Blog 9

In this episode:

Matt buys motorcycle

Matt gets stuck in the UK

Matt visits Salisbury, Cardiff, Bath, Oxford, London and Canterbury

A guy Matt meets injures himself severely whilst self promoting

Various churches, roman things and Englishness.

Canterbury - I lie in possibly the most lovely hostel I have ever seen. I have seen a lot of hostels. This place is run by a family who live here and the hostel feels like an extension of their home. At 6:30 tonight I am going to help the lady of the house cook Romanian goulash, which will then be served to all the poor travellers stranded here in Canterbury due to the volcanic eruption in Iceland. I was supposed to stay here for one night, but after an hour (and a shower in the immaculate bathroom) I extended my stay.

I did manage to buy the motorcycle, with a ridiculous wad of British Pounds. Interestingly, pounds are quite tall and therefore do not fit in my wallet. I can't imagine what the British were thinking when they made the twenty. 'I do say, if we don't make them excessively tall, the commoners will not be able to read the print.' Or perhaps this is a British attempt to maintain the value of the pound. Surely, the bigger it is the more it is worth. Needless to say, I am both relieved and concerned at the behaviour of my Australian banks. I took out thousands of dollars a day in a foreign country from random ATMs and neither bank batted an eyelid.

The bike is spectacular. Apart from a squeaky brake, it is altogether the most perfect bike I have ridden. So far I have managed to put another 700 or so miles on the clock and plan to get a few more under the belt before the next two months are up.

After leaving Eastbourne and saying goodbye to Barry I headed for Salisbury and Stonehenge. Stonehenge is far better in the pictures, so don't plan a trip to the UK just to see it. Salisbury, like Oxford and Canterbury is absolutely delightful. I am overcome with the desire to use words like delightful, quaint, smashing, jolly good and just grand to describe these places because they just ooze British-ness. So feel free to plan a trip to see these. Just don't expect much from the stones.

The lonely planet guide sums up Cardiff perfectly. 'Poor Cardiff. There's nothing wrong with it but there's nothing to keep you there.' At least I had two good friends from home, Dave and Owen, and some spectacular weather. We played football in the park in the sunshine and the boys told me to enjoy the three days of sunshine Cardiff gets each year. Whilst there I took a trip to the breathtaking Brecon-Beacon national park and stopped breathing due to the spectacular scenery. See pictures for proof.

Bath is famous for having baths. Seriously. The Romans rocked up in the first century and found a natural hot spring. Romans love bathing, so they probably had quite the conniption fit over this site. Millions of litres per day of forty degree water gushing up from the ground, a roman's version of heaven. Within a couple of hundred years it was a major Roman tourist destination and they had built a ridiculously large bathing complex. When the Romans left in the fifth century, the place was allowed to go to ruin, with only one bath remaining in use. The rest of the complex was built upon and it wasn't until residents of nineteenth century Bath complained about leaky basements that the complex was uncovered again. This led Bath to become fashionable again, and people such as Jane Austen spent much time here. The concept of 'polite society' and it's associated rules was formulated here. Enough history.

Oxford has a university in it.

In London I got a parking ticket then went to Lord's. Lord's was better. At the lunchtime interval of the game between Glamorgan and Middlesex the thousand or so spectators were allowed to walk onto the field! 'What wonderful fun' said a quite besotted Matt. Glamorgan won by 78 runs and in doing so became the first Glamorgan team to win at the ground in fifty years. Good form Welsh boys.

After tagging along to a benefit party for a microfinance organisation with a guy I met at my hostel, I was witness to his untimely demise. He rose to address the crowd about his perfectly wonderful business that provides Londoners with a list of positive ways to entertain themselves (volunteering, benefit gigs etc) but the stool on which he rose did not appreciate his speech. He fell and I spent the rest of the night tending to his brokenness.

Tomorrow I head back to Eastbourne to pick up the bike paperwork that has kept me stuck in the UK and then I head to France. I should be speaking poor French in a few days. Tres bien.

Until next time, tally ho!