Signing off, signing on

One blog ends, another begins. On the off chance that anyone ever comes back to look at this or randomly chances upon it, my ordinary life has moved on. It's still just as ordinary - it's just completely different to the one I was leading when I first started blogging way back in 2006. Then, I was obsessed with a six month adventure in South America. Now, I'm obsessed with my two children and a house renovation. My how things change.

I'm writing this brief entry following on from a lovely conversation I had this afternoon with a friend of mine who is about to embark on a fantastic adventure of his own. So, if you are the slightest bit interested in my ordinary life, you can now follow me at www.houseandkidchaos.blogspot.com instead.

Glastonbury 2007

Lynne says...

The excitement had grown to fever pitch, a fortune had been spent on last minute must haves, the car was packed and the alarm set for 4am. So far, so good. We picked Sam up and squashed her in amongst the back packs, boxes of wine and tents belonging to various friends who weren't able to get to the site until Thursday or Friday. So far, so good.

Half an hour out of London and the squeak began. At first we could hardly hear it but after a while it became more and more noticeable so we had to pull over and check it out. The rear right tyre smelled strongly of burning rubber. We were in trouble. Was the car overloaded? We spend half an hour redistributing the weight before giving it another try at a slower speed. Would we make it to Glasto or would we end up hiring a car or hitching a lift like a few unfortunate festival goers we had already seen standing forlornly by their broken down car? Eventually we made it to Castle Carey and stopped for a fry-up and a visit to the last decent toilet we would see in the next five days.



There is nothing quite like the first glimpse of the Glasto site in the distance. The thought of what lay ahead reduced us to excited children in an instant. After parking the car we struggled under the weight of five tents and made it to The Glade. Jake was already there and had staked out a huge area. I only ever see Jake at Glastonbury. We've camped together for the last few years and even then I only ever see him on the first day when he is sober.


Please don't camp here etc,etc.

After managing to put up the tents we spent the rest of the day and night just wandering around the site. It was great to share the experience with Sam, a Glasto virgin - she was SO excited. We found the cider bus and had the first of several hot spicy ciders. If you go to Glasto you have to make the most of it and arrive as soon as the site opens. The music doesn't officially start until Friday lunchtime but there is something special about wandering around on Wednesday and Thursday. Several pear ciders later and Sam and I found ourselves the owners of two wonderful second hand skirts courtesy of the Oxfam shop. I was unsure about my choice of colour. How long would a white wedding skirt stay white in a muddy field? Still, it was great fun trying them on.


Nice pair

Kat and Andy arrived on Thursday lunchtime. Unfortunately the weather had also taken a turn for the worst and Andy didn't look too happy as he struggled under the burden of several boxes of red wine. Still, it was nothing a nice pear cider wouldn't sort out. I was more concerned about locating Elma later that evening - she wasn't due to arrive until midnight when it would be dark and packed full of people. Later that afternoon we all watched a few bands in the Leftfield before heading back to the tents for a change of clothes.


Poseur prepares for a night out

Matt put everyone to shame by having a wet shave and donning his best clothes to meet up with fellow skaster Glenn to see The Beat. As it grew dark Sam and I managed to locate Elma in the mayhem. We were well and truly in the Glasto spirit by this stage and quickly whisked her off to experience the Silent Disco. I can't remember the last time I have laughed so much. Two thousand people crammed into a tent wearing headphones. Two DJs broadcasting on two different channels. Some dancing to techno, some dancing to Bob Marley. Take off the headphones and you can hear a thousand people singing to Smells Like Teen Spirit. I was crying with laughter.


Silent until 2000 people sang the chorus to 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'

We didn't manage to crawl out of our tents until mid-morning and it was raining steadily. The few patches of green grass had already disappeared and had been replaced by mud. Sam was particularly proud of her blue whistling kettle and camping stove and sorted us all out with a nice strong brew.


Passed out on Thursday afternoon

Matt decided to stay in the tent for a few more zzzzs so Sam, Elma, Kat, Andy and I headed down to the Jazz World stage for our first official gig of the weekend - Guilty Pleasures featuring Suggs and various other musicians singing their favourite cheesy songs. It was 11am and Elma insisted we have a pint of Brothers pear cider to start off the day.....


Brother's pear cider at 11am? That'll do nicely

Matt joined us later and we headed off to the Other Stage to see The Cribs followed by Modest Mouse, in the pouring rain. Sam disappeared off to see some bright new band somewhere and Elma, Matt and I sought shelter in The Glade and watched an old crooner singing away to a despondent mixed crowd trying to stay dry. Later on that afternoon I met up with Elma and Sam and we wondered off to The Saloon for some food where another random band was blasting out some tunes. We fought our way through the mud and crowds to see The Magic Numbers, Bloc Party and The Fratellis at The Pyramid although it all gets a bit hazy at this point (probably due to the 11am pint of pear cider - I blame Elma). Somewhere along the line I lost Elma - not sure who she went to see. Matt and I ended up catching Amy Winehouse at the Jazz World followed by mad pixie Bjork headlining the Other. Unfortunately we were too far away to appreciate her mad brilliance and it was time to call it a night.


Rain, cagoules and a bag of red wine. Pure class

After another of Sam's brews late the following morning we all headed off in separate directions. Matt went to see the Brakes and Grim Northern Social, Elma and I wondered around the Greenfields and Healing Fields and bumped into Kat and Andy next to a smoke breathing clay dragon. We found a great cafe tent and sipped chai tea as the rain continued to pour outside.

Around lunchtime Elma and I met up with Sam and Matt in Lost Vagueness and watched Pink Fraud - a great Pink Floyd tribute band. It was here we found out about one of the weekend's secret gigs - Madness at 11.30pm.


Elma's welly testing went incredibly well

Not quite sure what we all did in the afternoon. Matt went to see Chas 'n' Dave. Elma and I trekked all the way to The Lounge to see Bonde De Role only to discover there were two tents called The Lounge and we were at the wrong one. That's Glasto for you. We struggled to the Other Stage to see the Klaxons before heading back to the tent to change into warmer clothes for the night session. Maximo Park were great and then Elma and I headed up to the Dance field to see Mika. I had to leave early to make my way back to Lost Vagueness to see Madness - it can take an hour to get from one stage to another and when you add the crowds and the mud to the equation it becomes a real effort just to get around. I eventually met up with Matt, Tom and Andy and we watched a rock 'n' roll band before Suggs took to the stage in all his glory.


No, I don't think he's been drinking...

I've never fancied going to a Madness gig before - all those sweaty shirtless men jumping up and down really doesn't appeal to me. However, I quickly found myself at the very front with a thousand blokes behind me rocking the tent. One by one the girls around me were pulled from the stage by big burly bouncers but I'm proud to say I made it until the very end. It was fabulous and definitely one of those magical Glastonbury experiences.


From left, Bedders, Chrissy Boy and The Specials' Lynval Golding. Matt died and went to heaven!

We all met up back at the campsite where Kat proceeded to drink her way through a bottle of vodka. After several attempts we managed to light a fire and sat around talking nonsense until Kat fell off her chair into the mud - it was time to get some shut eye.

I tried to get up early the next morning but my air bed was just too comfortable. I did manage to see the Marley Brothers early in the afternoon when the sun came out - perfect for a bit of Jamaican reggae. Shirley Bassey sang in a beautiful pink outfit and blasted everyone with some crowd pleasers. Elma and I went to see the London Gospel Choir in the Acoustic tent while Matt, Kat and Andy stayed at The Pyramid to see the Manics - I've no idea where Sam was at this point. No doubt watching some bright new things I'd never heard of.


Relaxing to the Marley brothers

Elma headed back to the tent and I stayed in the Leftfield watching a young new band competition winner before catching the first half of K T Tunstall back at The Acoustic. I would have loved to stay to the end but there was only one place I was going to be on Sunday night - The Who at the Pyramid. By some miracle we all managed to find each other and danced like crazy things as gorgeous Roger strutted his stuff. What a fabulous end to a fabulous weekend.


I remember when all this was fields...

Monday morning misery struck home - it had poured with rain all through the night. The downpour continued during the morning as people either struggled to pack up their tents or simply decided to abandon them. We made the big mistake of not getting up super early and instead found ourselves faced with hours and hours of queuing to get out of the site - the major disadvantage of arriving early. We packed up all our tents, took everything back to the car and decided to head back to the site to wait for the queues to go down. When we eventually got back to the car the people in the queue hadn't moved in over four hours. Tempers were beginning to flare around us but really, what was the point?



Our worries about the state of our car began to surface as we realised just how packed it would be on the return leg. We may well have got rid of a few tents but now we had Elma and her back pack as well. We decided to play it safe - the three of us walked and Matt negotiated the muddy lanes. We finally made if off the site at around seven in the evening but after half an hour on the open road the noise returned. There was only one thing for it. Either Elma and Sam or the tents had to go. We decided on the tents - lucky for the girls - and they were abandoned on the roadside. Several hours later and we were back in London. By the time Matt and I arrived back at the flat it was 1.30am.

Another year, another Glasto. I'm already looking forward to the next one.


See you next year

15-21 April 2007 - Paris

Lynne says...

From one European capital to another – there is no getting away from it, Matt and I are city people and as much as I like the idea of an idyllic country life away from the hustle and bustle of London it's simply unlikely to happen for quite some time.


Restaurant in Montmartre

Three hours after leaving Waterloo on the Eurostar we arrived in the centre of Paris after a stress free, relaxing train journey. Who needs three hour check-ins, endless queues and over-priced car parks when you can effortlessly turn up half an hour before departure and take your seat in a spacious carriage with a coffee and a croissant? And not only that, our carbon footprint remained relatively low.


A food enthusiast's dream - the unique cook shop E. De Hillerin

We stayed at a three star hotel called La Demeure in the Latin Quarter (www.hotel-paris-lademeure.com). Discreet, quiet and extremely friendly and welcoming it was certainly a step up from the youth hostels and general holes we found ourselves in during our last trip away.


The food market from the bottom of Rue Mouffetard

The weather was fabulous so we spent most of our days simply wandering around the back streets, discovering quirky shops, beautiful parks and stopping for cafe noir or a chilled beer. We visited some of the major sights - Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre and I discovered just how much I love sculpture after wondering around the Rodin museum and garden.


The art nouveau entrance sign at The Louvre metro station

The beauty of spending a week in a major city is the time you can spend relaxing and simply soaking up the atmosphere. A weekend is never enough - it always involves rushing around from one tourist attraction to the next and results in complete exhaustion.


Free hugs at Notre Dame on Sundays!

We did manage to venture out at night for more than just our evening meal - jazz in a bar in the Latin Quarter and traditional chanson in a backstreet cafe full of intense French students chain smoking and drinking red wine. Matt even had his second musical epiphany as he gazed at the sultry French mademoiselle singing and playing the accordion.


The entrance to the Grand Salon in the Napoleon Apartments

The food, of course, was wonderful. Exquisite boulangeries on every corner and the fresh produce in the street markets really does put most of our cities to shame. We ate out in simple cafes alongside the locals and treated ourselves to a final meal in a restaurant with the most amazing art nouveau decor. The food was average but it was worth it for the pleasure of gazing around at the wonderful paintings and stained glass windows.


A lunchtime game of Petanque near the Hôtel des Invalides

The beauty of Paris is its accessibility to London so I suspect we will be back very soon.


Decisions, decisions...

February 2007...Almost there

Well, it's now February 2007 and we have been back in Blighty for nearly six months. I can't quite believe it.

Apologies to family and friends and random strangers who are still waiting for us to finish this blog. We are working on it and will get there in the end. Needless to say, we had the most fantastic six months of our lives so far and, as Matt says, it really was a "life-enriching experience". If you are thinking about it then go for it - you will never look back.

Lynne & Mattxx

19 July 2006 - Learning to dive

Lynne says..


Our day started at early at the Poseiden Dive Centre in Taganga. Mad Max from Munchen, our tattoo covered dive instructor, greeted us in the customary curt German manner. Why are they always so serious?

I felt like the new girl. The courtyard was full of experienced divers strutting around with their wetsuits hanging around their waists. I felt nervous yet excited at the prospect of realising one of my many lifetime ambitions.

The three of us sat down together and Max showed us how to assemble a scuba unit. It all seemed simple enough although I was more concerned about how to get into the wet suit. It had taken an age for Max to find one that he thought would actually fit me - after a good rummage he produced an ancient looking thing stuffed behind a crate.

After struggling into our wetsuits and donning the equipment we headed down to the beach. I was amazed at how heavy the gear was and as we walked towards the sea my nervousness began to surface. Almost before I had chance to think about it we were in the water and after a few instructions from Max it was time to go under.

The very first time I breathed underwater was a truly bizarre experience. It felt so wrong, so unnatural. Strange sounds surrounded me and loudest of all was the sound of my own breathing. The second time I went under I started to panic slightly and returned to the surface taking deep breaths. I quickly learned that the best way to stay calm was to take long, deep breaths from my regulator. Every time I felt a rising panic I concentrated on my breathing and the moment passed.

For the next few hours we practised a range of underwater techniques. I had been particularly nervous about taking off my mask to clear it but it was actually much easier than I had imagined. Time flew by and our first day of lessons was over.

The next day we headed out into open water. The thought of diving to 12 meters so soon filled me with dread. At this point I could easily have given up but I was determined to conquer my fear - it was only a fear of the unknown after all.

It took around 40 minutes to reach the dive site alongside Park Tyrona's coastline. The water was a deep blue colour and not the clear, turquoise colour I had imagined. It was also fairly choppy and the boat rocked and swayed as we carried out our pre dive checks. I was finding it increasingly difficult to control my nerves. The feeling wasn't helped when Max announced we would be going in backwards, James Bond style. Along with clearing my mask underwater, I had an irrational fear of this part too.

As it turned out, entering the water backwards was as easy as clearing my mask underwater. We practised a few techniques on the surface before descending for our first open water dive. I forced myself to stay calm by taking deep breaths and concentrating on my buoyancy. Max was by my side as I descended and held my hand as he could see how nervous I was.

At first I was too busy concentrating on my breathing and controlling my nerves to take in my surroundings. I began to relax when we reached the bottom. Tropical fish darted around. Matt floated above me and above him I could see the distorted sky. We practised more techniques until Max gave us the go ahead to simply dive.

Over the course of the next few days we dived half a dozen times and each time my confidence grew. Gradually I started to enjoy myself and take in my surroundings instead of concentrating on my breathing.

Mad Max from Munchen is a fantastic dive instructor and my complete confidence in him helped me to overcome my fear and pass my PADI. On our last night we went out for a meal with him and his Colombian wife and celebrated with a bottle of neat rum and a fabulous steak in Santa Marta. To dive with Matt at my side above a Colombian coral reef was a complete joy and a lifetime ambition realised.

Colombia in pictures

Matt says...

Well, we've had an action packed time in Colombia which has been at different times, both surreal and stunningly beautiful. Here follows a selection of the best photographs so far. Tomorrow (Wednesday 2nd) we return to Playa Blanca to spend the last few days of our trip on the beach. The blog will be fully updated with all our Colombian adventures after we arrive back in England on August 10th.

I think it's fair to say that this trip has done both Lynne and I the world of good - we have helped each other through the difficult times that have occasionally emerged and both feel at peace now with our current situation. The next part of the adventure will undoubtedly begin when we arrive home. After all, life is not a dress rehearsal.



Downtown Bogota on a Sunday with the Colombian flag flying on the right


Lynne outside the Gold Museum in Bogota


At the bottom of the steps leading to the Ciudad Perdida (Lost City) - true Jungle Book style adventure


The glorious vista from the main terraces of Ciudad Perdida


A young boy in a Tayrona Indian village during the Ciudad Perdida trek


Just another day in the Colombian jungle for GI Jane....


Lynne takes her first step into the Mud Volcano


Almost as filthy as after a few days at Glastonbury


The white sands and crystal clear waters of Playa Blanca


The wonderful beaches of Parque Nacioñal Tayrona - paradise for less than two quid a night in a hammock


Proof that Matt now has a 30 inch waist

11-13 July - ever heard of a mud volcano?

Lynne says...

Ever heard of a mud volcano? I hadn't until we arrived in Cartagena and noticed the mud volcano experience advertised in our hostel. We booked ourselves in for the following day.

We were picked up after breakfast in a mini bus along with a few other local tourists and around an hour or so later arrived at the volcano. It looked more like a giant termite mound to me and I was unconvinced about what was in store for us. The volcano is around 15 meters high and the summit is accessed via a rickety wooden staircase. A few people were already wallowing around up to their necks - their hair and faces smothered in the clay like substance.

I gingerly climbed in and the sensation was bizarre. It was so dense I could barely move. I just floated - suspended in thick, warm, volcanic mud. Soon the whole pool was full of people milling around and giggling - I played a game of noughts and crosses - the mud was so thick it was easy to mark out the grid. A local man grabbed my arm and pulled me to the other side of the pool where he proceeded to give me a mud massage for a few more pesos. We all lined up next to each other for a treatment that would cost a great deal more in a posh spa.

Around half an hour later it was time to leave our bath tub. The sun quickly dried the mud on our bodies and at the nearby lake various local ladies scrubbed us down for yet more pesos. Afterwards my skin felt as soft as silk. The day finished with a delicious fish lunch next to the warm waters of the caribbean. The Sanctuary or a mud volcano in Colombia? I'd won hands down.