Two weeks in the Emirates whistled past with my feet barely touching the ground. Thoroughly enjoyed catching up with old pals and playing with the bairns. The only photographic proof I can offer that I was there is this gem from Iceland, the world’s most dangerous waterpark*. I saw one spinal board in use, a poo in the pool and countless bumps and bruises.
Best bit? One ride has a maximum weight limit of 80kg. Did they put the scales at the bottom of the queue? Did they hell. Did they have an escape channel for those who got to the top and realised they were too chubby to ride? No way José. The fatties had to retreat back down the jeering line. (*Probably.)
As I flew into Heathrow at sunset, London treated me to clear skies and a low-level fly by of Tower Bridge and the City. Beautiful. After putting my passport in for replacement, complete with new tranny photo, I spent a weekend gallivanting with more lovely chums, hoping on bikes to slowly take in the typical tourist sites, the London Marathon, picnic in the park and check out some exhibitions. ‘Scott’s Last Expedition’ at the Natural History Museum is excellent and absorbed us for a good few hours. Did you know that they went into the wild unknown for three years? Did you know that they felt it necessary to take with them 90kilos of olives?
They’ve jazzed up the Crown Jewels ahead of the Jubilee and the old bird’s bling is quite something. Koor-i-Nur diamond sparkles like a dream; the First Star of Africa, the largest flawless cut diamond in the world weighing in at 530 carats, is the biggest rock I’ve ever seen; she has the funkiest salt shaker.
Breaking from the norm with no pub shots and no laborious, long descriptions.