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Europe Revisited

June 30, 2013 by Fran Leave a Comment

I seemed to countdown forever, but the trip finally arrived. My visit back to the UK and a tour of all the culinary delights that I have been sorely missing. Although I should probably clarify here, the purpose of my trip wasn’t just to put on the half stone that I did. It was primarily to see family and friends. And if those visits entailed long, leisurely lunches and decadent dinners, who was I to complain?

In keeping with my documented goals of 2013, I again travelled somewhere new in the world. Kicking off the holiday with a weekend in Munich for the, now annual, boys weekend jaunt. Munich is somewhere that has been on my bucket list for a while, but actually for Oktoberfest. That said, even if we had waited a few months I’m not sure even we could have drank many more pints of good German beer.

And talk about good hangover food, I think we had more visits to the Golden Arches than we did hours sleep. Munich itself turned out to be a very beautiful city. Full of big open squares, leafy gardens and the odd beer hall. But a word of advice. If you ever plan to visit the outstanding Allianz Arena (home of Bayern Munich), don’t go in searing heat, with a hangover, when there are works and restrictions on the train lines. Just saying.

With regards to hangovers, Steve, shame you never managed the world record, but we always have next year.

After Munich, came England, and specifically beautiful Yorkshire. For the following couple of weeks I gorged myself on traditional English fayre and the Yorkshire countryside. And when I say traditional English fayre I don’t just mean pies and pints of Copper Dragon Golden Pippen, but also delicious garlic laced curries of the sort that don’t seem to have made their way down under.

Amongst many highlights, some would say the coup de grace was the amazing lamb henry, slow cooked one Sunday morning and served up at lunch with copious amounts of wine. Oh, and cider. And vodka. And port. I think it was a good day, but I’d need to ask somebody else who was there to confirm. If the amount of time it takes you to eat a bacon and black pudding butty is a barometer of how drunk you were, I’d say some were very drunk. At least the alcohol made me forget the rice pudding you could hang wallpaper with. If I was the chef, I’d stick to main courses.

Family, friends and a sun baked Yorkshire treated me well. I ordered sunshine to remind me of my antipodean home and boy did the old country deliver. The 2 weeks went by in a flash of catch ups, belly laughs, food, beer and wine.

Reminding me of who and what is important to me in life I was truly sad to be leaving. If only I could have stayed longer. There were people I missed out on this time, due various reasons, including conflicting holiday plans. I know I will see them all next time, whenever that may be. And there are others I already can’t wait to see again, and I know I will, all in good time. I just need a little patience.

Beautiful Yorkshire

For now, I return home with some fantastic memories, ready to face the start of my second year of this Australian adventure. And what a start it will be. Going to the 3rd Lions test in Sydney, which of course is now going to be the decider. Watching Man Utd in the same stadium, some 2 weeks later play a team of A-League All Stars. And celebrating “Xmas in July”, an Aussie tradition, in between.

With new motivation, a game plan to be agreed upon, and the aim of getting fitter, the rest of 2013 could turn out to be one of the biggest years yet.

Signing off, the Yorkshire Expat.

Films watched on plane(s)

Django

Killing Them Softly

Stand up Guys

Side Effects

Life of Pi

Trance

TV series watched on plane(s)

The Thick of It – whole of season 4 (bloody brilliant)

Byron Bay…Revisited…Again

October 20, 2013 by Fran Leave a Comment

It has been some years since I was last in Byron Bay. I haven’t been since I was a lad. OK, that’s probably not strictly true. It is most likely not that long at all since my last visit, meaning I wasn’t quite a lad. But I’m still 19 in my mind, if definitely not in my body, so you see why I’m easily confused.

Byron Bay is located about 480 miles north of Sydney and is was a quaint little beach town with a somewhat hippy vibe. The headland, Cape Byron, home to the lighthouse, is the easternmost point of mainland Australia.

The imminent arrival of a public holiday (read bank holiday for UK readers) prompted me to get on the very efficient JetStar website and book myself a cheeky little jaunt north.

As early as the plane journey up you get a sense of what Byron is slowly turning into. The stag and hen capital of the east coast. Whilst trying to surreptitiously photobomb the pictures of a gang of girls sat immediately in front of me my cover was blown by one of the contingent. Confessing to the nefarious nature of my actions we naturally got chatting and it was one of the those “that accent sounds familiar, where are you from? Yorkshire? Me too!” conversations.

It turns out the blushing (yeah right!) bride to be was from Doncaster. When I said I was from Halifax I was accused of something that I don’t think has ever happened before. “Halifax, that’s posh innit?”. Hmm, ladies, when was your last night out in Halifax? Despite the best efforts of a makeover in Maggies. And the introduction of the very good Riccis restaurant, to complement La Luna, I am still not sure that “posh” is an adjective that usually gets thrown around Halifax.

Knowing how small Byron is I feel that I may bump into these ladies in the kebab shop later ordering their obligatory cheesy chips for the walk back to their accomodation.

Following a very smooth 1 hour flight there was gorgeous weather on arrival at Balina-Byron gateway airport. And a very efficient service at the airport had me booked on the door to door shuttle bus service from Steve’s Tours ($35).

For this visit, I once again chose to stay in Belongil, a short 10 minutes walk along the perfect golden sands, whilst spotting multiple pods of cavorting dolphins, to the centre of Byron Beach. Byron Beach Resort, previously Belongil Beach house backpackers was again my abode of choice. A great hostel, with fantastic amenities and a great cafe (The Tree House) one side and a bistro the other.

Belongil Beach Resort

Due to the arrival of daylight savings, Sunday arrived an hour earlier than usual. Well, it didn’t really. I just put my watch forward by one hour. But such is the vagaries of time. I took advantage of the early start, and after breakfast I headed off on the walk up to Cape Byron, and the aforementioned lighthouse. This is about a leisurely one hour walk, but boy was it worth it!

Sometime ago in Sydney I went whale watching. You may remember me mentioning it. And that fact that there was no whales to watch. Well, that morning, from Cape Byron, I must have seen about six or seven schools of whales. Breathtaking. Completely. One of the moments in life that you just shut up and take in. At moments like this, I really do stop and tell myself how fortunate I am in life. Humbling.

The rest of Sunday was taken up with mooching around the monthly markets and then decamping to the awesome Beach Hotel for the Sunday session. This was madness. Like the Roxy nightclub of Sowerby Bridge had been transported some 11000 miles down under. Full of slightly (or maybe very) drunk backpackers and Aussies dancing around like maniacs to a live band. It turned out this was the pre-entertainment for the NRL Grand Final, which is the rugby league. I must admit it all got a little bit tedious eventually, including the rugby, so I had a slow walk back along the beach, transfixed by the night sky. Without the light polution of the cities, the stars you can see are mesmerizing. Sort of thing I could lay back at stare up at for eternity.

The weekend was drawing to a close and despite only being away for 3 days I already didn’t want to return to the big smoke. Trips like this, to little havens of paradise like Byron really makes you question whether you are in fact a city person or not. I’m not.

I loved my 3rd visit to Byron and am already thinking of when I can next return. And I know I will. And that it won’t be such a long hiatus this time. A piece of my heart is left in Byron Bay.

Yorkshire Revisited

April 18, 2014 by Fran Leave a Comment

You may have noticed it has been a while since my last post. You may even have been worried I had come to some harm. But fear not, I think I just had a case of writer’s block. Or more literally, blogger’s block. I seem to have now gone the other way and have written what is perhaps my longest blog ever.

In truth, it has been a very busy few weeks, much of what I’ll cover in the next couple of posts. Those of you tuning in, eagerly hoping to hear of the exploits of Ma Cormack on her antipodean adventure will be disappointed. This blog will be to recap on my trip back to the UK and thus, the “Mary in Mosman” blog will follow in a few weeks.

So the end of February saw me jetting back to the homeland. The primary objective being to escort mum back to Sydney with me. An expat’s life and location can be very precarious and I figured that if mum was ever gonna see the land down under, I would have to go and literally bring her. I once worked in Dublin for 18 months, a 40-minute flight away, and she never got across the water. So I was determined to get her Australia passport stamp!

The timing couldn’t have been better, with my 1-year contract at work expiring at the end of February, and me flying to England the next day. With luck (scratches head and wonders if this is the right word), and maybe a smidgen of hard work, I had secured a further 1-year contract at the same bank, on the proviso that my current trip stood and I could have a month unpaid leave. A well documented hand-over to my hard working team (just in case they are reading) and I was off, knowing everything was in safe hands ’til I returned in April-ish.

Leaving Sydney did feel very strange. A much different feeling to when I went home last year. I suppose I was mentally in a very different place last year and wasn’t sure if it was the start of the end of my Australian odyssey. A year on and things are very different. I felt like I was leaving home, to go home. As a good friend reminded me at the time, “we are lucky now, we have two beautiful homes”. And he is right.

Returning to Yorkshire again reminded me of why it is one of the most beautiful places I have been to in the world. And I have been to a few. I’m not sure there are many places that compare. Where folk actually talk proper. And without getting too sentimental, although it seems to be happening more as I get older, I have the best group of friends and family a person could wish for. Maybe an eclectic, diverse set of friends. And a hectic, on the edge of crazy, family. But I wouldn’t change any of them for the world. You guys are what make my trips.

Every day I was reminded of the importance of keeping your special friends in your life. And how those bonds grow stronger despite the distance between us. It may sound ironic coming from me, the guy who upped and left, all alone, as far away as he could possibly go, yet I have never lost touch with people. A phone call here, postcard there. And what we would do without FaceTime and Skype these days? My Easter got off to the best possible start with a call from home this morning.

I only had a couple of weeks at home, not really long enough to do everything I would like, but long enough to do many of the things I like. Need I mention the food? Those with a keen eye for detail will already know I have an obsession with fish & chips. And not the very inferior version I can get here in Australia. But I mean real, proper fish & chips, wi’ bits and curry sauce. A pot of tea and slice of bread on the side. Fellow diners in Blakeley’s of Brighouse may have thought I had just been released from a long stint in prison, at the rate I devoured my plate. Now THAT is what I am talking about.

Of course curries featured highly in my “diet”, as did Yorkshire puddings, and the now annual lamb dinner. Thanks sis, what a great day that was, even though I did end up driving and chauffeuring the more inebriated amongst us home.

Service at some of the eating establishments did baffle me, at times leaving me creased over laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. On one very memorable morning I thought we had wandered into Fawlty Towers, and I kept waiting for Manuel to pop out. Breakfasts were ordered, and arrived, upon which I thought, “hmm, quite an expensive breakfast to only receive 1 slice of toast”. The waiter then proceeded to tell us that more toast was on the way, it was in the toaster!

Now, I have not spent much time in the hospitality industry, but wouldn’t you wait until ALL the toast was ready, and THEN bring out the breakfasts?

It got better. I asked for some brown sauce, and he promptly returned with some, in a coffee cup!!!! Have you ever seen the like? The morning’s shenanigans didn’t end there. Half way through munching my toast, another young chap who worked there, approached me at the table, with a half eaten cake in a box, and said, “before you forget sir, your cake”. By this point I had fallen off my chair laughing. Just WHO did he think I was? And why would I have a half eaten cake in his restaurant? Good grief, I said take me home. There is only so much fun somebody can have in one morning.

One morning I definitely was not laughing was following a fantastic night out in Leeds. One in which catching the last train home was the target. The last train was at 11.20pm. It didn’t happen. Even with the female contingent bringing their posh handbags (which supposedly means they couldn’t POSSIBLY stay out late).

Cue a very funny night, finished by drinking England’s supply of champagne, coupled with some bizarre concoction that my sister insisted on adding to each drink. I think it may have been slightly off, maybe out of date, as I think that is why I was so ill the following day. Then again, getting a lift home off my sister, who took a speed bump so fast I thought we wouldn’t land until we hit Sydney, could have precipitated my downfall.

I was so green I could have hidden in a bowl of peas. And once getting in my own car, my attempt at the same said speed bump was hilarious. Trying to protect my delicate head, I rolled up to the bump so slowly that I didn’t get over it. I just hit it, and the car rolled backwards. It was going to be a VERY long day.

There are many other memories from that trip, way too many to cover in what has now become a very long post. I hope you are still with me. But needless to say, I had an amazing time, even saw a beautiful part of Yorkshire I hadn’t been to before, and had some amazing food. Thank you. Even if I won’t be adding Ripon to my list of “must see” places next time.

The usual heartfelt goodbyes signalled the end of this trip, not really knowing when I will next be in the country. So there is nothing else for it, it’s time to come the other way, to me. Get planning. Sydney awaits.

Well, once more, like my brief trip home, it is now time to wrap it up folks. I have to dash. I have a Pannini football World Cup sticker album to try and find.

Anyone for swapsies?

Vegas revisited

July 13, 2014 by Fran 1 Comment

Conventional wisdom dictates that “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”. Right? However, I’m not often accused of being conventional. Plus, this would be a very dull blog. Yes some of you are shouting, even more dull than usual.

So this blog is more along the lines of “almost all of what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”.

If last month was an ode to how much I love my mum, this month is an ode to how much I love my friends. And I mean my REAL friends. Not the Facebook variety. And by that I don’t mean I don’t have real friends on Facebook. I do. Lots of you.

But I mean real, get drunk with, argue with, fight with, joust with pool cues with, tell ALL your secrets to, play wing-man with, type of friends. The ones you fall out over football with. The ones you sit up with through the night drinking and putting the world to rights with. The ones you watch grow, get married, have families. And through all the changes life throws at us, we remain friends. These type of friends are my best friends.

I went to Vegas recently with 3 of these very same type of friends, and as we always find, before we have even finished our first pint, the banter is flowing like we have never been apart. Dissecting previous years trips, and the absurdity of our discussions. Who has ever heard of playing a guitar upside down? And had discussions about there “being winners and losers in this life”? I’m laughing just at the recollection. Greg Wallace has a lot to answer for.

Totally sober…honest

Our annual tradition, for the last few years at least, has been to catch up somewhere in the world. The first agenda item on this year’s Annual General Meeting was where we will go next year. Previous trips have seen us have quiet, cultural visits to Prague, the home of Kafka. And Munich, Germany’s third largest city, and home many lederhosen clad gentlemen.

This year we revisited an old haunt. The same venue for my 40th birthday celebrations. Back to the very famous Las Vegas, Nevada. Named by a Mexican in 1829, Las Vegas (The Meadows when translated from the Spanish), has a very long and illustrious history.

Initially used as a water stop on trips between Los Angeles and eastern outposts, many of us are more familiar with Vegas’s sin city reputation. The building of the Hoover Dam, which started in 1931, saw the population of Las Vegas swell and to entertain the mainly male working population, the casinos and show girls were born into Vegas history.

Organised crime wasn’t far behind, and financed by the infamous Meyer Lansky (incidentally portrayed as Hyman Roth in the Godfather movie), Bugsy Siegel built the Flamingo hotel and casino. Still proudly standing pride of place on the Strip opposite our home for 4 nights, Caesar’s Palace.

I travelled from Sydney and took a very circuitous route, with a 2 hour delay in Sydney, and then an unscheduled stop in Honolulu, before travelling through San Francisco, changing planes, and culminating in a short hop to McCarran airport, Las Vegas.

I should probably be grateful I got there at all as when I checked in I was greeted by a very furrowed brow on the face of the check in assistant. “You don’t seem to have a visa for entry into the United States sir”. Oh yes I do. And I dug out the email to confirm it.

The email which states “approval to travel”.

I was told “They don’t mean anything. If there is a subsequent issue that confirmation is useless”. It seems the “subsequent issue” was some problem with the actual processing of my visa. Oh dear. However, as you know, we eventually resolved this, and I did get to travel.

Having arrived more than 7 hours later than planned, my friends were already well on their way to their 2nd, or 3rd pint. I lost count, and evidentally so did they. By about 3pm it seems. I had managed to avail myself of numerous complimentary alcoholic beverages in the business class lounge at Sydney, and managed to keep suitably topped up en route. I hadn’t planned to imbibe quite so much in the lounge, but the kind hostess kept bringing me beers. And I felt obliged to accept. I have read that declining such generous hospitality is seen as a slight in some cultures. Right?

Much of my travails of actually getting there faded away as we made our decent into the desert. Is there a better sight than flying into Las Vegas at night, with all the flashing neon lights looking resplendent?

The result of all of the proceeding hospitality (thanks Singapore Airlines for my gold card allowing business class lounge access) being that I was soon talking as much nonsense as they were not long after my arrival at Caesar’s Palace. Not, I hasten to add, where the actual Caesar used to live. Just in case anybody was wondering.

Our quiet first night, turned into a quiet early morning. As is wont to happen in Vegas, where there are no clocks in the casinos, the early hours of the morning soon creep up on you. As we turned in slightly later than planned, we all agreed to a small adjustment to the itinerary. A little lie in in the morning, and reluctantly cross off library and museum visits planned for the following day, due to time constraints.

The following day was the England v Uruguay match, and by the 12pm kick off we were settled in front of a large TV screen in Gordon Ramsey’s “Pub and Grill”, with large burgers, and exceptional pints of Guinness. Hoping that Luis Suarez was not going to take a large bite out of England’s ambitions of progressing through the group stages. Alas.

Whisky and cokes…with a ladyboy chaser

The less said about the football the better. But the afternoon drinking set the tone for the rest of the trip. Maybe except for one of our travelling party. Know as “the bambino” for his predilection to warm milky drinks, and pineapple with every meal, at times I thought I was with Alan Partridge, and was going to have to order a “lady boy chaser”, also known as a Baileys. Indeed, at one point I did. The look on the waitresses face was a picture as she waited for the punchline from the Bambino. There wasn’t one. He simply wanted to enjoy a Baileys.

Things didn’t improve in Jimmy Buffet’s. Whilst we sampled what looked like the world’s largest margarita, the bambino plumped for a nice milkshake. I had to draw the line at him ordering a snowball. Things were crazy enough.

The days, and nights rolled on and we had a great time laughing and catching up. Probably more “Last Vegas”, than “The Hangover”, but we are very sensible chaps, what did you expect?

Our time together came to an end all too soon, and with sadness we parted on a hot and sultry Sunday afternoon. Already the conversation turned to our next trip, and possible venue. Reykjavík was mooted, as were the German hedonistic hotspots of Berlin and Hamburg.

Auf wiedersehen!

Bringing in Spring

October 19, 2014 by Fran Leave a Comment

For those of you that missed me and wondered if I was still alive, I am. For those of you that never even noticed there had been a slight hiatus between blog posts, I’m upset and a little bit offended 🙂

Life has been rolling along nicely since we last spoke. A cheeky weekend in Singapore lifted the spirits at the end of August where I took souvenir shopping to new heights and brought home something to spruce up the apartment. And who can resist a visit to the beautiful Raffles hotel, to the Long Bar for a famous (at least amongst tourists) Singapore Sling cocktail!

View from dinner in Singapore

September brought in Spring, and how I was needing it. Maybe my blood is thinning with living in Australia, or perhaps I’m just becoming soft, but this year I even had to resort to buying a heater for home. I was in grave danger of dying from hypothermia so the extra dollars added to my electricity bill was a small price to pay to live to see another summer.

As the heater got put away, out came the thongs. Yes English readers, I mean flip flops. Or jandals if anybody from across the Tasman is reading.

And the first thing you do when bringing out your feet from hibernation? Why, you have a pedicure of course! Don’t you? To protect my very macho image, I must add a disclaimer to this, saying that it wasn’t actually my idea. I think it was suggested more in jest, but in the spirit of trying everything once, there I was, one Saturday afternoon, sat in my chair getting pampered. And I must confess, it was a very pleasant experience. At least once I had convinced them that no, actually my toe nails do NOT need painting. I am now wondering whether I need a manicure, for my over worked hands. Thoughts anybody?

The start of October allowed my to show off my newly pedicured toes, as we bade farewell to a couple of friends who are leaving Australia for a while to travel the world (lucky buggers). We descended into Longueville, for my second shot at barefoot bowling. For the uninitiated, this is crown green bowls. MInus your shoes. Plus lots of alcohol.

When the idea is first pitched to you it is not something you immediately think you would enjoy. However, I think everybody was pleasantly surprised by how much fun it was (which could have been the amount of beer they drank). What is interesting to see is how competitive people get. We ended up having inter-european challenges, where we smashed the Germans :-), and poms v the rest of world, where results were a little more mixed.

I had thought I may have found my sport for when I retire. However, if you had seen me trying to roll out of bed the following morning, and subsequently rolling on to the floor, you may disagree. I think I need to find a less strenuous sport for these ageing bones.

Just look at that technique

All in, a fantastic day, that somehow finished in the Crows Nest Hotel. Those of you that know, or who have frequented the Crows Nest Hotel, will have an idea of how the night went. But as they saying goes, “what happens in the Crowle, stays in the Crowie”.

What else has been happening since my last post? We have had a long bank holiday weekend. But whereas in the UK everybody runs to spend the day in the pub, here they run to spend the day by the water. Me? I like to combine the two, and with a night staying over in the city, a leisurely Monday was spent walking around Sydney, with stops by the water for cold refreshments (for this, read beer).

Over the same weekend, the South Sydney Rabbitohs broke a 40+ year drought by winning the rugby league grand final. Powered on by our very own Burgess brothers from Yorkshire. I’m sure the South’s co-owner, Russell Crowe is a very happy man.

Also, the real sport has started again, football, and finally Utd now have some points on the board and the jokes on social media seemed to have died down, or at least are now being redirected to the hapless Brendan Rodgers. Talking of hapless, a visit was paid to watch Sydney FC this weekend. Or in reality, to see David Villa make his A-League debut on his 10 game stint down under before heading to play for New York City. And he made an immediate impact. Scoring with a touch of class not seen since Alesandro del Piero sadly left these shores.

Since we last spoke I have also obtained my full riders licence, which means, rather scarily, I could now go and purchase a large, fast, and powerful motorbike and be let loose on the streets. Thankfully, I am still in love with my scooter, and that will remain my mode of transport for the time being. But now having a full licence, I am able to give “backers”. Funnily enough, nobody seems very keen to jump on the back! Once I buy that second helmet, there will be no excuses J

That about wraps up the last month and bit of my life. Summer, and the holiday season is just around the corner, so keep reading to find out what the Yorkshire Expat gets up to next.

Until the next time

Whale of a time – but no Ryan Giggs

August 26, 2015 by Fran 1 Comment

My first reaction upon being asked if I wanted to go and see Wales was, “I’m sure Giggsy retired a long time ago, so, no thanks”. Yes, they are doing a mighty fine job in the Euro qualifiers, thanks to that fella playing at Real Madrid, but still, no thanks. Once it was pointed out to me that there is life outside football (really?!?), I realised it was in fact whales that were on offer. Specifically humpback whales. The uber whales.

Of course, I am using “uber” in the sense it was meant, before Uber meant tech start up taxi company! Just whilst I am on that, have you used it yet? Uber. My introduction was via a friend, and thus a free (actually $25 credit) ride. Once he had shown me the app, and how to use it, I was off. Literally. Not even the effects of several large beers was enough to discombobulate me as I navigated through the options. Within minutes, I was watching my uberX (the uber cheap option) slowly move towards me on my iPhone screen, like a little video game.

After a short wait, my driver, Zain, in his little Honda Civic, turned up. He was a very pleasant chap, if somewhat over chatty. I avoided all Peter Kay impersonations, purposely not asking him if “he had been on long”, had been busy. Once Zain realised I had no taste for talking, we got along mighty fine. Riding from the CBD, over the hulking Harbour Bridge, to the Lower North Shore, minus my promotional credit, I was left with a tab of just over $4, which is debited from the payment method you indicate when you set up your account. Easy peasy. And the (next) best thing? As a new user, I get another $25 credit if I get a friend to use the service. Cue me tweeting and emailing the link out to as many people as possible.

For me, the service is a winner. Opening up the somewhat monopolistic taxi market. I read that around the world, “real” taxi drivers are up in arms about the whole thing. Even burning donkeys in Paris. Or was it car tyres? I’m never sure with the impassioned Parisians. Isn’t healthy competition what drives an economic market? The “invisible hand” of economic theory described by Adam Smith in 1776?

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, whales…

Specifically humpback whales. Which Wikipedia reliably(?) inform me are called (Megaptera novaeangliae). I see that this entry was recently edited so could be any name. It is all latin to me. It could actually be the name for a brontosaurus. Or should that be the old name for brontosaurus? I recently discovered that they never really existed. It turns out that some museum curator put the wrong skull on the wrong skeleton, and lo and behold brontosaurus was born. Only when the mistake was discovered did the brontosaurus become extinct for the second time. You learn something new every day.

Well, humpback whales. With the adults reaching up to 52ft in length, and possible of weighing unto 36,000 kilograms they are surprisingly majestic in the water. With their distinctive body shape, and very large tail, they are acrobatic animals known for breaching and slapping the water with its tail, which is believed to be one of the ways they communicate. Just try and catch the tail flip in a photo. I did see a few tail flips, even if I am unable to show evidence. Promise. I have witnesses.

We are very lucky in Sydney in that each year we can witness their migration north from Antarctic. With the whales swimming inland just outside the heads of Sydney Harbour, our afternoon cruise from the city, once we got on the right bloody boat!, took us out through the Harbour, into the open sea. From here we sailed alongside the whales up past Manly, and north to Palm Beach as they frolicked their way north, up to the Great Barrier Reef, where they mate and eat. Hoping to gain more than 10kgs each day from birth, this allows them to survive in the sub zero water temperatures they encounter once they migrate back down south with their calves to feed on the crill under the ice in the Antarctic.

Calves stay with mum for about 10 months, then they are on their own in big wide world, or the ocean. Males stay even less time, their main aim in life being to mate with as many females as possible, and just keep moving on. If there is a reason to believe in Buddhism, this has to be it. With reincarnation being one of the tenets of Buddhism, I’m coming back as a whale.