Well folks I've made it back to London, suitably cold and grey for my arrival, although in fairness there was a bit of sunshine for the flight in which gave me a nice view of the Thames and the various famous old landmarks. Not forgetting the London eye-sore of course, that beacon of all things naff tourist. In more recent news, I've just cut myself on a loose razor in my bag for the third time this trip. Whoever invented the phrase "third time's a charm' obviously didn't have this in mind because it's not a charm at all, it's a real pain in the ass. And now as I'm typing I have to hold my right hand in such a way that I don't get blood on the keyboard. Dear me, it might be time to go home and unpack the suitcase for a while. But what a trip it's been....
Saturday I drove up through the mountains of Northern Italy and into Austria (below), where I took a break for a night in Innsbruck. In a moment of blind inspiration / temporary insanity, I decided it would be a good idea to go busking at the Christmas markets. This despite my moral stance against early-onset christmas markets such as these, being the middle of November and all, it's really taking it a step too far I think.... Anyway there I was trying to extract as much warmth as I could from each of the two degrees celsius on offer, and in between the hand rubbing/blowing I managed to sing a few tunes for the people of Innsbruck and other passers by, who were kind enough to shower some affection on me by way of small denomination coins, enough to buy myself some further love handle enhancement for the beaches of Australia, this time in the form of a big old Wiener schnitzel, apple strudel and wheat beer. It's a good thing someone invented rash vests... Still, Innsbruck was beautiful, I could happily live there, no problem. Maybe I could learn the ski jump too. I wanted to be a ski jumper when I was younger, having been inspired my the infamous "
Eddie the Eagle" at the 1988 Calgary Olympics, remember him?? What a legend. Such was my determination to follow in his footsteps I actually rang the Australian Olympic Committee to see what I'd have to do. Alas, reality prevailed, as it so often does. But for a brief moment I imagined myself flying through the air, emulating one of my childhood idols, and I still remember how excited that made me feel....
So anyway here I am a musician not a ski jumper (also quite exciting in a far less life-threatening way), in the city this latest adventure started, taking shelter from the cold in a cafe in Bethnal Green, waiting for my Yoga class to start in an hour or so, thankfully in English for the first time in a couple of months... It feels a bit surreal to be honest, hard to believe Europe proper has been and gone. But I haven't really got to the reflection phase just yet, I think I'm still in travel mode. Looking forward to a brief rest when I get home to Sydney, then it's back into it again for the summer. I used to get a bit stressed about not having a proper base, being on the road so much, lacking a sense of place. But I've learned to live with that. And I know that that time will come, it's just not the way things are at the moment. So what's the use in worrying? Better to appreciate the opportunities I'm being granted by the status quo. And know that I'll have a good few stories to tell the grandkids, which is important I think. My own grandparents have set me a pretty good benchmark.
By the way did I mention
THIS? I think I did. Sorry to repeat myself, but we'd love to see you if you're in London this Sunday. The big farewell spectacular spectacular. More spectacular than your average spectacular. Can anyone reading this remember the last time I held one of those...? The years go by so quickly. Best make the most of them while we can yeah?
Bye for now... x
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