Adventures in the West

lots of naked people in Trafalgar Square – they were protesting about something, but despite the exuberant mass nudity and little willies perched on bike seats, none of them ever made it very clear what they were protesting about.

Covent Garden

On Saturday, I had a fun night out at the Royal Operah House, as you do, and then caught the long scenic train down the south coast to Falmouth, right down on the pointy bit of Cornwall, where my young son Goob resides. Cornwall is full of fun things to see and do, like cider and rocks.

Goob proudly surveys her domain

Gina, Goob and Shorty

My first couple of nights here were mainly focused on the important task of rediscovering cider, and rum, and Weapons Grade ginger beer, and other good things, which meant that the days were focused on sleeping and eating. However, a headache drove us to the beach for a recuperative brisk sea walk, which turned into a fascinating wildlife discovery, and which was much more fun than melting in bed. We saw loads of baby seals playing together right near the coast, which was fucking cool, as I have never seen wild seals before and didn’t even know that they lived in Cornwall. There were several big birds of prey, and I sat in a ladybird nest. We went home and ate Thai curry.

The next day we drove to somewhere where I didn’t know where we were, but Nolly was there, and we went swimming in the sea, there was another seal and some mussels, I got bitten by a weaver fish, and it was ace. We went home and ate Indian curry.

Yesterday we completed our wildlife adventures by driving to The Lizard, which is the name for the skinny bit of land right at the south of the pointy bit at the end of Cornwall, culminating in the MOST SOUTHERLY POINT IN THE WHOLE OF ENGLAND!! We went for another brisk coastal walk, and saw something that might have been a sea lion or it might have been another seal. I’m going for sea lion. They also often have 11m long basking sharks here, but we didn’t see any. And we sat by the nesting site of a bird called a clough. This was a very cool trip; I don’t know why it’s so exciting to be right at the extreme of somewhere, but I found it very thrilling.

a tourist standing at the most southerly place in England !!!

ice cream faces

some rocks

some cormorants and some SHAGS sitting on a rock

a beached whale

Friday morning there were big explosions and fires at Falmouth docks! But I don’t really know much about it except that I got woken up by a really noisy siren, and that some men in high-viz jackets said I couldn’t run where I would otherwise run. Then we went to see some arty degree show things, and went to a sea shanty festival. Yesterday we came to Fred’s house in Bristol, where I am now blogging, and soon we drive to Glastonbury.

Travel

"That is why we need to travel. If we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don't lift to the horizon; our ears don't hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comforting and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.
Don't let yourself become one of these people. The fear of the unknown and the lure of the comfortable will conspire to keep you from taking the chances the traveller has to take. But if you take, you will never regret your choice. To be sure, there will be moments of doubt..."

I read this in a book or something, I like it.

Hello from windy Cornwall

This photo was not taken in Cornwall, it was taken on a boat on the Mekong, somewhere upstream from Luang Prabang in Laos. I think it's a very good photo, so I'm putting it up in lieu of a lengthy explanation of everything that's going on in my life. Many fun things are happening, and I will write about them one day soon. Maybe.

goats

goats

goat close-up

baby goats

goaty love

goat attack

goat bums

pig!

unfortunately these pigs don’t have such impressively large testicles as the last male pig we had. those grand jewels of Billy ‘Bollocks’ Bacon were made into sausages and now make up the bodies of my family and their friends, which is a nice thought.

Elsa and I have invented a new game, which involves a squash racquet, a tennis ball, and biting Puff on the neck when she gets in the way

Stripey is looking more ill by the day, which we compensate for by giving him bowls of Häagen-Dazs or whole roasted chicken breasts whenever he desires. seen above in some erotic poses from his glamour shoot.

here is new baby alpaca Rafael, still soggy from the womb on Tuesday morning.

here he is with the whole crew, having dried off and learnt how to use his legs.

here is my brother holding a polystyrene gun.

Oversexed chickens, tigers, and curry

Now back in busy busy Kirdford, I wasn’t sure whether to keep writing or not; partially because my two biggest blog readers already know everything that happens here, and partially because, well, nothing happens here. But I don’t just want to leave it to rot all summer, and besides, it turns out there is a life outside of Asia after all.

At first, it was strange and disconcerting to be back here - where are the motorbike horns, what is this birdsong and wide open spaces, why does no one heckle me when I go for a run, why is there no soup lady outside my front door?! At first, at least once I'd got over the excitement of seeing the family and dog, I didn't really like being back. (I've never really spent much time in this house even when I lived in England, so it didn't feel much like "coming home".) But after a few days, I have come to appreciate the positive sides of the English countryside. Sussex is beautiful! Especially in the full bloom of summer... I might take a photo at some point.

The best part about being at home is all our animals. No one gives me unconditional love like my dog does, and we spent happy hours today rolling around in the grass whispering sweet nothings to each other. I can also visit our pet pigs, who tackle me with eighteen stone of piggy love and get snout slime all over my leggings (in case it's not clear, this is a good thing.) One of our alpacas is pregnant, so we expect a bow-legged fluffy camelid any day now. Tomorrow my mum is getting goats for the first time, so I don’t know what to expect with them, whether they’ll be friendly or bitey or nervous. But goats are pretty cool either way. Other pet-related news: Stripey’s dying, Spotty’s not, Puff’s completely deaf and nearly blind, and we have a bantam with an 80’s hairdo to accompany the sexy chicken who has to live on her own because the Cocky-Doo kept sexing her and she almost died of exhaustion.

I even went to an actual city yesterday, even if it was Chichester. The sights and the sounds almost overwhelmed me after the social void of Kirdford. I got another ear piercing, bought some inappropriate shoes, and went to see some peregrine falcons in the cathedral. The chicks were almost ready to fly from the battlements of the cathedral (do cathedrals have battlements? I mean those pointy bits in the tower, whatever, there were falcon chicks in there) so it was an exciting time.

I also learnt more about what the RSPB does and basically they’re really awesome. The Indonesian government were selling off large portions of the Sumatran jungle, which is the last remaining habitat of some 200 Sumatran tigers, in order that it could be cut down and turned into paper. The RSPB outbid the Chinese government (!) to buy the land, but then obviously didn’t want to turn it into paper; they’d rather let the Sumatran tigers do their thing. The Indonesian government weren’t happy about this, said it was against the law not to cut it down (?). So the guys from the RSPB flew the relevant Indonesian government official to London, wined him and dined him. and convinced him to change the law so that the Sumatran jungle was allowed to survive. So the tigers have their habitat and 200 of them survive – this is apparently the critical number, with just enough genetic material to maintain the species and allow them to be bred in the future. Basically the RSPB used political clout to save an entire species. They are able to do this because they have more members than all the British political parties put together. Go RSPB!

So after my jaunt with the peregrine falcons, I caught a bus to Petersfield to see Nolly!! Joy!! Joy and cider and curry. Excellent!!

This evening I had curry again. Excellent!!

Sorry if this blog isn’t as interesting when it’s just about England. Actually I’ve noticed that there are lot of interesting English culture things, as much as interesting Vietnamese or Lao culture things. Like men in flat caps, rollies, cobbled streets, being called “me love” or “darlin”, goths, curry... I like it!