Photograph of the Day: Brisbane Thunderstorm

Hello one and all. Today I'd like to show you all two amazing photographs taken by Julee, in Shorncliffe, Brisbane.

A dazzling Thundercloud over Moreton Bay

Cumulonimbus

Thanks for the fantastic Photos Julee!

Serious Travel Article (STA) 4: Riding a Typhoon to Tioman Island

It was a bright, sunny day in Mersing, a small port town on the east coast of mainland Malaysia. The smell of mushroom omelettes was in the air while traders, bounding with energy tried to sell their sugar cane drink. It was independence day in Malaysia, and there was only one boat due to set sail for Tioman, a small Island in the South China Sea. With time to kill before the big departure, I gave in to the demands of the sugar cane sellers. “One please”, words I would soon regret! It was disgusting, never have I been more disappointed by sugar, I had to get the taste out of my mouth, I bought a grass jelly drink, which had the consistency of slugs but went down a treat. After this misadventure, I had just enough time to chow down on a mushroom omelette to settle my stomach before the little wooden boat sailed off into the calm shimmering blue sea, to an Island paradise just over the horizon.

The Jagged Peaks of Tioman, Towering Above the Rainforest

As soon as the rickety old fishing vessel left the harbour, the clouds began to multiply, growing larger and more ominous. What had looked like a great day for sailing was becoming more of a nightmare. An hour into the trip and the wind was beginning to howl, by now the clouds had merged into one great monolith and had turned the sky black. The waves were being whipped by the wind and our hardy little ship was showing signs of struggling. The wind only intensified as we soldiered on, the waves swelled to the worrying heights of 10 or 15ft. Not massive, but on what was essentially a glorified rowing boat with an engine which was falling to bits, nothing could have been more terrifying.

As the waves grew bigger, more and more people began to throw up, locals who were on their way home after a shopping trip to Mersing were struggling to keep their groceries intact and free from hot chunks of breakfast. Eggs were flying everywhere and one person who had bought a chicken was just about able to keep it under control. The seas continued to get higher and the boat was beginning to let in water, every wave shook the boat making it roll around, its wooden planks unable to take any more pressure. The situation deteriorated further, as we started to sink in the storm and our boat was ripped apart by the violent waves we spotted a larger boat that couldn’t have been more than a mile away, they saw that we were in distress and came to our rescue. It was a small motor boat with room for about 50 people, but more importantly it had a roof to stop the torrential rain and breaking waves from flooding it.

Is Island Paradise worth Hellish Seasickness?

We were knee deep in our unwanted cargo of salt-water which we were bailing furiously when we finally docked with our rescuers. Everyone leapt from one boat to the other, timing the jump with the waves, just one meter separated us from certain peril. We may no longer have been facing a watery grave but we were still a long way from dry land, Tioman was now closer than the mainland so we kept sailing, not even looking back at the abandoned wooden dinghy which was now doomed to be consumed by the sea.

With our new boat completely overcrowded anarchy broke out. People were rolling around on the floor being sick, people were sick on me and I puked on others, even the captain was hurling. All I could see was half digested mushrooms, grass jelly slugs in a grim sugary mix and a terrified chicken frantically flapping about. I had well passed stage 1 sea sickness (thinking you're going to die) and was right in the middle of stage 2 (wishing you were going to die), everyone was there, all sorts of weird and wonderful seasickness cures were being passed around, to no avail.

A Beautiful Waterfall in the Lush Green Forests of Tioman Island

Seven hours into a journey which would usually take just 1½, the seas calmed and the lights of Tioman grew closer. The only thing now separating us from dry land was a 100m jetty with most of the wooden floor planks missing. Balancing carefully and leaping between the segments of the walkway that remained, we had all managed to survive the boat ride from hell, somehow.  

Poem of the Day: James Ward's Postcard

Our poem of the Day today is James Ward's now Infamous three line poem, Postcard. Banned in six countries after inciting the Murders of 18 nuns in South Korea, I am happy to announce that it is back and here to stay. So Here it is, James Ward's Postcard!

"Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard:
"How I dearly wish I was not here" "

By James Ward

The very bench where Ward thought up this powerful and moving work.

 

When questioned about his controversial poem, Jimmy had this to say:

"Good food doesn't eat itself you know, the world needs people like me to make sure it doesn't go to waste. :P Since I have a different sleep pattern to normal people, my second meal of the day is when everyone else has dinner. So today, I had sausages and chips. The third meal of my day is more similar to everyone else's lunch content-wise" - James Ward 

Thanks Jimmy!

Rant of the Day: Squatters

Why is it that squatters in the UK have more rights than home owners?

A few years ago my family embarked on an epic journey across the globe. They emigrated to Australia leaving me behind to go to university. With no one living in the house, we decided not to sell it but to rent it out to a tenant. We followed all the rules and procedure to the letter and we found ourselves a nice respectable man to live in our house. He was a local Lib Dem councillor and head of the local planning committee, and he had been recommended to us by a friend.

Well it turned out that our respectable gentleman squatt whoops I mean tenant was a complete and utter arsehole. We found out in 2010, during the council elections that our man wasn't standing for re-election, no re-election = no rent. We asked him why he wasn't standing but we got no reply. This became the norm, months went by of us trying to contact him and him not obliging. He stopped paying the rent pretty soon after he lost his seat on the council.

Squatter James Philip Jardim Spencer Mumford in his Political days

I went to the council and spoke to some of the people that worked with him.

“Why did he lose his job”, I asked.

“He was a slave driver! He used to come in in the mornings and make our lives hell” Replied a larger than life middle aged woman with a thick Jamaican accent. (Lets call her Joyce – for the sake of anonymity)

“He was always abusing the staff here, harassing us. We had to take it up with the local Lib Dem leadership, he was the most abusive man I've ever worked with”.

“And that's the reason he lost his seat?”

“In a nutshell” She replied.

He had invented a bogus sob story to try and get us off his back.

“ooooh, I'm too I'll to work”, he cried pathetically when I asked him why he can't get any money together.

“You're well enough to cycle 14km a day” (I had worked this out using the quickest cycle route between the three local supermarkets which he had confided in me that he visited daily to get all the reduced bargains)

“well I've been looking for work, Its just to hard to get it” he replied,

(What happened to “I'm too I'll to work” I thought to myself!)

“I've been coming here (I was otherwise homeless at the time and had to live there when I couldn’t find a friends sofa to crash on) for weeks now and you haven’t applied for one job” I quickly retorted.

“I've been too busy with moving out”

“Bollocks!” I shouted, “You haven’t done any packing at all! We told you to get your shit together in December after 2 months of no rent and your first eviction notice came in February! (Recorded delivery, no way to weasel out of that) Since then you’ve been making excuse after excuse as your arrears pile up. You promised to be out by the 27^th of June when I wanted to move in! You were still here, because of that I'm homeless! If you really wanted to go you could have moved in with your mother's in Barnes (A really posh area of London).”

The Conversation continued.

So I ask you, whoever you may be. Why is it that a perfectly able man, can be on state support, living in a private house for almost a year without paying rent. And my family are unable to evict him by force without a court order. His first eviction notice was issued over 6 months ago and were still waiting for our court date (Thanks riots). I'm currently homeless while I wait for my new job in China to start. My family has lost over £10,000 subsidising this pathetic bum to live in our house while we dip into the red!

Tell me, why do squatters have more rights in this country than people that work hard and pay their mortgage?

P.S. If you know James Mumford, don't trust him, don't let him near any of your assets and please, for the love of god, never let James Philip Jardim Spencer Mumford represent you or live in your house. The Parasite will bleed you dry! 

Serious Travel Article (STA) 3: Massacre on the North Queensland Coast

In far north Queensland, wedged in between the Great Barrier Reef and the Great Dividing Range lies the city of Cairns, but in spite of its awe inspiring location, Cairns is just like any other city. Complete with the same old shops, smells, noises and grime of any other city, just with a few extra tourists for good measure. Terrified by the prospect of city life in paradise, we decided to head north, hopefully far enough for the highways of Cairns to turn into dirt tracks.

As soon as the outer suburbs of Cairns are in your dust, you begin to understand what the Australian tropics must have been like before the advent mass tourism. On the flat land, fields of cane grow high enough to hide an Elephant while just beside them run hundreds of miles of rail track to transport the harvested cane. The trains themselves look utterly ridiculous and ready to topple over with the slightest turn or breeze. Tracks no more than 2 ft wide support cargo more commonly seen on the rail tracks of Britain at the dead of night, you just want to push them over! The road north from Cairns then transforms into a magnificent coast road, stretching out like a ribbon as the lush green mountains tower high above the sea. Stopping to admire the view, the mid winter heat became overwhelming, the sun was scorching and the humidity made you feel like someone had been scribbling over your face with a Pritt Stick, but you soon forgot about that when you gaze upon the landscape. The north Queensland coast looks like a giant piece of jewellery, with colours so vivid it seemed to me that a gold lining separated the emerald mountains and sapphire sea, I guess the heat had made me delirious. Panicking, I quickly rushed back to the sanctuary of the hire car's air conditioning, like a drunk to the liquor.

Sunrise at Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas

As we drew closer to Port Douglas, luxury hotels started to pop up, lining the road in their dozens. Paul Theroux managed to capture the essence of Port Douglas perfectly when he described it as a “Nipponized resort with golf courses and spruced up shopping malls. Japanese tourists in silly hats fly here from Tokyo to buy designer merchandise and hit golf balls. It was cheaper to fly here than join a Japanese golf club”. Port Douglas however, does have a few things going for it. For one its as close to the barrier reef as you're ever going to get while still retaining your breakfast. Two, although it may have all the Tourists of Cairns and Townsville, it lacks all the nasties of city life, in fact, the locals say “its the safest town in Australia”. Plus its close to the pristine Daintree rainforest and like any good seaside resort its got a long, sandy, tree lined beach, which can never be a bad thing, especially when the sea feels like a warm salty bath.

We stayed at the Rendezvous Reef Resort. Much like any other resort in Port Douglas, it consisted of a miniature village comprised of cavernous terraced apartments, complete with lagoon style swimming pool, a “sophisticated” bar/restaurant and shoddy little tennis court. But who comes to this part of the world to play tennis? I was happy in our basic accommodation, but if you want to splash out, I recommend the Reef Club Resort. It's closer to town, a short walk through the cane toad forest to Four Mile Beach and a little more comfortable. (I added this dash of touristic commercialism to comply with some silly guidelines, do you like it?)

A twenty minute drive away from Port Douglas is Mossman Gorge, an accessible part of the Daintree rainforest. At the base of the gorge is an aboriginal settlement, with the wilderness at its fringes, lines of bungalows, with neat mown lawns, picket fences and washing lines make it resemble a very lost acre of 1950s American suburbia. While at the settlement at Mossman Gorge we encountered an Aboriginal lady by the name of Rosie. She told us all about her people, how they used to live and why Port Douglas had no Aborigines. Apparently in the 19^th century Port Douglas had been a thriving settlement of Aborigines and Chinese traders. They were massacred, their bodies piled into mass graves. The town was build on top with no mention of its bloody past in the history books. Yet another reminder of Australia's grim and bloody recent history.

The Swimming Hole at Mossman Gorge. It's Cold but you're a wuss if you don't jump in anyway 

Mossman Gorge itself is a majestic valley in between some of the towering peaks of the Daintree. At the centre of the valley is a gushing river made up of waterfalls, white water and vast clear swimming pools. Coming straight from the tops of the nearby mountains, the water felt freezing, but the fish seemed to be warm enough so I decided to dive in anyway. After realising fish survive in the Arctic, a wave of cold engulfed me, but I soon overcame it and realised the water was fine and began to laugh at the people too scared to take the plunge. The water was crystal clear, fish and eels darted about below me while snakes and water dragons scampered and slithered in the trees.

Journeying on from Mossman Gorge, still further into the northern wilderness, you come to the great Daintree River. The only way across this crocodile infested torrent is by cable ferry, there are no bridges up here. In fact, the Daintree River symbolises the end of civilised Australia, beyond it, there is no electricity grid, no gas mains, everyone who lives beyond this point is self sufficient, all that exists this far north is rainforest, the odd tea plantation and a few hundred wild cassowaries, (Australia's largest land animal and a descendant of Kevin from Up). In this wilderness is a little town called Cape Tribulation, here the reef comes right up to the coast and on a clear day is one of the best places for snorkelling, although not as spectacular as the outer reef, the coral at Cape Tribulation is easily accessible, with no time limits to ruin your day. However if your serious about diving and exploring the depths of the ocean, I suggest rather than venturing to the Great Barrier Reef on an organised day trip (dozens of oversized catamarans depart from Cairns and Port Douglas daily) go to Lady Musgrave Island off the coast of the Town of 1770, that's the real Barrier Reef.

A Cassowary, the largest land animal of Australia

The tropical coast of northern Queensland is truly one of the worlds must see places, not for the reasons you might expect, namely the reef, instead its the hinterland of this mysterious region that truly captures the imagination. Whether it be the vast rainforest, shrouded in mist and low cloud with its waterfalls, swimming holes and exotic wildlife, the rugged green mountains, the rich and bloody history or the people that call the Daintree home, the far north of Queensland is worth a trip half way around the world.

Serious Travel Article (STA) 2: The Dribbling Nutcase of Budapest

The city of Budapest, prides itself in being one of the worlds most popular short break destinations. It's exquisite architecture, vibrant night life and breath taking views, makes Paris (a more traditional city break destination) look like an swirling vortex, plagued with pretentious, cheese eating, surrender monkeys.

A panorama of the Beautiful City of Budapest. One of Europe's most Spectacular Cities.

Despite its growing popularity, the most daunting aspect facing anyone visiting Hungary is the tongue shredding Language. Reputed to be the hardest language in the world for an outsider to learn (beating even Welsh), any traveller to Hungary will be heartened to learn that Budapest has precious few English speakers, so you will have to (at least attempt) mutter a few simple Hungarian phrases. Two phrases were of particular help to me. “Nem bessielek mud yarool” - “I do not speak Hungarian” and “Harom Dreher Kayrem” - “Three Drehers (Budapest's most popular brand of lager) please”. If you manage to break down the language barrier, even partially, you'll discover that the people of Budapest are a friendly bunch, unlike many other European capitals. If you venture off the tourist trail, into the grimy back streets of Budapest, the booze hounds that spend their lives stagnating in the many oasis' of grog will always strike up conversations with you. Most of them, puzzle over how you found your way out of tourist town and into their local. But beware, there is a thin line between a friendly local and a dribbling nutcase.

One fateful evening, my friends and I were innocently staggering back to our hostel, smashed out of our minds when we were pounced upon by a crazy man (We named him Vladimir). At first he seemed to be just another friendly drunk, wanting to talk to a seemingly lost foreigner. His English was as bad as our Hungarian, our conversation consisted of “Hello!”, to which we replied “Nem bessielek mud yarool”, this repeated itself for almost an hour. It was during this monotonous conversation that I started to notice Vladimir's greasy almost bald hair was suspiciously wet. His mouth foamed with an endless stream of saliva, most of which ended up on his head. His teeth, no more than pegs oozed an odour so spine shilling that my eyes began to wince.

 I managed to keep my distance but my friend mark was square in the firing line. As well as a pool of phlegm seeping out of Vladimir's mouth, the snot was streaming out his nose like a gooey flame thrower. Most of it ended up on his smiley bald head but Mark wasn’t safe. Our new friend decided he wanted to shake hands with all of us, I told him it was against my Zoroastrian faith, he didn’t know what I was on about but it did the job. Mark didn’t manage to weasel out, at the moment they shook hands, Vladimir sneezed all over my friend, covered in snot, Vladimir decided he had bothered us enough, content in his evening, he left us with nothing but mucus and a dirty wet fart to remember him by.

Blue Sky Budapest, quite a novelty to see a city with blue skies now I live in China!

Real travel isn’t glamourous, people only think it is when they get back. The next day we spent the day drinking absinthe and talking to random passers by. “Alright Jimmy! Good old Jimmy, doesn’t say much, top lad Jimmy”. This continued all, day and all through the night. Sure you can visit cites and go to the attractions, with the hordes of tourists, but you never experience a city unless you live the life of a bum, at least for a few days. Saying that, if you do go to Budapest, do visit the attractions, the Parliament, the galleries and see the amazing architecture, it is an unforgettable city, just don't be a tourist.

Poem of the Month: Ode to an Omelette

Here's another offering from our resident artist/poet/bee-keeper, Alan Boarder. I present to you, Ode to an Omelette.

Most fair and most excellent Spanish Omelette

Bright yellow in egg

White hot in Onions

Blood red in tomato passion

I place my ear upon the plate on which you rest

And can hear you whispering love to me

In words that I do not understand.

It seems that you must have been created in heaven

But I know that you were made in that kitchen

With those eggs and those onions by that woman.

Let me lick your soft skin

Chew and swallow your warm body.

So that by digesting you we become one flesh.

But Alas this consumption of our love

Is your demise.

Oh omelette

Don't be afraid

Gently does it

Into my jaws. 

Alan Boarder's Iconic Painting, Into the Void.

Serious Travel Article (STA) 1: Byron Bay, New South Wales

At the most easterly point of mainland Australia, nestled beneath the imposing peak of mount Warning, or the rain-maker as the Aboriginal people once called it, sits the colourful little town of Byron Bay. Famous as Australia's Hippy capital, Byron Bay has been attracting backpackers from across the globe for generations, and its not hard to see why. Byron Bay boasts four pristine beaches, with golden sands and clear, turquoise waters, literally swimming with marine life, including Stingrays, Barramundi, Turtles and even Dolphins.

Mount Warning

Unlike Australia's other big tourist hotspots, Byron Bay remains relatively undeveloped, its uncrowded beaches are surrounded by sand dunes and forests rather than skyscrapers and shopping centres. In fact, the beaches and parks of Byron Bay are so unspoiled they are home to Water Dragons, Goanas, Kookaburras and even two types of Snake. As well as being a home to wildlife both in and out the water, Byron Bay is can boast some of the most reliable surf in Australia. Despite its immense popularity, Byron Bay has managed to remain relatively unspoiled, even though its neighbour to the north, the Gold Coast can only be described as Australia's answer to Benidorm, only bigger. Byron Bay in contrast, has done something magnificent, it has somehow retained its unique charm, its streets bustle with weird and wonderful people, eccentric shop fronts decorate the town making it quite different to any other homogenised town you expect to find in this globalised world of ours. Byron Bay also has a refreshing cosmopolitan feel about it, at night the CBD comes alive with pubs and clubs, many showcasing the town's vibrant music scene by playing live music every night and staying open well into the early hours.

Byron Bay's Headland, The Most Easterly Point of Australia.

Although it may just be a small town, Byron Bay offers some of the best dining Australia has to offer outside of Melbourne. The food in Byron Bay is fresh and tasty, this being quite a rarity for Australia generally, restaurants from across the globe compete ferociously to get you through their doors. Every Sunday morning, in the town of Bangalow, 10 miles to the west of Byron Bay, there is a huge car boot sale, but unlike one of its British counterparts, its a must visit! Firstly because of the drive there, the road to Bangalow twists and turns as it goes over the rolling hills of northern New South Wales and early in the morning the valleys are shrouded in mist, making the drive one of the Worlds most beautiful car boot runs. When you arrive at the Bangalow market you will be overwhelmed by the vast array of stalls spreading out into the distance in every direction, filled with pointless curios, antiques, everything an ageing hippie would ever need and much much more. No trip to Byron Bay is complete without a trip to its famous lighthouse, standing at the tip of Cape Byron, the Lighthouse stands east of almost everything and has the best views of Byron Bay and the country beyond. Anyone planning on visiting Australia simply has to visit this eccentric little town in northern New South Wales, it truly is a highlight in any trip down under.  

Bangalow, a Short Drive from Byron Bay and well worth a Visit

Poem of the Month: By Alan Boarder

You have a wonderful sense of Humor

You have a wonderful sense of humor

But you laugh through a mouth that has no lips.

Your voice is a croak.

You have three bosoms and only one leg.

I managed to have sex with you

But you stood up afterwards and your bum fell off.

You exist only in my dreams

Where I attempt to construct you with only partial success

One night I will get you right

You will have a head, two arms, a lovely body and legs, a tail

(No I don’t want you to have a tail.)

A voice like a angel, shining eyes, flesh soft and pink -----

And then I ‘ll drag you out of my dream

Hot and screaming

I ‘ll wake up and you will be lying there breathing softly

And take you warm hand and lead you out in into the garden

Put a blue dress on you

Have a cup of tea

And I’ll be alone no more.

Alan Boarder is a successful artist and poet hailing from Whitchurch on Thames, South Oxfordshire. He began his career in 1967, when he painted his now famous Dog with an Erection, a now iconic image which has been displayed in the worlds leading galleries, winning critical acclaim from the art worlds most eminent professors. 

This previously forgotten work was written by Boarder in 2005. No doubt it will be another fantastic success from one of the art worlds most beloved sons.