UK bound

So, after a whirlwind few days in Holland, sorry, the Netherlands, we head west, across the North Sea. An early start on the train was thwarted by fog in Southampton. The Halls bit their tongues as one hour's delay, already seatbelted in, turned into two, then three. Then our pilot tempted us with a ''I'll give it a go'' burst, and we sideled onto the runway. Smooth flight - no idea what all the fuss was about! Straight through scummers airport - first time for us - another Labour-led PFI job - public will be paying for that terminal for decades given the 15% interest government will be paying on it's payments.


Back on Hampshire land. Onto the M27 and half hour later we're all home. Easy as. First thing to gree us was a voicemail message for Kris; he got the job (business reporter, The Dominion Post). Cracking news. And so started another frantic few days in Pompey.

Great to see some familar faces: Holly and Mark, Zo and Mark, again, Simon, Amiee and Phoebe and Gran and Grandpa. Mum's four day break from the kitchen showed, she couldn't get enough of the oven! Good ol'27 Gilkicker tucker.






Clocked up plenty of miles with the dog. The smell of the Solent air always refreshing. Shame about the weather though. We'd swapped two of the best of weeks of Auckland summer for this! Shows commitment!

Dashed this way and that catching up with people. Once again, never enough time to see and do everything you mean to. Some good catch up time with the family, some great food and even a few jars down a local. Dad again impressed with the amount of Indian he can shift in one sitting - three curries, two breads, two sides, poppaz, and enough onion chutney to feed a third world city.


Typical. Just as you're relaxing into being home, it's time to move on. Another week-plus of reunions, this time with the old school - this was gonna be hard! First stop London. Opted for the coach given that it was a good mortgage payment less than the train, and only 20 minutes or so slower. Bundled onto the tube - we'd forgotten how much we hate the tube! Mind you, Auckland could do with some bloody public transport. It's a bloomin laff what options, or not, there are. Half hour later and we're spat out the other side of London; Highgate, home of Richy MacMahon.

If ever there's someone who's something of a dark horse, it's this man! Great to see him and his handbrake Sam. Couple of great nights in London. Even had time to scoff a crackin chinky in good ol' China Town. Couple of jars here and there before pitching up at The Porterhouse. What a boozer. Strange, come all that way and slurp cold kiwi beer! Julian, Noeileen, Gav, Tash, Al, Luke and Rich. Corking fun. Fannytastic. Course, no rest for the wicked. Another reunion the following day, this time around Tottenham Court Lane. Not before Marit had finished off an epic five hour's boozin with the Wycombe girls: Orla, Sally and Becks. Kris entertained the Professional Pension crowd, for five hours. Opps.



Once a late night of drunken digressing elapsed in The Chandos; another Sam Smith's gem. Even the ageing Swansea boys Bede and Rob made the trip, Al, Dom, Kev and Mike from Wycombe, Dukestar and Carrys, too. Very late night. Very sore heads the next day.

Weekends for most means slouching around in underwear till night falls and it's time to head out. For Marit, Saturday morning meant a run across London to Gatwick and a flight back across to Amsterdam ... for more partying.

Kris headed north to the midlands, care of Dom's generous offer of a lift - for a night with Molly and the Gaytons. Great to see everyone - Neil and Cheryl, especially for the cracking hosts you were.