A belated Merry Xmas and happy new year to everybody.

We're in Sydney at the moment and have eventually decided to sit our arses down and stay in one place for more than 2 weeks. We've virtually covered the whole of South East Asia and the Whole of Australia in 9 months. Its so hard to keep in touch with everybody and incredibly frustrating for a gossip queen like me who can talk alot faster than he can type (and I've got so much to say!!!). I'll tell you a quick story

Jen is very good on a horse, she did show jumping for 6 years but gave it up a long time ago. She has always had this dream of galloping a horse along the beach and over sand dunes, so as a xmas surprise I booked ourselves into a stable (www.saharatrails.com.au) for a 2 hour trail along the beach without her knowing. (She didn't know I had planned this until we pulled up into the stable in our rented campervan, which quickly silenced her persistent nagging and shouting about me going in the wrong direction and being a completely incompetent driver. WOMEN!).
I had hoped, seeing as it was my first time ever on a horse and that I had specifically requested so, that I would get to ride an old knacker who would be happier stopping eating grass and farting than pounding black beauty style along a beach. My illusions of being led along the track Riding with the Disabled style by some young stable hand were promptly shattered when I was told to jump up on top of a Black Monster by the name of "BRAVE" and tag along behind Jen and the trail guide who was breaking in a feisty young Mare that all the other horses hated.
There I was on the beach, having recieved no instruction, my crown jewels aching after my pathetic and mistimed efforts at trotting, when I heard the shout "Are you ready for a Gallop!". Pardon my French! but was I F*@$!! before I could even voice my displeasure, the 3 horses had decided that they were in a winner takes all drag race (apparentely they love running along the beach). I was clinging on for dear life, bouncing around like a corpse on a trampoline, as the bloody horses splashed through the waves and made a beeline for the nearest 100ft sand dune and raced for the top. Jen was loving it, I have to admit it was a bit of a rush but I am still aching from head to toe and fear that I will never be able to father children. Nobody told me that it was such hard work. I'd rather have Lewis beat me up at Lunch time.