In the US of A

Well I am back across the pond for a while. It is time for the anual pilgramage to Alberquerque for the international balloon fiesta. As usual I have stopped off in Illinois first to meet up with my friend Ray and then drive the 1200 miles south-west.

This year has been a little different as on the 20th he was married in Jamaica to his fiencee Karen. A couple of days after I arrived they had a wedding reception / farewell party at Capt'n Ron's down on the Illinois river at Creve Coeur. It was a great party and I managed to catch up with people I have not seen for a few years as well at the other halves of guys that I meet every year.

Ray and his bride Karen with a friend, Chris

I will post some more pictures later once we get back from the balloon trip.

Today, Monday, we were running around getting things sorted before heading off to New Mexico in the morning. One task we had to complete was to remove the drivers seat from Ray's little red car, a mercedes SLK500, as the stitching had come apart and a repair was needed. This proved to be almost impossible. After asking the upholsterer how best to remove it we were told that there would probably be 4 bolts holding it down to the body of the car. In fact we found 6. After removing 5 with little bother the last one refused to unscrew. Instead the thread tore and all we managed to do was turn the bolt without it coming out. We tried all the usual things, sticking a screwdriver under the head to lift it, swearing and cussing the bloody thing, drilling the head once we had successfully managed to completely bugger the head. In the end we ground down the head completely and will need to drill out the bolt at a later date.

Unfortunately this did not allow us to remove the seat. Stumped we took it to the upholsterer, who had removed it the last time some repairs were needed, only to find that there were two screws holding the seat cushion to the seat mounting and it popped out in about 2 minutes flat. Oh did we feel stupid after sweating for over 2 hours.

Ghana

Been here just over a week and am not really impressed with the place. It is like a sefer version of Nigeria. The locals see the white skin and want to cheat and rob you with a smile on their face.

Everywhere there are street sellers, sitting by the side of the road and wandering beside you at the traffic lights flogging all sorts of shit from sweets to shoes, from pens to pictures. Not reallypestering but have to tell each one no before they leave you alone.

Selling junk.

The hotel looks nice but is really pretty crap. Room is OK but the service is appaling, breakfast is a joke, order toast and eggs and you get the toast and once it is cold then you get the eggs IF they remember. The air conditioning and hot water is switched off daily by the cleaner even when I have gone to get a cup of tea while they clean and the girl knows that I will be back immediatly. As I say really shitty service, expect a lot better for 120 USD per night.


Don't know what this is for but it is by the parade ground, the independance arch and the national stadium.

Don't really want to come back here, which probably means that I will.

No 2 beach

Saturday I went to No 2 beach, so called because No2 river reaches the sea there. Why the river is called No2 I have no idea.

No2 beach and river.

It was a pretty good day for the rainy season, light drizzle and the odd bit of sunshine interspersed with heavier downpours. We played around in the surf between the rain, when the sea was warm and the drizzle light it was great fun but the rain was cold so then we sat in the beach bar drinking Star lager, the local brew.

No2 river and misty mountains in the drizzle.

To get there we travelled along what is probably the worst road I have ever been on. The only potholes we encountered were at the bottom of water filled craters. It took well over an hour to go about 15 miles. If the sun was shining it would be well worth the hardship of being thrown around the car like an ice cube in a cocktail shaker. As it was it was still an unforgettable experience.

Sunday started of pretty lousy so spent the morning in the hotel. Around midday the rain eased so went into Freetown to look for niknaks and geegaws. Found lots of toot for sale along with fresh? fruit and veg in the street markets. Have come to the conclusion that street markets are virtually the same the world over, selling the same guff, fruit, veg, spices, clothes, shoes, tools, weel just about anything you could want. Only difference in the various countries I have been to is the quality and the price. Still I love to wander around these places as it is where the locals shop and you get the feel of the place and all the local colour. A police truck went down the street below and the market parted like the red sea for moses only to immediatley close behind it as if it had never been there at all.

Freetown market.

By early evening the sun was trying to break through so went for a walk along Lumley beach. This could be a really nice public beach if the city council took the trouble of cleaning the rubbish. I saw all sorts of shit there from used hypodermics to babies nappies (daipers for the yanks out there) to faeces to all manner of plastic crap.

Lumley beach

Despite this as it was Sunday the beach was crowded with lots of football matches being played. Went to the Atlantic bar for a rest and a cider and to watch the sunset as the weather had cleared. Walked back in the gathering night with just the moonlight to guide me. Not as romantic as you would think as I had to keep dodging all the crap on the beach.

All in all a fun weekend.

Sierra Leone.

Arrived in Freetown after a two day trip from home. Left early Saturday morning and stayed overnight in London with my old friend Elaine. Had a nice curry around Sundridge Park and a few beers whilst catching up.

Sunday morning off to LHR and another adventure into the unknown. First time flying with bmi, first time to Freetown, Sierra Leone and first time sitting across the aisle from a handcuffed imigration deportee. Apart from being confronted with 4 immigration and custome officials, 3 plain clothes and 2 uniformed coppers all that seemd to be missing was the partridge in the pear tree.

Arriving in Freetown was the usual fun of travelling to the third world, all off the plane and then hanging around on the tarmac for a bus as we weren't allowed to walk the 500yds to the terminal. More chaos in the terminal with scrambles for the immigration desks. Fortunatly the customer had arranger for us to be met air side of immigration so we were whisked through with little formality. Due to the deportee returning to Freetown ALL luggage was subject to a search causing another delay.

Outside were the usual multitude of new friends who want to help with bags and then pester you for money even if you carry them yourself. I suppose they are charging for their friendly, insistent welcome to their so called beutiful country.

From the airport to Freetown city there are 4 possible ways. Firstly you can drive around the river estuary which can take over 4 hours and is pretty ropey, secondly you can take the ferry which takes about an hour depending on traffic, third you can get the bus and hovercraft to Aberdeen which is on the edge of Freetown and finally there is the helicopter again to Aberdeen. They all have their drawbacks, 1 takes a long time and during the rainy season the road could be missing, 2 necessitates a crossing of the estuary on a ferry and a drive through Freetown and can be slow depending on traffic, 3 the hovercraft has been known to sink occasionally and does not always run, 4 the helicopters are old Russian ones flown by dipso russian pilots and have been known to crash. We travelled by ferry.

And what fun that was. After driving the land cruiser we were in through a couple of feet of water and up a steep ramp onto the deck we alighted and went up on the passenger deck. Thankfully it was dark so we couldn't see just how decrepit the hulk was,

Loading the ferry.

The departure was delayed due to the inefficient way the boat was loaded. There were 4 motorbikes that were loaded last and did not quite fit which meant that the bow ramp could not be raised therefore no departure. This resulted in much shouting and geticulating by all interested parties including the captain, crew, car drivers, bikers and just about anybody who cared to give their two hap'orth. Resulting in, for my part, a very entertaining 45 minutes. Eventually they shuffled around a couple of cars and mover the bikes to a space to the side of the ferry and we were off, chugging away across the bay to Freetown. Finally arrived at the hotel at around midnight.

Almost a fight on the ferry.

The hotel did not look up to much when we arrived and we spent a while sorting out rooms as there were none assigned to up. In the morning I had to change rooms and still in the daylight the hotel did not look up to much. Good job it is only a two week assignment.

On the first morning I was suprised to find out that all the people I need to talk to are on a training course for all but two days of my visit. Bloody great organisation that. I will have to work late each evening to discuss things with them after the course has ended for the day. The upshot of that is that I do not have to get to their office until late afternoon and thus can sleep in which means I can go out and party in the evenings, life is sometimes pretty good.

Back to work...ish

Started work again this week doing an audit on a network in Sierra Leone although I am not sure when I actually go there as it turns out the first week or so is spent at home 'preparing' whatever that means. I have so far been sent last years audit to famiarise myself with the issues. Won't take long as the network is small in comparison with the last few that I have done. Still it helps to pay the bills.

Last weekend was the annual music festival at the Blue Anchor known as 'Helstonbury'. Never having been to the Glastonbury festival I cannot offer a personal comparison but suffice to say I don't thing that the one up country would have the rubbish that was served up by this crowd. Only thing I can say is that they seemed to leave the best acts to the end of the evening, either that or I was too pissed to really appreciate the awfulness of the bands. I was informed by my son Lorcan who was working the bars that one lass could actually sing but was very nervous. The finale on Sunday night was a session by 'NOT The Beatles', this was instantly verifiable as all three guitarists were right handed and the drummer could play.

Martin and Lorcan 'working' (note the fine pint of spingo in the foreground).

Good couple of days though meeting with a few mates although most of the regulars were chased away by the crowds.

Robin showing off Nathans 'Helstonbury haircut'

Boring being at home.

Not much has been happening the past few weeks as I continue the job search. I have been that bored I even dug the garden and cleared out the weeds and may even plant something in the hope that sods law will kick in, meanint that as soon as I start something long term I will be out of here.

Still no transport so I am walking/cycling everywhere on the dry days, when it rains I stay home.

Last Sunday was a fun day, walked into town and spent a couple of hours in the Blue chatting with the Morris men and Scots Ronnie. Then went to the cricket club as the Blue were playing Seaview, from Falmouth, who rumour has it have been barred en-masse from the pub that bears their name, oh well what is in a name. Sat drinking cider with Robin who then had to bat at number 11. He bravely, in his partially drunken state, faced 3 bals at the end if the innings and proudly managed to score 0 not out, a stellar performance.

Later went to the Red Lion for the Euro final, not the greatest of finals, but at least the Krauts finally were beaten.

After the final whistle it was time to go home, so I headed for the Blue again. Met up with Robin and Terry from earlier and the three of up proceeded to get very drunk. I don't really remember what time I left but woke up in my own bed next morning with recollections of running some of the way home due to being bored with walking.

Had a telephone interview last week with an outfit based in Singapore which went well. I am to meet their African account manager, or the account manager for the African region, next Friday in Gloucester. Looks like I may be off to Sierra Leone in West Africa and after that to Syria. Hope all goes well next week as I repeat I am bloody bored.

Nobody seems to want to buy the house as we have had no viewings recently and have heard nothing from the folks who took two looks at the place. Divorce still pending as I have heard nothing from the courts which suprises me as the paperwork was sent in many weeks ago. Will need to catch the old trout when she is in one of her better, sober, moods and try to find out what is going on from her side.

Cornwall coast

Took a walk along the coast path from Polurian cove to Loe Bar then through Penrose estate and ended up in the Blue for a couple of pints last week. Here are some pictures.

Polurian cove and coastline

After walking down the lane to Mullion I cut through to Polurian Cove and walked along the coast path heading north to the Marconi Centre at Poldhu. Poldhu is the Cornish for Blackpool and as like its more famous northern namesake it attracts many visitors to its beach.

Marconi Monument to 1st transatlantic radio transmission.

Further along I passed Church Cove at Gunwalloe, another popular beach where the golf course comes down to the shore.

Gunwalloe, the golf course and Mullion village in the distance.

At Loe Bar, a shingle bank that was created by storms in the 13th century effectively cutting off Helston from the sea, is a monument to the HMS Anson which went down in a storm in January 1807 with the loss of over a hundred lives.

Anson Memorial at Loe Bar.

This tragedy had a silver lining though as it caused Henry Trengrouse to invent his life saving rocket line apparatus that helped get sailors from stricken ships.

Loe Bar

Kicking back.

Thought some of you may like to see a bit of what it is like back here in Cornwall. For those who have never been down this way here are some photos of the local area taken while I was out on my bike the other day. Boredom is a terrible thing if it makes one go cycling up and down hills. Found out that the brakes do not actually stop the bloody bike but just stop it accelerating going down the hills. This makes getting around the hairpin bends at the bottom a little bit interesting. Not actually fallen off yet.... but give it time.

This is what originally brought me down to this part of the world.

Goonhilly Satelite Earth Station.

Cane to do an FDM multiplex installation job way back in 1984. When that finished I was at aloose end and just kept returning at weekends to see a woman and slowly became hooked on the place.

Unfortunatley nowadays the station is almost closed and is just a tourist attraction. This is the place where the first sattelite transmissions were received from Telstra back in the '60's. The view is from across the downs which is the highest point on the Lizard peninsular and as couple of miles from where I live at present.

Arthur, the first dish built.

One of the narrow lanes around the Lizard penninsular.

View from my garden.

My house. If you want to buy it you can find it here:

Flora day

Been a busy week since my return to Cornwall. Found out the extent of the damage to the car, another one virtually written off by my ever considerate son. he smashed it into a granite post hard enough to smash in the front end, wing and crumple the bonnet. Airbag deployed so he must have been going at a fair rate.

Tuesday night after a few beers in town I fell up the stairs while carrying a pot of tea to my room before bed as the three light bulbs there were blown and had not been replaced. As the soon-to-be ex-wife (why it is still soon-to-be is beyond me at present) and son were over in the pub I had the childish idea that if they liked to live in the dark an not replace light bulbs then they could. I proceeded to remove all the bulbs in the downstairs rooms. Great fun to hear them stumbling around in the dark and cussing me for being home.

Wednesday was the pre Flora morris dancing by the bowling green performed by the Blue Anchor morris dancers, a collection of local professional people, my lawyer amongst them and other odd balls.

A fun evening and a few beers with mates in the Blue afterwards. Enjoyed myself so much I forgot the time and missed the last bus home. Ended up walking the 5 miles at around midnight. All the running on the treadmill in Islamabad has some benefits.

Thursday was the annual party in Helston - Flora Day. This happens every May 8th since forever, nobody really knows how long this ancient pagan ritual has been going, but safe to say probably over 1,000 years as it is a pre-christian ritual celebrating spring.

The locals dance through the streets led by the town band and the local dignitaries including the mayor Ronnie Williams. The early morning dances had the best of the weather so the children who dance at 11am and the midday dancers in their top hats and evening dresses were spared the worst. Here are some pictures from the 5pm dance. The guy waving is Chris a lad who once played football for me as a 12 year old and has probably been dancing the Flora since he was 5 years old.

Chris Cook waving

Helston Town Band

The Furry Dancers

Still heading home...

It is now Sunday and I still have not reached home after leaving Islamabad Thursday morning. I have been detoured slightly. Spent Thursday night in London with a good friend, Elaine, who I haven't seen for over 4 years. It is quite amazing that after so long we just seemed to pick up our last conversation as if it was yeaterday. Shows that with good friends you are always comfortable. Had dinner and a few beers and caught up on what we have been doing and a pleasant evening flew by.

Friday was my anual visit to the dentist which resulted in a clean and polish, hooray. After I went to Sudbury in Suffolk to visit another old friend who's adventures you can read about on his blog, http://greyhound10.blogspot.com/ . Had a few beers with him at lunch time and then hit the town quite hard. Ended up in the local Weatherspoons pub drinking real ale until very late. Was served at one point by a real idiot. He tried to tell me that by law he had to serve all pints with at least 5% foam on top. This was the first time I had heard that one from an incompetent barperson who just could not manage to pour a pint properly. Asked for the manager who was all apologies and had the good barmaid, who had been serving us for the rest of the night, replace the lousy pints. When you think that you have heard all excuses for incompetence a new one pops up.

Saturday saw me head for Shrewsbury and my mother. This trip went via Swindon so I could go to the last game of the season and watch the mighty Lions get beat. Met up with another friend, Timmus, who is a Swindon supporter who had bought tickets for the part of the ground for the home supporters. This was not much of a problem to begin with as it allowed us entry to the bar where we managed to get some cider and food. Trouble was when Millwall scored first and I really had to sit on my hands and say nothing let alone jump up and cheer. Very frustrating but only happened once as we ended up getting beaten 2-1 after a poor ref ignored a blatant penalty for us and pulled play back for a previous foul after he had played the advantage. Surely the advantage would have been a penalty rather than a free kick outside the box.

Sunday was a day chilling out at my mum's place. Spent the day chatting and learning things that I never knew about my family, like the fact that I have an older cousin who was put up for adoption back in the early fifties. Seems that everybody else in the family knew about this but me, always the last to know what is going on. England looks lovely in the springtime as evedinced by my mum's garden.

Mum's garden in spring.