Australia. Hot.

Another quick post, as I'm just about to get ready for dinner tonight and I'm using the Kiwi's mother's PC, to say that it's over 30C here and the scorching weather is somewhat at odds with the snow-encrusted Christmas decorations everywhere. It's a bit weird, but after spending most of the day reading Simon Sebag Montefiore's excellent 'Young Stalin' by the pool, I think I might be able to get used to it. It's a great book, incidentally, brings this fascinating figure to life in a very even-handed, accessible way. I might even be moved to read more about him at some point in the future. I've just got to the point where he uses the codename 'The Milkman'. Would our friendly local Milkman have any comment on that? Did I unwittingly work alongside a dyed-in-the-wool Bolshevik whilst at Virgin?

Anyway, the drama of recent days is mainly that whilst we arrived safe and sound at Brisbane on Wednesday morning, our baggage did not, remaining as it did at LAX, possibly the worst airport in the world. Whilst we were queueing up for our transfer to the Qantas terminal at a fire exit onto the tarmac I did suspect they might not be an entirely competent bunch, the no-show of our bags confirmed this. They arrived today (Friday), and the Qantas people had given us AU$100 each for the trouble, so we were able to buy some new clothes to tide us over. Still, it's a funny thing - on the way over I was ruminating on how despite having travelled a bit in my life I've yet to have my luggage lost. How ironic.

Irritatingly, our bags arrived via Melbourne, which puts me in the unenviable position of having a suitcase that's better travelled than I am.

End phase two...

Isn't technology weird? Here I am in Vancouver airport, happily connected to the gloriously free wi-fi they have here, whilst for some reason Vodafone seem unable to allow me to make or receive calls or text messages whilst I'm here. Bizarre.

Anyway, lack of mobile-ness aside (which hasn't really bothered me tbh), it's been a terrific week. When we arrived on Monday, the temperatures were somewhere around freezing in Whistler village, and we got a fair bit of snow through Tuesday to Friday, which meant that by and large the runs were gorgeous, with snow like icing sugar, tons of dry powder and only the odd bit of treacherously hard ice on the upper slopes. The Peak to Peak Gondola opened on Friday too, linking Whistler and Blackcomb mountains and reducing the time necessary to get from one peak to the other from over an hour to 11 minutes. More of an event for them (it's a big part of their 2010 Winter Olympics things) than for us, but a bit of a diversion nonetheless. After the opening ceremony, we headed across to Blackcomb, where I slid down most of a totally ice-covered run on my back and promptly decided it was time to call it a day.

By Saturday the temperatures were down at around -14C in the village and below -25C on the mountain (plus (or minus?) wind chill), so we managed one long-ish run before our feet froze and we couldn't control our boards properly. The wind made it a bit tricky too, every now and then practically stopping us in our tracks with its force.

Sunday morning we decided we were definitely not going back up, so we went to the pub instead.

My second week of snowboarding has seen me acquire a fresh new array of bruises, although not as many and varied as the first week, in Italy last year. This time it's mostly knees, elbows and arse, and I think that on the whole I fell over a bit less than last time, so who knows, I might be improving. The new board and boots help, definitely, very impressed with both. I managed to whack my head on a particularly hard bit of ice on Thursday too, which has made me think that perhaps a helmet might be in order next time.

The Kiwi also tells me that I've lost some of the deeper, darker lines under my eyes too, ones that apparently had been there for months, so something's going right, I think. I'm sure though, that the next 21 hours' travelling will put them right back there... 3.5 hours to LA, 3 hours in LA, 13 hours to Brisbane... with any luck we'll be able to sleep through most of the last leg.

Very quick post...

I've been meaning to post an update all week, but in between falling down mountains, eating and sleeping, there's not been much pooter time (and they make you pay for the wireless here, shocker). I will do at some point, but for now, here's a photo of what I've been up to this week, mainly. Give it a click to embiggen it. Thanks to the Kiwi for a tremendous photo...

Last night in the UK

This is weird. Very weird indeed. After a week in Manchester, where I grew up and still call home, I'm about to leave the UK. This is my last night as a resident of the United Kingdom, and for the first time in this whole process, I'm genuinely excited. Speaking to people up until now, everyone's said 'this must be so exciting', and my response has always been a dutiful 'yes, it is'. The truth, though, was always something different.

You see, the word isn't quite right. Excited is what you feel on your birthday morning. On Christmas Day. Unfettered positivity, happiness, joy etc. The feeling I've had isn't quite that - there's been lots of positive stuff, yes, about the future, the quality of life, the ability to finally settle, starting a very grown up life with the Kiwi, but along with all that was the sadness of leaving my family and friends here, of friendships that have just started and those that've lasted many years, and in particular putting distance in between me and my family, who mean so very much to me and on whom I depend probably more than they know.

This week has been one of saying goodbye to those people, and it's been painful in the worst way. Not the quick pain of whipping a plaster off, but a long, drawn-out ache, a week of catching people's eyes mid-conversation and both thinking the same thing, of last hugs that neither wants to end, of tears and the hope this isn't as final as it feels.

Tonight we're staying at Yoog's with his wife and son, as we have been for the past few nights. It's fantastic that we can spend this time having dinner with one of my oldest and closest friends, in such a calm, welcoming atmosphere, drinking brilliant wine and, from the smell of the cooking downstairs, soon to be eating excellent food. Tomorrow we drive to London, fly to Vancouver, and begin a phase of our lives we've talked about, dreamed about, and planned for for years.

Now I'm excited.