Final Ouch..

I miss you so much. And I will always miss you. Almost as much as I love you.

See you around. I love you.

Beaches, Kitchen Appliances and Going to Prison

Well aren't I just shit. I didn't post at all in March let alone once a week as is Sunday tradition (said in the Canadian Royal Wedding voice from South Park). I don't know if it was because I am so busy or simply I have become so lazy in sleepy WA - called WA not just for Western Australia but also for Wait Awhile because everything is so backwardsly slow here it's beggars belief... (what does beggars belief mean?? I might Google that later)

In a nut shell it's kind of both; I am busy all weekday's working for Thermomix and by the time the weekend rocks up, I am so lathargic from sitting around doing nothing because there is nothing to do that I have no inspiration to write. Friday I tried to get a little bit tipsy so the energetic hilarity that usually follows from a few would help but no.. I had 4 low carb beers and was actually wankered. I fell asleep at 8.30pm. I figured maybe Saturday is my day then but NO! I sat bored and uninspired thinking about shit I don't want to confront when I get home rather than put finger tips to keyboard for your amusement.

To be fair I'm not even feeling inspired right now. Right now I feel painfully full. And yet I am 100% sure I could fit in a tray of TimTams. Ladies, gents and the ball of hair under Tim's bed.. I am gaining weight at the same speed it takes NASA to secretly fire a nuclear weapon at Comet Elenin (we know you did it guys!!! I saw it on YouTube!!) With no gym and seemingly uncontrollable portions of everything, my clothes are getting well tight. Of course it is all in my stomach region and double chin. I've toyed with the idea of good ol' Atkins again but it's too bloody hard when you don't have your own kitchen or infinite space in the freezer. I just don't know what to do! My current eating schedule has turned into this...

5.30am - two pieces of jam on toast with orange juice
8am - a cereal bar and a cup of tea
10am - a bowl of porridge with a banana
11am - a handful of dates
12pm - frozen mixed berries with yoghurt.. a lot of yoghurt..
1pm - a cuppa soup
3pm - a pear and a cup of tea
6pm - a HUGE portion of something like rice and fajitas, or mash and a pie
7pm - most likely something coated in chocolate. Even more likley TimTams which, for people back home, is like eating an entire packet of Penguins.

I'm getting huge!!!! Sigh..... :( tears.

But anyway.. Thermomix. Everyone in the entire world should own one of these and I 100% intend on getting one when I own my own kitchen in an actual own house. It is THE bizniss. It boils, slow cooks, steams, mills, grinds, beats, whips, pounds, slices, dices, cubes... it even makes bath bombs and playdoh!!! Gordon Ramsey has one and I think Jamie Oliver has two. It makes a risotto from scratch in 17 minutes when it should normally take 50 minutes with constant stirring.

I don't get to play with it though.. Instead I get to process credit applications... yaaaay..... The people are brilliant through and I think they like me. I got that impression from Tam almost begging me to stay until the very last day in Perth. It gives me no time to explore WA properly but when it costs $350 to swim with whale sharks and will cost around $400 to get there anyway.. it's probably best I'm not available to be tempted.

I have done some sightseeing though!! I did a massive bike ride down to Fremantle which was absolutely wonderful. The coast partically between Cottesloe and Fremantle port is absolutely stunning with ocean the colours I had only seen on Rottnest - oh and I've been to Rottnest!!! Absolutely amazing it was. GOD it's so gorgeous - I'm going to Cotts again tomorrow (I go once a weekend at least) because it's the only part of the Perth coast that I feel safe to swim in.. where I won't get attacked by a huge shoal of fish or ripped under by a massive massive wave.

That's happened a few times now. The first one though I just don't understand what was wrong with my body. I was stood there waist deep in the ocean when I saw and heard this MASSIVE roaring wave coming towards me. Everything inside me was screaming DIVE UNDER DIVE QUICK NOW NOW DIVE!!! but for some reason I just stood there, very straight suddenly finding excellent posture, lifted my arm out almost Nazi like and verrrryy slowly brought my hand to my face, pinched my nose and took a deep breath.

I of course was smashed full force by an 8 foot wall of water, knocked immediately onto my back like a heavy piece of wood and dragged along the ocean floor (or coral carpet) until I was washed back up onto the shore. The force of the hit dragged my hand away from my face and my thumb nail had sliced a massive gash down from my nose to my lips. I looked like a scabby freak for weeks.. foundation on scabs is not pretty by the way - little makeup tip for you there.

On Rottnest Island I cycled for miles and miles and miles. It took me 5 hours to cycle the entire island and it was definitely worth it. Not for my arse though. No. No that really hurt for a few days and when I had to take the bike back, I actually yelped in pain when my arse cheeks settled onto the seat which would only have been mildly more painful had the seat also been in flames and made from broken glass.

Fremantle I have visited twice - once for ANZAC day (now craving ANZAC biscuits.. what is wrong with me?!) and once to go to Fremantle Prison. The prison was AWESOME!!! I don't like to use that word to often because it is over used and I struggle now to come up with a word to really express my enthusiasm for something so please when I tell you it was AWESOME, I mean it truely was ground breakingly epic.

The prison has really only recently stopped being a prison and the last person to be hanged there was not that long along. I did a night time tour to make it extra creepy and by joe! (another phrase to Google.. where does that come from?!) it was good and creepy!! It started off in the waiting room for new prisoners where we were told how prisoners were degraded beyond human rights law and how paedophiles and really terrible prisoners were kept in a glass cage I happened to be leaning on. The blokey was telling a really good story that was filled with suspense and everyone was standing silently still holding their breath as he went on to provide this dramatic pause.. when an English girl completely shattered the tension by going "err excuse me....?"

EVERYONE looked to this girl in complete disgust for breaking a truely academy award winning mid story tension, glaring at her very impatiently waiting for an equally outstandingly good explanation for her interuption when she oh so Englishly said "I'm really sorry to interupt but..." and she holds out her little souvenire torch we were all given to find our way around the dark prison, ".. my torch is on fire".

And true enough her torch wasn't just a little bit on fire but it was actually ablaze!! And the poor love had been stood there holding her little ball of flame for a good few minutes waiting for an appropriate time to bring it up! The bloke very nonchallently walked over and took it from saying "oh right yeah, that happens". That was pleasantly alarming.

In the cell block the blokey talked about why there were massive nets seperating each floor so that prisoners who tried to kill themselves or were being murdered could not fall onto the concrete from the top floors.. it was at that point some TWAT on the top floor SCREAMED in horror and threw a bastard dummy prisoner onto the nets.. which was DIRECTLY above my head. I have no shame in confirming I screamed like a girl and shouted "FUCK ME YA BASTARD!!" whilst clutching myself in a one legged self protective ball.. much to everyone elses amusement.

I got my own back on at least one little old lady on the tour though because as we were in solitary confinement block, where the prisoners were held for 23 hours a day (or 2 hours if you were to be executed that day), the man told another good story and left us in some suspenders when this scary as fudge looking goth litereally BURST out of one of the cells and smacked into an old woman. I wish you could of been there so you could really understand how funny this was but the little old lady's feet left the ground, air walked for a few seconds whilst her torso twisted around to her husband and in slow mo, in the highest pitch voice ever she screamed "SHIVERS!!". Of all the words at the exact moment to use, she said shivers. I had to cross my legs and lean against cell number 17 to stop myself weeing.

Next we were taken into the gallows and right there at almost touch distance was the noose and trap door that killed 44 people. You could still see the scuff marks on the trap door.. it was really weird being in that room because it felt full or heavy even though the doors were open and it was cold outside with a good amount of wind blowing. The noose didn't even sway.. everything was just still and compressing.

But the feeling in there was nothing to the feeling in the morgue. I am 100% telling the truth when I say that morgue still stank of dead people. The smell was horrible, suffocating and it really made you feel like when you're have a dream about running away but get stuck in tar. There were no scary pranks pulled in there or the gallows which I feel was a good call - people died there.. it wouldn't have been respectful.. no matter what those people did to deserve being executed.

But yeah! Brilliant tour and I would most certainly do it again! Phil hasn't been yet so I would definitely go do it with him again if he wants to go..Phil if you are reading this!

In addition, I have also booked and paid for nearly everything for the next 3 months! I just have my bungee jump/sky dive to pay for, my Franz Josef glaciar hike and my flight to Cairns to go. It's been a hellishly expensive three months trip to plan but I am sure it will be worth it.

I can't think of anymore news because all I can think about now is my TimTams so I'm going to go get those!! I could do with a few extra pounds..

Happy June everybody!

Just Another Wee Change of Plan..

Ah, That's Better.

I can't even muster the energy to say hello so please accept this still exhausted *wave* as my greeting.

The farming has come to an end and I am whole heartedly over the moon. I didn't make it to 13 weeks, in fact I only made it to 3 weeks but it seemed like an eternity. With every ounce of fist clenching, eye squeezing, chest tightening gesturing I have, I can confirm I well and truly HATED working in those bloody packing sheds. It was making me physically and mentally ill – both of which I escaped England to avoid and make better.

I took a day off on the Thursday and spent the entire time looking at midwifery forums and all the while the feeling of butterflies got stronger and stronger. My head was wrestling with my heart using a baseball bat, and my poor heart was defending itself with a giant replica womb cushion to symbolise the whole midwifery theme. A summary of the 18 hour conversation went like this:

Head: if you don't do a second year, you will lose out on over £24,000.00 worth of saving you could do. That's a flat and a new kitchen in it, prick stain *smack!*

Heart: Aye but if we stay here another year, it's a whole another year out of university to do a job we detest and from career you and I, Brain, so desperately want. We will be 31 at the earliest when we start our career. Thirty-fucking-one. *dull thump of bat hitting spongy womb cushion, held aloft*

Head: But think of the flat in Glasgow we can buy and build. Think of the income we could make in renting the second bedroom whilst we do the degree. It's just 10 more weeks stop being a twat. *boosh*

Heart: Look mate, you want this.. I want this. I hate fighting with you because our womb cushion is losing that plumpness we both loved when we bought it. If you continue to batter it for the next 10 weeks and you succeed, we will have no more cushion. Think about that philosophically and not physically please. *thump.. and then gentle slow, contemplative slidey noise as the bat lifts off the cushion*

Head: Interesting. *clunk as the bat goes down on the floor*... let me sleep on it. No promises though OK? And stop beating so fast.. you're giving me a headache.

Heart: Ta *ruffle noise as heart re-plumps the cushion and then settles down on it for a sleep*.

Next Morning..

Heart: Hey erm.. It's tomorrow and we have to go to work in a minute. I don't suppose you thought about what to do at all? I don't know about you but I feel proper heavy at the idea of going on. I think I need lifting out of this place.. I'm asking nicely dude.. please?

*Body checks watch and sees it is 5.35am and it's had only 2 hours sleep, checks it can move arms above head and realises it can't because the back is sore*

Head: Yeah fuck it, let's go!

Heart: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY!!!!

And so a flight to Perth was booked!!!! And my heart lifted! Which made my whole body immediately feel better and my head, now completely given up and put the bat through a tree-buzzer machine thing, quiet and content.

And then my hard drive miraculously recovered itself enough to remove all my pictures that were otherwise long gone onto a new backup hard drive. And I discovered I like pesto after all. And it's sunny in Perth! Sun!! A concept I had forgotten in 6 degree Shepparton. Sun that wasn't just there as an illusion but as a force that made your skin hot. 29 degree sun my friends! Positive heart, body, mind and soul energy made just EVERYTHING in the world right again.

My hostel is ok too. Initially when I arrived my head and heart had another little battle. My head going “the fuck is this place all about? It's dirty and full of people.. PEOPLE!”, and my heart going “you friggin well brought us here. I'm in a mood now”. But after a sunbathe and watch of the F1 the world was all well once more. I like the hostel, I have located shops, I have a job interview on Wednesday, my mattress is divinely comfortable, the bunk bed doesn't squeek, and my room mates are nice and quiet. If not a little bit too naked.. and little bit too confident with said nakedness actually...

On my first night here, I was sat on the laptop applying for some jobs when a German room mate came in from the shower. Unlike prude little me who changes and moisturises in the bathroom behind a very locked door, Miss Germany launched off her towel in a dramatic swimwear competition style and started to saunter around the room completely bare. I looked up, frowned and jaw dropped before being splendidly English and reclosing my mouth and hunching in embarrassment over my laptop, furiously pretending to be busy but then still looking up when ever she had her back turned like a teenager checking to see if she had the same inny and outty bits as me.

Well I didn't have to be sneaky for long because Miss Naked trotted over to me where her bag was at my feet, lent over me to reach something off the shelf and bent down to put it in her bag. There was absolutely no where else for poor Miss English to look but at Miss Self Confidence's boobs actually wafting a breeze in my face, or Miss Non Bashful's fadge flapping at my knees. Very concerning. Very weird. Very, very uncomfortable.

But more importantly there is a pool baby! Too cold to actually get in, but lovely to put your legs into when the sunbathing has gotten a bit too much. Loving the need to have a pool. LOV...ING.. IT.

So yes, here I am! Starting another new leg of the adventure with a 2 month stay in Perth. I start the proper adventure on 2^nd July still and will still be coming home on 17^th October. The only change is I won't be leaving again. I will go grab a job, re-take my driving test, apply for an access to midwifery course and apply for university. It's all go!

I hope you are all doing well and hope you enjoyed reading the latest update of Bear news. I'll hit you up next Sunday... preferably with a job and a lot less naked foreign in my face.

Farmer Rowlands

The farm house kitten

Well since the embarrassing F1 update, I have moved outta Melbourne and I'm living in the glorious backwards, bogan country town of Shepparton, which is a little fruit farming town round about a two and a half hour train ride outside of Melbourne. Most of you were aware I didn't want to do my second year visa work because the thought of another year away and another year of not doing my degree was a bit too much to handle. But the decision was made for me because immigration told Aus Post if I stayed it would be against the law, so all savings plans were completely blown out of the water. I have been forced now to work in a packing shed in order to get another visa so I can come back and save enough money to get a house when I eventually get back to England or Scotland – that flat I wanted has now been reduced to £15k. I WANT IT SO BAD!!!

So anyway, I packed my suitcase, sold my beloved only-played-twice-shit guitar, sold the furniture, had a good squeeze goodbye of Andrew and a few drinks with my gay following, and said cheerio to my Melbourne in search of the easy country life.

Example of Nick's bonfire skills

Amusing romantic ideas of the easy country life though were shattered on day one. My god.. the work in this shed is hard. I am packing apples on a factory conveyor belt and living in a house with 25 other girls – most of whom are lovely and hopefully I am in the process of making some of those friends for life types that I seem to pick up along the way. And there is another Northerner here!! She's from Manchester and completely on the same wave length which is an absolute relief – I was haunted by the hideous idea that my time would be entirely spent with the Irish girls watching The Kardashians (or what ever/who ever that is). She sought me out through the crowd of accents to announce she too liked a “brew and a biccy” and had “owt and nowt ta do”. 

The landlord is fantastic and makes and pays for huge BBQ's for us, sets up bonfires and does other little house stuff. He is funny and determined which I like in a guy – he would be fit to me if he wasn't clearly taking steroids in the gym and wasn't 56ish. 

Me and the kitten. There was love there

My new resting place is on the top of the most squeakiest, unsecured and unpredictably unstable bunk bed in the world - the other day I tried to climb the ladder and hop into bed but I failed in dramatically epic proportions.

Basically what happened is the whole bed swayed towards me as I climbed, I lost my footing and had to leaver myself up using just my weakling arms. Because the arms weren't sufficient for the task of craning my giant arse, I used my knees but caught them on the side of the mattress. This resulted in the mattress being lifted in the air as I was falling back down, my head somehow got wedged between frame and mattress, my right arm was now where the left arm was and like a chimpanzee, my right leg had swung up to wrap around the top bar with the left leg just dangling there like a dead appendage. The right leg landing on the mattress only forced it down so there was now pressure on my trapped skull. From then on, probably due to a short period of oxygen shortage to my brain from mattress squashing, I can't quite remember what happened but I had miraculously escaped the clutches of the mattress frame prison and was on my back on the bed. It all happened very quickly but slowly enough for the two girls in the room to stop talking, look up from the laptop to watch what was happening and let their mouths drop in a “Oh God should we help?” expression.

Farm house puppy

Horror for someone who had only been living there around four days. Maybe three weeks in that would have been something to laugh about but no, they were polite enough not to snigger and just ask if I was OK. I tamely and exhaustedly replied with just a “yeah. Bent my nail back a bit though” before maintaining a self preserving silence. I didn't want further shame to descend upon me by saying my ears were dented into the shape of the slats under the mattress.

Oh and my back is completely fucked from work- I am in total agony.

The first day on the job was interesting, but also deathly dull at the same time– I was shown how to pack apples into punnets and was advised what was and wasn't a good apple. You would think this would be really obvious wouldn't you?.. it is not! I did not realise apples could get sunburnt!! And I did not realise sunburnt apples were not put into punnets. And you have to work at the speed of light in order to put the apples into punnets because they just spew out at you from the machine like a broken toffee vending machine (how amazing would that actually be, particularly if the toffee was ecalires. Mmm.) You have like 8 seconds to check the apples and then put eight good ones in. Checking eight apples all over, top and bottom and all sides in 9 seconds is a proper skill guys and it really does take practice. When I was working in the second shed, the supervisors name was Evie. She is some form of Asian (I think Chinese) and only learnt to speak English when she moved here four years ago, so as you can imagine it's not quite fluent and has that typical Asian twang.. for example for apple she says apoo, and bruise she says bloos, and of course very is said velly.

Sunset on the farm

Evie was checking over the apples I had packed and was very sweetly showing me which ones were bruised and had been missed. I thought I was getting really good and quick at it, now packing a punnet in around 7 seconds, when she brought over an apple I really should have picked up... She brought it over, held it up to the light which she definitely didn't need to do and said “this apoo, velly bad. Velly bad apoo you see?”. And I had to nod, make the agreeing mmhmm sound and accept that yes, yes this apple that not only had a massive bruise but was also cut in half and had a dead animal attached to it was indeed, as she suggested, a velly bad apoo. I slowed back down to the 9 seconds so as not to avoid a law suit in the future.

I remember on the first line on the first day I was of course being very cautious, making sure my punnets were beautifully presented with only the very best apples in them I would pick up an apple, turn it around a few times and say “ooh yes that's a good one, I will save that one for the top of the pile and display its shiny red side proudly.” I'd pick another and um and ar over it “.. is that a bit of sunburn? Hmm. I will keep that one and put it on the bottom maybe. Oooh this ones very bruised yeah we won't keep that one. Traaa laa laaa..” All was very relaxed until I heard this “thump thump thumpthumpTHUMP!!” I look up to see the girl I live with running towards me pointing and in a very fast Irish accent shouting “JUSTFUCKEM'INABOXXXX!!!!”

I looked over following her point and there, casting an actual shadow over my face was a pyramid of apples coming towards me on the conveyor belt. It turns out you can't really take your time to decide on the quality of apple. The deal is you you pick 5 up in your hands, turn them over and if you see nothing bad, FUCKEMINABOX! The only problem there is, you will of course miss some bruises and when they are quality checked by the bosses, it makes you look bad, like the dead animal example above. Which pisses me off immensely because you have 9 seconds to look at and pack a punnet of 8 apples but they take 20 seconds to look at 1 apple, even lifting it towards the light for a proper look and decide whether or not it's good enough. 

Sunrise on the farm

I was watching one of the girls pack and she went from human to octopus before my eyes. Her hands were moving so quickly that she no longer had hands but apple claws.

Now the job is not only very hard physically on my back, but it is SENSATIONALLY boring. No matter how hard you try to concentrate on the apoos, your mind wanders. Armed with the new information that apples could get sunburnt, I have spent quite a considerable amount of time thinking about how I might invent an organic chemical free apple sunscreen. I've imagined a fake interview with the Dragons, mulled over my pitch to them and given hefty amounts of time to think about how much money I could SO make on apple sunscreen and what I would spend it on.

How I long to own the GBR for $600k

I complain away but really but really, it pays. Although shite compared to Post wages, it's great compared to an actual in the field picking job. And the house is nice I guess. It needs some massive make overing and there are no drawers so all of our clothes are just scattered on the floor and stuffed into suitcases. Which is perfect for red backs and white tails to hide in. I have suggested getting some drawers but Nick who owns the place doesn't want to spend money getting any... even though he gets $3900 A WEEK from the house. That's $202,800.00 a year from a house. How amazing is that?? If that was me, I would make bloody well sure the place was looked after.. the bathroom needs major work doing to it, the kitchen has actually fallen apart, the bunk beds are shoddy and as I said, we need drawers and wardrobes.

Winning a game of Aussie monopoly

Well, there are 73 days to go to get my second visa. It seems oh so far away but this time next week, I will have 66 and once it's done, I can come back for a year, work another collections job for the amazing money and then I will have saved up enough to buy a flat in Glasgow. Starting a career in midwifery mortgage and rent free will be nice so I guess it's worth the shit for that. 

Right I guess I'm going to go.. It's Easter weekend so I enjoying an almost empty house and I intend to eat a family sized pizza in just a moment. Have a lovely Easter guys! And I hope you enjoy the pictures of the farm attached :)

A Very Special 4 Day Weekend.. Meeeaaooweerrrrrr!

Well hello there! How are you guys? I am bloody wonderful thank you for asking – I have very sticky fingers and therefore keyboard because I am wolfing down a caramel slice.. It's massive and SO gooey good. I don't actually know how I am fitting it in because I have just eaten a green curry. Which was NOT spicy. Disappointment.

But I am not here to talk about food. I am here to talk about the F1!! It was a dream come true. If you check my blog from February 2010 it tells you in there how much desire I had to come here and do this.. and it is so odd when a fantasy comes true. You expect magical lights, singing angels, harps.. but instead I got to meet face to face THREE of my heroes, heard nothing but VROOOOM and MEEEOOOWWWERERRRR for 4 solid days whilst traipsing through mud.. but it was still magical. 

I figured I would break down my days for you rather than have it all jumbled and uncoordinated..

Thursday

My pit walk day! The day started at 7.20am when I was woken by a loud two seater swisse F1 car firing up. You know how people figuratively say “I live across the road from such and such a place”? Well I actually do and its not figuratively. I walk out my door, cross the road and I am there at Albert Park race track. Amazing and convenient sums up my location.

It was PISSING it down with rain for chunks of 10 minutes, then was super cold so the jackets were on. Then, in true Melbourne style, the sun came out with such blistering force people were de-jacketing and suncreaming up. Then literally 10 minutes later, rain again. So all of those people who were suncreaming were now sliding their jackets back up slimy bodies, the rain making a white paste, people making that “nawwwoo” noise whilst pulling a frown face and desperately searching for a hand wiping material, and children accidentally slapping their foreheads like that paste pants episode of Friends. Relatively amusing! 

The free breakfast they gave us was terrifically disappointing – it was a slice of Coles brand (Tesco's own for Englanders) white bread with the weirdest thin sausage, a dry muffin I did not consume and a bottle of water. Thanks... And my free gift for being a Silver member was a coffee cup. Yay.... But still, shouldn't complain about free food given parts of Africa are starving. 

The pit walk was brilliant and very crowded which came as a surprise – I wasn't expecting so many GP advantage members. I got to watch Mclaren do a practise pit and then.. the most amazing thing.. Jenson's car touched me. On the shin. Let me just reiterate – JENSON BUTTON'S CAR, AS IN THE WORLD CHAMPION JENSON BUTTON, GOD OF ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL AND WONDERFUL, JENSON BUTTON.. HIS CAR... TOUCHED MY FUCKING SHIN. Honestly I didn't think anything could top it. But then... (dramatic entrance to the next paragraph)

.. I met Jenson Button. JENSON BUTTON, AS IN THE WORLD CHAMPION JENSON BUTTON, GOD OF ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL AND WONDERFUL, JENSON BUTTON. I met him. And it was awful (change in tempo to dramatic music to one of bewilderment..)..

I was SO excited and SO nervous that it all happened very suddenly. I was the very last person on stage with him in front of thousands who had come to meet him and here I was, little 5 foot 1 me on stage with not just Jenson, but Lewis Hamilton. Two world champions and me.. slightly over weight with damp wind swept hair smiling like a mental patient me, and beautiful lean gorgeous them. Swoon.

I was up there with a guy I had met in the queue to get autographs called Adam and he handled the whole situation like a pro. He said hello to Jenson, told him to have a good race, asked him politely to have a photo with him taken and then moved on. 

I on the other hand, walked up to Jenson and practically threw my top at his face. My hands were shaking so badly they released the top well before my brain could engage and it landed in a heap in front of him, inches away from landing on his head. Jenson politely signed it and smiled which was very nice of him. Then, unlike Adam, I just leaned across the table to have my photo taken with him. I didn't ask. Jenson was obviously taken by surprise because to the side of me (I am no longer looking at Jenson but cheese grinning at the camera) I hear Jenson go “ooh” and then slide his chair back to get into shot. Then it gets worse....

I picked up my signed top, still not looked Jenson in the eye, hold up the shirt to check he had indeed signed it and then upon lowering it... oh god the shame.. I look Adam straight in the eye instead of Jenson and say “thank you, you're a legend”. Oh god. By the time it had clicked, Jenson was being rushed off the stage. Such a dick. I am such a massive dick.

…. and THEN... I met Lewis. Lewis was very polite and had amazing polished skin! It looked so smooth. Anyway he signed my top for me, I smiled, he smiled. He looked at my camera and then at me. He went to move to get into shot and what did I do??? Fucking well put my camera down, grabbed my shirt and in a really low voice as I was already starting to skulk off the stage.. “cheers”.

Kill me. Kill me now.

Friday

First an second free practises of the season and it was great to see. Except it rained and this time all day. I was beyond soaking wet. My underwear was drenched, there was water pouring off my nose like an overflowing house gutter, I was freezing my arse off. I did not enjoy Friday weather very much but seeing the guys out in their cars was bloody brilliant.

Saturday

Qualifying!!! And day of sunburn. Today was a fantastic day!! I got to see Free Practise 3, Crusty Demons (Google it – mentally wicked) and Mclaren pull out a one-two on the grid. It was also boilingly hot and because of what had happened the day before, I didn't bother to take sunscreen.

Kids.. this is a very bad idea. Now.. I am going to post the picture so you guy can take lesson from my mistakes. If you are going to go outside for a full 12 hours and NOT wear sun screen, for the love of all things holy TAKE YOUR SUNGLASSES OFF. It's terrible what has happened to me. I look.. well there is no word I can think of that describes what I am actually look like so ridiculous will have to do. Andrew is the only one so far who has seen me in the flesh with my disfiguring scars. It's so awful.

But it was a brilliant day all in all, I enjoyed every second of it and I had a pizza for tea. 

Sunday

Race day!! And also the day I got to go on the main straight. It was cool and I am glad I did it but I won't do it again because pretty much all there is to do is sit on pole position pretending to drive and have your photo taken on the chequered line. I am also glad I did it as it was a lesson for next year – get there at 8am on the dot, be first in line and RUN down the main straight because where you come out is the International Media Centre and the Team and Crew building. This Sir's should simply be named “very close to famous people get there quick” building.

I stood there for a bit, had a fantastic spot.. and after 20 minutes of no action and a large cappuccino later, I decided it was best to use a toilet to wee in instead of my shorts. So I dumbarsly left the area for a slash. Got back and I was pushed further down the now bulging queue of people all ready and waiting to get autographs.

When the first famous person turned up I was completely oblivious. I was stood next to this guy who got his camera out and pointed it in the air. I followed his line of site and said in my head “oh that's a nice parrot”.. then immediately he lowed the camera and said “good morning David, good luck in the race today”. I opened my mouth in shock horror and said “mahhhhh”. David Coulthard looked at us both, smiled and nodded his head and said “good morning, good morning”.

DC - the legend that is said good morning to me.. and all I could muster to say to him was “mah”??!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Of course.. as is the trend with this blog.. and aparently my life.. it gets worse.

Several other famous people arrived. Christian Horner, Daniel Ricciardo, Pastor Maldonardo, Felippe Massa, Fernando Alonso.. and Heikki Kovalainen. F1 fans who know me well will know my love for Heikki. I think he is so beautiful and so cuddly. I lust for his cuddles like a cuddle demanding monster. I wish to stroke his face with a flat hand and loose fingers and kiss his eye lids and the tip of his teeeeny tiny nose. I love him.

Well. Heikki came over. He was signing things and being very smiley and from NO WHERE, a shouting goblin got inside me and yelled him name. The poor love was next to me so he's probably experienced a bit of ear drum damage, but it certainly got his attention.. right at the point the brave goblin ran out of my arse and away back under its rock. I had nothing.. nothing to say to him, nothing to sign. What I did have was a camera pointing at the floor and no sunglasses on... Having read the above Saturday piece and looked at the below picture you will know how devastating this will have been for someone face to face with a fantasy love angel. 

After I had deafened him he so sweetly came over to me. He stood in front of me and grinned (most likely at my face) and said in his gorgeous accent “would you like me to sign something?!” - he gave a little chortle as he said it.. and all I said was “picture?”. He looked confused, I gestured with the camera that I was clutching with both hands and AGAIN said “picture?”.

He obliged and stood there waiting for his picture to be taken.. after a while he looked side to side.. I still held the camera to the floor and I just full on stared at him... like a fucking mental patient once more. Then the BITCH beside me said “Heikki can I get a picture with you please?”. Clearly my ballsy goblin was now up her bloody arse and not mine and so Heikki moved on. I put my camera away in my bag and walked back to the grandstands in a mood. I had embarrassed myself enough for the day.

Well until the afternoon anyway, after Jenson won the race (the car had clearly been given magic powers after touching my leg, clearly). I stood amongst a sea of Australians and sang our national anthem with all my heart. Very proud moment :)

And then it was over... done. No fireworks, no marriage proposals from Jenson, David or Heikki (God knows why, I am clearly a catch). Just a walk home looking like a red raccoon feeling all empty at the front with no more wishing to go to the F1, but heavy at the back with all the things I had seen and done.

It was an amazing 4 days and I WILL do it all again. All over the world. See you soon Formula One, thank you for being amazing.

In Search of Moo

Hullo. Sorry it's been awhile.. I am currently blogging from work because I am 100% completely bored beyond natural means. I am playing Office Communicator iSpy I am that bored but this has been interupted by my iSpy partner taking a call. I'm so bored. So very bored.

And due to a very suddent change of events, I also have ZERO motivation to do anything that resembles work because I know for this month I have no stats to worry about.. because Sir's.. as it turns out, I cannot legally work here anymore as of March 26th.

I can confirm this has put a spanner in the works and a MAJOR dent in my finances. I am right now on the brink of homelessness, joblessness and bankruptness. But I of course have a plan :D

Kinda. Basically, I wasn't going to go farming so I could stay and earn the big money here but seen as I can't anymore, and after doing an extensive and distressing search for jobs back home, I have decided to stick it out farming and come back for one more year - this way I get to clear my loan payment, save up for a flat when I get home eventually and visit Fiji and Bali - two places I was desperate to visit but couldn't cram into my schedule. Effectively I will be exchanging one more year away from friends and family in return for 10 years worth of savings in England.

It makes sense. However. Further spanner-age. I cannot for the life of me find a farming job. This is of grave concern. I need a farming job that will let me work 6-7 days a week between 26th March and 2nd July so I can get me 81 days for a valid visa.. BUT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!

This country is completely ridiculous!!!! An Aussie can come and live in England for 2 years and do whatever they want. But an English person can only come over here for a year, work for one person for 6 months maximum, and if they want to stay a bit longer they have to go farming for 3 months in appauling conditions for very, very little pay.

I feel I may write to the Prime Minister and demand the laws are changed. I will let you know how I get on. I just had to have a rant there. It's also filled some time.. back to iSpy soon I hope.

Eat, Pray, Love

What I thought was going to be a terrible book has turned out to be one that I will point blank refuse to give back to the person who lent it to me. Crack for the eyes and soul honestly it is. If you haven't read it and you enjoy my style of writing but in a more fluent and enchanting way, this has to be your book and I DEMAND, with clenched fists and a poo straining face you go and order it from Amazon right this very second.

It has sold over 8 million copies and I bet you every single one of those 8 million readers will have said exactly what I am going to say now... “this is me!” I am the lost and heartbroken woman who was once crying every night of my life for the loss of someone I adore because he turned into a self-centred cunt, and I am the one who found someone else within minutes of losing that person, fell spectacularly in love with them and he with me and he turns out to not really want me for me but for the free spirit I impersonated to get over loss number 1.

And I am the person who is learning another language to be more sexy!! (French – bonjour! You can see my lessons are paying off). And I am the one who is jetting off around the world not just to collect super cool stamps and visas in my passport, but to figure out what actually makes me just be happy not just for the moment, but for ever.

And right now, whilst I am writing this particular piece, I am happy. I have had such a lovely week and a lovely weekend so far. I am so busy it's wonderful! I don't have time to sit around and think I should be fucking doing something with me life because I actually am off doing something. And thank Crunchy (oo Crunchy.. shop break) for Facebook seen as my memory is hideously.. I've forgotten. I have to look back on my 598 postings for the week to figure out exactly what I did and when.

I'm not sure whether I told you on the last blog, but I went to see Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic play tennis at the Rod Laver arena – it was SO amazing. I have never been to the tennis, nor have I ever been to a sporting event that has been so full on tension making, so full of mutual respect for both opponents from the crowd, to where I physically lost my voice screaming in applaud or to where I would with pleasure sit for another 5 hours straight, bladder pushing other organs into areas they shouldn't be, just to do it all again. I loved it. I adore tennis anyway but now I am seriously hooked. Tennis is my new football and on a par with F1. Which is a big deal!

Last Saturday was spent doing what I do best – burning. I burnt so badly that around my belly button there is a ring of teeeeny tiny blisters. Grim.com I am aware. My tan lines are utterly fantastic and due to switching bikini style on a regular basis, my boob tan lines are starting to look like the outline of a crossword puzzle; there are little squares, rectangles and triangles of such differently covered skin in a very small (yet generously proportioned) area that you could at the very least play connect the dots.. imagine if you did and it made a bucket and spade!! Fitting.

Anyway. Safe to say today's outing to the beach resulted in actual sunscreen wearing and later, a white top wearage! I Sarah Bear Rowlands covered up skin in order NOT to get more burnt. This my friends and avid viewers, is a sure sign of growing up. Good times.

Now let me just check Facebook whilst I eat this Crunchy so I can figure out what I did Monday/Tuesday.... Ah yes Monday I played my guitar until my finger skin came off. Attractive. And I cleaned the kitchen to within an inch of its greasy life whilst listening to an amazing set by AVB – look it up it's called A State of Trance Episode 403. Tuesday and Wednesday I was up at the gym at 5.30am in the morning – this MUST be a more regular outing so I can be more skinny in time for the next adventures (further information below), and I saw the F1 stands being built up around Albert Park. YAY!!!!!! there is only like 38 days to go!!! EEEEE. Now all Australia Post need to do is find my twatting tickets, and all the ticket providers need to do is email me back to send me fresh twatting tickets seen as Australia Post are twatting useless. RAGE.

Wednesday was very productive and very, very nice :) In terms of productivity I booked tickets on The Overland train to Adelaide, and train tickets on The Ghan to Alice Springs and Darwin. Exciting times!! Omega the weirdest thing happened though! I called a hostel called backpack Oz in Adelaide and spoke to this girl who was clearly from Manchester. I asked her “can I please have some details sent to me via email”, to which she replied “no worries ducky love whatsya email?”. So I spell out my name and she goes “noooo waaay?! Sarah ROWLANDS?!?!”.. I reply yes in a cautious manner, slightly taken aback by the abrupt shock that my adopted name had caused and followed it with “why?”, to which she paused to take a massive breath before exploding down the phone “THATS MYYYY NAAAAME!!”. No. Ducking. Way. Two kids from the North West backpacking around a foreign country, talking to each other on the phone with the same name.. the odds of that happening ever again are extreme. This was one momentous occasion in what I feel will be both of our lives. A story I can guarantee you I will be reciting to my grandchildren.. on the basis I avoid early onset of Alzheimers of course. Fingers crossed!

And in terms of very nice, I went on an enchanting outing with my new blonde haired, blue eyed Irish friend Nige (stop snorting back a giggle.. I know). He is lovely. Full stop. He sits in cafes and drinks lattes whilst writing poems and songs to sing on his guitar when he busks. He has an accent. He believes in ghosts and has the spirit of his grandmother with him at all times. He wears a cross for protection but isn't religious. He owns a farm and two cows, Robbie and Ronan. He makes me laugh and he bought me drinks in the evening after I bought him a picnic for the beach where we watched the sunset. He's very clever. And tall. And did I mention he has blue eyes? I am trying my most hardest not to fuck this one up after Mathew told me off for being too picky with men. But now I have decided I am NOT going to fuck it up and I do actually quite like him after 3 meeting ups, I am now in that state of should I text him or should I wait for him to text me?? Does he like me like me or does he just friend like me?? Damn you Mathew!! You should have left me alone to self destruct lol

But anyway I enjoyed my picnic with him and the sunset was beautiful. We were also attacked by a massive, and I mean MASSIVE pack of seagulls. And it turns out we share the same seagull fear. We watched them being chased off by a pack of magpies which was so interesting to see. There was a good 50-60 white seagulls literally on the left hand side of us, us acting as the middle neutral Belgium ground, and on the other side 4 pitch black magpies with white tipped wings. In the middle at our Belgian feet was a slice of pastry.. and the 4 magpies like giant bouncers at a night club dominating a pack of white under-aged teenagers owned that pastry. It was theirs. And should a little white insignificant juvenile attempt to steal it away from the black Buddha's with mace, there was a significant amount of bird screaming and feather loss. Enough feather to at least fill a pillow.

So that engaged my attention for at least awhile. I went to watch the Australia vs India T20 cricket match on Friday. Australia lost which meant India FINALLY won something bless them. The absolute highlight of that night though was not the actual cricket play itself but it was my friend Nitin who so you understand the story, was holding his India flag in the same hand as his cigarette. Both of us were giggling because he had just said “he was having a fag between his fingers” haha fnar so of course there was immediate questioning on his current homosexual engagement, but because we were paying so much attention to laughing, we hadn't realised his flag had been set on fire by his ciggie! We were posing for a photo still giggling when I jokingly said through clenched teeth in order to maintain the photo smile “I can smell fire, you haven't set the flag on fire have you?”, and he said through similarly clenched teeth “no I don't think.. OH SHIT!!” before further defiling of the flag by stamping the flames out. Brilliancy.

Ooh I skipped a day... Thursday. Thursday I booked my tickets to New Zealand and also a wee tour of India there :) I iz well bad going to India for 33 days!! 10 of which will be spent in Goa, and 5 of those days will be on my own on the beach gearing up for a very cold winter spent at home.. for I have also booked my tickets home!! I can officially announce folk that I am landing in Manchester on October 17th. I expect all of my good friends to be there at my mums in Chesterfield holding banners, wearing party hats and for there to be a full on buffet with mums famous salmon cucumber baps. I hope that is understood and acknowledged.

And so that leaves me with today. A wonderful day lying on the beach reading my Eat, Pray, Love (notice the word my in that statement there, mine), swimming in the ocean with little silver fishes, being woken up by a very drunk Peter getting into bed with me and trying to sell me his girlfriends blue shoes at mates rates, and now later, I am going to eat bit of jam on toast, have a cup coffee vodka hot chocolate and read some more of MY book in preparation for having breakfast at 2 Doors Down whilst my laundry does it's stuff tomorrow, a MAMMOUTH gym session and some guitar playing in the afternoon. And perhaps the zoo.

I love my life. I love Australia. See you later :)