Manchester, Yikes!

After having retraced family roots in Oxfordshire I was ready to move further North towards my ultimate destination, Edinburgh. As I left booking the train a bit late, the tickets were extremely expensive so in the interests of my monetary circumstance, I decided to take a 5 hour bus ride to the capital of the North. The National Express coaches that run about the country are quite handy indeed. Cheap and reliable.

The journey was broken into two parts. I caught a two hour bus ride to Birmingham from Oxford where I changed for a bus to Manchester. During the first leg I sat next to a 23 year old woman from Kenya. We talked about all sorts of things including African politics and Kenya's valliant contribution to long distance races in the Olympics. A brief lesson in Swahili was also on the agenda.



For good reasons the 2nd leg to the journey felt about 4 times as long. I owe this to the mad woman from Birmingham who got on the bus at the Birmingham station. This woman was the loudest, most abnoxious and shamless woman you will ever meet. She kept picking me out and talking about me in front of the whole coach. How embarrassing... Things only got worse when she pulled out two bottles of what looked like Coca-cola, but ended up being something a little stronger. You can see where this is going.



After finally getting off the bus and ridding myself of drunken Birmingham women, I started to think about what might be going on in Manchester on the weekend. I was actually a bit concerned because I heard that Manchester had a game against Arsenal (which, unfortunately Manchester won 2-1, ps. im an Arsenal supporter now). So here I was worrying about crazed football hooligans but really, football was the least of my worries. Somehow I'd managed to land myself in Manchester during the annual Gay Pride Festival weekend. hahaha.



Despite guys running around with hands in eachothers backpockets, I did mange to meet some nice people in the hostel who I went to a gig with. It turns out that the guitarist, Mike, was actually staying at our hostel... Sleeping in the bunk right beneath me! His stage name is Passenger.



I kid you not. This guy turned out to be an absolute prodigy. So much so that he has challenged my love for musicians such as Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. His skill with the guitar coupled with his brilliant voice, touching lyrics and raw passion really hit a nerve with me. This was the first time in my life that I had become this emotional as a result of music. I loved his work so much that I bought one of his albums at the gig. Not only was he a sterling performer, he also turned out to be the nicest guy you've ever met. I consider myself lucky to have spent time eating breakfast with him and the Australian girls the morning after the gig. He had some great stories to tell of his travels. At this stage, I'm planning on catching up with him in Edinburgh where he's booked in to perform a gig at a pub there. He's also going to AUS. Will definitely be referring you all to his gigs. Legend.

Family Roots

As some or all of you will be aware, of late I have packed up my bag and continued North from London. Special thanks to Uncle Paul and Karen for putting up with me for the extended period of time that I spent there seeing the sights, visiting prestigious museums, checking out pubs and meeting new people.

My first stop on the road to Scotland was Oxford. Being a small university town, Oxford boasts long streets of shopping facilities, pubs and restaurants all catered for the needs and interests of the local population which predominantly consist of students attending the renowned Oxford University and other smaller institutions. From the moment I arrived it was clear that almost every person on the street was aged somewhere between 18 and 25.

The hostel that I stayed at near the train station had a really good vibe and I am ashamed to admit that I spent a little more time within the hostel than I should've. Nevertheless, I did get the oppertunity to visit a couple of sights which bare great significance within the family. These included: a thatched cottage in Buckland (where Jean Burgess, my grandmother, lived during the early years of her life in England), a Tudor-style lodge where Jean's grandfather, James William Chillingworth lived on Faringdon road and also the sight of his grave in the nearbye town of Pusey. I managed to visit all three of these one day whilst staying Oxford, by catching a bus along the old Faringdon road to Buckland where I spoke with an elderly woman living down the road from the thatched cottage. Mrs. Adams was kind enough to offer me all sorts of information regarding the "Yew Tree Cottage" and it's history.

After talking about the cottage for some time the kind woman sent me in the direction of "Tudor Lodge" where I hoped to speak with the current resident about Mr. Chillingworth's occupation of the dwelling. I was indeed lucky enough to catch the old lady living there whilst she was home. For some random Australian walking into her garden off the street, this lovely lady was incredibly hospitable to me as she sat me down in her paddio to sort through documentation of the home's history of owners. After 20 minutes or so of looking through this collection of papers, it was with much shock and pleasure that we had found a letter from a Roger Chillingworth (also a descendant of James Chillingworth). Within this letter, mention was made of Jean Burgess and her occupation in Australia. This made me certain that I had found the place I was looking for. After perusing the letter, we continued to look through the documents until we discovered a black and white picture of a little girl standing outside the Lodge in a white dress. A comment found within another paper confirmed that that little girl was indeed my grandmother Jean Burgess. I have copies of these documents and intend to bring them home for Jean.

After a cheese sandwich and a stella, prepared by the lovely lady of Tudor lodge, I continued on to see James Chillingworth's grave. I hiked a couple of miles to get there but eventually I arrived in the tiny town of Pusey where I found the grave located within a peaceful church yard littered with flora and fauna. Given the beautiful weather and the mood of the moment I decided to take a seat next to the grave and have a chat to one of the many people responsible for my existance. What a great experience.

The West Country

On Monday of this week I packed up my little day pack (rug sack in pommy) full of necessities for a little trip Westward. My first move was towards the old Roman city of Bath which has been standing for over one and a half thousand years. Also home to massive Cathedrals, prim parklands, the river Avon and the Bath Rugby team, the city of Bath has been world heritage listed so as you walk through the very town centre, the only buildings you can see are made of old stones and spotted with plaques representing past famous residents.

The city was a dream. I dare say it was more Italian than parts of Italy, due entirely to it's fully preserved nature. As a UNESCO world heritage site, the city is void from urban sprawl rendering it a very small city indeed. On an inbound train, the train operator will announce: "Next stop, Bath. One minute until arrival." At this point, a quick look out the window at the grazing cattle and green hills will confirm how small the city really is. Only at the very last minute do you pull into the city. It was exciting to stay in a small scale town like this as most of the places I've visited have been capital cities.

I booked St. Christophers hostel for three nights here in Bath before realizing that I would only need a couple of hours to see the whole city. Nevertheless, it proved to be a good base for further exploration of the region.

I spent the remainder of Monday scouting out the city after having talked with the people at the tourist information centre. The next day, I was fortunate enough to come across a 2 hour free walking tour of the city, provided by the Mayor of Bath's honourable guides who tour for the love of their city (they don't even accept tips). It was a good tour and I felt satisfied with what I'd seen of the city. As the tour did finish quite early, I still had a chance that afternoon to check out the River Avon ('avon' being the old Celtic word for river, hence, river river) and the Bath Rugby grounds.

Sitting on a park bench near the rugby fields, I met an old fella who reccommended visiting the nearbye city of Bristol for something else to do during my three day stay. He said I could make a day trip of it, so that's exactly what I did the next day.

Bristol is also a very old town. Situated near the South-West coast, the town is known in England for it's extensive Maritime history. Here, the jump from wooden sailing boats to metal-hulled motor boats was made by a man called Isambard Brunel who designed the SS Great Britain which he sailed all the way to America. I had a chance to visit that same boat via ferry, as well as an older model of ship named "The Matthew".

On my way around Bristol I also found a massive Cathedral which was built just under a thousand years ago. Inside I found the tomb and remains of English royalty buried on the site in 1444. Nothing like that in Australia.

On my last day in Bath, I took a three hour tour to England's first world heritage listed site, Stonehenge. Upon arrival I found it hard to come to grips with the fact I was actually there. As a younger lad I remember seeing it on a Microsoft Windows background but now I was really here. With the 6 pounds you pay to get in, you receive an included audio guide which tells you all about the mysterious stones.

Fun fact: 'henge' comes from the old English word 'hanging' making Stonehenge 'hanging stones'. The sprawling fields that surround the monument were also mentioned in the audio guide in respect to ancient Celtic burial mounds, alleged UFO sightings and the formation of crop circles.

A holiday on a holiday

A couple of days ago, Uncle Paul and I sat down to have a little chat about what could get me out of London for a bit. So after a brief look at a couple of places on google maps, we decided Brighton might be worth checking out.

Situated directly south of London, on the coast, Brighton is a jewel of the south coast. Known for it's beach culture and nightlife the city was without doubt the Gold Coast of England.

I decided to stay two nights in a hostel which was right on the beach during a part of the week with the best weather. During the time I was there, I had a chance to explore the coast line, dotted with independant fresh seafood outlets and even the Brighton maritime museum where admission was free.

The best thing about the hostel I was staying at was the location. It seemed to be located right in between the beach, a network of market lanes, a series of coastline clubs and the Brighton Pier. The pier was quite an interesting piece of work

in itself. Stretching about 500m into the ocean, the pier is a hotspot for young tiny boppers keen for a night of arcade gaming, fish and chips and even attraction rides. Even more impressive was the way the whole pier lights up every night justifying what I'd heard to be a famous part of England.

Whilst I was in Brighton and back in the hostel scene, it was nice to meet other young travellers doing the same thing as me. London is great and staying with Paul and Karen allows me to relax my guard to a great extent, but nothing beats meeting a new group of people to learn from and have fun sharing experiences with.

Overall, I'm glad I took the time out to see the coast and see that little bit more of the mother country. Will have to start looking into my next weekend trip soon..