There’s such a lot of world to see

As I mentioned earlier, it was Alice and Hugh’s talk of Neighbours that was the clincher in me deciding to come to Melbourne. Not only the Neighbours tour, but the Neighbours Night. This is a weekly event, held at the Elephant and Wheelbarrow pub in St Kilda, ostensibly a pub quiz, but with the chance to meet three Neighbours stars. Sign me up.

I’d got in the mood earlier in the day, by celebrating with my first haircut in six months (got to look my best for those stars), and then preparing to leave EARLY the next day. My flight was at 8am from Avalon Airport, which is an hour out of town; this basically meant getting a bus at 6am to get to the airport at 7am. With only one or two buses an hour, I could not miss that bus. And, when Alice and Hugh told me that last time they’d got in at about 4am, I knew I would be up against a challenge. I packed up completely, so I only had to brush my teeth and run out the door (and, frankly, the teeth wouldn’t be a priority).

To get myself even more in the mood, I visited the Melbourne Museum. This is a great place, one I’d definitely recommend visiting. They have fabulous Aboriginal and Natural History exhibitions, but the thing I was really wanting to see was in the Australiana section. It was …. drum roll….. the original set of the Robinson’s kitchen. Now, I know to some of you younger readers this might not mean a lot (Hugh, earlier, had asked me, “Who’s Charlene?”), but to me, it was mecca. I got even more excited when I opened the fridge door and spotted Charlene and Scott’s wedding cake. I had a slice but it just tasted cardboardy, to be honest.

Back at the apartment for a quick change and slap on of make up, and soon we were heading out. We met Alice and Hugh’s friend at the station, and got the tram out to St Kilda. It was easy enough to spot the other people heading out for it – basically, anyone British. It’s amazing how popular it is with British people, for reasons I’m not exactly sure of.

We got there, paid our extortionate $40 entrance fee (although we did get a free drink), met my friend Karen who I’d met on the Neighbours tour and signed up for this evening, and settled down to a high state of anticipation. Or I did, anyway, the others were just looking forward to it; I was bouncing off the ceilings. The organisers are clever, in that they keep you on the edge for two hours before anything happens, so obviously everyone keeps running to the bar. It was ace.

After the wait, the MC got up and started getting us all really hyped up. The show was about to start. The first star we would meet was Ned. I’d never even heard of Ned, but the fact that he was on Neighbours was good enough for me. The guy was delightful, posing for loads of photos with us and signing autographs, really taking the time to chat to us.

Maybe it’s because he’s new, as the other two weren’t as approachable. The second star was Steph Scully. Very pretty, about my height, very smiley, but didn’t take as much time with us as Ned. The last star was the evil Paul Robinson, who was very small in real life, like a Polly Pocket, and who really seemed to think he was someone special. I think I was quite sarcastic to his face, telling him I loved his work, because he wouldn’t sign an autograph for me. He had his photo taken with me but his face is more of a grimace than a smile. Still, where would he be without us, eh? Eh?

We got to ask the stars questions. Unfortunately, neither mine (To Paul: Do you still have the leather jacket you wore in the “Gonna Make You Feel Good” video?), nor Hugh’s (To Paul: Who’s Charlene?) was read out. There was an absolute classic, though. One of Paul’s big-time stalker-type fans was there, and he greeted her by name. She was wearing a denim jacket with his face on the back and “Stefan Dennis!” written in jaunty writing. Imagine our mirth when someone asked, To Paul: Does it scare you when you see people wearing clothing with your face on it?

The quiz is now a vague memory, but our team (titled Paul Robinson’s Prosthetic Leg) came fifth. I do remember Alice telling me to be quiet as I was giving the answers away to the team behind us (who ended up coming first – booooooo!). And I cheated and sent a text to Andy for one of the answers – for some reason I thought he would know the breed of dog currently on Neighbours. He didn’t. Which I’m sort of relieved about.

The night progressed on to prizes. I – to my shame – thought it would be a good idea to enter an air guitar competition. Even more to my shame, I only came second. The mortification. The neck pain the next day. Not good. I also ended up with a Harold Bishop t-shirt, somehow. I wear it with pride.

Our happiness was complete when we were treated to an hour’s set by Dr Karl’s band. It was so much fun, they did some good stuff and we enjoyed being the screaming fans down at the front of the stage. Like Beatlemania all over again!

Sadly though, as all nights do, it had to come to an end. And this is where it all went a bit pear-shaped for me, as I left my purse in a taxi. With my debit card, my credit card, and the money to get to the airport the next day. I realised as I got back to the apartment but, after getting a bit upset, realised there was nothing I could do that night. So, fully dressed (including my Harold Bishop t-shirt), I crashed out at about 3am.

When the alarm went at 5.30 – well, let’s just say I wasn’t sober yet, and was grateful that I’d packed and was already dressed. The teeth DID get brushed, though, and I somehow managed to get a free ride to the airport (thanks loads and loads to Hugh for helping me out with the card situation). Once there I started to call home to my banks to cancel my cards, which was a strange experience – to be doing something so serious with alcohol still in my body, AND wearing a Harold Bishop t-shirt. All done, I boarded the plane and sat next to an odd man who kept talking about Combine Harvesters to me. “Go on, in UK pounds, guess how much fuel they use a day?”. He actually poked me as well and said, “You’re not allowed to go to sleep!”. I tells ya, he’s lucky he didn’t get a slap.

Somehow, miraculously, I landed safe inBrisbane exactly when I was meant to. Andy was there to meet me, and I couldn’t think of a more welcome sight. We were about to head off on a great adventure.

The next day, though cold again, was dry and sunny, so Alice and I were persuaded to go fishing by Hugh, his brother, and their friend (also called Hugh). Was this against my better judgement? My first experience of fishing was at our caravan in the lake district when we were small, where both Michael and I showed a disconcerting willingness to hit the fish over the head; my second (and only other) fishing experience was with an ex-boyfriend who, I’m sure, only took me fishing to shut me up – he told me he wouldn’t catch any fish if they heard any noise. I think it says more about me than about him that I thought this was an acceptable date! Fortunately (for all of us), the day turned out nothing like that at all.

We were headed out to a place called Williamstown, and to a stretch of water in particular called the Warmies; it got that name because of some kind of power plant nearby that heats the water up, and all the fish become radioactive or something (well, not exactly that, but I don’t think you’d be eating them in a hurry). Down by the river it was quite chilly, and I was grateful for the warmth of my new hat, purchased the day before as a barrier to the cold Melbourne wind.

Before the guys settled down to their fishing, and Alice and I settled down to the important business of gossiping, we had to make a stop for fish and chips, with Alice and I also picking up a bottle of champagne (I’m cursed with good taste!). Seriously, does ANYTHING taste better than good food and cold champagne eaten outside with friends? If it does, I’ve never eaten it.

We were there for a few hours, eating, drinking, laughing, chatting. We took some classic photos that will be up on my site (SOON!), including one that Hugh took of Alice and I that has become an instant favourite, a real Kodak moment. One to frame when I get home. Along with all my other favourites – there really isn’t going to be a spare inch of wall at my house at this rate.

Hugh’s mum kindly picked us up, and then, after a quick stop back at the apartment, we headed out to a house party. By now, the effects of the champagne (and the other bottle of wine that I forgot to mention) were well and truly taking effect, to the point where we thought it would be a good idea for me to get in a shopping trolley and for Hugh to push me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the behaviour of a mature 30 year old. We could not stop laughing for what seemed like hours.

At the house party, I was introduced to the Aussie version of cheap cider. Remember when you were underage and the drink of choice seemed to be that fowl cheap cider? The Aussie version is called Passion Pop. It costs $3 per bottle, and it tastes like it costs $3 per bottle. Pretty grim. Still, I had to give it a good try.

After this, the night pretty much continued in the same vein. We moved on to a pub, and then Alice unfortunately lost her bag, which put a dampner on the whole night, and before too long we were back at the ranch, Alice desperately trying to cancel her cards and her phone.

Things always seem better in the morning, and this was the case here. Yes, the bag was still gone, but Alice was her usual lovely chirpy self. As was Hugh, and the whole of his family – for this was a Big Day. We were going to the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground – a stone’s throw away from the apartment) for another footie match. Hugh and his family are Carlton fans, and they were playing Collingwood, of whom probably the most apt description I can give for UK readers is that they’re the Manchester United of Aussie Rules. The fans love them; everyone else hates them. Carlton aren’t doing too well this season, so I was grateful that I’d been to the Saints game a couple of days before, otherwise I might have got lumbered with being a Carlton fan. I did sport a scarf that Hugh gave me, though. Yeah, I know, I’m fickle. That’s me.

The MCG was a wonderful, huge, atmospheric stadium, and it was great to see such an exciting match there. Sadly Carlton lost, after rallying in the first couple of quarters, but I DID get to see my first few fights on the pitch, which excited me no end. This was what I’d been promised, and what kept me coming back for more. Yet again I was right in there with the crowd, screaming “BALL!” when the players refused to release it. And yet again I had a famous four and twenty pie, a quintessential footie snack. And it was deelish.

I crashed out early that night, exhausted from the previous night’s shenanigans and the cold air at the football game. I also knew I needed a good night’s sleep to prepare for the coming day. Possibly the most important day of my life. I was going to the Neighbours Night.

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