The main focus of our trip was to attend the RWC 2011, but the decision we took to visit a few places en route to NZ and a few on the way back proved to make it a very memorable trip. RWC 2011 in New Zealand, being the opposite side of the World to England made the decision to take a round the world air ticket axiomatic.
>
> Having left England on 20th September and the RWC Tournament having
> commenced a few days earlier, it meant that watching matches required being up at around 3am each morning. Some, were later but sitting watching live Rugby on the box at Breakfast time was surreal. Plus not having a pint or a glass of wine in hand to sup whilst watching was even more unrealistic.
>
> I was also very impressed with your assertion that because of the length of the journey and time away from home you would not drink any alcohol at Lunch times and would visit the Gym everyday. According to my calculations you did not even achieve 0.5% of your objective on both counts! Toss pot.
>
> Your interest in including India was without doubt the most amazing
> experience, given that India is one of the boom economies in the World
> today. What a shit hole though! It is very difficult to imagine a dirtier, smellier, more polluted, overcrowded, squalor ridden place. The fact we were staying in the Hyatt Regency Hotel (which meant we could have been staying anywhere in the World) exacerbated the extremes of poverty and wealth.
>
>
> INDIA. 21ST - 25TH SEPTEMBER 2011
>
>
> Being our first stop, and not being able to obtain Rupees before arrival in India, made the need to visit an ATM a priority. You only needed one person to help you, as the photograph reveals. Catch your shiny trainers!
>
> It was at this early stage of our odyssey that I recognised your talent for negotiating a good deal. The tuc tuc's being an alternative source of transport to taxis, seemed to have an overwhelming appeal to you because of their cheapness. Probably brought on by the fact that the Hyatt Regency Hotel's airport collection service cost £10.00, just to cross the road! Nevertheless, and with this early expense foremost in our minds,serious negotiation from thereon became a Trumps necessity. Tuc tuc's seemed to be the answer. You were magnificent in standing outside the Hyatt Regency Hotel (probably the most expensive Hotel in Mumbai) quarrelling with a tuc tuc driver over 20p. I really enjoyed standing there on the traffic congested street, which was generating plumes of harmful and probably fatal toxic gases and carbon dioxide pollution for half an hour whilst you saved 20p! Not only that but we were then subjected to at least half an hour of mayhem driving in a cloud of pollution shit and unable to see anything of the places we were going because our heads were in the patched up roof lining of a dilapidated tuc tuc. And our knees has to be kept within the confines of our cheap, uncomfortable, dangerous mode of transport, otherwise hospital beckoned given the proximity of other vehicles. A knats cock was all that was allowed between vehicles of any sort.
>
> The next day, following your discussions with several of the hotel
> employees, you proposed an Indian train trip to downtown Mumbai and
> suggested it would be a good idea to experience such an event. I
> enthusiastically agreed, because the alternative was an hour (an hour quoted by an Indian person is at least an hour and a half!) in a tuc tuc. However we were bamboozled (not surprising in India) and discovered that if we wanted to take a train downtown we had to take a tuc tuc to the railway station first. We were informed it would only take 20 minutes to the railway station and then 1/2 hour on the train to downtown. We were also assured that the tuc tuc driver would drop us off at the ticket office of the railway station. What a load of crap! The tuc tuc took half an hour in the most dense fucking pollution he could find and then dropped us off at "the Station". We entered the Station to buy our tickets only to find all the ticket booths were shut and there was not another person to be seen.
> Undeterred, you sought the ticket office with great aplomb, pushed your way to the front of a heaving, sweaty, pressing, enormous number of Indians, none of whom complained about you barging in on the queue and found the first class rail ticket seller. Meanwhile I am trying to photograph this mass of bodies that were far greater than the booking hall could cope with, when I was tapped on the shoulder and told "you are not allowed to take photographs of public places". They are probably embarrassed by the chaos that undoubtedly exists every day! And most minutes of the day.
>
> One would think that by the time tickets were purchased, getting on a train would be obvious. Wrong. Finding the trains was not obvious but as we stuck out like sore thumbs in the morass of our tanned ex colonial, dung hamper wearing fellow humans we were easily identified as "mad tourists" and advised where to go to get the southbound downtown train. Bearing in mind the time of the morning is now about 11.30am, it was not unrealistic to think that the rush hour would be over. Not a chance! The train was crowded to the standard often seen on TV programmes with some passengers on the carriage roof and some hanging out of the permanently open carriage doors. And we were in the First Class section. People hanging out of the constantly open doors for example, was simply because of the huge number of people travelling to work. At 11.30am, Lazy Bastards! If you remember Trumps, I was a bit reluctant to take a photograph of the "sardine packed
> passengers" in our carriage because of the warning I had served on me in the ticket hall. Ticket Hall! More like a Toilet Hall. Interestingly, a separate carriage purely for women exists on each train. Presumably because if they had to join the sardine packed blokes on the trains with bodies rubbing to the rhythm of the train, there could be a few, more than excited, dung hamper departments!!! Anyway, it was obvious to all we were not locals and we caused a great deal of interest from a number of the other passengers, and you being true to form started to politely interrogate them. Why aren't you at work yet? How much do you earn? Did you have sex this morning? were some of your opening endearing questions normally posedto complete strangers. Because you were such a novelty, they answered you.
> As the train emptied with each station, some seats became vacant and we were invited to sit on them so that, our fascinating discussion with the three Indian guys opposite us could continue. We learnt that because of the "Cast" system in India, the seats are all allocated in advance, not by the train company but due entirely to seniority and more crucially the Indian Cast system. For example the 3 gentlemen we sat opposite always occupied the same seats, regardless of where they get on the train and regardless of occupancy. On one of our return train journeys, a much younger man confided that the Cast system was the most damaging element of Indian culture, because whatever the level you are born within, remains with you for the rest of your life. There is no getting out of your status at any time, which is why many of the Indians that come to England for example
> are from the lowest form of Cast, in order to improve themselves which would be impossible if they stayed in their own Country. Secondly, and from the same younger man who seemed extremely well educated, we learnt that corruption was a massive problem in India and he alluded to the fact a percentage of the population wished they had not sought Independence from Britain back in 1947. That little Ghandi bloke has a lot to answer for, the bastard!
>
> Once in downtown Mumbai we had a most memorable education into crossing the chaotic roads. The Indian drivers and pedestrians have to live together on the extremely crowded roads. We were planning to walk to the British built edifices in central Mumbai and as we walked you engaged in conversation with a rather smooth looking guy. By the way, I think he fancied you. As we walked we saw dung hampery people carrying, what looked like canoes on their heads, loaded up with all different coloured parcels. From your new gay friend we learnt that all the parcels were for people who had ordered lunch and were about to be delivered. How the fuck they knew who's was who's is beyond our imagination. Perhaps they were all the same and the different coloured parcels were just another scam!
>
> Staying with your new gay friend for a while we learnt he was a Lawyer. There are lots of gay Lawyers who like a bit of honky bum I am informed, so it was shaping up to be your lucky day. As I mentioned, the crossing of roads, requiring the intertwining of vehicles and people, is something to behold. Luckily your new gay Lawyer friend gave us a vital piece of advice. And did not charge you for it! The free advice is, as you cross a road, target to put your leading foot down exactly where the rear wheel of any vehicle that has just crossed in front of you has been. The drivers of any vehicles then target to place their front wheel exactly where your hindmost foot has just left. The additional important FREE advice is "never step backwards because it confuses them".
> Travelling on the trains revealed the incredible poverty that lies next to the rail lines, housing thousands of people. The entire length of the journeys we took revealed masses people living alongside the railway tracks and "laying" out their washing, opposed to "hanging" out their washing for drying actually between the train tracks. The most dangerous sort of laundry in the world I would have thought.
>
> There are just a couple of other things to mention about India. Firstly, the food. Outside of our hotel we had some smashing grub. The
> restaurants had been recommended by some people you had cornered and bullied until they told you exactly where the good restaurants were. Your cunning ploy was to ask them where they would go for a splendid meal. Of course they had to be local restaurants and devoid of any tourists, which you succeeded in achieving. So you proceeded to negotiate the cheapest bleedin Tuc Tuc you could, which was great because it saved about 0.10p. Amazingly, without a thought for the meal and wine which was probably enough to buy our own Tuc Tuc!!!! Happily, on one occasion after a splendid Lunch it pissed with rain and there were no "cheap" tuc tuc's to take us back to our Hotelin the choking toxic fumes. So a taxi was used and for the first time and we could actually see something of the roadside. Utter bliss. And only a
> few pence more!
> Secondly, something to do with a watch! A Jaeger Lecoutre Reverso if my memory serves me correctly. You spouted it out so many times, I think it is etched on my brain. It is impossible to remember how many poor victims you chose to challenge them into revealing to you where you could buy one of these prestigious watches. Not a real one though. Oh no! A "fake" one is what you sought. And it appeared we spent a substantial part of our time going shopping for this completely, unheard of, timepiece. Undeterred andstill with a few hours of daylight left, umpteen taxis and tuc tuc's in the Mumbai toxic pollution, and without one person having the slightest idea what you were talking about, I managed to convince you that if you were going to find your fake, illegal watch it would be in Bangkok, our next stop, as it is the copy capital of the world and therefore far more likely to obtain it there than in India. Naturally I was wasting my breath because you then upped the anti, and Jeremy Paxman like, waded into almost anyone who we came across. What amazed me most, was the blank look on every person's face you spoke to on the subject, and you still did not get the message. They did not have a scooby doo what you were on about. You silly old sod!
>
> I suppose in summary, the experience we had in Mumbai should not taint our view of India in general. There are some great places, Goa, Kerala, Delhi etc to quote just a few examples. But leave Mumbai out for sure!!!!!!!!!!!
>
> By now, just a few days into our epic journey, two more of your passion's arose. A siesta in the afternoon, especially after a rather liquid Lunch, (depite vowing not to drink lunchtimes) and a "Password" for your I-toy.Every building we entered, your first question to some unsuspecting person was " what is the password for my I-toy?). But, you were not prepared to pay anything for the I-toy connection, so searching for free I-toy places was added to the ever increasing list of daily things to do! It kept us busy though.
>
> THAILAND 25TH - 28TH SEPTEMBER 2011
>
>
> The next stop on our adventurous journey was Bangkok in Thailand. What a difference to Mumbai. Both cities with 12 million people but the difference is that of a generation. As we flew into BKK we could see the immense amount of flooding that had already taken place around BKK. At the time of writing this note, we now know the flooding seriously worsened over the next few weeks so we were quite lucky to have missed the problem. We left behind a dreadful Mumbai Airport (although there were signs of a new one being built) and arrived at the new BKK airport. We asked ourselves "how have the Thai's managed to construct such a modern and largely clean City, yet Mumbai has failed"? By comparison Mumbai is Jurassic.
>
> There was a major advantage being in Asia at this particular time. The RWC was playing matches in the evenings and nights to accommodate European interest. As I mentioned earlier it was very unpleasant getting up in the middle of the night to watch matches before and during breakfast time. Not to mention the lack of a bit of Whompo to sup whilst watching. Here in Asia though, it was perfect because all the matches took place (local Asian time) around Lunchtime and during the afternoon. Normal service resumed!!!!!!!!!
> And a few pints or glasses of whompo to accompany the matches.
> Rugby Heaven.
>
> I was now beginning to regret telling you that BKK was the copy capital of the World because you saw this as your opportunity to finally find someone who knew what a JLR watch was and you would have the opportunity to "negotiate" with them to the extent they would eventually give in and pay you to buy it from them. One of your unsuspecting victims turned out to be an off duty policeman. Before you knew he was a policeman, you picked him up by his lapels and demanded to know where you could obtain an illicit, fake, contraband watch. Luckily he was a tolerant off duty policeman, who advised you to call your watch of ill repute "an original copy" which he said sounded far better and far more honest. There is a question mark
hanging over this Thai Copper, because part of his thumb was missing, which he told us was due to a minor accident with a gun. Was he trying to stop the bullet coming out? As we were next to a religious monument, being attended by loads of people leaving offerings he commenced to explain that the following day was of great religious importance to the entire Thai nation. "Bollocks to that religious stuff" seemed to have been spouted out by you in pure South London tones, "tell me where I can buy an original copy JLR you little plonker". Surprisingly, he then negotiated for a Thai type tuc tuc (which are much better than the Indian ones, as they have air in their tyres instead of rocks as one example) who took us to a place well known by the Thai mafia that sells "original copy" watches. This underground emporium was the same place that an earlier Mafia mob had taken us to, so again a complete waste of time. By now you had randomly selected a number of victims to explain to you where this stupid watch could be bought at virtually no cost. And each person listening to your ranting gave such a look of incomprehension, it became very evident to me, they had not the foggiest idea what you were talking about in your quest for this elusive bit of wrist bling. By now, the search for a JLR was becoming boring, not to mention time consuming and it felt as though we had travelled in virtually every tuc tuc and taxi in BKK. So you agreed that the words JLR could no longer be spoken by yourself, "On your Mother's Life". Good I thought, that'll shut you up. Wrong again. Using your I-toy you found a picture of said unknown watch and had it printed at the Hotel so that you could just show it to everybody, enabling you to continue pestering all and sundry, and not having to speak the words. You slimy git! You went to bed that night, exhausted from shopping for a JLR but with a nice full tummy, following a splendid Thai meal and a few glasses of wine. We made casualcomments about having breakfast at a sociable time in the morning and put
the light out.
>
> At dawn, long before the milk had been delivered, you were up, showered,abluted and on your starting blocks for more JLR shopping. Well, "bugger my old boots" I thought, Trumps has gone mad. He must be obsessed!! Unwilling to be unfriendly, I rolled out of bed, donned some old togs, to join you for Brekky. Because I was in old togs and you were in your pristine attire, I could tell you were trying to distance yourself from me as we approached the breakfast area. Unfortunately for you, they asked for your room number, which you gave them. As I was immediately behind you they asked for my room number also and of course I gave them the same number. The poor Thai girl
(or it might have been a bloke) had to smile, at which point you emphasised that you were "a biker", something I would learn was oft to be repeated.
> Then you blurted out that "we were not gay" and you had a wife and four children. At this point my opinion of the girl changed, and I decided she was obviously a bloke, who fancied bikers!!! He also thought that if you had a wife and four kids he did not risk any contraction of nasty underpants department diseases. So you had pulled a transvestite before breakfast!!!
>
> The breakfast display was wonderful and the selection outstanding in this particular Hotel. I opted for a normal breakfast, omelet with a little Chilli added, whist you continued having two breakfasts. Your first course being a plate of fruit, because I learnt from you it was the healthy option, which you then followed up with your second course of fried eggs, toast and marmalade. This would be enough to sustain you until mid morning when you would seek an Almond Croissant and Coffee.
>
> What I had not learnt, but suspected because of rising so early, until this breakfast time, was that another hard day of shopping for this fucking watch loomed. But of course you had a cunning plan. It involved using the Skytrain to go to a particular district which you had been advised would almost certainly have the prize you were so desperate to find. The trip on the Skytrain was fab and it took us to the end of one of the lines. Fortunately it could not go any further because of the river. The person who had assured you that you would be able to buy this infernal watch was only able to describe the place as opposite a Hotel and had a red door. Great I thought, we'll be walking aimlessly for hours! Astonishingly we found the Hotel quite easily because it was the only one near the end of the Skytrain line. And opposite the Hotel was a scruffy shop with a red door. Celebrations were starting to be considered by me as Trumps the super sleuth
appeared to have found his quarry. As he handed them the print out of the watch he craved, it was evident from their faces they equally had not the slightest awareness of the existence of this JLR. Would you give up at this stage I thought? You then had another, non illusive watch idea. As we had walked from the Skytrain to the red door shop we had passed what could only be described as a covered open food market and as it was approaching 1pm, your suggestion to take Lunch there turned out to be a good one. Having walked the length of the food market we settled on the first stall which had prepared and cooked some splendid prawns for somebody else. You opted for a copy of the prawn dish served to another person, whilst I went for the healthy option of Tom Yum soup. Whilst I was paying, you selected a table that had some poor unsuspecting Thai's seated around it. Whoosh, straight in there with some more Paxman type questions, which you then gently turned into examining their knowledge of original copy watches. To your horror, they did not know where you could go. My my, what a surprise!
>
> After a very good Lunch, you thought it would be a good idea to take a boat trip on the river. "Stand by everybody on the boat" I thought. "What a good idea" I said. So, off we went, only to learn that the cheapest boat (the one reserved mainly for the penniless locals) would take a few minutes before arriving. So all the smart comfortable cruise boats were allowed to come and go until the cheap one arrived. It was unmistakable because of the smoke and shit it was belching out and as it arrived at a pontoon that the locals had no choice other than to use, and the locals also knew they had to take their lives into their own hands by jumping on and off this crap boat whilst it was still in motion. Tying it up and making it safe at each port of call on the river, clearly did not suit the Thai timetable. Discussion then took place as to how far up the river we should go. After half an hour of belting through the water at top speed, engines on full thrust and filthy horrible black smoke engulfing us, we decided to disembark (if you call it that! more a case of jump whilst you were fairly near terra firma) at a dodgy looking pontoon near a big gold building. This gold building we learnt was a Palace of some sort, and on the day we were there it was closed to the public. Anyway we would not have been let in because shorts were not permitted, which was of course was the mainstay of our tourist outfit. Adjacent to the Palace were all sorts of stalls selling muck, expensive muck! So we decided to walk along the tree lined street and therefore in the shaded lines of muck stalls. Within moments we had a guy offering to tell us all about the market place and where we could buy muck memorabilia. We quickly disposed of him, and within seconds another appeared, this time with a sort of uniform and a badge. He started to give us his life story; he had been a Monk and was now a plain clothes tourist protection agent. He gave us a card with a number on it, to call in the event we were ever in difficulty. I thought about throwing it away but for some unknown reason I pocketed it. We walked back as far as the penultimate river boat station pontoon of our outgoing journey, still surrounded by stalls of muck of every description. Quite amazing what a lot of rubbish some people must buy. Within a few moments one of the overcrowded locals boat was heard approaching, shortly followed by the clouds of stinking black smoke shit, for which we again had to use all our dexterity and agility to board whilst it was stationary for a nanno second. Then, crowded just like the Indian trains and London Uderground during the peak rush hour, we had to grip the handles hanging from the roof, to avoid going overboard. The trip was worth every part of the 0.05p it cost us. Each!!! Skytrain back to the> Hotel followed, and of course siesta time.
>
> For once, and copying your usual form of enquiry to find a good local restaurant, I asked the Head Waiter of the Hotel we were staying in if he could recommend somewhere. Certainly, he said and mentioned the name. On the basis I did not want there to be a cock up, I asked him to write it down in Thai, so that I could show the taxi driver and there would be no misunderstanding. Once you emerged from your siesta, following a long day of shopping, eating and drinking you looked as though another meal was near the top of your list, so I proudly suggested the special Thai restaurant I had learnt of and had written down in Thai. You agreed, but first we had to have a couple of liveners to get the evening underway and we found an Australian Bar in close proximity to the Hotel. Having sated our thirst for an hour or two, listening to Oz experiences in Bangkok from the customers of this newly found oasis, a taxi was hailed. Now, for a couple of seasoned business men we do not get tucked up very often, but what follows is a great example of how crooked taxi drivers can be.
>
> The Head Waiter at the Hotel told me that the Restaurant he suggested was not far away and could be walked in a few minutes. Being heavily laden with Lager crap, and by now dark, we thought a taxi was the sensible choice. I produced the hand written Thai note of the place we wished to go, to the taxi driver. He nodded and moved off. Just to be on the safe side I asked for the note to be returned to me, and was ignored. We seemed to be spending a long time in the taxi compared with what I had been advised by the Head Waiter of the Hotel was within reasonable walking distance. Again, and for some unknown reason, I asked for the Thai note of the restaurant from the taxi driver. Again I was ignored. Eventually we arrived at the Restaurant and within no time at all, staff from the establishment were hovering around our taxi, opening doors and Y-ing us. Y-ing is a very common practice of the Thais. It involves putting their hands together in front of themselves, bowing their heads and saying something like "Sawadeeka". All very polite, gracious and rather nice. Because the taxi driver had ignored my requests for the handwritten note I asked once more. He told me that he had thrown it out of the window. A number of the Restaurant staff were by now, surrounding us and listening to my conversation with the driver. I told him that he had not opened the window whilst we had been in the taxi. He then said the Thai note was lost. Intrigued by his evasiveness I became more perplexed and challenged him in no uncertain terms, without much difference it has to be said. Then, with inspiration, I produced the card we had been given in the muck market as a number to call if we felt in danger. And then, like Tommy Cooper, he crawled under his seat and magically produced the note. He then raced off without being paid. I still have no idea why I was so anxious to recover the note. We were courteously taken into the Restaurant and seated, provided with a fab Menu and Wine list. The speciality of this Restaurant was Fish, Thai style. Great we thought, a bit of hassle but well worth it. The activity of the taxi driver still concerned me. Why had he gone to so much trouble to avoid returning the hand written note to me. So I showed it to the Head Waiter of the Restaurant in which we were now seated and asked him if there was anything wrong with the address. No he said sheepishly, but this Restaurant is not the one that is on the note. We had been tucked up good and proper by the taxi driver who obviously earns more from the backhander he gets from this Restaurant, and presumably others, than he earns from the fare. Although we were in the wrong Restaurant we decided to stay and had a splendid meal, but it was on the expensive side. Never mind, we saved £1.50 of taxi fare and learnt a little more of life's challenges. The taxi ordered by the Restaurant to take us back to the Hotel, took no time at all, or so it seemed. Naturally it was nothing to do with the wines on top of the crap Lager we had consumed.
>
> Next morning after your two breakfasts, we did some more sightseeing. Nothing of relevance took place until hunger once again took command. So, back to the Oz bar to watch some Rugby and down some more crap Lager until we were a bit wobbly. After the match, hunger was dominating, so we thought why not try and find the original Restaurant on the handwritten note? Back to the Hotel for directions and we then walked it in the daylight. We also learnt the English name was "Cabbages and Condoms". Without much difficulty we found the place and discovered everything featured in the Restaurant was made out of Condoms. The original owner had decided to make safe sex in Bangkok his passion and resulting in this strange combination. To our delight, another Rugby match was on and we enjoyed a splendid Lunch and a couple of hours of Rugby. It was much cheaper than the one we had been taken to last night. But hey ho!! Even more interesting is that a copy of
> the Restaurant, Cabbages and Condoms exists in Oxford, England.
>
>
> CAMBODIA 28TH SEPTEMBER - 1ST OCTOBER.
>
> Leaving BKK by air we could again see how much flooding had already taken place and was certainly creeping towards the outskirts of the City. As we now know it became far worse over the next 4 weeks with many Thai's losing their lives and BKK only just avoiding flooding throughout downtown.
> Arriving Phnom Penh, like India and Thailand it was hot. So we looked like tourists, attired with our shorts, long socks and sandals being a big giveaway. Whilst I had been to India and Thailand in the past, neither of us had been to Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos, our next three Countries.>
> Oh, I nearly forgot. The new BKK Airport is fantastic and has shops of every type, which includes Watch shops. You could not help yourself when you saw a watch shop, and you were in there like a rat up a drainpipe. Handing them your scruffy piece of paper indicating the sort of watch you wished to buy, in order to avoid using the spoken name, and to your and my surprise, for the first time it was possible to tell from the looks on the faces of the sales staff they actually knew what you were seeking and you were directed to a "Watches of Switzerland" shop. There in all it's glory was a "Jaeger Lecoutre Reverso" but with price tag so small it was impossible to read it. The sales assistant readily helped you with your interest and demonstrated the uniqueness of this particularly elusive watch. When you asked her how much it cost, I could immediately smell your reaction! I think you had shit yourself. No wonder you wanted "an original copy".
>
> Confirmed e-mail arrangements had been made with all the Hotels, except one, we were staying in, to collect and return us to the Airports. Finding our driver in the morass of people holding up signs of every type (some in English) was not easy, but eventually we were picked up and taken to the Intercontinental in Phnom Penh. A splendid Hotel like the Hyatt Regency in Mumbai, but again you could have been anywhere in the World. There was a major difference though. Security in Mumbai, obviously after the bombing of the Hotel there, was extreme. Every time we exited the Hotel we had to go through Airport like security to get back in. Not here in PP though.
> Luckily we spent no time at all checking in because we knew according to the newspapers we had brought with us that a Pool Match was taking place at our time of arrival. Unfortunately we had just missed it because my calculations were an hour out. Never mind, a shower, unpack and back down to the big screen in the bar, serving local Lager crap, to see the next Match. More Rugby Heaven, except for the Lager. The major observation though, were the Americans at the bar, who seemed to do fuck all, other than drink. Perfect prey for you Trumps! You soon established they were connected to the Military here in Cambodia and that they were unable to tell you what they did because they had all signed a "Confidentiality Agreement" a document of secrecy for security's sake. You had now become even more determined to find out what they did when they were not pissing it up. Once they had consumed their many individual and carefully counted quota of things like Bourbon and ginger ale they were unable to keep to their secrecy and informed us they were Fork Lift Truck Drivers etc and stationed in Cambodia to handle US Cargo attached to the Military. Can you believe it?
> They all stayed in the Intercontinental, were not permitted to drive anywhere in Cambodia, so they had chauffeur driven limousines to cart them about, and whilst they professed to work long hours, it became obvious after a couple of days with them always at the bar, work was a figment of their imagination. Knowing how much you like American's, and the effort you made to belittle them, they seemed to latch on to you in wishing you would become their best friend yet. By this stage I was so fed up with listening to their bullshit and the wonders of America, I went to the room and donned my England Jacket, just to emphasise there was another Country in the World with equally patriotic people. They were handy however in telling us where we should visit in PP. The Central Market, The Russian Market, the Torture Jail, the Killing Fields and some other places of interest to name but a few.
>
> The next day we embarked on seeing something of PP ( I cannot get to spell Phnom Penh easily ) because it does not follow any patterns I am used to.
> Firstly, the 2 markets, and you could not help yourself being distracted towards watches, just in case!!! The products in the tourist markets were absolute muck, but seeing the fruit, veg and meat stalls was quite interesting but would not take much time to see all. Anyway what is the difference between one muck market and another?
>
> That afternoon we had some serious watching of the TV on the big screen in the bar, for the continuing stages of the pool matches in the RWC. Again Rugby heaven. To our surprise when we returned to our room an invitation for the following evening to a Cheese and Wine tasting Buffet in the Hotel had been extended to us. Luckily you established that we, unlike all the other people who went there, were invited free of charge opposed to $25.00 each. Game on !!
>
> The next morning we went to the Genocide Museum "Tuol Sleng" former Office S.21 of the "Kampuchea Democratic" 1975 to 1979. What an awakening. It is estimated a mere 20,000 people, excluding children, were imprisoned, tortured and then murdered by the Khymer Rouge in this place alone. Altogether some 3 million people were imprisoned, tortured until they signed confession notes to say they were guilty of something or other and then slain. It amounted to 25% of the entire Cambodian population. All this took place over 3 years 8 months and 20 days and did not cease until 1979. How incredible is that? We spent a great deal of time looking at the dreadful circumstances and conditions the prisoners were held in before their death and then we departed for the Killing Fields. Here we had another gruesome education. We went to The Choeungek Genocidal Centre, about 17kms outside PP and were equipped with head phones then directed to go from one place to another whilst listening to the horrific and true events of this place. This is a memory I think we will both take to our graves. Examples of areas where lots of people were buried together, still have the odd bone or tooth coming to the surface. In a place where the women were buried, some of their clothing is still surfacing. As we left, it became obvious to us that these dreadful events had happened in our lifetime, and relatively, quite recently. How on earth could it have taken place you ask yourselves. As we returned to PP we were struck by the fact there were elderly people in Cambodia and young people. Nothing in the middle. It also struck us that anybody of 40 years or more was actually alive throughout the terrible Pol Pot era. We wondered what sort of stories they would be able to recount.
>
> Happily it is not all doom and gloom in PP. You cornered a particularly unlucky person and holding them in a firm grip, squeezed from them information about good Cambodian restaurants. We went to the Khymer Surin and had a magnificent meal before returning to the Hotel for your siesta and preparing for the Wine and Cheese bash that evening. Well, it was a spread and a half. The food, included Smoked Salmon, but mainly cheeses from all parts of the World, predominantly French though, and were fantastic. The wines were equally good and on top of some Cambodian Lager muck the evening became very short. What a delightful piss up. And free of admission charge!
>
> The next day was a bit more sightseeing around the river before " a hair from the dog" in a local shitty bar. We moved on quite quickly because they were constructing something next door and it seemed very dangerous to be hanging around a Cambodian construction site. Have they not heard of Health and Safety at Work? We then found another great place, The Correspondents Club overlooking the river, for some more whompo and some splendid grub before your siesta once again beckoned. Whilst in the bar overlooking the river, it was interesting to see a number of people turn up at the waters edge, jump in the filthy river with a bar of soap and wash themselves. Presumably the only option they had! That evening we did some damage to our bar bill in the Hotel and retired early in preparation of the flight next day to Vietnam.
>
> VIETNAM 1st - 4th OCTOBER
>
> If you remember, this was my greatest cock up. The Hotel we were booked into was 3hrs away from the Airport in Halong Bay. I had confirmed with the Hotel that they should meet us at the Airport because we did not want to get into any difficulties in "The People's Republic of Vietnam" at 7pm and 3hrs drive when it was dark and we had not a clue as to where we were to go. Of course we were tucked up by the Hotel for the pick up but at least we felt we were relatively safe. When I say safe, it would apply if you were Vietnamese but not by our standards. For example it is quite common, even normal, for traffic of every description to drive around in total darkness without any rear lights or stop lights. The roads are shit, the driving is even worse, however you coped with it quite well from the front passenger seat. Me, being in the back, prevented me from seeing a lot of what was going on, but even from my place in the car it looked pretty scary.
> Sleeping was not an option because the car felt as though it had solid tyres and the roads continually crossed railway tracks, or so it seemed from the lumpy journey we were experiencing. We reached our destination late that night and welcomed some sleep but not before taking a nightcap or three at the bar, listening to a live trio with a female vocalist that could not sing for the life of her. Oh dear we though, are we in a really shitty Hotel? After a few jars, sleep became a necessity and a commitment not to get up too early next morning.
>
> Next morning, after a shabby breakfast compared with what we had become used to, a short walk was suggested. We had to be back at lunchtime for an afternoon of watching Rugby on the big screen and downing a few pints. Still Lager crap but we were getting used to it and progressing onto red Wine sooner and sooner. More heaven awaited. We struck out along the seafront looking like crazy tourists in shorts and me with sandals. After half an hour you suggested we take the "short cut route" back to the Hotel despite it being a 1 in 3 hill to climb. An elevator operator suggested we used his services. Oh no. We are big strong boys you replied. So without hesitation we started the climb which would be the short cut back to the Hotel. As we got higher and higher, altitude sickness started to affect us, but being intrepid we climbed on, all the time being reassured by you that this was going to be the shortest route back to the Hotel because you had a map to prove it. Stupidly I believed you. This mountaineering we were doing was taking it's toll on my sandals though! As we neared the peak a landslip of some sort had occurred due to the many days of heavy rain immediately before we arrived, however I thought it would be OK to trudge through. This landslip crossed the road track we were on and there was no way of avoiding it. At this particular time I was ahead of you securing the ropes for the final push to the top, when I stepped into the mud slide. It was by far the most slippery mud I had ever stood in and I nearly went over. It was only my quick lithe reactions that saved me despite suffering from Altitude Sickness and ration shortage. Luckily I did not end up in Hospital with a broken something or other, I looked back to see you pissing yourself with laughter as I had this horrible bleedin mud in both sandals and half way up my legs. Some water was still running off the mountain top, so I was able to rinse much of the mud from my footwear, but by now I was covered in the stuff on my hands shorts and top because standing on one leg near a mountain top was not easy. From your comfortable position down the hill you pointed to a large puddle which you said I could wash everything out in. Not trusting you I put my finger in the puddle you had suggested, only to discover it was even worse that the original stuff. You bastard.
> Getting back to the Hotel was now a priority, so I asked to see the map you were carrying. Well, we were further away from the Hotel than at any other time and this was supposed to be a short cut. Having stuffed the map up your arse, fortune shone on us. A taxi was going to the peak of this stupid mountain and we hailed it. Standing so that the driver could not see I was covered in mud we asked him to take us to our Hotel. As if proof was needed that your map reading is crap and no short cut existed, the taxi driver turned around and we went back down the mountain passing the top of the elevator half way down and back to sea level, the Hotel and a mud dispensing shower.
>
> It has to be said that the Hotel we were staying in was not much cop, so eating out became a priority. That evening found a bar along the seafront which you appeared not to like, but we still managed to swallow a jar or two and then found a non tourist Vietnamese restaurant close by. This place was something else. It seemed most unlikely any Westerner had ever ventured into this restaurant before. It was packed and just one empty table existed that we made a bee line for whilst nearly everybody stopped eating and talking, just to look at us. It was a very strange feeling for a few moments. Of course there was not a snowball's chance in hell anybody spoke English so you toured the tables until you saw something you liked and pointed to it for the waitress to take your order. I did the same, yet we ended up with a bowl of what looked like garden weeds and some toxic sauce to apply to the weeds as our starter. You then noticed the water tanks and bowls full of live crustaceans and selected something from same. I actually cannot remember what I had after the weed dish starter but it was all very tasty. Mostly, the tables were occupied by families, with the children being the most interested in us odd looking Westerners. They thought us weird and as we were unable to eat Vietnamese style, they watched us with increasing interest and confidence, so much so we took some snaps of them, much to their eventual delight. This delicious food was washed down with some odd tasting Vietnamese beer.
> We had kept the card of the driver that picked us up from the Airport as we needed to call him to take us back because going to him directly, and not through the Hotel, was much cheaper. How were we going to do that? Sometimes luck is on our side. With the itinerary we had it was very difficult to know which day of the week it was. What we did know, was that we had an early start for our onward journey to Laos and arrangements had to be made at the Reception to check out. When you spoke to the Receptionist, she told you that the Hotel accommodation had not been paid and we would have to pay it there and then. Fortunately I had kept most of the paperwork and carted it around with me, so I was able to show her that we had paid for the accommodation and it was only the expenses we had to settle. She was not convinced so you asked to speak to the Hotel Manager. This is where we became really lucky, because we were thinking we still had two nights at the Hotel and during the discussions over payment we noticed we had only one
night left. We had both lost our understanding of days and dates.Just think of the consequences of missing our flight! Having come to terms we were leaving early the next morning, you thought a light lunch, a bit of a siesta, a light dinner and early to bed was the solution. We had planned to take a taxi to a special Vietnamese restaurant for lunch but had an hour or two to kill with a glass or three of whompo beforehand. In seeking a Pub we met a Vietnamese bloke on a mobile. You asked if he spoke English, which fortunately he did, and you asked him how we could contact our driver.
Without a hint of delay he used his own mobile phone and called him to confirm the early morning departure for us. Job done. Naturally we chatted more to this kind chap and you asked the usual interrogating questions like, how much do you earn, how much does a house cost etc. and to discover there is absolutely no kind of Government money for any of the population, however ill, poor, unemployed or disabled you are. In summary he said "you either work and earn money in Vietnam, or you die here in Vietnam".
>
> We then went to this recommended restaurant by taxi for a light lunch. Quite an amazing place. It was a bit like a sushi bar with all the food going around on a conveyor. Then we discovered we each had a pot put in front of us over an individual cooker. So, you take what you want from the continuously moving foodstuffs and cook it. They then charge you for the number of dishes you have taken from the conveyor. It was good fun and there was a good atmosphere in the restaurant as can be seen from the photograph. All these people to serve 4 customers! But at least they were not going to die! You walked back from the restaurant whilst I took a taxi. Otherwise it turned out to be an uneventful afternoon followed by a return in the evening to the original Vietnamese restaurant we had been to, where you selected a live crab from the display for your main course before tucking into a plate of garden weeds and a different toxic sauce as a starter.
>
> The early morning call was a bit of a shock to the system, but at least it was the right day!!! The taxi turned up on time and we left Halong Bay just as it was getting light. We could have taken the "Airport Express" because it would have been much cheaper but as were now well into our travel epic, a bit of comfort in a taxi with what still felt like solid tyres, various springs coming through the seat and driving over railway lines for 3 hours appeared better than the Airport Express bus. The method of driving in Vietnam is to stay in the middle of the road until something comes the other way and you then move over to avoid a head on collision. As it got lighter we could see thousands of children on bikes going to school along what seemed to us, busy dangerous roads. The taxi drive, Mr Nguyen Minh Hiep assured us very few accidents took place on this road We think he was telling porky pies. About an hour into the journey we heard a hooting sound that became louder and louder. It was reaching ear bursting levels of sound as it passed us. Incredibly, it was a really battered old single decker bus which was travelling on the opposite side of the road against all the oncoming traffic, all of which had to move out of it's way. This vehicle was churning out thick black smoke and was in a very dilapidated state. We asked Nguyen what it was. He replied "The Airport Express Bus". Thank god we chose a taxi. Nguyen then told us that it was quite normal for the Airport Express bus to travel against all the oncoming traffic and move out of it's way when approaching. Not many accidents on this road? We doubt it very much.
>
> LAOS 4th - 6th OCTOBER
>
> After my cock up with the Hotel location in Vietnam, I thought some redemption was necessary, so I booked a "Boutique" Hotel for our short stay in Laos and it turned out to be well worth the effort of Internet searching. The only real problem with the Hotel in Halong Bay however was the 3 hrs each way from the Airport, otherwise it was fine. And Halong Bay is a "World Heritage Site" so probably worth the trip for that reason alone. looking at a map, the Portuguese enclave of Macau is just along the coast and soon after Hong Kong, so a very busy area for shipping.
>
> The Hotel in Laos was only a few minutes from the Airport and it looked good on the website. We had booked Airport Transfers and were met at the Airport in a luxurious minibus. Anything would have been luxurious after the Tuc Tuc's and Taxis with solid tyres in some of the previous various Countries! Bearing in mind Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand are pretty well all adjacent, you could be lured into thinking all the Countries would be alike. Not a bit of it. All were quite different in many aspects. It took us no time at all to realise that Laos was going to be the most laid back and serenest of the Countries we had visited in South East Asia. The Hotel turned out to be a cracker as well. Lucky old Anderson!
>
> Quite honestly, there is not much to report on our visit to Laos. By comparison it was a quiet 3 days, which was probably appropriate as the rigours of flights to Auckland via Bangkok and Sydney approached and the ensuing mayhem of being in the heart of the RWC which by now was well under way. We did look around Laos "in between meals" and discovered it is a very clean Country with shed loads of pretty buildings. By comparison it is far less crowded than the other Countries we had visited, much tidier and very relaxed. The food in the Hotel was excellent, as were the rooms, gardens and general layout. After a Green Park Boutique Hotel breakfast, lunch was going to be quite late! Even Trumps could not manage his usual 2 breakfasts. The Laos currency is Kip and our rooms came to a massive, in excess of 1,000,000.00 Kip for the 3 nights. The bill looked a bit frightening but it worked out at around £30 per night for our twin room, so 15 quid each per night. As a result the finances were in quite good shape when compared with our budgeting, so the brakes could come off a bit once we arrived in New Zealand.
>
> NEW ZEALAND 7TH TO 25TH OCTOBER.
> North Island
>
> We had checked out of our Hotel in the morning of the 6th October, endured 3 flights and arrived in Auckland the afternoon of the 7th October and the very welcome sight of my old mate from Vigo RFC days, Graham Waters, who had very kindly offered to host us at his house for the duration of our stay in NZ. Throughout Vigo RFC he is known as "Whoppa Waters". It cannot be because of his physical size because he is a short but quick wing three quarter! The mind boggles! Prior to him moving to NZ some 30 years ago he shared an apartment with 2 of the other Vigo lads in Kenley. One of whom was John Champion, and his particular reputation is well documented, the other being Tony (Tos) Spiers.
>
> Whoppa was also the Honorary Secretary of Vigo RFC in the formative days when I was Chairman. Committee meetings were always held at the Vigo Pub and Whoppa took the Minutes. Not that it mattered very much because he could never find the Minutes when the next Committee Meeting took place, so we had to try and guess what we had decided upon previously. The longer the meetings went on, with the matching amount of beer, the harder it was to remember what we had decided upon at the previous meetings. Did it matter? Not a bit. So, finding things for Whoppa has, and it seems still is, a problem for him, unless of course he leaves them in the Kitchen for his lovely wife, Larraine, to sort out.
>
> It is possible we had consumed a few jars during our journey from Laos to Auckland so the sight of Whoppa there to meet us was just fab. He had a superb car to transport us around in, you know the sort, tyres with air in them, windscreen wipers, lights, upholstery, headroom, air conditioning and so on. What a difference a Continent makes! The first thing that struck us in the Airport car park was that EVERY car had an All Blacks (AB's) flag flying from them. Interestingly our first stop on the way from the Airport to his house was a beer store. Did we look like we were thirsty? Whoppa does not carry any cash or have a wallet. The tight fisted bastard! He pays using his Bank Card, presumably because being a Bank employee it is cheaper for him, compared with what anybody else (Bank customers) have to be charged. Yes, he is now a boring old Banker, who hates his job, but lives in great comfort and idyllic surroundings on the fashionable side of Auckland, growing Roses, tending Chickens and Ducks. Since being there I have learnt he has won more Trophy's for his Roses this year. Well done Whopps Getting back to his beer purchasing at the offy, he had passed his Bank Card over for payment, which mysteriously then went missing. After all 3 of us assured the Indian offy keeper he had definitely passed his card over to him for payment, and several searches undertaken for this elusive bit of plastic, it was "surprisingly" found on the payment side of the counter. Were we back in England I thought?
>
> Second stop was a BBQ shop that was selling everything off at next to nothing because of Bankruptcy. Whopps was in his element here, not that he needed very much but because of his Banking background it excited him extensively, when so much stuff was on sale for so little cost. The BBQ outlet was selling off everything at knock down prices and one of the units caught Trumps eye. Not that he could buy it and ship it back to Chipstead, but he liked the Grill part. Even now he probably thinks he is right, that the grill rails were upside down. I commented that they were correct, because the rails were V shaped and were laid with a slight fall and a small hole on the bottom of the V to allow the fat to run off without dropping onto the coals and setting them alight. Trumps bet me he was right and I was wrong. So we called over the Salesman to ask his advice and he advised Trumps he was wrong. He probably still does not accept he "might" be wrong for the first time in his life! After a few BBQ purchases, again using the cheaper than anybody else's, or should we call it economical, Bank Card we headed of to Whopps lovely home and to meet up with Larraine.
>
> As we were staying with Mr and Mrs Waters for 3 weeks, we had taken to decision to take care of some meals both in and out of the house. After all they are still working and we had the house to ourselves throughout the working week, Whoppa is still working full time, however Larraine works 4 days a week and is normally at their home on Friday's. So, within a couple of days we had familiarised ourselves geographically with, where we were in Auckland, and where we could go shopping for the meal's we planned to cook. As usual every conceivable offer of conveying us around in one of their cars was made, alternatively and even more generous the offer of borrowing one of their cars for whatever duration we wanted. Incredible hospitality. We declined on both accounts though, because driving us around whilst they were working would have put unnecessary pressure on one of them, or both, and what made our decision even easier was that a bus stopped directly outside their house twice an hour which could take us into Auckland central in 30 mins. Their house is situated on the Glendowie peninsula and is served by a bus either taking a northern loop or a southern loop which gave us more than all the transport needs required. The buses were supposed to go at 22 and 45 minutes past each hour, but being NZ it was more of an indication than a strict timetable which we learnt in a short space of time. On the first trip, the driver appeared not to like our reference to being late. Late! It was nothing like the timetable, so we asked him "if time was not of the essence could he drop us off at the Supermarket, hang around until we had completed our shopping and then take us on to the City Centre?" He did not appear to mind but all the other passengers complained. Bastards!! The other amazing observation was that almost every house had an AB's flag flying from some part of the property, so it was obvious by now we were right into the thick of things with RWC 2011.
>
> The evening we arrived, we had a good few beers (specially selected Ales no less) with the Waters, followed by a few glasses of Red Wine and unpacked our cases. We had arrived on the 7th quite deliberately because the weekend of the 8th and 9th had a number of great matches to take in. After a hearty breakfast we headed into AKL to experience some of the atmosphere of RWC. It was fantastic. The whole Harbour area had been converted into a massive eating, drinking, socialising, fun, Rugby themed area and was alive with myriads of people from all over the World. Just as we had hoped and expected. That weekend we soaked up the Rugby, Beer, Wine, Atmosphere, Fun, Camaraderie and general mayhem associated with the madness of Rugby on a World wide scale. Incredible.
>
> Monday morning Whopps and Laraine went off to work, leaving us at their house on our own. During the weekend they had told us about 10 Ducks that had moved into their back garden. These Ducks are in addition to the Chickens they keep. Apparently, the family of Ducks, Mum, Dad and 10 Ducklings moved into the back garden of 292 Riddell Road, Glendowie during the early part of the year. Of course the Ducklings were then very small and all of them could fit into a plastic washing up bowl that Laraine and Whopps had put in the garden for them. They also fed them every day. But they were now a nuisance, shitting everywhere, especially on their lovely decking, which then had to be hosed down every day or the crap would have been walked into the house. Reluctantly however, Laraine and Whopps had decided they had to go. They mentioned it to Trumps and me. Now we are not Duck experts but our advice was to stop feeding the greedy little bastards, and they would then find somebody else to scrounge off. Unfortunately Laraine and Whopps were unable to bring themselves to feed the chickens (ignoring the fact that the chickens were now so old they had virtually stopped laying any eggs ) and not feed the Ducks, so the poo continued to be strategically dumped on the decking outside the kitchen door as if it was a message from the Ducks to say "we are hungry now so come and feed us".
> Well, enough is enough, was the eventual decision, and they had to go. There were 12 Duck arses dumping their liquorice allsorts cack on the decking every day, causing it to look like a dung heap! Luckily it did not smell. So whilst Trumps and I were alone at the house we tried to think of a plan to get rid of the colony of liquorice allsorts shitters. Our only advice to Mr and Mrs Waters was to "NOT FEED THE DUCKS". Laraine and Whopps agreed but they failed to heed our suggestion!! We asked "which part of do not feed the Ducks do you not understand?" we wanted to know.
>
> As plan #1 had failed and there was a tsunami of liquorice allsorts shit on the decking each morning, another cunning plan had to be thought of. Whopps then came up with the ingenious idea of a "mobile Duck trap". This involved him in constructing from all the scrap material he could find in his various storage areas (sheds, tree houses, kitchen, garage, bedroom etc ), a cage on his car trailer. He planned to feed them in the trailer, so the Ducks would get used to walking up the plank for their grub over a few days, and once they were all confident enough to have breakfast together inside the cage, Whopps would sneak out and pull a cord which slammed closed the exit. The first problem, was that the plank they had to walk up was too steep and they just slid back down, so day #1 was a write off. Day #2 with the ramp raised allowed some of the Ducks to gain access and eat their food, but Whopps had put the food at the entrance to the cage, so they took the food and returned to the grass to eat their grub. Day #2 was therefore a write off. Trumps and I had noticed over this period that the Ducks could now fly, so the question posed to Whoppa was "if you take these Ducks somewhere else, what is to stop them from flying back in for breakfast, having left their shitty message all over your decking again?" Ah, says Whopps, once they are all firmly caged in the trailer prison, he would hitch it up to his car and take them to a Wildlife Sanctuary a couple of miles away where they would look after themselves. But we asked, What is to stop them flying back again. Another cunning plot from Whoppa followed, he plans to drive them around the peninsula a few times to disorientate them and then drop them off at the Wildlife Sanctuary. Either the Ducks or Whoppa are going to be proved to be fucking stupid! After all, the Sanctuary is only a mile or two away and his car and trailer do not travel over water, so the Sanctuary roadside is the furthest point he can take them, and we reckon they are already regular Sanctuary visitors whilst Laraine and Whoppa are out at work during the week.
>
> To our amazement, one morning there were 9 of the now fully grown Ducklings and Mum in the trailer scoffing their breakfast, so Whoppa sneaked into the garden and pulled the cord to release the gate which would keep them imprisoned in the makeshift mobile cage. One managed to escape, so Whopps took the trailer/mobile prison to the side of the house, ready to hitch up for the Ducks drive of a lifetime, whilst he then tried to catch the escapee with a fishing net. Odds on success? You got it. It flew away. Whilst Whopps was trying to catch the 1 remaining Duck, the neighbours cat decided to investigate the entrapped Ducks. Well all hell let loose and they all flew against the makeshift wire cage in wild panic with sufficient force they opened a hole in it and virtually all of them escaped. Stop feeding the Ducks idea was still ringing in our ears. So the mobile Duck trap idea had to be scrapped and disassembled. The overall picture is that the Ducks keep returning to be fed, making their first job to leave their message in the form of a shit on the decking. The plastic washing up bowl that used to accommodate all 10 of the Ducklings at one time now can only accept one at a time, so a queue forms and the worn out, past their sell by date, Chickens have stopped laying eggs. Time for the chop for all of them? If only NZ had Foxes, the problem would be resolved overnight!
>
> Trumps muscled in and decided to do the first home cooked meal. His choice being a Fish Pie from a Delia Smith recipe he obtained on his I-toy. So, armed with a shopping list, off we went by bus to AKL's recommended superstore, Countdown. We were very surprised that extremely little choice existed of Fish in the Supermarket. Probably only about 3 or 4 choices, which for a Country surrounded by sea water and lakes aplenty seemed odd. We later discovered that NZ's general diet is much along the lines of American diets. Hamburgers and chips, Fish and chips, Chicken and chips etc. and quite short on vegetable especially green veg. Trumps chose the fish he wanted (actually the only fish varieties that was available to buy) and we found all the other ingredients for his Delia Smith fish pie. Laden down with shopping bags we had to try and find the bus stop for our return journey. There is a Bus Terminal, quite close to the supermarket, but with the RWC in full swing in downtown AKL, the bus stops had been moved and finding them was a bit of a challenge. We succeeded of course on this occasion but found out later to our cost that, just because you have found the right temporary bus stop on an occasion during the day, it does not mean it will be the same temporary bust stop at night. AKL bus stop planning movers are Wankers.
>
> Delia Smith's fish pie was a huge success. Trumps read from his I-toy and I did most of the prepping under his watchful and critical eye. He made himself responsible for the cooking, which enabled him to take all the plaudits. The Bastard!
>
> The next Delia Smith meal was for 7 of us. We were to be joined by John and Dawn Buxton together with Dennis Thorn who I had known for a number of years. Dennis was hoping his new fiance, Robyn, would be able to join us but she had flown off to Brisbane, however they plan to Marry early next year and spend a 6 month honeymoon in Europe, based in Italy. So hopefully we will be able to meet up with them