes on friday and on to Tamworth from there. On the ever so trendy northern beaches for the "season" we have had beers with Brian Lara (WI cricketer) Tim Bailey (TV weather man) at the DY Hard rock and yesterday had a very pleasant time with Megan Gale in the Newport Arms. Not to mention very enjoyable times with Strobe, Dot and Nipper et al. So now we are in search of more celebs in Parkes and Tamworth. "Elvis lives". But we will not be far from Sydney so keep in contact as often as required. Sorry no celeb photos as I can't work out how to send them from the phone.
love, Sue, Chris & Olly.

Here he comes...

At 17.30 this afternoon, Tuesday 9th of January 2007, my little brother boarded a plane headed to Merry Ol' England. He'll and at 6.40am tomorrow London time, and board a bus at 8.30am that will drop him at the gates of the University of East Angler, Norrich.

Kelly, my little brother is out of my reach. You have my permission to smack him over the head when he says stupid things.

nit picking

I'm not sure I like the expression OLD BLOGGER that has turned up in the new version of our blog. Just wanted to get that off my chest along with some more expectoration.

Oh I dont know, Nine ten a big fat hen, okay

Yahoo! It’s the weekend. A warning though I’m feeling very introspective, so if you don’t need to hear me indulging myself even more than usual stop reading now and get on with your important business. Health matters are going to be the dominant issue here, I’m nearly sure of that. You all saw me at Christmas in the grip of bronchitis, well you’ll all be very glad to hear that by new year, why new year’s eve even I was well and able to celebrate successfully the festivities. Unfortunately with sobriety the virus returned and lurks yet, never making the mistake of presenting as full blown ,hospitalisable illness but ever present in its light dry hack, sore throat and mellow yellow mucus expectoration. I warned you, just stop reading if you’re that squeamish.
This morning I awoke without hearing in my left ear, a most undesirable experience, believe me. As a true blue Aussie hero bloke I set off in mono for work where my new condition soon became apparent to work mates who I ignored if they did not approach from the right Chris, mostly deaf himself and aided by an electronic device, sympathized and conjectured that it could have a connection to two plus weeks of bronchitis. Now this theory had already occurred to this poor victim, er, Aussie Hero, so was comforting to get a second opinion. By nine the torture, though not as great as the pins under the finger nails of Sadam’s days or even the tooth drilling without an injection endured by poor Dunstan Hoffman in Marathon Man, was sufficient to have me seek medical attention. Those of you sympathetic to the medical profession or I should say Institutionalized Medicine should leave now if you have not wisely done so already. My first choice of succor, The Enmore Medical Center was closed till January 7 (tomorrow, Sunday?) The second, Marrickville Metro Medical, (M3) at Marrickville Metro, the local shopping center was open for business just like Bunnings. Unfortunately in this lottery based system I drew the tart – skin tight jeans and denim shirt with matching hangover and attitude – who without introduction or inquiry thrust a Medicare document in front of me for signature. Signed document in hand she inquires“what is it?” or words to that effect. “I’m deaf in the left ear” I plead. She grabs the torch, magnifier, inspection gadget thrusts it into delinquent ear and declares “Lots o wax, too hard to move, get some Wax Out from the chemist” “Cant you do anything” I plead, “Too hard she says” but I’m not sure she means the wax or the job. “Alright but I don’t know where anything is around here” she wavers obviously fearing a medical malpractice suit, “come in here” In the so called surgery during the next twenty odd minutes I experience a situation not unlike my own at Bunnings and begin to warm to my Doc’s situation. Equipment can not be found, responsibility is shirked, long range solutions are proposed. Eventually an over sized syringe is procured and as I hold a basin the ear is sluiced. “I told you it was too hard” she glories as I leave still half deaf.
We Baby Boomers or in my case Pre Boomers, by a few months maybe, but I have not yet heard my birth date included in any B-Boomer tally, are not disinclined to thinking beyond the square, and so it was at this point that I began to recall my exs’s , as I always do in times of stress, (and I mean this in the most sympathetic way) beliefs in medical alternatives. What came to mind ,and fortunately before leaving The Magnificent Marrickville Metro Marketplace MMMM., was the legendary Hopi Candles. Said candles were purported to be able to remove wax from ears just as Dr.Tart had declared impossible. I sought and found the local Health Food Store as it once was known which in this case turned out to be an Athletes Lets Build Em’ Store or some such, where I purchased a pair of Hopis receiving little change from thirteen unsubsidized dollars but I’m not complaining. Back home I proceeded to treat my head as if it were a two year olds birthday cake, one candle after the other in the left ear only. Not a great deal was achieved during these candle lit performances, indeed I was just as deaf as before, however there was a distinct liquidity in the left ear now which when probed with the pinkie produced an increasingly viscous shit colored, oose, and just as if I had touched the shroud of the saint of hearing the miracle of hearing returned. Oose ran for the next day. Enough I’m sure to have packaged and sold at Bunnings as some “ultra organic wax, polish, finish, filler” guaranteed to preserve even when we all go under the rising tide.
If having read thus far you are of the opinion that this is more than you needed to know then I am indemnified by my previous warnings, just as Bunnings in their; WEAR SAFTEY GOGGLES WHEN USING THIS TOOL - disclaimer attached to a hammer - is in theirs. I might just take advantage here to sound off against the world in which I find myself and if you, Bunnings, choose to take this as personal criticism then for the first time, you’r listening.
During the week I spent a day at the gate where like Cerberus I vigilantly defended my master from those who would take advantage of her generosity. On the same day a painting team, two to three off bodies suitably splattered turned up to paint the additional gates that had been added to the recently enlarged gateway. As I observed they applied a prime and two top coats in about five hours in complete disregard to the notices on all cans of paint to allow twenty four hours drying time between all coats. The net result of course is a single thick coat of paint that will never properly dry and can be removed with a finger nail. Who should we here find at fault? Would the painting contractor have been congratulated and rewarded for taking three days instead of five hours to complete the job properly? I don’t think so. Would his company’s share holders notice and approve this nuance in the annual report? I think not. So it is that we are all doomed to a future of shoddy crap. Indeed I’ll not be surprised the day I walk into Bunnings and see the side stack with the day glo label, SHODDY CRAP – Six Pack – only $9:99
As I Speak, type , The Godfather of Soul who shall henceforth have to be known as the Saint of soul, is socking it to me, Yeah Sock it to me one time, that feels good, look at them hot pants, it is indeed a mans, mans, mans (that would be a gay couples butler wouldn’t it) world.
TH T T TH TH THAT’S ALL FOLKS
Robert

Okeefereport: Love, Alice

Hi family! I already sent what's in this blog to most of you via email but I think it was difficult for some of you to read due to strange text and symbols that inserted themselves into what I wrote. Hope blogging works today - I won't write anymore now because internet is slow here and it has taken me so long just achieve this much. Love, Alice xx


email typed 3/1/07

Happy New Year!

I'm writing from Luang Prabang in Laos, on the third day of our South-East Asian tour.

Jack and I spent New Year's Eve on a plane, flying to Bangkok. No big midnight celebrations - I felt like I was the only passenger awake when the clock struck midnight Aussie time. The lights were all off and Jack was sleeping heavily on my lap.

On the way from Bangkok airport to The Atlanta Hotel we turned on Jack's mobile and received frantic messages from his parents urging us to call and inform that we were safe. Jack's dad Bob sleeps with news radio on all night and heard that eight bombs had just exploded in Bangkok, killing two people and injuring more. We rang them and they wanted us to go straight back to the airport and get on a plane to head to our next destination, Laos, three days earlier than planned. We told them we needed a bit of sleep, that we'd be safe at the hotel and that we'd book an flight to leave when the sun came up. So that's what we did. I wasn't concerned about our safety, the attacks were probably all over, but I think Bob would have had a heart attack if we'd stayed in Bangokok any longer.

We had three hours sleep and Jack took me on a half-hour tour of the hotel's surrounds before we headed back to the airport to board a flight here to Luang Prabang. When we arrived we were glad things worked out this way - Luang Prabang is the most beautiful and charming place I've ever been. It's Jack's first time too and he loves it, so we're happy to spend extra days here.

We're staying in a clean and comfy guesthouse on the Mekong River. It's protected from mozzies Alcatraz-style, though we haven't seen one mozzie or fly here yet. We're not taking any chances though - we're protected against Dengue fever by lashings of Rid. We've come at the right time - winter/dry season - so the weather's perfect. A heavy mist hangs over the river during the morning and then the sun comes out so that it's about 25 degrees during the middle of the day.

Our guesthouse is run by a cheerful family with three kids under the age of three. The mum, dad & children all sleep behind the reception desk on a matress on the floor - an area of about 2 square metres. The little kids here are so gorgeous and tiny, I taught the little boy from our hotel how to gimme five, and thumbs up. They all run around so independently, looking after each other. They play with the dogs that run wild - dogs that look just like pets. They're of all breeds, colours and sizes and luckily for them, the Laotians don't eat dog.

The level of the river is currently low so the dramatic slopes heading down to the water are covered in lush green crops. The river bank above is lined with great outdoor restaurants with massive menus serving Asian and European meals, fruit drinks and alcohol for ridiculously cheap prices. We can usually both have a meal and a few Beer Laos each for about $4 in total. There are also lots of hip bars playing funky music where you can meet lots of travellers - mostly French, Dutch and German couples and families.

The first evening we set out and found a restaurant/bar with tables and chairs set on a cliff overhanging the river. It was like an island, seperated from the mainland by about 50 metres, so we had to walk across a bridge made from bamboo weaved together. It seemed fairly dodgy in the middle where it was bouncier and the gaps between the bamboo were wider. After eating there, we paid the nice young waiter boy and told him to keep the extra US$1 because he'd taught us some Laotian words. He came back to us with a big smile and 3,000 kip (about 25 cents), saying "And here's a tip for you."

After checking out a great bar called Hive and meeting some tourists, we started to head back to our guesthouse, though things looked a bit different in the dark. We took a wrong turn and became genuinely lost. We're not entirely dumb though - we'd both taken a card from the guesthouse before we left so we knew it was called Namsok Guesthouse and asked a young tuk-tuk driver to take us there. He did his job, he stopped at Namsok Guesthouse - it definitely said that on the sign - but we knew it wasn't the right one. The address on the card was written in English, which he couldn't read, and I couldn't pronounce it properly. But he had a brainwave and took us to another Namsok Guesthouse - the wrong one again! This time I noticed a '2' after the hotel title and that our card said '3'. We tried to explain to our driver where our guesthouse was, and he eventually got us close enough that we could walk the rest of the way. Jack was so relieved. He thinks it's the first time he truly hasn't had any idea which way to turn and that for spiritual reasons we must find out what Namsok means.

Yesterday we explored to get our bearings so that wouldn't happen again. We went to the central food market, the night markets, various restaurants and bars, and had a 1-hour full-body massage for only US$5. Jack has gone to get another one right now but I definitely won't be going back - it was my idea of torture and I'm still in pain.

I really love it here. I don't know what I expected but it's more primitive than I imagined, yet caters to tourist trade better than I imagined. The people are so laidback and friendly but I can't help feel as though they should resent us a bit for coming here and flashing our wads of US dollars, and haggling over a few cents - not even in their language but in English. Of course they appreciate the tourist trade, but for the first time in my life I feel bourgeois. I look at their lifestyle and can't help but romanticise it - amazing scenery, kids running around safely, everyone looking out for everyone else, food on the table and rooves over their heads because it's a communist country. They seem happy and carefree. But if one thing goes wrong - if it doesn't rain enough, if someone is infected with Dengue fever by a mozzie, if their baby gets sick - they're stuffed. They can't just get first-class hospital treatment or move to another country. They'd probably do anything to have the opportunities we have in Australia.

Anyway, it really is charming. As I sit here in 'Super High Speed Internet store', there are four young monks in full orange garb sitting next to me, also typing emails. Today we'll do some temple exploring. Jack would have liked to book a day or overnight tour into the wilderness but I'm a woos and too scared of encountering tigers, leopard's and bears. They have them here! I feel safe on this populated side of the river but I don't want to cross it to enter the jungle on the other side. So I think we're going to settle for a short trip to a local waterfall and a stay at Van Veng, a small tourist town on our way to the Laos capital, Vientiane.

I hope you've had a happy start to the new year.

Lots of love,
Alice

A Scottish New Year

Happy New Year everyone!

We had an absolute blast in Edinburgh for New Year - from Poltergeists to sctoch whiskey tasting, William Wallace's sword in Stirling, bagpipes and torchlight processions - we did it all!

Unfortunately the NYE Street Party and fireworks were cancelled due to bad weather (think 70 mile per hour gale force winds!) but it didn't matter cause we made our own party!

Here are some photos from one of my favourite cities. Love Kel

This Queens New Year Message

Judging by what I see and read in the media it’s list making time. So why should we be any different, there’s lots to list.
Our very own grey nomads pushed off quite early on, towing their teepee, feeling confident that the future National Internal Communications Executive (NICE), Ernst & Young, London would not require their succor during the coming year. Thus set free of responsibility to any but themselves and Olly they set out to explore the lush and wild eastern perimeter of our vast brown land and report to us of the same via the magic of this Blog.
The afore said N.I.C.E aka. Kelly - henceforward to be known as Nice Kelly –served in the Contiki Army Euro crusade, receiving an honorable discharge with special mentions for looting, pillaging, and rape. Now retired to London and making waves in the Industrial sector she’s rumored to be in line for Queens Honors – I’ve heard rumors even of a potential coup that could see the Duchess Camilla loose her seat but mums the word. I know all this to be true thanks to Nice’s commitment to the Blog and emails.
Hugh, as it turned out, was indispensable to the smooth running of the China Ball thingie, held this year in, um Groznyy* after which he was able to check by on Kelly in London, to assure us at home of the moral righteousness of her circumstances there.
It’s believed that Ross and Ann went world cup holidaying in Europe this year though any evidence to back this belief is yet to pass through this jurors in tray.
Gabby and Adrian achieved their majorities this year, an event celebrated in fine style at the salubrious Brookvale Hotel and are taking advantage of this with an unchaperoned trip to those dangerous, lightning dosent strike in the same place twice, Southern Thailand beach resorts this new year.
Alice and Jack who like "Queen"– the Freddy Mercury one – won’t be beaten, announced their engagement this year and also get the, last out of Oz for 06 prize, leaving on New Years Eve to beat Gab and Ade by two days. They also get the most exciting arrival prize for arriving at Bangkok only hours after the bombings and the quickest evacuation prize for having gotten to Laung Prabang, Laos early the same evening. Details are still quite sketchy but we are expecting updates from all our foreign correspondents via this and other publications in the very near future.
The vagabond gardener tore his roots from the sands of Airley Beach and went seeking the more fertile soils further north in the Capricornian rain forests where he remains unconvinced that even reading the Blog has any merit.
Cathrine has traveled backward from the advanced civilization of Petersham to Epping’s badlands, though on a positive note, I believe she has graduated from her University, she’s rumored to be going abroad next year and she has been recently spotted around Bunnings Mascot which could be regarded as a step in the right direction.
Luke and Jamie have a most impressive home somewhere on the central coast and if that’s not enough are well under way with their first insurance claim after the hot water service blew up flooding the house and ruining their newly laid timber carpet. Well done you upwardly mobile aspirational dinks you.
Dot and Strobe never cease in their quest to transform their humble domicile into Bali Hi and Chris and Sue’s caravan looks so at home in the back yard that I just know when they leave Strobe will be canvassing his contacts for a replacement.
Mums progress has been well documented by me in this blog but post Christmas she has been visited by the black dog and hospitalized by her shrink. Each to his own specialty another Doc noticed her lungs were gurgling and transferred her from psyche to general for some bailing. This is a work in progress of which I shall attempt to keep you informed.
Meanwhile this world slides, like a drunken Ice skater on a melting river, towards its ultimate inevitable demise, so allow me here to apologise to you my children and especially to you the children of my children for the mess I leave you. Meanwhile try like me to draw some pleasure from imagining what it will be like when man has eliminated himself and a plant and insect world once more rule.
Love you all Robert