Gloucestershire: two boys from Perth and a rented Kia vs. the West Midlands...

what a weekend. no, seriously, what an epic fucking weekend. to think it nearly ended before it began, but i'll get to that. SpeedFox and i have had this planned for a while now - ever since we realised when it was going down. it started, as many of these ideas do, in a pub.

"Hey, have you heard of the Gloucester Cheese Rolling?"
hell yeah i have!
"You want to go?"
do i have a penchant for wearing too much black???

it's got to be one of the silliest things you've ever heard of. bloke throws a wheel of Double Gloucester down a hill with a 1:2 gradient and a mob of yahoos chase it. first one to the bottom gets the cheese. comparative silliness includes the Running of the Bulls and the Tomatina Festival, with similar injury ratios. colour me keen as mustard.

of course, there were a couple of setbacks. for starters, by the time we worked out when it was happening Fox was seconds away from hitting the "Confirm" button on a weekender in Belgium. louise was originally going to come along but managed to get herself uninvited, then with days remaining before we were set to head off the prices for hire-cars doubled overnight. we thought all was lost - our plans for the weekend really required having our own independent transport - until i came up with a bright idea which saved the day. see, it was only the hire prices in LONDON which had doubled...

our final plan was elegant in its simplicity: catch the first train out of Paddington to Bristol at 7AM on Saturday morning, pick up the car at 9 and head for Cardiff for breakfast. wander around Wales until we were sick of the idea and head for Coleford, a sleepy little farming village in the Forest of Dean (where SpeedFox was born and where we'd scored lodgings with his aunt and uncle). we get ourselves an early night and be up at 2:30AM to be in the car by 3 and on the road to Salisbury so that we can get to Stonehenge by 5:30. breakfast in Bath, then fire on to explore the Forest and the Wye Valley in the afternoon. have a well-deserved sleep-in on Sunday night, then off to Gloucester to attack a hill with a couple of other maniacs, thousands of spectators and global news coverage and generally try not to die before making a break for London and ditch the hire car at the Hertz down the road from my place in Kennington. what could possibly go wrong?

in the end: nothing. nothing whatsoever. well, almost.

getting up at 5AM sucks. when we met at Paddington we'd had about 7 hours sleep between us. itchy eyeballs aside, it was a pleasant train ride made easier by sugar-free energy drinks. we found the Hertz with the help of a map Fox had printed off the day before and were out of town quicker than you can say "which way to Cardiff?", which is a pleasant little town. we got in a little over an hour later, grabbed a bite to eat and spend the rest of our time there wandering around Cardiff Castle. amusingly, it was Fox who suggested that i make a scene and get my poi out in the courtyard of the old keep and of course i couldn't resist. it's well-worth a visit, even just for the quiet time of sitting around the grass being pleasantly surrounded by history (and tourists, let's not forget the tourists).

having had our fill of Wales we decided it was time to head for Coleford. Fox's aunt and uncle were sitting in the sun out the front when we got there so we joined them for a nice cup of tea and a chat before we went off to explore Simmonds Yat in the Valley. it took us a couple of wrong turns to find what we were looking for, but when we did the views were spectacular, and we eyed off a pub that we pledged to hit at the next opportunity. meanwhile, we were nearly late back at Coleford for tea kindly supplied by Fox's family, then we capped off the evening with a quiet pint at The Miner where he remembers his folk having a going-away party back when he was 6 and they were moving away to Oz.

getting up with less than 4 hours of sleep hurt. Fox lived his dream and took the wheel down to Salisbury so that i could play DJ and navigator (our little Kia had both USB and audio input so my PSD brought the noise). driving around england in the long pre-dawn was a great way to get around quickly, with sod-all anyone else on the roads. getting off the Motorway had us dodging deer and rabbits, and at one point the road was lined with bunnies all sitting and looking away from the road at regularly spaced intervals - our very own honor-guard, Watership Down style.

we finally hit Stonehenge at 5:15AM, just in time to see the sun crest the horizon. there were a pile of shivering people who'd come for their Stone Circle Access, and after a micro-briefing (don't damage the stones, no food, drink or smoking. now go have fun) we were let loose and spent an hour wandering around taking photos and with Fox as a willing cameraman i even managed to get a video of me flinging my poi around while he walked around me in a semicircle to get in as much of the scenery as he could.

you don't usually get to go INTO the circle at Stonehenge. if you rock up during the day you go through a tunnel under the road and are greeted with a discrete fence that prevents you from getting more within around 20 metres of the circle. book in advance, pay a little more and arrive before or after the regular session is closed and you get to go play. why the fuck else do you think we were there at ridiculous-o'clock in the morning?

when we got to Bath it was a ghost-town. the only people who seemed to be up and about were us and a few haunted-looking backpackers who were obviously on their way somewhere else. what was awesome was the chance to drive around the hilly streets exploring the place and getting to walk the streets without interferencne. we couldn't find a feed tho and by 9:30 we'd been there for nearly 2 hours and were getting hungry. we didn't find food until nearly 11, and had gone to Bristol via Avonmouth. we were originally heading for Weston-Super-Mare because it was a) on the coast, b) on the map and c) had a cool name, but every time we spied a sign for it we wound up lost and decided that the gods did not smile on WSM and we should try elsewhere. i finally got my Big Breakfast tho (which was... reasonably large), so at least i didn't go without.

by 1PM we were back in the Forest and buggered. we'd had a full day and covered 200 miles before breakfast on fuck-all sleep and we'd had it. alarms were set and we got 3 hours of sleep (each!) and were up in time to get back to Simonds Yat and hit The Royal for well-deserved beers in the sun.

i have a concept i've been working on for a while now: the Crystaline Perfect Moment: a quantum second in time that stretches out long enough for you to absorb everything about it and ingrain the entirety of the sensorium like a 3D photograph with the smell and taste and the warmth of the sun against your skin, the sound of the birds fucking around in the background and the view of whatever you're looking at. sitting at a park bench in front of The Royal with a view of the Wye Valley with a half-finished pint of cold Kronenboug, the tree-sperm floting in the air with a good friend sitting across the table... this was one of those moments. "how's the serenity?" SpeedFox quotes from The Castle. we must have say there for 2 hours, until the sun finally dropped behind the ridge across the river and we headed into town for some food and a few more beers to round off a fantastic day.

we hit Gloucester about an hour before the first race the next day. it's a tradition shrouded in history, but for once i'm not really interested too much in the background. take 100m of 1:2 gradient hill and throw yourself down it. thousands come to watch or participate, crowding the sides of the hill or the flatish plain below. we didn't manage to get in a race in the end, but once it was all over anyone who still wanted to go down hopped the fence, lined up and went down as a horde. i was a little worried about my knees, knowing that one foot wrong and i'd twist or jar something and it'd be all over red rover so i prioritised sliding on my arse to trying to stay upright. take three steps, slide, get some footing for another couple of steps, slide again and roll, slide, run, slide and roll until you hit the bare-10m of runoff before the bales of hay. the rugby team jumped out of my way - i was rolling sideways as i hit the bottom and somehow manged to get on my feet with enough time to hit the hay head-on, face to face with a woman who seemed part of the official team.

G'DAY!
"Are you alright?"
i'm AWESOME! that was FUCKING INCREDIBLE!!!!

she must get a lot of that.

we'd waited in line for hours, drinking a couple of tinnies of Dutch Courage and making friends with a couple of kids behind us in the queue. they'd come down from Canterbury and camped on the hill the night before. it'd taken them 3 hours to walk from the middle of Gloucester so we insisted on taking them into town. it wasn't far out of our way and there were 5 seats in the car so why not?

we fly down the road to Ross-on-Wye and pull into the car park of the restaurant right behind Fox's aunt and uncle. we were in a hurry, but it helped that the A road was windy and begged to be taken at speed. we were still muddy and filthy so he dived into the toilets to get changed and i headed down into the town to do the same, making use of the public convenience to clean off the caked-on mud and change into something clean then crossing over into the park on the River Wye to have a makeshift picnic and read my book on a park-bench.

come 11PM and i was dropping him off at his place in Hammersmith then heading for basecamp. i'd got a message from louise on Saturday night when i turned my phone back on saying that she'd found the perfect place to move into and was shifting on Sunday, so once i'd dumped the car back at Hertz i walked into a half-empty room and all the peace and quiet i could want. how's the serenity? today included the now-regular ritual of going over the photos and uploading them to the web and preparing for the hate-mail from people screaming "YOU BASTARD!"

but seriously, what a great fucking weekend.

let's go to Brighton on the weekend...

i'm sitting on the train for London Bridge with The Cure playing in my ears for the first time in longer than i can remember and in the best mood i've been in for ages, waiting at the platform in Brighton and it's been a huge day.

i didn't get back to base last night until 3AM on the dot. the day had been spent doing the regular job-search thing, looking for new jobs to apply for while the rejections rolled in from the interviews that had come before. i booted myself out and trolled through the 2nd-hand book stores on Tottenham Court Rd and managed to find a cheap copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra which i took to a nearby cafe and started reading while i waited for the 8PM meetup. the random group of internationals i've been hanging with on and off was meeting to see Waltz With Bashir near Leicester Square and i didn't want to head back to base just to come in again and regardless: louise was supposed to be getting some sleep so it wasn't worth disturbing her.

the movie was attended by some of the usuals - Adnan, Laura, Paul, plus a few newbies from parts various. the movie itself was artfully done, but left everyone emotionally drained and we hit the pub afterwards (The Crooked Surgeon, where louise and i had gone on NYE) for a couple of pints. louise joined us there with her luggage and we sat around until we got kicked out, then found a cafe in Soho and drank coffee as the remainder became 4 became 3 became me and louise sinking coffee and killing time. at a little before 2AM we headed for Victoria Station where her train was leaving for Gatwick, grabbing a pastie once we arrived - the first i'd eaten since the night before. by 2:30AM i was done - wretched and tired and ready to fall asleep where i stood so i got on a bus for home where i ready my book a little and crashed out... or at least tried to: i don't think i got to sleep until close to 5 after tossing and turning for an hour or so.

the clock hit 9:01AM and my laptop woke up and screamed In Flames at me. i'd hoped to get up a little early so that i could hit Brighton before the vegans and get a bit of a solo look around, but that didn't happen, so i jumped a bus and headed for London Bridge where i'd thought the rest of them were leaving from... only to find out that they were meeting at Victoria and taking a separate service. oh well. no matter. i picked up a return ticket, hopped on the train and off i went, screaming south-bound into the cold. it's only an hour to Brighton from London Bridge - a couple of stops in London before running express the rest of the way. i'd planned on reading my book for most of the trip, but then i saw the scenery and put the book away. as we got out of the city it seemed to get colder. frost covered the ground and the trees - pure white crystals clinging to brown branches, patches of white on the ground and the rooftops. just a light dusting in the stillness of the mist, cold and calm and enchanting.

it was just as cold in Brighton as London had been when i'd left, but cleaner, crisper, fresher. i beat the rest of them by no more than 5 minutes - some of the same old faces, plus John who's some sort of lighting engineer, Patrick who's in medicine and Eve - another Googler. Eve and i got chatting and i immediately comitted a faux pas by asking if she was Canadian. No, Seattle, i found out. crap. oh well, you TRY to be polite... we headed down streets with more personality than a schizophrenic while we all chatted, got the vegans booked into their hostel, then wandered the streets looking for lunch then the beach.

pebbles. smooth, round rocks. a variety of volanic types i can't specify past their origin forming a steep slope down into the water which was lapping calmly against them. as is my habit, i wandered down and dipped (in this case, a boot-clad) toe into it so that i could add the English Channel to the list of other bodies of water i've done this in (i misjudged the inbound wave and got wet half-way to my knees. i was incredibly glad i'd worn my waterproof boots because my feet were never anything but perfectly warm afterwards...) and we wandered around taking photos of each other, laughing and joking, enjoying being full of good food, out of London and having absolutely nowhere else to be. i was loving that i only barely knew where i was and was more than happy to follow one group or another around the place. people seemed to know where they were going, so i didn't have to and really: just how lost could i get?

Brighton is an odd assortment of things - sprawling, civilised seaside town, permissive hippie/vegan/alternative-sexuality hangout, playground for the wealthy and the uninspired, with tiny two-abreast alleyways, interconnected pedestrian malls (or at least streets which are treated as malls) full of music and book shops, arts and crafts, loudly advertised vegetarian cafes, pubs, restaurants and so on - anything someone on holiday might want to amuse themselves. it's referred to as "London-by-the-Sea", which is true only in the same ways as Bateman's Bay is thought of as being a far-flung suburb of Canberra. being only an hour away from London CBD it's commutable, and there are people who do it daily. it's also a quick, easy and pleasant place to get away for a weekend or longer, without the hastle of having to really plan too far ahead. i could have crashed the night there without a problem and still been back in town tomorrow for anything i might want to do with my day. i didn't... as much temptation as there was (and there was much), but that's beside the point. it's nothing like anywhere in London i've been to so far - it's happier (even in the cold), friendlier and cuter - the perkier younger sister to London's matronly spinster. it's a place that seems to takes itself only as seriously as absolutely necessary so as not to slide into the ocean, and it has an infectious vibe that gets into you and says "relax. no, seriously. have a pint, take a load off, forget your troubles, forget monday and just... chill."

wandering up the beach we hit the Pier and wandered around the rollercoasters and other rides and the air was full of laughter and frivolity. no arguments, no irritations, nothing to bother us, just good times and friendly faces. a group of us split off for coffee, i joined the group for the pub and wound up talking about art with SiJ, John and Patrick (sending a quiet prayer of thanks to Rapunzel for giving me a grounding back in early 2008 without which i'd have been lost), although they lost me completely when they moved into discussing Bacon which to me is something delicious and commonly associated with grilling rather than paintings. after a pint or two the groups joined and split and joined and split again, people heading off to various pubs and restaurants in the area.

i wound up in The Eagle (we were led by Fluf - a Brighton local who knew the best places to go), a dim place with a warm vibe and a tank full of tropical fish where i had another pint and the "Roast beef and horseraddish hash cake with greens and red wine gravy and a poached egg" which was just insanely awesome before SiJ grabbed me by the arm and declared that she wanted to go for more beach. what the hell? i thought to myself and after asking directions a couple of times we were standing back on the pebbles watching the waves lap on the shore, each time followed by the rattling sound of a thousand tiny firecrackers as the waves pushed the rocks up and down. we stood there for a while, arms around for warmth, chatting away and enjoying the lights on the Pier and the quiet, peacefulness of the scene. soon enough we fetched back back up in The George (a vegetarian pub) where we'd been earlier. by the time my party returned it seemed we'd missed a couple of drinks because Eve was pretty far gone, and the lads weren't far behind her. sadly, time was ticking away and in order to make sure i got a train out i said my goodbyes, declined the 7th, 8th and 9th offers of crashing space and legged it up the road to the train station and was in a seat 10 minutes later with one of my favorite old Cure albums playing - getting to finish listening to "In Between Days" which had been playing in The George when i left.

words can't express how much i needed today. interpretive dance would lack the subtleties and song would need to use two languages at once. maybe an extended, pacing, yelling rant would cover it, but that's hard to project into a keyboard. once again i'm wrecked, but i don't feel as directionless or hopeless as i did 24 hours ago. sure, i still have my sleeping problems that aren't going away any time soon, but it's been care- and stress-free and completely fabulous. i don't even mind the train ride back into town because at least it's given me the time to do some writing so that i can try to get to sleep an hour or so earlier. of course, i don't really need see the two russians who are drinking from a bottle of wine and making out like poorly paid amatuer porn stars across the aisle from me, but APART FROM THAT and the pressure above my eyes i'm the closest i've come to relaxed in far too long. thankyou Moonbug and thankyou Vegans. today was completely and inexpressibly lovely.