I wonder how long it will take before I can hear a British police car siren without me automatically starting to hum the theme from The Bill?

It is absolutely stunningly beautiful in Edinburgh. And it's even more beautiful at 6AM. We had the privilege of seeing it so early because of the Snotty Fuckwit in the bunk bed across our hostel room. He was oh so very polite and sweet in daylight, but when night he morphed into an evil flu-ridden snoring machine. It sounded like he was boiling a huge vat of snot in his nostrils, and another vat of putrid phlegm in his throat. His girlfriend was wide awake in the bunk below, but did she once wake him to shut up? No! And that was her duty as his travelling companion to be on Snore Watch. So we finally gave up and went for a walk down near the castle, plotting their demise.

So the hunt for employment and shelter continues. Will keep you posted. Oh, I love the accents. And the kilts. How I love the kilts. Rowrrr.

FRANKFURT, AP --  Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Shakira and assorted othre skanky poptarts of the world have formed an alliance, Whores Against Wars, to show the world that they are against the Iraq conflict.

In a press conference held in Germany today, WAW spokeswoman Spears announced, "We thought it was time us blonde skanks got together and let Bush and Blair know that we're like, not happy with this war?"

"It's like, so bad," added Shakira in halting English. "I´d just conquered America and Asia with my unique brand of rump-shakin' pop, and now my plans to corner the Middle East market have been seriously thwarted."

* * * *

And then I woke up. Sometimes I dream in news articles. It must be that stupid journalism degree, it still haunts me. I woke up and wrote it down all ready to blog later. Then I told Rhi and we cackled for five minutes, then fell back asleep for another 5 hours. Jet lag, RAWK!

We sleepwalked our way through the Museum of Modern Art (I think) and almost got run over 37 times (not used to these people driving on the wrong side). Now back in Internet Cafe to reassure Mum we are alive. Off to Edinburgh on Friday. Woo!

We arrived at Frankfurt at 6AM, 30 hours since we left Canberra. Have been wandering round until we can check into Mr. Hotel. We´re slightlz tired and loopy!

Singapore to Frankfurt flight went on for so bloooody long. "The Banger Sisters" is the worst movie ever. Why hasn`t Goldie Hawn been put down like an old dog yet? But was nice to have a window seat and the sun rose just as the captain said we were flzing over Warsaw.

So I screwed up trying to get into the toilets at the train station, tis 60 euro to get in yuoi see. so i put the money in and it wouldnt let me through! I think mazbe i mistook aussie 2 buck cpin for 10 euro.

I go ferreting for more euro but confusion reigns as there is four different currencies in my wallet right now. and a large queue of impatient geerman ladies crossing their legs. finally a kind lady strolls up and shoves more omoney in the machine. i smile and say thanks (innacurrately no doubt) and then the fucking gate won!t open. arrgh.

sfinaly i get through and take my bursting bladder to do its thing. then find the kindlady and trY to explain my confusion with all these multinational coins, and she smiles fires something off in rapid german and i try to say that i don`t speak geerman but instead what i end up saying is, "No English! No English". At which point rhiannon is in hysterics. hehe.

i am such a bimbling idiot. i donät have time to tell zou all the sillz shit i`ve done, nor can i find the correct keys. but wanted to say hello before i fell asleep!

Am so sorry I didnt get to reply to all emails. finishing packing. we leave in the morning. if i didnt get to say bye personally i apologise, and please know that you're all gems.

said bye to harry - photos here!

so. um. here we go! :) canberra sydney singapore frankfurt edinburgh.

HOLY FUCK!

will write soon!

xxox

Twenty minutes left of my last day at the best job I've ever had. It feels strange not to be leaving a job and screaming WOOHOO! or spitting on the stairs as I run out the door.

We had a lovely farewell lunch with presents and speeches and margaritas and more kilt and haggis jokes than I ever thought possible. And this comes on top of half a dozen different farewell gatherings this week so I am just on the point of bawling and babbling, I love youse all!

So... how about you tell me all your travel tips. Where to go, what to do, what not to do. Tell me what floats your boat, what butters your muffin, what the weather's like in Edinburgh. Anything at all. Don't mention the war.

Eavesdroppings from the past few days.

Random Aunt #1:

We were cleaning out his house when somebody said, "Hey, has anyone seen Fluffy?". It had really been months since anyone had seen that cat. But it didn't take long. We looked under the couch and there he was curled up, the poor bugger. He'd been dead so long that when we dragged him out, his tail fell off.

Random Aunt #2:

So first he was running three hours late, then he took three phone calls during my session. I asked myself, why am I paying $700 for a sex therapist? All he did was tell me about some gels we could use and suggest I buy a vibrator. Ripped off.

Random Teeny Bimbo at the Massive Attack concert:

TEENY BIMBO:  Hey, have you guys heard of Kraftwerk?
SHAUNY:  Here we go...
RACHAEL:  [whisper] "I like, saw them at Big Day Out"
TB:  I like, saw them at Big Day Out
S & R:  [snigger]
TB:  They were so cool. They're like this American band? They're were like the original electronica act!

After five years of singledom, I think my mother is ready to start dating again.

MOTHERSHIP: You know, I really think I am starting to like that Bono bloke.

SHAUNA:  That's nice.

M:  He's done some good work lately, you know. Third world debt and all that.

S:  Indeed.

M:  I wouldn't mind having dinner with Bono.

M:  I wouldn't mind getting to know Bono a little better.

M:  And I wouldn't mind...

S:  Please stop talking!

It has been suggested my infrequent posts are because I am sitting here waiting until I get 50+ comments on an entry before I write a new one. Good on ya, smart arse. But I haven't felt like updating because what's been on my mind isn't the stuff I like to write about here...

I just spent $25 on a birthday gift for a friend. Fair enough. But then I forked out another $12 on the card and wrapping paper. Extreme guilt was gnawing at my innards as I handed the cash over, for surely I would be struck down by a bus for such an extravagant purchase.

As a wee tacker, I didn't realise there was such a thing as brand new wrapping paper. I thought it came with little tears and stray chunks of sticky tape built into it. For I was born in a family of recyclers.

In our household, presents had to be unwrapped very carefully, as every scrap of paper was immediately snatched from your grasp and whisked away to be saved and re-used for years to come. The minute the mitt touched the gift, my mother would bellow, "OPENITSLOWLY! SLOOOOOWWWLY!"

This made Pass-The-Parcel a very long and tedious affair.

Mum also kept every single greeting card we ever received. Not because she was a sentimental women. She tore the handwritten back off and only kept the pretty picture. Why? Because the third week of January was Book Covering Week. Until I was old enough to buy Dolly magazines to cut up and collage, I was stuck with brown paper and tacky ye olde cards on my school books.

Maths:  CHRISTMAS LOVE AND CHEER!
Spelling:  THINKING OF YOU IN YOUR TIME OF NEED
Social Studies:  LOOK WHO'S SEVEN NOW!

One side of our family was particularly big and had a policy of giving Christmas gifts to each and every bloody gummy granny, pervy uncle and bastard baby. This meant the first week of school holidays was Wrapping Week. The big box of christmas paper came down from the cupboard above the microwave, and Mum shuffled through her collection, sorting them into various piles. There was a certain hierachy of recycled paper. You knew you were loved if yours was shiny. But you were the plankton of the family if you had a gaudy snowman print with chunks missing.

But we didn't want them thinking we were cheap. Oh no. So we put the iron on the lowest setting and ironed the paper nice and flat, then picked off the crumbly old stickytape while it was still warm.

On Christmas Day, the ladies of the family would perch in their beanbags, sending their grubby kids around the room to deal out the pressies. You could see their eagle eyes sizing up which gifts had the best paper, which ones had bonus ribbons or those godawful rosette things.

As soon as the dinner was eaten and the bloated blokes were snoring on the verandah, they would pounce, scratching amongst the ruins, fighting to the death for the best bits to take home and then bring right back the following year.