It came time to leave the quaint old town of Perugia, well laid plans of a plane to Milan, and then Barcelona became rapidly unstuck with the onset of fog, and after several hours of waiting in the worlds smallest and quite possibly dullest airport, I got re routed via a 3 hour bus trip to Rome, 6 hours in Rome airport (and that is a dull airport) before hitting Barcelona at midnight. Shitalia as I know know that airline wont be getting many more frequent flyer points from me.

Barcelona briefly, before heading to good old London.

Ahh London. It was nice to be greeted with grey overcast skies, pissing rain and freezing cold. Some cultural stereotypes are not easily broken. I was very grateful for my combat brolly. I exited Heathrow and began the epic trek on Londons underground into the city.

There is something ever so amusing about the jedi like precision that eye contact is avoided on trains, the lines of sight deftly weave and explore, but shoudl they cross then a flurry of averted gaze activity ensues. Funny places.

I love the English. I love their blue skin, so pale, translucent and sun starved that when they do finally converge on Sydney it takes then a good three months to tan to white. Their accents, particularly from the North, where the words seem to be chewed several times before exiting the mouth in a thick almost untelligle accent always leave me with the pondering question... is this the mother tongue? Words like Berkshire, and Derby, pronounced Barkshire and Darby. Tough language to learn, I constantly point out to them, that that letter really is indeed an e.

It seems that there is a very defined formula here to create a sucessful newspaper, it involves three very important factors, boobs bums and beckham. The Brits love their page 3 thats for sure. They also know how to make a serious breakfast...the full english beans, mushrooms, bacon, pork sausage, hash browns and fried egg. If you are really lucky then you can score some well fried black pudding as well, all accompanied by bread and butter to mop up the final drippings.

Its a pub, no a pint culture. Pints get downed at breakneck pace, and very very regularly. For some reason the pubs all shut at 11, which sends forth onto the streets a huge array of spastic people well before the witching hour. Its a great contrast to Spain aqnd even Australia where you dont even think about going out until that time. It also explins the spastic pommy stereotype on a sturday night in Coogee Sydney.

I arrived at Mike and Abges house, friends of mine from Australia, one of the many expats that have invaded London. Mike arrived home with a handful of pork sausages, Porkinsons brand. How appropriate. A late night pork fest, so very very english. Pints and pork. This place will turn me into a fat bastard. At least Ive got a long way to go before I am too fat to see my weaner. That will be a sad sad day.

The next morning I realised I was suffering from Porkinsons disease. The only known cure...a full english fried pig fest. Its coming up to fireworks night in England, and to my delight fireworks are still legal here. I went to the local florist and my jaw dropped when I saw what fireworks you could get. I settled for a few sky rockets - each about 2 meters high, called Star Slayers. They looked like mortar shells.

I asked if there were any restrictions for using such things, the lady said are you over 18? Why yes, thats it? yes. That night we launched them from a very small back yard, sending a thick 2 metre stake 100m into the air, a huge explosion of fire, then I guess that stake landed somewhere. We didnt hear any screams of impalement anyway.

And then off to celebrate Mikes 30th birthday. Stretch Limo, rock star styling. Fancy Dress - Burlesque, lots of pints and entertainment. I am still trying to find where I left my brain, I know its around here somewhere.

And then a sneaky plan to visit Dublin for a couple of days to truly appreciate the home of Guiness, not exactly the nectar of the gods, but more like the lubrication of the engine that keeps them rolling along.

Loverly Juberly.