Hi there. Welcome to my site. Please feel free to stop and stare.

I may occasionally update the site with photos and news of what I am up to. I may not. I may tell you if I update things, or simply slip them in when you're not looking. I am cunning like that. Do not feel bad that you have not achieved my level of development. You should still smile.

If you were looking for the Federation of British Cremation Authorities then please visit them here. I am in no way affiliated with them and am merely a product of a teenage mind that could not type the first six letters of the alphabet backwards.

For the avoidance of doubt, the teenage mind was mine, but about seven or eight years ago. I no longer possess a teenage mind. Well, in terms of physical age anyway.

For those of you worried that I may not have returned safely (I'm sure there must be someone out there), I am here to inform you that I am now back in England. However, as you will notice if you inspect these pages, I am yet to finish writing about everything I did. I have finally (and after much cajoling of the computer) published the definitive set of photos. But that's scant consolation to you I'm sure. So, rest assured I shall work night and day until the journal is finished. Just not this night, as I'm off to bed instead. Hope anyone reading this has reason to smile and I wish you all a fantastic 2005.

I arrived in Fiji with no guide book and very little idea of what I wanted to do. Fortunately I had several hours during which I could ponder this question, as my flight arrived just in time to place me at the back of a very large immigration queue. Things weren't all that bad, as a small group of musicians had been hired to greet tourists and they stalked me all the way through to baggage collection. From here I wondered out, following a procession of sign holders (who needs permanent signs when you can hire someone to stand motionless holding a piece of card?) until I reached the minibus that would take me to the resort. Now, if you've been following things, you will realise that at this point I was meant to be traveling with Katherine. However, I had scared her away and was instead facing a week alone in Fiji. My first hint that this was going to be ok was when I arrived at the resort to find that our internet order had been interpreted as a request for a double bed in an air conditioned room. Feeling it was a little early in the guest-host relationship to start pointing out mistakes, I gladly accepted the room and settled in.

My only plans for Fiji were to move off the main island of Vitu Levu, and to get some diving done. Assuming the resort owners would know something, I headed to the tourism centre to try and book my escape from the mainland. After various failed attempts to explain my aims, I latched onto a promising looking leaflet offering diving with hammerhead sharks on the island of Ovalau. Given a location the rep launched into action and promptly booked me a coach to Suva. For those unfamiliar with Fiji, Suva is the capital, and is located on Vitu Levu. In terms of my journey it was less than half the distance I needed to travel. Apparently, and not unreasonably, it wasn't possible to book the rest of my journey at 8pm on a Friday. I would have to do that in Suva.

So next day, and the bus is nearing the end of it's four hour journey to Suva. Before I realise it the bus has indeed ended it's journey, and I'm now standing in the rain, a mile outside the centre, wondering where I can find the Patterson Brothers' Shipping Company. Following the vague directions I'd been given the night before, I lugged my bags back into town. After several false dawns I find myself outside the Patterson Brother's shop. The closed Patterson Brother's shop. Bugger. I am now somewhere in Suva, with no guide book, no idea where I can find a hostel and no idea how to get to Levuka. But surely someone must know. Not in the first travel shop, who simply directed me towards some other shops. By now I'm really quite wet in the rain, and almost throw myself into the next travel agents. Whether it was my pathetic and rather frantic look, or just the genuinely friendly nature of the shop keeper (I favour the latter explanation), I had found my savour. After explaining my situation the guy took out his mobile, a yellow pages and rang all the other Patterson Brothers shops until he found one that was still open. A map and set of detailed notes later and I was back on the road, fighting through Suva's Christmas parade to reach pier 6 of the bus depot.

Knowing that I still needed to buy a ticket, I prayed for a relatively empty bus stop, with perhaps a friendly looking traveller from whom I could borrow a lonely planet guide. Who was I kidding? The place was rammed full of locals, each appearing to carry more shopping than anyone could reasonably need. And, as each minute ticked by more people arrived. By the time the bus finally arrived an hour late I was lost in a crowd of Fijians. Fortunately another friendly local spirited me onto the bus, and, with bags and people packed around me like sardines, we departed Suva. Just as the heat and gentle roller coaster motion of the bus was sending me to sleep a guitar appeared and, like a scene from Airplane, Christian missionaries began singing. It was all quite charming really and not for the first time in Fiji I began to feel like I'd stumbled into a Michael Palin travel documentary. However, by the time we finally reached the ferry landing I was desperate to get off the bus, even if it was only to stand in the mud and rain and drink coffee while a small dot on the horizon slowly grew bigger.

When the ferry arrived an hour later the landing suddenly sprung into life. Engines started, people appeared from nowhere and the heavens opened again. Watching everything unloaded was an exercise in packing efficiency - making the ferry seem like the aquatic equivalent of Mary Poppin's handbag. Most surprising of the arrivals was a flat back truck loaded with planks of wood until it seemed the back suspension may shortly give way. Now, I admit that doesn't sound surprising, but it was the four or five goats tethered to the top of the load of woods that had me confused. Shortly we were loaded and the ferry set off. Realising I still didn't know where I was going to stay I set about trying to find someone with a travel book. Luckily I spotted a likely suspect and after introductions was soon badly copying a map of Levuka, our destination. It turned out that Bilge (the book's owner) was taking some time to travel before starting a masters at Lancaster, which is where my aunt and uncle live. What is it they say about six degrees of separation?

I don't exactly remember how long the ferry took but it was almost dark by the time we docked on the island of Ovalau. Unfortunately, the journey still wasn't over and we packed into yet another bus to take us round the island to Levuka. It was at this point that I met the aforementioned Christian missionaries, in the guise of a lady from New Zealand. Apparently she was part of a group taking teenagers from New Zealand on a tour round Fiji to do missionary type things. Despite having to fend off several attempts to save my soul, the conversation did make the final bus journey pass quickly, and I even scored a leaflet and an invite to their service for the following day. The leaflet is rather scary, with several small diagrams intended to show how we are all linked to God, but appearing more like gun targets with man at the centre of them all.

When we reached Levuka I went with Bilge to the only open hostel with dorm beds and booked myself a bed. The hostel, called Mary's, was certainly basic compared to my recent experience in New Zealand, but you couldn't complain about the price, with bed and breakfast costing about £3. After chatting to a couple of guys in the dorm, Bilge and I grabbed some food at the Whale's Tale restaurant and then retired for the night.

So, day one in Fiji. Perhaps I should try and be a little more succinct for the rest of this diary.

Breakfast happens early in Fiji, probably because it gets light at about half six and curtains don't really feature in Fijian hostels. Over breakfast I properly met the other people staying in the hostel - an American called Quinn and an Irish girl called Jenny. We decided that Jenny and Bilge would go and meet the Christians (I think the free lunch offer swayed them) and Quinn and I opted for attempting to climb the hills behind Levuka. We thought we had the better option, but it turned out to be a little more difficult than we had anticipated. Attempt Number 1 took us past the old Masonic Lodge, burned down in the 2000 coup, and up a hill on the North side of Levuka. Choosing to use the well known "follow the water pipe" method of tracking, we headed up the 199 steps to Mission Hill. Here we found the local hospital and swiftly concluded that anyone who could make it up the hill clearly wasn't ill enough when they started. Soon we reached the end of any recognisable path and bumbled on into what may well have been someone's garden. Picking our way through root crops we continued uphill, until thick growth and ant infested trees caused us to retrace our steps to the last house we had passed. Trying another direction led us to a small plateau, where a badminton court had been erected. Having forgotten to bring racquets with us we settled for some photos before canceling attempt number 1 and returning to the main street for some lunch. After a chinese meal with a random Israeli guy, Quinn and I set off on Attempt Number 2.

Our plan this time was to find some local kids who fancied spending their Sunday showing us the correct paths. Our first communications weren't particularly successful, as the kids continually pointed us in a direction commonly known as "away". After zigzagging across the village we finally found some kids who correctly identified us in an instant: entertainment! After directing us across a river (and then immediately back again) they set off at a jog up a hill. We reached the end of the path, only to find the collection point for the villages water supply. After a few photos the kids were off again. Downhill. Bugger. After much gesticulation we were able to explain that this wasn't what we wanted. We wanted to climb the hill. Reluctantly they led us back, past the water supply, to a well hidden path. Pointing up, they refused to go any further, saying only that we must "keep left". Twenty minutes later, with no obvious opportunities for keeping left, we were deep in the forest and at the end of the path. And so ended the second attempt.

Attempt number three: We retraced our steps to the water storage building, and tried once more to find local guides. The occupants of the first house we came to were a little scared of us but, eventually, the oldest kid was dispatched to guide us. And guide us he did. Straight past "Attempt Number 2" path and to a small waterfall. Explaining that this wasn't the top of the hill made little difference so we gave in and clambered down to the splash pool. And promptly disturbed a couple washing. Luckily, like most Fijians, they were spectacularly friendly, and explained that climbing the hill shouldn't be attempted as with the recent weather it would be very slippy, and would take an hour and a half both ways. Undeterred we headed back to the path of our second attempt, sure that "keeping left" really must be the key. A little way up we spied some inviting rocks and started our ascent. After reaching the top of these rocks we found what looked like a path, and blithely assumed that the difficult bit was over. Two hours later, soaked, muddy, cut, and not particularly sure that we'd marked the ridiculously overgrown path well enough to find our way down, we reached the summit. Or at least we reached something from where we couldn't climb any higher but, with thick mist swirly around, we weren't particularly sure. Going back down the hill wasn't any easier, and I spent most of the time sliding down on my arse, occasionally stopping to admire the mound of mud I was collecting. A further two hours on and we were back at the now deserted splash pool for a quick wash, before returning to Mary's hostel.

Monday morning and, after a day travelling and a day of kicking my heels whilst Fiji observed the sabbath, it was time to arrange some diving. Or maybe not. It seemed that Levuka wasn't the hotbed of scuba fans I had anticipated. The dive shop had no one else booked for diving and, with no one else booked into the hostels, it looked unlikely that sticking around was going to produce results. So I organised my return ticket to Suva and joined Bilge and Jenny on Epi's tour to the village of Lovoni, located in the volcanic crater in the centre of Ovalau. Epi first showed up at about 10am, but only to say he would be back at 11.30 and did we mind getting a local pickup. I didn't mind but wasn't sure I could fit it in my bag. Half eleven and we sauntered down to where Epi had agreed to meet us, squeezed onto the pickup truck benches and set off. Once again, the heat and motion of the journey were sending me to sleep, and I wasn't the only one. A local kid fell sleep standing up against the back window of the truck’s cabin, sticking his face to the glass so that he had to be carefully peeled off when it came time to leave. Slowly people were reaching their destination and disembarking. Slowly, we weren’t. Eventually we arrived at Lovoni and decanted to Epi’s brother’s house.

Whenever you enter a Fijian village, it is custom to present a gift, usually cava, to the chief. Problem one, buy some cava. Well, buying isn’t a problem but shaking off the local kid after tipping too much certainly is. It was like having personal mini-shadows for the day. Problem two, the chief wasn’t in. So instead we gave the gifts to a random son of the chief and settled down in the chief’s hut to listen to Epi’s story about the history of Ovalau and Levoni. Despite Epi doing his best to fall asleep, he told a magnificent tale of banished sons, long distance swimming and tribal warfare. Before he could finish food was ready, and we returned to the brother’s house for a traditional Fijian lunch. I made a few notes at the time but now can’t quite decipher what they say – battered Anbusin anyone? Suffice to say it was great and very filling, perfect preparation for our trip back through the rainforest.

Our rainforest hike took us through several rivers (Jenny and Bilge preferring to take off their shoes than be carried through by Epi), over quite a few hills and ended in a small village from where we hitched back to Levuka. The hike was punctuated by frequent stops for Epi to reveal the secrets of the forest – from seeds burnt to deter mosquitoes to how to husk a coconut. All very informative but I think I’d need a few more lessons before I could tell any of the plants apart. Otherwise I’d be using the fetching black toothpaste to soothe my cuts.

An evening meal and several short hours of sleep later and I’m standing with Quinn, Jenny and Bilge at four in the morning, trying to focus on the bus amidst a maelstrom of people and wondering why if so many people want to go to the mainland there isn’t a more convenient service. Ho hum. A quick game of sardines later and I’m wedged around my bag, secure in the knowledge that no force on earth can dislodge me.

Several hours of partial sleep later and I arrived at Suva, the capital, where I parted company with Quinn and Jenny (Bilge had jumped ship, well bus, earlier). I lugged my pack up a hill to a hostel recommended by Bilge, intending to drop my gear before heading to the museum. Unfortunately I had not foreseen Colin, the son of the hostel owner, who insisted on playing superman for about an hour before I could politely insist that I really was time to leave. Having lost my map after splitting from Jenny and Bilge, I set off for the museum, anticipating a short walk out of town. 40 minutes or so later and I finally managed to wade through the flooded gardens to the front door. A pleasant 30 minutes later and I was finished. I'm sure it's possible to spend longer in the museum, I just happened to be particularly switched off after my early start. Next on my schedule was some present shopping. My best deal was for something I didn't even want. Whilst strolling through a little craft workshop thing I was invited into a stall by the owner, who insisted that he had a lovely necklace that I should buy. Non-plussed I tried to escape, only to find that the price was rapidly dropping. What started as an exclusive FJ$50, quickly became a bargain FJ$10. However, it was still trash so I declined and headed to the cinema for some western fare. Two films later and a mere £2 lighter (all cinema should be this cheap) my mind felt a little clearer and I returned to the hostel for some sleep.

A night in Suva was more than enough, I needed some beach time. So I headed to the beachhouse - a beautiful cheap beach resort thing. Many people had recommended it to me - including Jenny who had headed here the day before and friends from work who had visited on a similar trip the year before. It's biggest selling point was the free tea and scones served every day at 4pm. During my four days there I mainly just lay in the sun. I did pop out one day to do some more diving, although I think I missed a trick by not going to the shark site. I also spent a couple of days playing cards (mainly shit head) with Jenny and another girl from Ireland, Gemma. Highlight of the card playing was about four hours in when we realised that there were six or seven cards missing. Actually, that makes it sound like I didn't enjoy it, whereas it was probably the best end to a holiday you could have, just sitting in the sun, relaxing and chatting.

Well, that wasn't quite the end, as first I had to get home. First leg involved getting to the airport in Nandi. Jenny and I got the same bus, which took a minor diversion to see some enormous sand dunes, which in actual fact was just an excuse to pick up a mate of the drivers. And we didn't go straight to the airport, but to the hotel where Gemma was staying, as she and I were getting the same flight to Los Angeles. At the hotel we ate and I managed to finally try cava, after contriving to miss all other opportunities during my trip. A brief 10 hour flight to america later (I'm sure it didn't seem so brief to Gemma, who had to endure sitting next to me) and then it was customs, customs, customs, and another 12 hours to London. The second trip wasn't so much fun, as I was on my own and everyone else fell soundly asleep (damn them and their american body clocks), whereas I stayed awake and watched four movies and all but the last five minutes of the office Christmas special. Before I recount the emotional Gone With The Wind type airport greeting scene, let me emphasise how important the final five minutes of the Christmas special are. After two series and two hours, Dawn and Tim have once more gone their separate ways and love's arrow has again been missed it's mark. The audience is wailing in a pit of despair. Without the final five minutes, they will never know the carthasis of seeing Tim and Dawn together. And why wasn't it shown? Because apparently you cannot show videos if the plane is circling for an hour above London. That would be wrong. Obviously. So, anyway, I land, pick up my pack and nonchalantly saunter into the arrivals lounge, as if my three months away were a mere weekend in the country...

Auckland

Having dashed around the South island like mad people in desperate need of a toilet, we decided to take things slower on the North island. Although this meant we wouldn't see as much, it does mean that I won't have to write so much for you poor souls to read (or ignore, as is your want). In our usual manner of non-planning, our first day in Auckland was spent working out some kind of rough plan for the next few weeks and organising transport. We decided on buying a flexipass for the intercity busses. It works like a pay-as-you-go mobile: you buy a certain number of hours that are used up as you book journeys. After handing over vast sums of money for our tickets, and agreeing a vague route plan, we retired to an Irish pub to listen to someone sing covers or U2 and Coldplay.

With only one more day in Auckland we decided to eschew the offerings of the city, and head to Waiheke Island, one of the many small islands in the Hauraki Gulf. After a short ferry trip we walked to the main town of Oneroa and descended to the beach, where we spent the next few hours enjoying the sunshine and the ability to lie on an almost deserted beach. Waiheke island is known as quite an arty spot, but we didn't really investigate these claims so I'll assume they were correct, and just say that it is an extremely relaxing and charming place.

Whangarei

Under my direction we headed to Whangerei. It's not that there's a lot to do there but I was desperate to do some more scuba diving and Poor Knights Island, off the west coast to the North of Auckland, is one of the best sites in New Zealand. So we slept on busses for a day, until they kicked us off at the Bunkdown Lodge, possibly the friendliest hostel in the country. Run by Peter and Noel (with help from two dogs, a cat and an aviary - they've ignored the obvious conflict of interests) it's basically an extended house, with the owners and guests sharing quite a few of the areas. The rooms are very well kept and Peter is always about to answer questions, give advice and just generally help.

The diving itself was based from Tutukaka, a small town about 45 minutes drive from Whangarei. The Poor Knights Islands are then another hour or so out to sea. Because of the way the currents mix at this point in the ocean, the water is uncommonly clear and warmer than could otherwise be expected. The dive sites offer a variety of wildlife but my lingering memories will be of the vast number of rays I saw. There were also some good swim-throughs but I don't feel I really got to see much of the area, and would have loved to had more than two dives. The biggest problem with the diving was getting used to the water temperature. After learning to dive in seas at least 26 deg C, it was quite a shock to jump into water measuring just 17 deg C, even though I was wearing a thick wetsuit. Still, it was great experience and if I ever make it back I'll have a much better idea of what I want to do.

Whangerei doesn't have much to offer tourists, who usually come to the area for sailing or diving, but a recently developed waterside area has added a much needed focus. The general theme is quite arty, with glass and fudge shops and the Clapham Clock Museum good examples of what you can find there. We stuck to what we knew, and headed to the fudge shop. The warning sign at the entrance should have been better heeded, and I was lucky to exit with any money. Next we had a look in the glass shop, where you can watch the artists at work. After fifteen minutes watching a vase being created (it could have been anything for about the first 14 mintues), a woman came in looking for Tim and I. Unknown to us Katherine had popped outside to get some air and promptly feinted. Luckily a St. John's ambulance worker was having lunch nearby and was able to help her out. Apparently she fell flat out, cracking her head on the floor and badly rearranging her glasses. An ambulance was called but fortunately the verdict was that perhaps she should eat a little more regularly. However, they gave us a lift back to the hostel so at least we now knew how to cut back on traveling costs.

Whitianga

After the warm and friendly Bunkdown lodge, we were prepared to be disappointed with our hostel in Whitianga. How wrong we were. Very wrong. First of all, there's the fact that the owner looks uncannily like Jim Robinson from Neighbours. Add to that the fact that he is actually called Jim, and runs the hostel with his wife Anne. Neighbours comes to life on the Coromandel Peninsular. Wonderful. If Neighbours links aren't enough for you then there are the twice daily lifts into town and then onto the supermarket. This in a town where nothing is more than 20 minutes walk away. How nice is that? However, we didn't head to Whitianga for nice, we were there for the two local tourist attractions. As we were in New Zealand, I'm not talking about theme parks or tall buildings. We were there to see a rock. And a beach.

Cathedral Cove is a beach that lies about 45 minutes walk north of Hahei on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsular, and is famous for a huge natural rock arch. As you walk towards the arch a large rock looms on the other side, just one of the many that dot the coast in this part of the world. The beach is beautiful and, together with the scenic stroll required to get there, provides a wonderfully calming way to spend a couple of hours.

So, that was the rock, what about the beach? Well, this is no ordinary beach. Rather it is Hot Water Beach. And aptly named it is too. For at low tide, a spotty man comes down from outer space, and brings it to life with magic dust... Ok, so that doesn't happen. Or at least it didn't when I was there. Hot Water Beach has gained it's name because it lies in an area of hot springs, and one of them is conveniently revealed on the beach at low tide. As the hot water, at a temperature reaching approximately 60 deg C, wells up through the sand, it mixes with the incoming waves to form a magical natural spa. So the brochures tell you. Instead, you arrive at a scene reminiscent of huddling penguins, as 100 or so people try and cram themselves into the 5 m square patch of beach where this phenomenon occurs. In defense of Hot Water Beach, a Sunday wasn't the best day to visit and Tim, who went on the Saturday, said that it wasn't as busy.

On the way back from Hot Water Beach, on the minibus tour I'd picked, we were taken to several other beautiful local beaches. What I couldn't understand was how such fantastic places, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, remained obstinately empty. As you can see from the pictures of Cook Beach, these were big beaches, and Whitianga is quite a touristy area. Perhaps New Zealanders, with their plethora of gorgeous coastlines, have become apathetic at the notion of another day getting sand in awkward places, windswept hair and salt soaked clothes. I doubt I'll ever reach that stage, the sea just keeps enticing me back. Now, if I can just move a bit closer to the coast than Birmingham...

For completeness, I feel I should mention that it was at this point that Katherine parted company with Tim and I. She'd done a marvelous job of putting up with me for over two months, but eventually it had to give. I'd just like to thank her for a fantastic holiday and hope I didn't spoil her trip.

Rotorua

Rotorua is the tourist capital of New Zealand, with over a million visitors every year. There are an almost impossible number of activities to do and I tried my best to do as much as possible. First, was the Whakerewarewa Thermal Village, a Maori village sited on a particularly thin part of the earth's crust. As a result it is full of steaming sulphur pools, bubbling mud pits and natural spas. I joined one of the free tours, where you're shown normal village life. Well, as normal as living in a tourist attraction can be. The highlight was being taught a Maori song, although it was hard not to feel self conscious when you're waving your arms around, stamping your feet and warbling weird words in with a group of strangers on a Monday afternoon. The spas looked very inviting, although it would have been unwise to jump straight in, with the hottest bits a slightly warm 141 degrees celsius.

Next day I headed to Wai-Taupo, which is located about half an hour from Rotorua, and is conveniently close to the Lady Knox Geyser. Our minibus arrived minutes before the daily eruption of Lady Knox and, after scampering around to some free seats, we watched as soap flakes were fed into the ground, breaking the surface tension and causing hot water to shoot thirty or forty feet in the air. Having taken our token tourist photos, we proceeded to Wai-Taupo, a collection of other-worldly vistas, whose impression only really hits home long after left and returned to normal urban life. It is only now that I appreciate quite how surreal walking through drifting clouds of sulphur rich steam, past green, orange and turquoise lakes, really was.

As fascinating as my last few days had been, I felt in need of some action and so booked onto a local white water rafting scheme on the Kaituna River. Apparently this contains the world's highest commercially rafter waterfall. And it certainly felt that way, although from my position lying curled up in the back of raft I'm not sure I had the best view. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to flip the raft, although it did get sucked back under the waterfall, holding us under the water for several seconds. Our guides were a great laugh, although it was all of the "you had to be there" variety so I'll spare you the anecdotes.

New Zealand is a country of farming. So, how better to celebrate this than build a farming theme park and call it 'The Agrodome'? Now, normally I wouldn't be interested in seeing sheep sheared and paraded around - with Welsh blood in me I feel that sheep are best enjoyed miles from anyone, not on stage in front of a crowd. However, the Agrodome has an added attraction - the wonderful sport of Zorbing. For those unfamiliar with Zorbing (and I am yet to find it outside of New Zealand) it involves shutting yourself into a large beach ball and rolling downhill. It may not sound like much but it's brilliant. We arrived quite early on a miserable day; the clouds were down, drizzle was turning rapidly into lights showers and the temperature was doing it's best to reach single figures. For some reason this means that you can only Zorb if you get into the balls with a large quantity of warm water. Go figure. Luckily, the company provide clothes for hire and so I found myself zipped into a fairly opaque sphere, knee deep in water, waiting to run like a hamster down a zig zag course that looked much like a grassed luge track. At the given single I stormed forward, building speed like an olympic sprinter, reaching the first corner it what must simply have been record time. Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned lack of transparency, I was completely unaware of my position on the course. So, when the Zorb hit the grassed bank of the first corner the laws of physics took over and sent me flying into the surprisingly hard lining. With a sickening crunch I made contact neck first and slid down into the comforting warmth of the water, where I lay happily letting gravity guide me to the end. By the time the Zorb rolled to a stop the operator was nervously peering in, and as I disembarked was enquiring as to why I hadn't moved much during my trip. With a brief roll of my neck to check functionality, I feigned an interest in plastic joining methods and claimed I'd just been having a closer look, before sheepishly heading to the changing rooms and some warm clothes.

The evening's entertainment was provided by a Maori Hungi. As I understand it, Hungi means greeting, but in terms of tourism it is used to describe the meal and concert combinations that are offered. On advice from the hostel owner, I chose the Matai show, which more than makes up for a slight lack in professional showmanship with raw authenticity. You start off with a brief introduction from the host, before a Chief is chosen from the guests. You then proceed to the 'village' where there is a greeting ceremony, and then a full set of Maori dances, including the Haka. The dances were all a little tongue in cheek, and ended with everyone in the audience trying out a war cry by screaming in turn at our neighbour. Traditional food followed, and lots of it. After eating far too much to be healthy, we took a short stroll to see some glow worms. One of the more interesting parts of the experience was hearing from Don Stafford, a local historian and authority on all things Maori, who fortuitously happened to be visiting on the same evening. He was able to tell us all about how the Maori language developed and on the various theories regarding their migration throughout polynesia, macronesia and micronesia. Apparently the Maori language shares roots with most of the those found around the pacific rim, and how even today many of their words are shared. Obviously that's not too surprising when you consider how many languages developed from Latin in europe, but the pacific rim is a seriously big area and that fact that language is shared across it shows how far early migrants travelled. But, anyway, I've vowed to finish this diary today so I better push on.

Another little administrative note. I keep referring to what I've been doing, but Tim was there too for most of the things I've been describing. It just seemed too much effort to distinguish between the pronouns so I stuck to using 'i'.

Taupo

We headed to Taupo with two aims. First, to walk the one day Tongariro crossing. widely acknowledged as the best one-day tramp in New Zealand. Second, Tim wanted to sky dive and Taupo is the cheapest place in New Zealand to throw yourself at gravity's mercy. I know I should try and build up the tension, but I can tell you now we failed at both. Quite comprehensively really. In summary Weather 2 - 0 Us. You see, to do either activity you need quite good weather. And while it may seem bright and sunny in Taupo, the crossing will be experiencing gale force winds, thunderstorms and heavy snow showers, and planes will be being tossed around like ice in a cocktail shaker. So, rather than sit around wondering what to do we went out and got drunk, had a walk to a local waterfall and another field of smoking sulphur vents, and then headed back onto Waitomo.

Rotoroa

Waitomo you say? Well, we tried to head there but it turns out that the short four hour journey is impossible to achieve in one day from Taupo if you're on the Intercity busses. Bastards. That what I say. Still it gave me a chance to try out the Blue Baths, a lovingly restored swimming bath which heats it's water geothermically (if that is a word). Despite losing a contact lens I thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere that can only be gained by swimming alone in a warm pool whilst listening to Louis Armstrong, Norah Jones and other such crackly records.

Waitomo

Waitomo doesn't have much to offer. But what it does offer, it is a world leader in. You come to Waitomo for the caves. Specifically, you visit to see the glow worms in the caves. And if this means abseiling down a 27 metre drop, floating in the pitch black on an inflated inner tube, squeezing through small gaps in a cave and climbing back up those same 27 metres then all the better. One of the highlights of my trip was those mesmerising minutes spent gazing up at thousands upon thousands of glow worms, sitting on an inner tube as the water spun me, soaked me and shot me into rocks. Unlike most of my trip I don't have photos of any of this, but in some ways that makes my memories stronger. Ah, I'm a' getting wistful now. Less of that 'me thinks.

Auckland

So, the end of my New Zealand odyssey. Well, not so much odyssey - there wasn't much sailing, sirens or having your friends turned into pigs. But whatever it was it was now coming to an end. My final few days were spent in the friendly and homely Brown Kiwi, in the Ponsonby area of Auckland. The Brown Kiwi did have the dubious honour of winning the lowest Toilet/Guest Ratio Prize. Whilst traveling around New Zealand we began to notice a worrying trend of decreasing toilets in each successive hostel. And sure enough, our last hostel had a paltry single toilet for all male guests. Well, I suppose I should qualify that and say I only found one toilet. Perhaps they had one hiding somewhere. Under the fridge, or behind the sofa perhaps. Maybe some particularly cruel person working there had constructed a cunning fake wall in the bathrooms to hide the vast array of toilets that the Brown Kiwi actually possessed. But that is just speculation. I'm going to have to assume it only had one toilet.

Of course I didn't spend all my time trying to find toilets. Some of my time I spent following Liverpool's glorious and frantic final Champions League match. Some I spent searching high and low for gifts for folks back home. And the rest was taken up with visiting Mount Eden, the highest point in Auckland, where you can look out across the entire city. Actually, that's a lie. I also went to the Zoo, in an attempt to finally see a Kiwi. Despite their rarity, there are a surprisingly large number of Kiwi houses throughout New Zealand. And I had missed every single one. In fact, I almost missed this one too. A combination of construction at the zoo, and a dreamy state brought on by watching orangutans for a long time meant that I almost forgot to see the Kiwis. Even when I did find the house I struggled to see anything. Literally anything. Kiwi's are nocturnal and a Kiwi house is as dark as they can safely make it. In fact, it was darker than they could safely make it and I promptly tripped over. When I recovered and took a seat, I realised the Kiwi's were in their nesting box. Although I could see them clearly on the monitor I wasn't going to give up. So I took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. Twenty minutes can seem like a long time in a dark room when your seat is actually part of display you can't see clearly enough to work out what you are actually sitting on. But eventually, to my great relief, a Kiwi appeared. Peering through the gloom I could just make him out as he foraged in the leaves. Finally, I had seen a Kiwi. And, finally, my time in New Zealand was up. I left the both the zoo and the country, content and happy to have seen such marvelous sights.

New Zealand customs. You've probably heard about them. Try and smuggle so much as an orange through and you'll be cleaning toilets on the first flight out of there. Or at least that's the impression they're keen to give. Friendly is not in the vocabularly of a customs official. However, my recommendation for a smooth passage is to confess to everything you could possibly have done. Stolen sweets as a kid? Put it on the form. I owned up to smuggling tea-bags and visiting Kangaroos and was swept through with scornful looks. Katherine and Tim kept quiet and spent a long time being closely examined. So, it's true, honesty really is the best policy.

Christchurch

New Zealand's third biggest city. But still only 300,000 people (well, not exactly, I didn't have time to count them all). We stayed at Stonehurst backpackers, a veritable monolith of accommodation, offering everything from dorm rooms to studio flats, all within vaguely vomit coloured buildings. But it was close to the centre and busy so plenty of chance to meet people. Christchurch probably has a lot going for it. Lots to do and all that. 'Fraid I can't tell you much as we spent our time organising onward travel, booking stuff etc. They do have a nice Cathedral in the central square, although more interesting was the enormous chess board where heavily bearded fellows were playing an intense game in the rain (it reminding me of a film, although I haven't a clue which one). The museum is good, with lots of information about the early European settlers. Most information centres on Alfred Barker, a doctor with a passion for photography who emigrated from the UK in the 1830s. His legacy is a startling number of photos of early Christchurch, including a panaramic view around the town. His dedication to produce these records was amazing, building his own camera and melting down jewellery to obtain the silver needed for the film. The panaramic photos are especially impressive, as each shot needed to be developed immediately, meaning he had to set up his equipment in the same position over a period of several months. The museum also details Mauri customs, New Zealand wildlife, 19th and 20th Century costumes and has a section dedicated to Arctic Natural History.

Another tourist attraction in Christchurch is the arts centre, a motley collection of shops, studios and factories selling everything from wool, to woodwork, to jewellery, to candles, to fudge. Ok, so that's not everything, but then they also have to fit in a cinema, theatre, some science laboratories used by Rutherford and enough room for the market stalls that appear every weekend. In fact, if you're ever in Christchurch at the weekend and want junk food (an unlikely combination I know) then head for the arts centre and choose from Turkish, Greek, Chinese, Indian, Thai and many more cuisuines.

According to the guidebooks, Christchurch also has some good live music. While I can't verify that, both the Jazz bar and Irish pub were great fun, with the Hog in particular churning out the tunes (pop-tastic mate). The house band, Grandad Axe, finished with a brilliant medley based on the Proclaimers' "I would walk..." and taking in Guns n' roses "Sweet Child O' Mine", Jingle Bells, Eminem's "Loose Yourself" and the Darkness' "I believe..." at such speed that you frequently didn't know which song you were drunkenly staggering to.

Kaikoura

Kaikoura is about 3 hours drive north of Christchurch and is a mecca for marine wildlife fans. We came here for the dolphins and whales and weren't disappointed. First on the list, whale watching. Kaikoura's veritable wealth of wildlife is caused by a deep inshore canyon, that drops to more than 1km deep within 1km of the coast, which means that whales, dolphins and seals can be found with relative ease. Unfortunately we racked up in Kaikoura during the relatively short period where neither the summer nor the winter whale pods were around. Cue a long journey out to sea. Thankfully the trip passes easily as all the boats come equipped with a huge flat panel screen, displaying information on the position of the boat, local marine wildlife, and with some stunning real time 3D representations of the the boat as it moved over the canyon. Our luck, however, was not in. After numerous stops to play with the underwater microphone, our guides were starting to give up, looking moody at the thought of refunds. And then, at the final moment (hey, this is exciting, like one of those films or somit') the call came again. The boat kicked into action and we sped off towards two dots in the sea. As we approached the engine was cut off and we coasted to about 15-20m away. There we sat, enthralled by two huge sperm whales, as they spouted several times, before diving in unision back to the deep. Our whale-lust saciated, we returned home. If two whales sounds like slim pickings, a couple at our hostel who went out on the next trip saw 10 whales and several dolphins. So it was. Buggers.

Finding ourselves with time on our hands after a morning of whale watching, we sauntered over to the annual Kaikoura races (good timing or what?) where we watched the feature race and soaked in the atmosphere. We decided to take the scenic coastal route back, past the seal colonies. Charging on at a fearsome pace, intent on finding the seal colony as soon as possible, I completly forget to watch where I was going and hence was rather surprised by a large seal rearing up just a metre of two to my right. Thinking back to the warning signs I quickly retreated to a safer distance (safer for him, obviously I wasn't worried...) and began happily snapping away. Then I took some photos. Ahem. Sorry. Having found our first seal we headed on, only to discover that was only the start with huge numbers basking on the rocks around the rest of the route. One thing I've learnt. Seals smell. A lot.

Next on the wildlife list was dolphins. Embracing the "only here once" spirit I signed up for the swimming with dolphins experience. Katherine and Tim, more fiscally minded, opted out. The water in Kaikoura is cold. Really cold. Eleven degrees celcius cold. But we had full body wetsuits and liners. So it wasn't that bad. Ah, who am I kidding, it was still cold. But who cares when you're swimming with dolphins? I really can't explain or describe this one. The feeling is just amazing. I wish I could have stayed in for longer, but unfortunately it's the dolphins not you who get to determine these things. This is not flipper. The dolphins are not there to entertain you. They come and go as they please, and mostly they are pleased to go. In fact, you have to work pretty damn hard to get much response. Recommended activities are singing and humming through your snorkel, diving down (difficult to impossible with no weight belt and a thick wetsuit) and splashing on the surface. I tried singing the Darkness but only succeeded in clearing away the other swimmers. A better tactic was clicking and humming, just as the dolphins do on nature programs. At one point I had four or five dolphins swimming back and forth under me. It really was amazing. When we were finally hauled from the water, hot drinks and cookies were consumed with abandon and we settled down to take photos of the dolphins as they played in the wake of the boat and jumped around in a mating ritual. Eventually, the fun had to end, and with it our stay in Kaikoura. One last mention to the Dolphin Lodge, the excellent hostel (complete with spa pool) where we stayed. With hindsight, definately one of the best of the South Island.

Nelson

I didn't find Nelson a particularly interesting place to be, a fact best demonstrated by my most memorable moment being listening to someone's recording of Radiohead's South Park Concert. However, it is very useful as a base camp for a trip to Abel Tasman, the beautiful northern tip of the South Island. We opted for a short walk, heading up to Torrent bay on a water taxi and wakling back to where we had left the car. Blessed by gorgeous weather, we were able to enjoy stops at many of the amazing golden beaches that dominate the area. This combined with a brisk 12km walk made for an excellent day, topped off by a good curry back at the hostel (yes, that really was a highlight of Nelson).

Franz Josef

It's a long way from Nelson to Franz Josef Glacier, especially if you stop numerous times for caffeine boosts. We set out early, battling through the rush hour traffic until we suddenly reached the eerie quiet of rural New Zealand, where it is possible to drive for fours without seeing another vehicle and where the side roads all have names such as 'Moonlight Road' and are marked with ominous 'No Exit' signs, firmly suggesting that a wrong turn here would be your last. Our only notable stop was at the Pancake Rocks at Hokitiki, where the layered rocks and fierce waves have combined to create a tourist attraction of seabirds, blowholes and geology. One particular basin carved by the sea looked perfect for an adult sized version of those ball pits favoured by ikea childcare dropoffs. Throw in a few Zorbs (see later) and voile. Unfortunately I haven't yet found a receptive audience for my plans and the birds nest remain the most exciting attraction at Hokitiki.

We arrived at our accommodation, the Glow Worm Cottage Backpackers, in time for the daily issuing of free vegetable soup, a welcome counterpoint to the excesses of junk food consumed during numerous driving breaks. Glow Worms was a particularly good hostel, with the beds separated into suites containing four beds and miniature but useable bathroom and kitchen. We stayed in Franz Josef for three nights, with the main event being a full day trekking on Fox Glacier. The day started poorly, with the foulest cup of coffer I've ever tasted, something between burnt acorns and TCP. However this was something of a false dawn, with the rest of the day spent tramping up and down freshly cut ice steps, while our guides kept us entertained with tales of the glacier's history. My favourite story was the explanation of how a plane high in the glacier despite their being no one on board. Our best efforts at explanations could not match the bizarre truth. One day a pilot was making a landing high up the glacier. As he exited the plane he realised one of the skis was damaged, making take-off impossible. Rather than try and fix the plane of the glacier, the pilot called up a mate who had a helicopter. Before you know it, the plane is strapped to the bottom of the helicopter, and the two friends are delighted to see they can actually make it off the ground. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that the helicopter couldn't cope with the extra weight and the plane had to be ditched, leaving it to crash spectacularly into the glacier. This story is typical of New Zealanders, and their do-it-yourself attitude.

Wanaka

Wanaka is the quiet person's Queenstown, or what Queenstown may have been like a good few decades back. Queenstown has bungy jumping, river sledging and paragliding. Wanaka has fishing, Puzzling World and the world's greatest cinema. Puzzling World is the home of the world's first 3D maze. Despite sounding exciting, this just means there are several bridges that must be used to access different sections of the maze. I was hoping for some futuristic human hamster cage, with minimalistic white corridors and pulsing blue lights. Perhaps annoyed at my apathy, the maze set out to impress. And, after an hour or so of frustrated wonderings, I have to admit it is a damn good maze. Puzzling World's other attractions are a huge number of holograms (including a microscope where you can actually look down the eye at the slide), a tilting house and a forced perspective room to demonstrate the techniques used by Peter Jackson in LOTR.

Whilst Puzzling World may never draw the world's attention, the Paradiso Cinema should. The entrance hall is essentially a small cafe/bistro serving very good meals, or, for those with a sweet tooth, home made cookies and ice cream. Having purchased enough food to survive several weeks on a cold icy mountain, we settled down to watch "Touching the Void", the real-life story of two climbers who endured ridiculous conditions in the Andes. I settled down in a comfy armchair. I could have chosen one of several settees, an airplane seat or even a Moris Minor. The Paradiso does not have normal cinema chairs, and is all the better for it - the whole experience is like watching TV at home, with better snacks and a much bigger screen. The final touch of brilliance? The return of intervals - where those greedy enough to have finished their original snack stockpile can purchase further supplies.

Queenstown

Well, the first site of note isn't in Queenstown, but before it on the scenic route from Wanaka. Driving, with my attention carefully focused on the road, I was momentarily sidetracked by a fence entirely covered in bras. Apparently, it is a local tradition, or unknown origin, to leave a bra (or boxers if you haven't yet developed man boobs) attached to the fence. From the state of several exhibits the tradition must have been going on for quite some time. Of course they may have been deposited dirty and threadbare but I wouldn't like to suggest that of New Zealanders (or backpackers, although...). I did try and convince katherine to add some example but with no success. however Tim was spotted buying new boxers a couple of days later so perhaps he snuck back later to leave his mark.

Onto Queenstown, the home of adventure sports. So, one night should be enough for us mild english folk, eh? We stayed at Scallywag backpackers, a beautiful hostel with brilliant facilities (cabin beds with privacy curtains) but possibly the worlds grumpiest owner. Apparently he had recommenced work only two days previously and was already despairing at the thought of a further six months before his next break. After arrival we headed down a ridiculously big hill (getting back was not fun) into Queenstown and tried our hand at jet boating. When i say tried our hand I mean that we had to hang on tightly, not that they actually let us near the controls. But it was still good fun, with lots of 360 degree twists and slaloming past jutting cliffs and under branches and plenty of opportunity to get wet.

So, jet boating ticked off the list, what's next? Bungy jumping obviously. Well, it was for me. So next morning, before a 5hr drive to Milford Sound, we headed to Kawarua Bridge where I jumped 43m on a large rubber band. Given my less than close relationship with heights, I was expecting it to be a bit more brutal. However, despite the initial "Oh my God I'm standing on the edge of a huge drop" feeling, the jump itself was awesome - a huge buzz that just made me want to do it again. Though obviously not enough to ACTUALLY do it again. I'm not stupid after all.

Milford Sound

Milford Sound is the main access point for New Zealands famous fjordlands. However, unless you're tramping on some of the surrouding trails, the only thing to do is catch one of the boat tours. Our boat took us out to the sea, following the cliffs on either side of the channel. The scenery is amazing, with towering mountains, 100 metre waterfalls, dolphins playing in the waves at the bow of the boat, sea lions lazing on the rocks and even the odd penguin surfacing to see what's going on. On the way back to the dock our boat stopped at an underwater observatory. Well, thankfully it actually stopped above the observatory, allowing us to disembark at a visitors centre, where we were treated to a stunning video about the construction of the facility. I could provide details about concrete pours and the ingenious methods used to protect the environment during the construction. But that's far too similar to civil engineering and I did enough of it during my degree. The observatory sits about 4m below the surface and, apart from the window boxes of coral, all wildlife you see is completely natural. i.e. it comes and goes as it pleases. The fauna is most impressive, with great examples of black coral, a particularly rare form that is actually white. After examining each window for signs of life we headed back above water and onto the boat home.

Having seemingly exhausted the only tourist attraction in Milford Sound we set out in the car to find some of the walks in our guide book. Several journeys later and all we'd succeeded in doing was driving along the same stretch of road three times and discovering that local radio is rather eclectic. Seeming to focus on techno or hard house dance music, we would occasionally be stunned into silence by a bizarre interlude of Celine Dion, or a track from the Sound of Music. Later we discovered that the radio is broadcast from the room of Milford's only pub, and is generally just a collection of old tapes, unless someone can be bothered to DJ, which doesn't happen too often. Eventually we did find some walks, but were grateful that they weren't too long as shortly afterwards the heavens opened and we had to retreat to the hostel.

Dunedin

Dunedin is a university town in the Southeast corner of New Zealand's South island. Among it's tourist attractions are the world's steepest street, a bustling live music scene and the fact that it's near a whole load of penguins. Being the perverse souls we are, we chose not to visit any of these. We did try and find live music but were thwarted by the fact we visited on a Sunday and Monday, outside of term time. Instead, we indulged in some western culture, and hit the cinema. I went to see Supersize Me, the film about someone eating only McDonalds for 30 days. Suffice to say I have yet to eat at a fast food restaurant since seeing the film (as long as you don't count fish and chips - and believe me the service definitely wasn't fast). After that I saw an Italian film being shown as part of a Film festival that was touring New Zealand. Entitled "A Journey Called Love" it covered the stormy relationship of Sibilla Aleramo, a female novelist, and Dino Campano, a younger male poet, during the First World War. The film was well acted and the story engaging enough, although in typical art house fashion the plot was developed slowly and gave no sense of how much time had passed.

So, having had our fill of films (isn't alliteration great?), we spent the rest of our brief visit to Dunedin in the Public Art Gallery. After passing quickly through the traditional European landscape sections, I moved upstairs to where a whole floor is devoted to the work of Richard Harris. The bulk of his work seemed to deal with religious themes, but I preferred the more abstract works, in simple reds and blacks. Last of our visit were the National Film Archives, where you can make your choice from a wide selection of features films, short films, animations, documentaries and adverts and then sit back in comfy leather sofas to watch to your heart's content. Well, you can unless you've got to drive further North. In which case you will watch just until you're really getting into a film, and then have to stop. But at least you'll have something to grumble about.

Oamaru

You visit Oamaru to see penguins. It may be the rare yellow-eyed variety, or the more common blue species, but it's definitely penguins. Only the rather weird among you will visit Oamaru with the express intent of taking a tour of the cheese factory. The penguins aren't very sociable until the evenings, so we pottered about until about 6 pm, when we fitted ourselves in full arctic gear and set out for the penguin colony. The yellow-eyed penguins come ashore to natural nests formed on a beach just outside of Oamaru. Given their rare status the closest you can get are the cliffs above the beach. From here, with careful use of binoculars (or a camera with a very good zoom) you can just about make out the birds as they totter ashore and head for their nests. After almost an hour spotting penguins and getting excited we decided that it was time to head for the blue penguin colony before the ominous black clouds let loose.

Having managed to get back to the car in time we idled slowly through sheet rain to the blue penguin colony, a nesting site operated by the Department of Conservation and local community. Having paid our entry fee we took our seats in the wooden stand - a bit like one you'd find at an old football ground - and settled in to await the penguins. Eventually they came, oblivious to the cold that had long since caused us voyeurs to huddle together. Arriving in groups of 20-30, the penguins rode the waves as they crashed onto the rocky shore. As the water knocked them around like cheap toys (I was tempted to put women, but thought better of it...), the penguins struggled to get a grip of the rocks. Finally they waddled free of the water and made their way up the steep slope, waiting at the edge of the path that separated them from the nests like kids on a school trip. When all the group had reached the path, a signal was given and penguins rushed forwards, calling to each other and heading for their nesting boxes. At least I assume a signal was given. I'm not so good at translating penguins. Something I shall have to work on.

Mount Cook and Lake Tekapo

Without the time to attempt any walks around Mount Cook, we decided to merely detour up to the mountain on our way to Lake Tekapo. Lake Tekapo in itself was only part of larger detour on our journey back to Christchurch. Mount Cook is the tallest mountain in New Zealand and takes several days to climb. However, there are several less challenging walks in the surrounding area and the scenery in this part of the country is phenomenal. Given that we only had about 2 hours to spare we settled for a short stroll to the Tasman Glacier where we took in the beautiful views of the nearby plains. The weather was pretty crap, so most of the view was clouds and mist, but I'm sure that just behind it there were some amazing mountains. After standing in the cold isolating wind, contemplating the meaning of life, it was time to return to the shelter of the car and continue to Lake Tekapo. I'm not sure why I wanted to go there. I think it was for the wonderful views across the lake to Mount Cook. And they certainly were wonderful. But in all honesty there didn't appear much to do. So after failing yet again to take photos of a starry night (eventually I'll realise that it's just not possible with my digital camera), we returned to Christchurch.

Well, not quite. First we had to stop at Fairlie, a town bearing Tim's surname. Having noticed the small farming centre on a map before we even left the UK, it was with some sense of inevitability that we parked the car outside the information centre. Having ascertained that it was indeed named after the Scottish town of Fairlie, we set about confusing the locals be taking photos of Tim in front of any sign, shop or even toilet that bore his name on it. My favourite was definitely the "Fairlie Good Bakery", that, being only fairly good, was closed.

Christchurch

Not much to say about our return to Christchurch. Mainly we concerned ourselves with returning the car, although I was defeated in my plan to drive an extra 78 km just so I could say I'd driven 2000 miles in New Zealand. We did manage a trip to a beach, but discovered that although it may have been sunny, it certainly wasn't warm. We also went to the Art Gallery, which had a lot of art I really liked. One of the exhibitions was called "Coming home in the dark" and included a dinner set covered in painted line sketches of slaughterhouses, works about the murders in Christchurch's Victoria Park (the story of which was retold in Peter Jackson's 'Heavenly Creatures') and a bizarre version of the Apple Computer logo. I also enjoyed the display of contemporary work and found possibly the best title for a piece of work ever: 'The lover who does not forget may sometimes die of excess, exhaustion and tension of memory'.

And so our journey around the South island ended, and we headed north to Auckland, and a world of adventure... Oh, ok, so this isn't Michael Palin. I'll stop writing like that now.

Sydney is pretty much the midpoint of my trip, and it is here that Katherine and I meet up with Tim. As Katherine and I arrive a few days before Tim, we had the tricky task of finding things to do that Tim wouldn't mind missing out on. So we spent our time avoiding the rain and walking around the Botanical Gardens and visiting the Art Gallery of New South Wales. The latter was quite interesting, as Australia doesn't have much older art and so galleries are a refreshing mix of aboriginal and contemporary art - for example a set of bats carved from wood hanging upside down on a washing line.

Bugger it. Sorry. Had planned this hour for filling out all of my diary but got a bit sidetracked and now don't have time. Instead I'll list what I did and then can fill in the details bit by bit as I have time. Sorry again.

We picked Tim up from the airport on October 18th, which was a Tuesday I think. On the way out to the airport our driver managed to get himself a ticket by driving in the emergency lane. Which was quite funny, especially as we'd mis-timed things and were due to arrive far too early for Tim's flight so were glad of killing some time. After collecting Tim we found another airport transfer (who will reappear later) and bought return tickets to our new hostel - the Pink House. On arrival we were shown to our room, an interesting place with one bunk bed and then a shelf about 2 metres off the floor holding a double mattress. After much negotiation Katherine won the double mattress and quickly developed a small cocoon up in the rafters.

The Pink House is a very friendly hostel, with stuff going on every night. Indeed, shortly after we arrived the majority of the hostel headed to a nearby bar for free beer. The promise of free beer proved enough to entice Tim out, even after a 24 hour journey. We ended up in the World Bar, a good mix of a pub, pool bar and night club and got on with meeting more people.

Sydney aquarium

Making decisions in a group, or this group, isn't always easy. Everyone prevaricates and refuses to say what they really want until all of a sudden it's dark outside and the only thing people can agree on is that it's time for another drink. Well, not with Sydney aquarium - a full round of votes and not one was misguided. This is simply the best aquarium I've ever been to. Admittedly that's not great praise from someone who hasn't even visited the aquarium in Birmingham, but for now lets pretend I'm a world expert on sealife centres. This place is awesome. I could go back every day and sit in the shark tunnel, watching the grey nurse, port jackson and wobbegong shark shuffle past, as huge rays glide in between. Of course, I wouldn't go back every day, as you can see half the animals just by jumping in the water off the Sydney coast, but that's beside the point. The aquarium also has platypus (you can easily understand why Europeans thought the stuffed specimens brought back were fake), a bewildering array of fish (with which I can now play the game of "I've seen that in real water") and a great seal section (where they have more underwater tunnels). The one downside is the Nemo factor, with a whole tank now devoted to being able to "Find Nemo" (and Dorey, a fish called a Blue Tang, which does in fact swim exactly as animated, in that slow dopey style). I assume this will be played up more when Shark Tale hits Australia, but maybe more people being interested in the sea isn't a bad thing anyway.

Manly aquarium

The day after Sydney aquarium I hoped on a train over to the north shore (the train went over the bridge for anyone confused by the notion of a train crossing the estuary) and met up with Julie, a Sydney native (yes, that is a crap term for describing someone who lives in Sydney, but I couldn't do better), who I met whilst diving in Cairns. She drove us over to Manly Cove, home of one of the best beaches in Sydney. Given the rather shabby weather we headed into Manly aquarium (a small friendly, homely version of Sydney aquarium) for some more games of "I've seen that in real water". Manly aquarium also has an underwater tunnel, where you can view a particularly ugly shark that, due to a bone disorder, has a bent head. After exploring the aquarium we had a quick stroll around Manly before enjoying a very good lunch looking out onto the sea. Unfortunately, unlike some of us, Julie then had to get to work, so I jumped on a ferry and watched the world go by as I bobbed back to Sydney harbour.

Museum of contemporary art, Australian Museum

A day of culture started with the Museum of Contemporary Art, located opposite the Opera House. The main exhibitions were an annual selection of contemporary art from artists under 35 and a selection of work by William Kentridge. The standout pieces from the contemporary work were an installation that used mirrors so that everywhere you looked you saw the same image, a weird string installation that "challenged perceptions of space and light" and ladder made from aluminium and beautifully carved wood. However, the William Kentridge exhibition was the more interesting. He creates stop frame animation, where the changes between each frame are drawn on the same canvas. This enables you to see where sections have been erased and leaves an organic pattern to the work that can be quite mesmerising. He has also produced a series of films which effectively run backwards, my favourite being him un-ripping a pile of books. We watched as many of the Kentridge films as we could before hunger drew us back outside for lunch. We then headed for the Australian Museum, a reasonably unremarkable place apart from their recurring them of examining humans as just another species. One particular display showed various parts of a city, and explained them as we would for an ant colony. For example, a nightclub was where humans met for mating rituals involving strange gyrating dances, with soldiers outside to reject those who were not reading for the mating phase.

Manly Cove

A beautifully sunny day broke over Sydney, which was lucky as we'd already planned to walk along the north coast from Manly Cove. Catching the ferry from Sydney Harbour, we alighted (pah, pretentious? Me?) onto Manly Cove, just around the corner from Manly Beach, one of the main surfing beaches in Sydney. Our walk took us about 6km west along the north shore, ending at Castle Rock Beach, where we enjoyed watching a large dog jump in and out of the water, continually shaking itself over a random sunbather. We enjoyed some fantastic views across the Syndey harbour basin, some of which have already turned up in the photo section. Despite the scenery, perhaps the highlight for me was a rich ice cream of creme caramel and veronese chocolate.

Bondi beach

Determined to see the infamous Bondi, Tim and I set out from our hostel at an hour that should not be seen on a Sunday (i.e. it was before midday). Deciding we didn't need to get the bus from the nearest train stop, we boldly set out in the wrong direction. Luckily our combined ability to read large road signs set us back towards the sea. Walking down to the shore, we did manage to watch some local cricket, where one team had reached the fantastic figures of 14/2 off 19 overs. After watching another wicket fall we continued on our way, stopping only to investigate the local market. Eventually we reached Bondi but, perhaps because it was a gloomy Sunday, it didn't really match up to the beaches we'd seen at Manly the day before. The afternoon was spent watching a spectacular thunderstorm and during the evening I enjoyed the magic show put on at the hostel. Funny, but not intentionally so!

Sydney Bridge Climb

Ok, I'm going to speed up now in an attempt to finish this update. Grey skies loomed, we attached anything and everything to ourselves with elastic and ties and set out. The sun broke through as we reached the summit. Beautiful views across the whole of Sydney ensued. Entertaining anecdotes were told by our excellent guide Caroline. We smiled for the camera and failed to buy any of their overpriced pictures. We descended.

Twelve Night at Syndey Opera House

Shakespeare, with Australian accents. I've never studied Twelth Night, so I can't tell you whether it was a faithful production, but it was certainly enjoyable and well acted, thought a little spoilt by the grumpy Americans who had been delivered at the Opera House as part of their tour. Sample comment "You can see why shakespearian english died out". Only he used some weird "ism" instead of "shakespearian english". Anyway, a great night, especially as it cost only 10 pounds. Bonus!

Blue Mountains

A day trip to the beautiful Blue Mountains. Included walks to see several waterfalls, a look at the worlds "Most Stupid Idea" (a roller coaster that goes down a cliff, it has never opened as test dummies regularly failed to complete the journey, or complete it intact anyway) and a ride on the worlds steepest railway (52 degrees at the steepest point). For information, the Blue Mountains are so called because of the eucalyptus trees which release spores into the air creating a blue haze. However, this does mean that everything looked at over a distant appears blue.

So, broadly speaking, that was Sydney. I intend to fill out a more accurate record of my holiday when I get home. Then I shall create a 5 hour slide show and force you all to sit through it. Without popcorn or sleep. Enjoy yourselves.

A quick update for you today, as I'm off to do some shopping and then enjoy the sunshine on a beach. Feel free to moan quietly with envy as you stare out of your windows at work.

Uluru - the largest monolith in the world. Also an area of great Aboriginal importance, with 6 sacred sites around the base. But you knew all that. What you didn't know was that I saw the sunset tour, then walked the Valley of the Winds at Kata Tjuta (known as the Olgas) and, after a swim in the resort pool, headed back out to the rock, via the Aboriginal centre, to watch the sunset with a complementary glass of paint stripper. But now you know that too.

Things you may not know about Uluru (the area, not the rock):

1) Flies. Lots of flies. Oh so many flies. So many flies that people took to wearing bizarre netting arrangements over their heads. Without looking embarrassed. I took to hiding in a swimming pool.

2) I had a kangaroo burger. It was revolting. I assumed this was connected to the fact that I bought it from the cheapest food outlet in the resort. Having tried some kangaroo since then, it's become apparent that kangaroo is actually just rank.

3) The aboriginal people ask you not to climb Uluru. This isn't because the climb route is particularly sacred, but because so many people have died in the attempt, and this saddens them.

4) Still reading? Oh, well, what can I write? ... Ok, so a fourth thing you may not have known is that if you're told the paths will be lit at night "for your convenience" then that person is almost certainly lying and you'll end up about a mile away from where you wanted to be.

So, shopping and sun await. As always, keep having fun and enjoying yourselves.

Cairns, Cairns, Cairns. Probably my favourite part of the holiday so far. Mainly because everyone spoke English, but also a large part inspired by diving the Great Barrier Reef. The main area of Cairns is quite small, and apparently most people just use Cairns as a launch pad for further travelling. We settled at a hostel called Inn the Tropics, a good little budget place with swimming pool and a high turnover of travellers. We were about ten minutes walk from the Esplanade (the focus of Cairns life) but only about two or three minutes from the actual sea front. Having said that, the bay in Cairns is actually a mud flat so it wasn't exactly picture postcard territory.

Our first activity was to travel up to Kuranda, a market village, on a cable car over ancient rainforest. The trip took about 40 minutes with two stops for walks into the undergrowth. Reasonably interesting but best experienced as time spent relaxing enjoying the view. Once in Kuranda we headed to the Koala zoo, where there were some especially cute Koalas, Wallabies, Kanagaroos etc. We declined the opportunity to have our photos taken with the Koalas and moved onto the "famous" markets. Not exactly the plethora of trading we were expecting. Perhaps it was an offday, but I've seen more intriguing and entertaining markets at the Bull Ring. We returned to Cairns by steam train (all those years of conditioning by my father must have had an effect), although, depiste the stunning views I managed to fall into a wonderfully relaxing sleep. Nevermind, eh?

My best time in Cairns wasn't actually in Cairns. Rather it was a three day liveaboard out on the Great Barrier Reef, where I completed my PADI advanced course. Having been collected at the ungodly hour of 5.45am, the boat headed on its three hour journey to the Reef. Not everyone was too keen on this part, and I began to feel a bit seasick by the end of it. However, once in the sheltered reef everyone felt better and diving began. In all there were 11 dives in about 48 hours (midday Monday to midday Wednesday), and I just about made all of them. This did mean starting at 6am each day but with indecent amount of caffiene, and a ready supply of food inbetween each dive, you tended not to notice. The advanced course was only 5 dives so for the rest we just headed off into the great unknown. I saw a couple of sharks, a huge green turtle, clown fish (nemo's, as they are now more commonly known), some beautiful nudibranches and a huge range of other reef fish, which, for now at least, I cannot remember. By the time the trip had ended I was completely hooked on diving, and am itching to get back out. I'm not sure the canals of Birmingham will be able to provide an equal environment. After the trip everyone met up for a meal and drinks and we ended up going to a couple of places before tiredness and drink overtook me and I headed home.

Right, that covers about half the time I was in Cairns and, whilst I'd like to finish this now I had better get going. Try not to be too disappointed. As always, hope everyone is great and enjoying themselves.

Perhaps at this point I should clear up a little matter. Whilst I was on the dive course Katherine went up to Cape Tribulation - a beautiful area of rainforest with incrediably diverse wildlife. As I missed out on this, and after recommendations from a hugely enthusiastic guy at the hostel, we decided to hire a car for a few days and head out into the Tablelands that surround Cairns. The Tablelands is a hilly area that rises steeply just off the coast, which I guess won't come as much of a suprise given the name. Anyway, we picked up a small daihatsu two door, and set off on a gloriously windy road called Gillies Highway. Well, I felt they were glorious, but I think I should mention that Katherine wasn't so keen. Perhaps more to do with my driving than the standards of roads.

The first day we just sauntered along the roads (as much as it's possible to saunter in a car), stopping at various local sites, and enjoying being out of a city for once. Two of the local sites are fig trees. Fig trees start their life by forming on the tall branches of another tree. They then send roots down to the ground, and encircle their host, cutting off it's light source and leaching nutrients from the ground. Eventually the host tree dies and rots away, leaving the fig tree to take it's place. Due to the way the fig tree sends it's roots down this results in large structures looking something like a collection of organ pipes. The two trees we saw, Curtain Fig and Cathedral Fig, are both particularly large examples of the phenomena.

So, now you've all learnt about the fascinating fig trees, I'll continue with the rest of our mini road trip (sadly lacking in minis though). The other two big draws of the Tablelands are the lakes and waterfalls. At this point I shall explain that Australians have a particularly literal view of the meaning of waterfall. Hence, anywhere where water falls, even when only a few feet, is rapidly labelled up and thrust on the tourist maps. Suffice to say that, having visited the Lake District many times, only one of the falls (the admittedly beautiful Milla Milla falls) would match up to the English idea. Our first day of driving ended in Atherton, a moderately sized town where we found some room at a backpacker hostel. Most of the other guests were long term residents, getting work harvesting potatos. Moving on from Atherton, we headed north, towards Port Douglas and nearer Cape Tribulation. We stopped on the way to visit a small museum/shop type thing attached to a coffee works, where I tried some very smooth coffee and looked through the displays about the history of coffee growing in Australia.

We reached Port Douglas and headed to the beach, a pristine four mile long stretch of golden sand. When the movement of the planets finally deprived us of sunlight, we retreated to Port Douglas and explored. It turns out that Port (as the locals call it, apparently) is an upmarket resort area, with the kind of beach and facilities that you generally only see in brochures. I liked it a lot but it wasn't exactly within the backpacker price range. Having done with exploring we settled on a bench to eat our fish and chips. Unfortunately the bench was facing an old garage, rather than the palm trees and beach I'd hoped for. But we didn't let anything as minor as visual reality hamper our enjoyment, and soon the swish of taxis was actually the gentle lap of the sea, and that staggering drunk guy was a palm tree, bending slowly in the wind. Watching the world go by is one of the great bits about being on holiday.

Our final day with the car was spent with some more beach time, followed by a trip to Hartley's Creek. The latter is a park created specifically to showcase "salties" - the dangerous salt water crocodiles that frequent much of the Queensland coastal region. As part of the experience you get a trip out on the creek, where the driver gets the crocs to leap out of the water to get their food. This is one trip where you really must keep your hands inside the vehicle! The other highlight is the Crocodile Attack Show, where you sit in a small amphitheatre and watch one of the handlers play with the show croc, incidentally named Bart, and demonstrate the "death roll" and "head shake". All quite entertaining, especially when the handler gets chased up to the safety section by a hungry crocodile.

Our final day in Cairns was spent apart, with Katherine heading out to dive on the Reef whilst I hired a cycle and rode up to a nearby beach. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't my friend that day, and I spent most of the time drinking coffee in a small shop, hoping that it would stop raining long enough for me to investigate the shore. It didn't. And so I returned to Cairns, where I met Katherine and packed up, ready for the next part of our journey.

Hi there, sitting here in Sydney on a lazy Sunday afternoon, Sinapore seems a long, long time away. Hence, I can't completely remember what we did, nor in what order it all occured. I do have some notes somewhere, so maybe I'll come back and edit this at a later date. But don't hold your breath. I wouldn't want to feel responsibility for mass suffocation in England.

So, Singapore. A city, state and country. Or so the guidebooks say. I only really saw the city so I can't confirm the rest, but a good map should be able to if you want to check. The main thing I noticed in Singapore was the phenomenal rate of construction going on (blame the day job). A new national library, a metro extension, a dozen huge housing projects. Everywhere you look there are cranes and construction workers. A situation that is amazing if you consider that Singapore (the country) has a population of about 4 million. The investment per capita must be huge.

Anyway, now that I've covered that five minutes of my thoughts, I'll get onto the rest of my time there. We arrived mid afternoon (possibly on a Monday) and set off to find accommodation. Our search ended at the 7th Floor Hotel, a wonderfully eccentric place in the middle of an oddly empty lot. The grassy lot itself was surrounded by a chain fence and warning signs stating that anyone entering was responsible for their own safety. Ominous. The hotel itself was a bit like a christmas cake, each floor a little smaller than the last. Each landing area had a different theme - laundry, kitchen, study etc and all were connected by my favourite feature, a fantastic old lift, complete with two sliding concertina doors, a lift operator and one of those handles for controlling the motion. It was probably fake but I shall continue to pretend otherwise.

By now, I can sense you crying out for me to tell you what I actually did. Well, we tried the art gallery, but that was partly closed for renovation and seemed to be affected by the natural conservatism of Singapore. The recurring theme seemed to be that GM foods and genetic meddling are very bad. One exhibit was a perspex box filled with parts of soft toys that you could reach into and attach to form your very own genetic monster. I think I formed a two-headed, three legged Winnie-the-Pooh-asorous, but I shall leave the taxonomists to decide upon the final name.

Another trip took us to the Science Museum, which is quite possibly the best Museum I have ever been to (although my experience is admittedly limited). The defining feature was the multitude of plasma screen with life sized faces on. As you approach the image wakes up, introduces itself and begins to tell you about the area of the museum you are currently in. Although that in itself was quite cool, the best bit of them was watching their 'sleep' actions - some would be checking their mobiles, others reading books, others still doing some stretches to ease their neck muscles. Fabulous attention to detail. So fascinated by these machines that I can't recall much of the actual exhibits. But that's ok, you can go check those out for yourselves.

No visit to Singapore is complete without a visit to the Raffles Hotel. Unless you find the prices prohibitively expensive and have to settle for wandering through the place and then heading to a nearby cheap cafe. Then your visit is still technically complete. Similarly, no visit to Singapore is complete without visiting the zoo and night Safari. So we did. It was brilliant. Orangutans. Orangutans. Orangutans. Very exciting. There were other animals as well. I shall have to check the photos though as otherwise I won't be able to remember them. The night safari was particularly interesting, and much more sensitively arranged than I thought from other people's comments. A tram ride takes you around the park to see the main animals and then you have the option of seeing one of the shows or trekking around the park of foot. We opted for a show and watched as things (I wrote down the name in those notes I mentioned earlier) climbed above, mountain lions lept across huge gaps and pythons were "let loose" in the audience. All in all a fantastic experience.

I'm sure I must have seen other things, but I can't fully remember them. Our final day was spent mostly in an airport, waiting for our delayed plane to be ready. Having got on board at about 10pm, the pilot swiftly told us to put our clocks forward to Cairns' time, moving us into October. I mention this only as this cost me 2 hours of my birthday. The mental anguish scars me still. Till next update, farewell.

Right, an extreme lack of time and a realisation that I cannot narrate every second of every day means that this is just going to be a very broad overview of KL.

Having dumped our bags at KL Sentral station (spelling correct for once) we headed to the Petronas towers, so that I could indulge in some civil engineering esque staring at the tallest twin towers in the world. We booked tickets for the trip upto the observation bridge and had some breakfast, notable only for the ESP of the waitress who knew what I was going to order before I said it. Spooky.

Needing to kill some time before the trip up the towers we visiting the National Museum, bizarely needing to catch a cab to travel the 100m from KL Sentral, due to the extreme lack of footpaths. A slightly odd museum, which, like many things we've visited, was in the middle of a renovation. It included a disply on puppetry, circumcism and cuba - a rather odd combination but that kind of summed KL anyway.

We found some accommodation in the afternoon, choosing the more luxurious Swiss Inn in China Town and, after investigating the market stalls (most interestingly selling "meat floss") and grabbing food we crashed out.

On Sunday we visited the Batu Caves, a supposed holy shrine that was gaudy, dirty and being renovated. Not particularly serene or impressive. So we moved onto the Butterfly sanctuary and Lake Gardens, before walking through to the National Monument. Out taxi driver back was a particularly fine example of a KL cabbie - cracking his knuckles while we waited in traffic, as if wondering whether his excessive jet black ear hair had yet joined forces with his pearly white beard and attempted to move down to his chest. He was very chatty and was v interested in driving back in England, telling us that in KL the easiest way to avoid points on your license was a small bribe to the officers.

We checked out of the Swiss Inn early on Monday and headed back to KL Sentral (which we now know extremely well), for our transfer to Singapore.

I left us in Surat Thani, trying to decipher our location from a small map in the Rough Guide. Thankfully we met a New Zealander called Andy, who, after teaching in Bangkok for two years, could speak enough Thai to find out where the night market was. Despite close attention from a taxi driver, who seemed to have Droopy-esqu abilities to re-appear right in front of us, no matter how many times we shuffled away from him, we eventually made it to the night market and settled down for some traditional Thai food. A meal that was only vaguely interrupted by the particularly large spider joining us from over the wall.

Spurning Droopy the taxi driver came back to haunt us, as a night time trek through Surat Thani proved that 11pm is not a good time to be looking to travel. Andy came through again though and we were soon sitting at the station, wondering how long we could spin-out our counting the ghekko game before we really started to get bored.

By the time our train finally arrived at half one we were in perfect condition to fall into the awaiting sleeper berths. Unfortunately, our sleep didn't last long and we were rudely awaken at about half six. After passing immigration (luckily we didn't look enough like hippies to be refused entry - we weren't wearing waistcoats with no shirts nor did we have long messy hair) we travelled onto Butterworth, arriving just after midday. Finding ourselves with no Malaysian currency we could do little but buy our ongoing train tickets and wait for the exchange to open. Once we'd sorted our financial situation we dumped our bags at the luggage storage and decided to visit Georgetown on the island of Penang. Unfortunately we seemed to catch them on their day off and so enjoyed a walk past the museum and fort (and several other sights I no longer remember) before grabbing some food and getting the ferry back to Butterworth. Our sleeper train to KL arrived at 9.30pm and, tired after the previous night, we were ready to hit the beds immediately. Unfortunately the beds were next to the doors, and no amount of glaring at people could convince them to close the doors after they went through and shut out the noise. A disjointed night of sleep took us to KL, where we alighted bleary eyed at 7.30am

Our journey to Ko Samui started with an early stroll down to the piers where our boat was due to collect us at 9.30. Unsure of which pier we should be waiting at I checked in at the agent where we bought the ticket, only to told that the boat was cancelled and it would cost another couple of quid to get on the only ferry leaving the island. With little other option we caved and made our way to the correct pier

The ferry took about 4 hours to travel to Ko Samui, but the views of the islands and the ample opportunity to doze in the sun were very welcome. We caught a taxi from Na Thon, where we docked, round to Chaweng, the most popular beach on the island and were dumped, still a little asleep, in the beginnings of a major rain storm. Continued dizziness after the diving, heavy packs and pouring rain led us into a rash decision to stay at a resort called Silversands. Hoever, this turned out to be none too wise when a small army of cockroaches made their feelings about our appearance quite clear.

We stayed one night at Silversands but quickly transferred to the Wave bar, run by two very friendly English guys.

Now, I would like to tell you much more but I have only two minutes left so I will try and finish this all off on Thursday when I shall no doubt have lots of time to kill at Singapore aiport

And indeed, now that's it's Thursday, I'm at the airport and I do have time to update you all.

After transferring to Wave on Tuesday, we decided to explore Chaweng futher. A walk along the beach and a minor trek along the main Chaweng road led us to decide that maybe Koh Samui, or Chaweng at least, wasn't exactley all it was made out to be. I did manage to find a pub showing a re-run of the Man Utd v Liverpool match, something that proved to be a pretty excruciating couple of hours. The less said about that defending the better...

An early start on Wednesday saw us picked up by an old minibus and transferred around the island to Na Thon. The minibus had the kind of suspension that should only be found in scrap yards and at one point the engine almost stalled as the driver attempted to negotiate a particularly violent speed bump. From Na Thon a ferry took us to the Ang Thon marine park - a beautiful collection of islands about 2 hrs away from Koh Samui. Our first stop was the park headquarters, Wa Talap, where we were offered the option of visiting a small limestone cave or climbing the hill to a viewpoint from where the whole marine park could be seen. We opted for the viewpoint but quickly found that the rope winding up the slope wasn't a visual guide but a vital peice of climbing equipment. Once at the top we were afforded with beautiful views of the islands, and I hope to have some great photos to put up on the website soon.

After lunch on the boat we were taken to the island where parts of the film The Beach were made. The island has a saltwater lake in the middle of it, although the journey to this sight was much easier than our earlier trek. After swimming in the crystal clear waters for a while the boat took us back to Koh Samui, where we spent the evening shopping from the stalls of Chaweng. I managed to find a replacement for my watch, which hadn't managed to survive the scube diving, and a couple of shirts that helped reduce the urgency of the laundry situation

Thursday was spent lazily waiting in the sun for the afternoon boat off the island, watching bad films at Wave and eating too much junk food. Our boat was due to leave Na Thon at 6pm and at 5.20 we were starting to get a little worried that our transport hadn't yet arrived, seeing as the journey to Na Thon usually took approx 45 minutes. A jeep rolled up at about 5.25pm and we were then subjected to a rollercoaster ride around Koh Samui, with our driver seemingly intent on proving that 60mph was possible on the wrong side of the road. Round a blind corner. We reached the boat with 5 minutes to spare and settled down with a drink to relax.

And so began our journey to Kuala Lumpur

No news yet for our time on Koh Samui and in Kuala Lumpur, that will have to wait. But you do have six exciting photos that I laboriously managed to get online. The other 200 will have to wait... Hope these apease the hungry masses.

PLEASE NOTE: One of the machines I used so far has been sending viruses to my hotmail contacts from other addresses on the list (i.e. not just from me). Can you please be careful when opening all emails at the moment to try and stop the spread. I'm very sorry for anyone who got caught out by this.

Well, much as I'd love to give you an exciting, in-depth description of my dive course, I'm afraid the actual details of it aren't much to write home about. We arrived in Ko Tao (Turtle Island) on Thursday morning and, after a bus trip where we were raised from our seats every two hours, took the chance to sleep in our beach front cottage. When awake we shuffled up to the dive shop to watch an isntruction video. Unfortunately, the power had failed so we shuffled back to resort to watch there. There were only four of us on our dive tour, with Amy (long term traveller from Manchester) and boyfriend Dave (on short break from work in Bournemouth) making up the numbers. Despite the video cutting out at some crucial moments (pah, who needs to know what a regulator is?) we got the gist of things and were ready for our first lesson the following day

Friday was spent with a morning classroom session followed by two confined water dives in a shallow bay where we were taught the basics. In the evening Amy, David and I headed to the more lively Hat Sai Ree resort, about ten minutes walk away, for some drinks and a chat. We eventually found some life, only to decide that actually, we were quite tired by then and, with drinking and diving not mixing, called it a night.

Saturday saw another morning's tuition with our instructor Fred (swedish, very helpful, forgot to mention him above) and then our first two 'proper' dives. Unfortunately the weather meant we had to head back to the same site as for our confined dive, but this turned out not to be a problem as we saw two large baracudas and a medium sized sting ray. Saturday evening was even less adventurous than Friday's, as the prospect of starting on the boat at 7.30am didn't exactly encourage late nights. Sunday was our first open water dives, and we were taken to Chumphon pinacle, where we descended to 18m (give or take a bit when we didn't quite get buoyancy right) and saw reef sharks, blue spotted sting ray and some of the fish from nemo. When back on the boat we headed to Nang Yuan (spelling?) and the "Twins" diving site.

When we'd finished Sunday's dives we got our qualifications and also forked up for a dvd of the day's events (including some terrible staged dancing underwater, and some seriously grumpy 7.30 am faces). I'm now very keen to do more diving before I get back (despite constant room swaying dizziness since I finished) and am investigating possibilities in Australia and New Zealand.

Sunday evening Katherine and I headed to Hat Sai Ree before packing ready for an early morning transfer to Ko Samui, which is where we now are. We're off to Ang Thon Marine Park on Wednesday which should be excellent. Till next time, behave yourselves.

Right, now that I'm settled in Ko Samui, I think it's about time I filled in what I did in Bangkok and Ko Tao. Unfortunately, I haven't yet been able to sort out any photos so you'll have to wait for that.

So, Tuesday - Seems a long time ago now. By this point we had moved to a cheaper hotel and intended to spend the day travelling up to Ayattaya to see the old capital of Thailand. Upon waking at 10am, we realised that this was now unrealistic, with the only train still capable of getting us there arriving four minutes after the last return one. A quick scour of the guidebook led us to the north of Bangkok and the Vinmanek Palace, a former residence of the King made entirely of Golden Teak (with apparently no nails). It is now basically a museum, showcasing various period rooms and belongings of the royal family. The highlights were having to wear a sarong to hide my unsightly ankles, deciphering the guides broken english, seeing Thailand's first shower (really, that was a highlight) and witnessing some traditional thai dancing. The latter was actually very entertaining, with the female dancers taking things a bit more seriously than the men, who were running round hitting each other with sticks and trying to get the audience to join in. For once arriving late and sitting at the back had it's advantages

After the Palace we headed over the road to Dusit zoo, enticed by the promise of white tigers and orangutans. Sadly the orangutans weren't at home, although I'm hoping they were secretly hiding somewhere in the grounds, plotting how to free the rest of the animals from the pretty terrible conditions. Complaints about zoo standards apart, it was good to see Elephants, tigers, lions, macaqs, mouse deer etc, given that we're unlikely to find time for a jungle trek to see them in slightly more natural surroundings.

As we neared the end of our zoo tour the heavens opened and we took shelter in the dodgems ride. When the rain stopped we opted for a similar, if more nerve wracking eperience, of travelling in a tuk tuk during rush hour. The Thai approach to driving is best described as organic.

A quiet evening followed, and we met Jen, Kat and Nina again on Wednesday morning, for a trip to the National Museum. After storming through the first buildling, which details the cultural history of Thailand, Jen and I discovered that not everyone takes such a light view of history, as a 30 minute wait for the others to finish proved. The translation of the display text to English wasn't always perfect, although it's hard to understand how 13th Century Burmese attackers "molested women" but merely "annoyed villagers". The most exciting part of the cultural display was unintentional, with police suddently rushing in to grab a teenage boy and proceed to beat him several times before marching him out. A slightly more real demonstration of Thai authority than the changing of the guard we witnessed the at Grand Palace.

The rest of the National Museum passed in a blur with the lack of English description and, more importantly, air conditioning, forcing a retreat to a cafe on the Khao San rode. A brief interlude at an internet cafe and a good long italian meal brought us up to leaving time, with Katherine and I heading on an overnight bus to Ko Tao, Jen back to England, and Kat and Nina onwards on their travels.

That just about covers Bangkok and leaves us just one long and sleepless journey away from a dive course in Ko Tao...

Hello there, obviously it isn't now 13th September and I am no longer in Bangkok, but you're just going to have to wait for an update of our time in Koh Tao, and just cope with this thrilling installment instead. One note before I start, all spellings, English and Thai, come with no guarantee whatsoever and are highly likely to be incorrect. I make no apologies.

So, our journey started with a queue at Heathrow airport, where we were accompanied by an amazingly racist Australian lady, who believed, among other things, that the black people boarding a flight to Africa were to blame for those who starve on the continent. Her reasoning: they were fat and ate too much in England. The flight itself was ok and we touched down in Bangkok at 4pm local time on Saturday. A quick bus journey to the Khoa San road took us to our luxurious first accommodation. Actually, that's not sarcasm. It really was. Partly because we wanted somewhere plush after 11 hours on a plane, and secondly because they messed up the booking and had to upgrade our room. The rest of Saturday and Sunday were spent getting our bearings, booking the dive course we're currently on and meeting up with a friend Jenny and the two girls she was travelling with - Nina and Kat.

On Monday we decided to become a bit more active. We started with a visit to the Grand Palace and one of the main religious centres in Bangkok, Wat Po. One of the main attractions of the Grand Palace is the 'The Emerald Buddha'. It's not actually emerald, it's very small, but it is definately buddha. The Grand Palace itself was quite impressive, but for all it's gold and gaudy decoration, not very interesting. However, we timed our visit to coincide (ok, it was luck) with a Buddhist ceremony, so got to see and hear what the religion is really about. Although, as it was in Thai I can't say I caught too much of it. Wat Po houses the reclining buddha, a huge gold Buddha with feet inlayed with mother of pearl. Quite impressive but more notable because I overheard a northern guy say "Ere, this Buddha's a bit serene, init?".

On Monday evening we met up with Jenny, Kat and Nina again and, after squeezing all five of us into a taxi, heading across the city towards the Pat Pong area. I say headed, as only Jenny and I wanted to visit Pat Pong so we ended up picking somewhere neutral where the others could hang out. After a long walk, Jenny and I found Pat Pong, and when a brief tour revealed it wasn't exactly what we were expecting, quickly left again. A short brush with a small river falling from the sky (known here as rain, think Boscastle and double) and we ended up in a small cafe, eating cake and watching a lady boy applying his/her makeup. Until he/she noticed and started looking angry. When we left.

Right, I think that'll have to do for now, as I've got to be at the dive shop at 7.30am tomorrow for the end of my Open Water course. After Koh Tao, we're off to Koh Samui so I'll have time to fill in details for the rest of Bangkok and the dive course.

Hope everyone is well, and just a belated Happy Birthday to my sister.

Welcome. Come on in, the water is lovely. This is my website and I shall be periodically updating it while I am away travelling so that you all have something to read when you want to avoid work for a few minutes. A big thank you to Rich Lawley for setting up this website. I'm sure I wouldn't have got round to sorting anything out on my own.

Well, I don't have much to say right now, mainly because I'm still in the UK. But, for those interested in such matters, here is my itinery. I doubt that it will change, but rest assured that if it does you committed (not in the mental health sense) people will be the first to hear of it.

September 10 2004 - Fly London to Bangkok, British Airways BA0009

September 30 2004 - Fly Singapore to Cairns, Australian Airlines AO7862

October 14 2004 - Fly Cairns to Ayers Rock, Qantas Airways QF0989

October 16 2004 - Fly Ayers Rock to Sydney, Qantas Airways QF0727

October 28 2004 - Fly Sydney to Christchurch, Qantas Airways QF0045

November 20 2004 - Fly Christchurch to Auckland, Qantas Airways QF4118

December 10 2004 - Fly Auckland to Nadi, Fiji, Air Pacific FJ0410

December 18 2004 - Fly Nadi to Los Angeles, Air Pacific FJ0810

December 18 2004 - Fly Los Angeles to London, British Airways BA0282

Well, that will have to do for a first update, except to say I've no idea why Australians feel they don't need to use a "U" after a "Q". Fools. All of them. Except for those I meet when I'm over there. I'm sure they'll be great. Anyway, have a great few months without me. Try not to cry too much. See you all at Christmas.