For all of you guys who don't believe that England has any nice sandy beaches with beautiful turquoise water then get your asses down to East Head or West Wittering beach as it is otherwise known. The Witterings stretch along the south coast fromSelsey to Chichester, a distance of around ten miles, much of this distance is only stones at high tide but as low tide progresses hundreds of metres of sand appear. As you move from East to West Wittering so the beach changes, where before you had pebbles now you move into a duney area which in Summer is home to countless tourists aswell as many different species of bird!!!! A huge carpark stands at the top end of the beach making access very easy, bbq areas available and a lovely warm blue sea just sitting there waiting for you to cool off....go on get in there!!!!

My only problem with attending this meet was that due to work commitments, as is usually the case I wasn’t going to be able to make the majority of the meet, and was likely to miss out on the true moments of wanton drunkenness, imbecility and crimes against humanity or at least common sense.

However determined to make the most of it, I jumped in the Warrior and at set-off about mid-day towards Didsbury where Matt had informed me; they would be getting together for the afternoon to watch the footie after the previous night of reserved partying ............... not! As I got to the outskirts of the town I sent Matt a text to find out where they actually were, his reply; Didsbury! Now I am aware that the town can hardly be described as a major megatropolis of urban entertainment, but I was pretty sure that it almost certainly had more than one pub in which they would be hiding/recovering. I therefore texted him again requesting a little more information, which to his credit he replied with immediately. So after finding a place to park I struck out on foot to find the fabled Manchester meet.

Now I’m sure many of you have been on probably a few meets before but I this was my first and as a neophyte I wasn’t sure how you go about letting people know who you are.  Nobody was likely to be wearing red carnations or dressed as James Bond, so the group wasn’t likely to be immediately obvious.  As I arrived at the particular pub in question where we were going to watch the Liverpool derby there seemed to be several small groups which could potentially be the TB one. The question was how to find the correct one, and say ‘Hi’ without appearing a complete idiot and avoiding total embarrassment. I decided the sensible approach was to stick close to the most likely group and eavesdrop for a little while, hopefully reducing the possibilities if not in fact all possibility of complete humiliation.

A few minutes later I had decided on a likely looking group (which turned out to be two separate groups) so ordered a Guinness and enquired gingerly if they were “here on a TB meet or summat?” To my relief the replied in the affirmative and a few moments of introductions, male bonding and some firm hand shaking later I knew this entire select little band. In attendance were Matt, Bondy, Wayne and Marc, there were also two girls and a guy on the sofa who turned out to have nothing to do with this us at all, I’m glad I hadn’t chosen them to introduce myself to, can just picture the looks I’d have received.

Matt is an Everton supporter, and everybody seemed to be cheering for them either as support for him or because they were Jamchester United supporters (no explanation required to real footie fans), so as a Blackpool supporter, true neutral and in the spirit of fair play I decided to support Liverpool (might have something to do with my rebellious side also).

There was a bit of banter, some short but descriptive chat about the previous evenings activities, which seemed to feature Bondy getting drunk quite a bit. I chatted to Marc for awhile, a Feyenord supporter and as I don’t know that much about Dutch footie I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. He was also off to Asia in a few days, which he took every opportunity to remind Wayne of, and something I was more than happy to assist him in doing for the rest of the afternoon, don’t you just love a good bit of banter.

It didn’t turn out to be the best afternoon for Matt as Liverpool ending up winning a fairly disappointing game, in which Everton I have to say failed to turn up for. He won’t thank me for reminding him of that, especially as it was his birthday the next day, and not the best way to celebrate.

We were then going to move off to watch the Jamchester game at another pub which Bondy had been assured would be showing. So we headed off down the road, first in one direction and then after receiving some directions off in the other. We wandered around a bit lost for awhile, which isn’t too impressive for a group of guys located in a relatively small town who claim to be world travellers! Bondy decided to ask directions in one of the local shops; an opticians and proceeded to ask everybody in the shop except the people who work there ............ should have gone to Specsavers. I then asked two girls whose initial reaction was “Is it an old man’s pub?” Not the answer I was hoping for, but they did seem to know where it was; obviously in the direction we had been going originally! We did eventually find the place, but it wasn’t showing the game, in fact I found out later that due to some agreement between our television stations there aren’t any games which kick-off at 3pm showing on any of our channels. This is a conspiracy which equates as equally sinister as the Kennedy assassination or Roswell! Before I start receiving any hate mail, I am only being serious!

After a little more toeing and froing we decided on O’Neill’s for some scoff, of which I was extremely pleased as I was so hungry I could have eaten a scabby horse between two pieces of bread, or even some roast guinea pig if it had been offered (there’s an in joke in there somewhere)! We all ordered some food, I had some sort of fish stew, which was really quite good and Bondy managed to con me into buying him a huge bottle of Jacques cider which cost almost a month’s beer tokens in Nepal, or a two night stay in the Timbuktu Hilton! To be honest he did offer to some money towards it, but you know what they say “Never let the truth get in the way of a good character assassination!”

Nobody was especially interested in the footie and we had several wide ranging discussions most of which I can’t remember apart from one on internet relationships, chiefly between Wayne and Matt and a lively discussion about whether Darren Fletcher would make it into the first team of any Premiership team outside the big four(yeah footie again, sorry girls) Bondy was of the opinion he would, and every other man and his dog who hadn’t downed several pints and a large bottle of Jacques disagreed.  Matt and I in particular wanted to know who he would replace in the Everton, Villa or Tottenham midfields. Believe it or not we probably kept this topic of debate going for at least quarter of an hour. Incidentally Jamchester won, to nobody except Bondy’s interest but much more importantly so did Blackpool!

As the afternoon wore on the effects of the huge bottle of Jacques seemed to wear on Bondy more and more, and by the time I had to leave there were some rumblings of doubt as to whether he would actually make the rest of the day. Although I didn’t really know him, I personally would have happily placed a substantial wager that after a short rest he would be a major player in what was to come. From all accounts this seems to have been borne out.

Eventually though all good things must come to an end, and I had to depart my first meet-up. I was there for a total of about four hours and maybe, although I doubt it some sort of record for the shortest attendance at a meet ever!  Marc claims that they tried extremely hard to persuade me to stay, well I don’t really remember that much arm twisting going on, although Matt did offer me the extremely tempting prospect of sleeping on his floor, for which I must thank him. Reluctantly though I had to decline the kind offer as I was at work in just over an hour and I had a bed of my own not twenty miles away. I did get some info on the meets planned for Edinburgh (which the curse of the working classes prevented me from attending again) and the Laos meet next April, which would be cool to get too, tubing on the Mekong sounds too good to miss!

I thoroughly enjoyed my short but ummm sweet first meet-up though and will certainly look forward to my next ....................... can I suggest everybody attending dresses as James Bond though?

By the way if anybody is wondering about the title it’s a tongue in cheek reference to Sir Ranulph Fiennes’s autobiography. It doesn’t have a great deal of relevance to the meet, (at least whilst I was there anyway) but I couldn’t think of a better one and I liked this one anyway.

An Italian restaurant in a dodgy area in Swindon, well ; -) You don't expect anything taking into consideration that there is as a horror-no go "Italian" called La dolce vita (what a mockery the name is for that hellhole) in the town centre and some "our food comes straight from tesco's" -Italians in old town Swindon. But this Italian does deliever, at least to some extent. Antepasto plate is quite OK, and the four cheese pizza has been held in the oven for the right time for the cheeses not to melt together more than they should. Grappa is served in a proper short glass, but double espresso is too big and way too mild and propably from a coffee machine, but I suppose that's the way the British like it. You do get a far better Italian dining experience for the same money in London or Bristol, but this anyway is the best Italian in Swindon. The basic mistakes are all there in La Carbonara, like no water served with wine and not even when asked once, you have to ask twice - welcome to townlife Britain. Be it as it may, this is one of the nicest restaurants to eat in Swindon. However, if you are a traveller in Swindon, get some fish and chips and save your money to dine somewhwere else. EDIT: I have to mention, though, that the it is quite nice that the restaurant exists in a former pub. So why don't they use this history, like the big fireplace and all for the benefit of there business? If you have an Italian in a dodgy working class area in Swindon, well...?

I arrived at this pleasant little guesthouse which has been given a 4 star AA rating at around 5pm where I was met by Malcolm, who along with Marguerite was the co-owner. After registering he showed me to my room and the facilities, which although were fairly basic but, were very clean and extremely homely looking. My room wasn't the largest, but it was a single room and was more than adequate. It was again cosy and warm with a small portable television, there wasn't any satellite but I wasn't there to watch the box. There were tea/coffee making facilities, with hot chocolate available and biscuits and a chocolate, though I didn't spot the wine chiller advertised on the website, good job I don't like my red wine chilled! My only slight gripe was that it wasn't ensuite and I had to use a bathroom just across the hall, but still no great inconvenience. The guesthouse is located just outside Bowness town centre and is a very short walk to the pubs, bars and restaurants of the village. It is also on the main road out of town and was just a minutes drive to the connecting road for Kendal where I would be travelling to each day. Parking was a little tight when the place was full, and I had to park the Warrior behind other vehicles blocking them in until I left in the morning, good job I was an early riser for once. The shower was an excellent start to the day, very warm and powerful and well worth the short trip across the landing to the bathroom. As I said the amenities were basic, but otherwise absolutely great. I was the only who had stayed there the night before, and therefore had the breakfasting room all to myself. There was a bowl of freshly sliced fruit waiting on the table, I added some yoghurt to this and it was just perfect. I opted for the full english breakfast and I can only describe it as one of the best I have enjoyed for many months. I was looked after by Lisa who works there, very pleasant and engaging me in conversation throughout. There was a fresh fruit bowl every morning, and I had to repeat the full-english most mornings, although I did try the porridge oe morning, which was equally tasty. Over the weekend the place was full, many of the other guests were repeat visitors and were like friends. To be honest though I felt like we were all treated like friends whether we'd stayed there a hundred times or this was our first visit. Although it is not immediately evident there is a private wireless network connection which when I asked Malcolm very nicely he provided me with the password to enable me to use it. Marguerite, Malcolm and Lisa were a great and very friendly team that made a extremely pleasant and homely guesthouse into a truly memorable place to stay in whilst visiting the Lakes. This is one of the best places I've ever stayed including some so called luxury hotels, and cost me £30 a night, which is prettu reasonable. The guest comments in the Visitors Book speak volumes, there wasn't anything other than unreserved praise for the guesthouse or the team that run it. If you're visiting I can thoroughly recommend Dene House as the ideal place to lay your head.

I remember being aquiver with excitement as my long-laid plans had come to fruition. I stepped onto my 8 hour flight from Dulles to Heathrow with a barely-contained fury of anticipation. What would life be like on the other side of the ocean? As a senior at UMBC, I had done all of my complicated work at home in Baltimore. All I had to do was pass 4 classes to get credit for what would be an experience of a life-time. I nestled into my window seat and awaited the following day when I would set foot on British soil.

The plane flew through the night to arrive early morning next day at Heathrow Airport and the din of humanity that accompanies it. Nervously I grab my luggage and hike to the bus terminal where I would continue on to Swansea, Wales. I wait in the frigid terminal for my bus to arrive, guarding my luggage like Custer's Last Stand against any would-be pilfering. In retrospect, the danger was certainly imagined, but it was a country-boy's first extra-national exodus by himself. Finally, my bus pulls in. I stroll triumphantly to the driver as he puts away other passengers' luggage, and I hand him my e-ticket as if to proclaim, "I'm here, and I'm American!" With a casual air, he asks me my destination, and just as casually, I kindly ask him to repeat himself with a mono-syllabic "what?" He asks again, and I gladly proclaim "WALES!" His look told me my answer was a little too obtuse. I clarify that I'm heading for Swansea. With a smile, he took my bags and stuffed them in storage, and I marched onto the bus.

Quite plainly, I had realized two very big shortcomings on my part. 1, apparently I don't understand English as well as I'd thought, and 2, I don't get public transportation. It was later I understood that there were in fact 5 stops in Wales, and my answer was a little too vague for the driver to place my luggage in the proper area. Ah the thrills of having your eyes opened!

A hop, skip, and 5 hour drive through the rain away, I arrive at my destination in Swansea. I breathe in the air; this was to be my home for 5 months. No family, no familiar faces. I lug my 85 pounds of luggage across the street where I'm presented with a choice: cab ride to my new digs, or food. Being a pragmatic sort, I get some food. I quickly glance over the goodies at the Tesco deli and select for myself a sandwich (or what I thought was one), some chips (which are called crisps), and a coke (can't screw that one up). When I approach the register, I'm greeted by a woman with the thickest Welsh accent. I'd never heard a Welsh accent before, and hers was a good one. If I had trouble with an Englishman, one can imagine the pain of understanding a Welshman. But my transaction is a simple one; what possible use is there for unpredicted conversation? I should hear numbers, and I should pay, but what I get instead takes me three tries to figure out. "Do you want it toasted?" Do I want what toasted, my sandwich? "It's a toastie, dear, you're meant to have em toasted." What in God's name is a toastie? It looks like a ham and cheese sandwich. I graciously decline. "You will toast it later then? It's not good unless it's toasted." After two more repetitions, I lie and say yes. The truth is I was just gonna eat the damn thing as soon as I got outside, and I did. What was all this about a toastie? And why can't I communicate with someone who's supposed to speak the same language? I understand people from California just fine, and that's the same distance away as Swansea.

Needless to say, I was quite satisfied with whatever food I could get, and I was damn tired from not sleeping the night before. I was out of my time zone, out of my country, out of my element. Time to go to my new home. I hail a cab.

A big friendly Welshman pulls up, and I hop in the back. "Hendro-fo-ellen Student Village" I say. "Hendra-voilan is it?" Apparently Welsh words don't sound how they look. "Uh, yes" and we're off. As he pulls into the student development, I get the warm feeling my journey is nearing a close. I'll be able to unpack, shower, and relax. My head hurts at this point, and I don't know how much "English" I'll be able to understand until I get some sleep. Just as the end is in sight, I have to pay the cab. I pull out my motley change of british coinage and fumble through 8 oddly shaped, strangely colored pieces of metal. I'm forced to read each one to figure out just how much it's worth. Nothing like taking 5 minutes to pay a cab to get rid of a headache.

I look back on that first day and laugh. I've come such a long way since then. I've since been able to understand English in many different accents, learn the ins and outs of public transportation, and am fully aware of how to eat a toastie. I now realize that Americans aren't that exotic, especially to Brits, and any expectation of recognition and wonder from the locals is foolish. Still, they are quite friendly when the mood strikes. I now consider the UK my second home, and I know I will return in far better shape than last time.

Our journey begins in the City of Chester in the north-west of England. We got a taxi from my girlfriends house to the train station and caught the train to Manchester International Airport, Luggage, two lots of hotel information, a bus ticket each and 4 different currencies. Here we waited for our flight to Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. There was a slight delay in take off but because we hadn't organised any transfers at the other end, we weren't too worried!

I'm just testing the site out before we go

At the moment we're getting v v excited planning and buying ahead of our trip

Mom and dads are looking after us and we're saying our last farewells to our friends

Farewell all -promise we'll stay in touch and the diary entries will be more interesting than this one!!

lots of love

Dawn x x x

I am not kidding; this is by far the best and most accommodating place to book a tour in London, England. You can book a city tour of London itself or go out to the Cotswolds and Bath (to see Stonehenge). There are so many options to choose from that there is no way I could list them all here. Don't forget to check out Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace, of course! There are several packages that include these attractions so you should be all set.

What an absolutley fantastic hotel run by a brilliant couple. This is no ordinary B and B. This place has the luxury of a five star hotel. We stayed in one of the larger rooms for the extra £10 and it was well worth it. The room was a junior suite with lovely seated area and very luxurious bathroom. The beds are high quality and the breakfast was all freshly prepared with top quality ingredients. Happy to say I could also dump the car right outside the front door with no hassle.

During the summer months, well the ones that aren't as freezing as all the others, make sure that you drop by Trafalgar Square after midnight. It's really cool sitting on the empty steps of the portrait gallery and looking out over the empty square. Inside tip: No matter how fun it may seem, don't jump in the fountains. You'll spend the trek home freezing your guts out and finding pennies in all sorts of bad places.

Nestled within the glitzy sleaze of Soho, Madame Jojos is a nightclub which used to be a strip club. The name gives it all away really. With lavish decor and a great assortment of club nights. For those who enjoy an eclectic indie based night, head to White Heat on a Tuesday. Watch out for special guests at the electro nights as well, Asia Argento's DJ set a few years back was pretty mega. Oh, and order the whiskey mixer at 2 quid a go. The other drinks are totally overpriced.

The Maids of Honour is probably my all time favourite snack shop in London. Best in the middle of winter, you can curl up by the open fire surrounded by the tudor decor (which probably hasn't changed since Henry the 8th commissioned the place to be his personal bakery.) The tea is amazing and the selection of cakes are pretty much the best you'll find anywhere. I get a kick out of the staff dressed in proper maid attire as well!! For maximum enjoyment: head out when it's snowing, grab a table by the fire, order chocolate eclairs and Earl Grey tea! If it's around Xmas, head over the road to the Kew Gardens ice rink afterwards for the most beautiful fairy lit ice rink in London!

We had a great time in Cuba. We met lots of friendly youngsters travelling, and a handful of oldies. In our casas we found great landladies and met their children, their nephews, their "helpers" and occasionally their husbands. We managed conversations, mostly in Mike's broken Spanish, about them, us, their families, aspects of their life, our life, the world. All the landladies were positive about their country - there may be some problems, but unlike most of Latin America, there was safety on the streets, good education, healthcare and the ration book.There was no real poverty like in Guatemala. The Americans, especially Bush, were the cause of many of Cuba's difficulties (probably true) and of the world's..(you decide...). Only once did a Cuban seriously bad-mouth his country to us, a man we met on the Malecon.

It is a country of contradictions. You see orderly queues everywhere - for buses, for bread, for the bank. People line up patiently and wait for "one out" to able to go in. There are security guards at most shops. They queue to use public phone booths. You have to have special permission to access the internet. Mobile phones are hugely expensive. There is an obvious police presence, particularly in Havana, and on the roads there are regular police control points. Tourists are never stopped, but many Cubans are.

Then there is the dual currency. The Cubans get paid and use for everyday things the "National Money" Basic salary for all is the equivalent of $12/ $15 a month. They can't live on that. Tourists have to use Convertibles, "CUCs", at an exchange rate that makes Cuba moderately pricey - £2 or so for a mojito, £7 for an average meal. But there are also CUC shops for Cubans, where they can buy consumer items not available in the normal shops, and at the higher prices. So Cubans wheel and deal to acquire CUCs. There are a few beggars, there are street hustlers offering all sorts of services, there are musicians in every cafe (normally very good) playing for CUC tips. In some casas we saw the very latest flat screen teles. Most had decent sound systems. A couple, computers. Families and friends pull together to help out. But you can tell life's not easy.

In all the sunshine friendliness, the beauty of the country, the historical resonance of Che, it's easy to forget Cuba is still a controlled communist state. It's been the David to the US Goliath, and got much sympathy as a result, but it's clear that not all the country's problems are down to the US blockade. The system itself is surely not sustainable long term. The "make do and mend" society - the ancient cars, the horse transport, the organoponico local market gardens; the impact of tourism - good infrastructure for tourists, mediocre for locals; the dual currency causing the wheeling and dealing. 2009 marks 50 years of Fidel's Revolution. The society can't last unchanged as last revolutionaries die off.  Go now and see a unique conutry!

(ALEX) Things really seemed to conspire against us at the start of our trip. It started the day before we were set to leave when I just finished packing my bag and then realised that the material had already ripped in several places.

Me and Nat had made a bad choice and bought cheap bags from TK Maxx. Luckily my mum said she would buy me an early Christmas present and get me a new one. This time I got a decent one that was fit for 6 months of travel! I spent my last night repacking my bag,  rather than chilling out and going down the pub with my mates like planned.

Nat gave me a hand, and we managed to get it done and get down the pub for a couple before it closed.

The next day we woke up and started running around like crazy people sorting out the final touches. We had breakfast with my mum and Nats dad then set off to the airport in London with plenty of time to spare. When we hit the M4 near to Bath there was a traffic jam and we came to a stop. We heard a report saying that a lorry had overturned and that the road would open again in around 15 mins...

3 hours later we had still not moved at all!! At this point we were really starting to panic and started ringing the airline and the insurance company to try to find out if we would be covered if we missed the flight and to beg the airline to wait for us. Eventually we started moving again and it was a race against time to get there in time for our flight. We were supposed to be there 3 hours before the flight, but thought we would be ok if we could get there at least 45 mins before.

Me and Nat went running into the airport and hit the desk 30mins before the flight was due to take off. We rushed through check in and security and ran as fast as we could to the gate.... luckily we got there on time and there was a sigh of relief as we sat down in our seats. The only downside was that  we didnt have seats  together for the second leg of the journey from Zurich to Brazil (11.5 hours)

When we got on to the second flight I sat next to nat anyway and then the person came to sit down I persuaded them to take my seat (the person was a brazilian transvestite that didnt spéak english so this was not as easy as it sounds. 

Definetely a place to have a New Year's party...A great way to welcome a new year!!!