Day 38: Southerndown

Yesterday we drove along the Glamorgan coast to Southerndown in Jane and Leonie's cool camper van.

This was the view. There was amazing texture in the rock and in the sand.

Day 37: Boyo!

Then it was Cardiff. This is the beautiful Welsh Millenium Centre. What an inspirational idea to etch poetry into the very heart of an arts centre. The English part of it says 'In these stones horizons sing'. It's awesome and when the light hits it at different times of day it changes colour. Saturday afternoon it was golden.

Day 36: Wanderlust

I'm backdating these because I didn't have access to a computer this weekend and I'm still dedicated enough not to want to miss a day on this 365 day journey.

I wanted to put up some pictures from the Destinations Travel Show at Earls Court on Friday. We had a fun time trying the Welsh toffee vodka, the Brazilian Kiwi Caiphrinia, filling out every coupon for a free holiday we could find, even those which undertargeted our demographic by about 20 years.

Here are a couple of pictures of the beautiful Trinidad and Tobago dancers that managed to smile through the whole day and one of me and my photo moment of the year.

Pic 1: How many flustered Chelsea Pensioners does it take to work a camera phone

Pic 2: Part mesmerized, part terrified, she couldn't quite work out which.

Pic 3: My 15 minutes of almost fame and 55 minutes of white wine slugging that followed. Thoroughly enjoyable from start to finish.

Day 35: Playing on the Putin

A quiet two-year old in the other room. Never a good sign.

"Isy? What are you doing?"

"I'm playing on the Putin"

(Her name for the computer). Very politically, intellectually aware household this is.

Day 34: London bound

Off to London tonight. For the big day on Friday but mostly just to hang out with this lovely little girl and her parents and granny.

May not be able to blog for the next few days and definitely won't be able to upload pictures so will be back to the blog-o-sphere on Monday.

Laters people.

Day 33: Find your voice

I like my saccharine sentiments with a hint of chilli.

Day 32: Ibrox is a Schiphol

This weekend on the bus I was listening in to a young guy on the phone to his friend talking football. In the course of their talk on season tickets, turnstiles, match schedules, stadiums, I heard the guy say to his mate, 'Ibrox is a Schiphol', and then again 'Ibrox is a Schiphol'.

I wondered what exactly that phrase meant, what benchmark within the footballing world did Schiphol represent. I didn't even know there was a stadium in Schiphol. All I knew was that there was an airport.

Then I thought how interesting it is that your knowledge of places and cities can be shaped and defined by your love of a sport or music or whatever. You know a place through a match you watched there or an event that took you there.

Then he said it for a third time - 'Ibrox is a shit hole'.