I love Pink Floyd - thank you Russell

This weekend was brilliant, I loved it. Had a great time. This weekend, I flew back to Newcastle so I could go and see Roger Waters in concert with my brother. In short, it was awesome - absolutely fantastic show, well worth all of the effort to see it.

It's especially impressive considering I had no interest in Roger Waters or Pink Floyd less than two years ago. Let me back up a bit to explain how this all happened.

I'm a big, big music fan - have been since I was a young 'un. I blame my brother, who blasted all sorts of different music throughout the house the entire time we were growing up. Not surprisingly, I ended up with very similar tastes as my brother for a long time for the simple fact that the only music I ever heard was what he played. This all ended the day he introduced me to Metallica.

The thing about my brother's music taste (and he's admitted it to me more than once) is that he's very much into popular music. I've never been one to like anything that's popular, I'm very much into things a bit left-of-centre, a bit different - anything that excites me, really. At the time, I'd never heard anything like this song before (it was 'One', trivia fans) and it awoke something in me. I needed to hear more. At a guess, I'd say I was 12, maybe 13 at the time.

Anyway, at this point I became a massive metal-head. I grew my hair, started tracking down all sorts of different metal bands, started teaching myself to play the bass... I was pretty into it. My brother and most of my friends, however, were not.

The a strange thing happened when I was 16: I became completely sick of the sound of the guitar. I stopped listening to all these guitar bands. I sold all my metal CDs and started listening to electronic music. At first it was hardcore techno (but not for very long), then I discovered industrial - sort of a blend of all the different genres I'd grown up listening to all in one. And the whole time, I was regularly being chastised for my taste in music (and still am, I might add).

So what does this long-winded tale of my musical past have to do with this weekend? Well, it all comes down to the Live 8 concerts of 2005.

You see, I'm an extremely new fan of Pink Floyd. Oh, I've known of them for many, many years - in fact, my brother used to torture me by playing Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2) every once in a while at home. The truth is, I used to hate Pink Floyd and everything about them. I was impressed by the sales record of Dark Side of the Moon, but I could never understand why they were so popular - they just sounded like another dull '70s band to me. It didn't help that I'd once been forced to sit through the movie of The Wall when I was 15 and found it excruciatingly boring.

I'm not sure if age has mellowed me, but something changed late one night in 2005 while I was watching highlights from the Live 8 concerts. For some reason, I was particularly interested in seeing Pink Floyd play - I think primarily because it was such a massive coup that they had reformed, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Anyway, I had the house to myself (R was on a trip to Sydney that weekend) so I cranked up the volume and watched history unfold.

As it was only highlights, the only song I saw was 'Comfortably Numb' - and I was stunned. I remember a chill going up my spine at the line 'just a little pin-prick'. I had no idea of the story of The Wall, much less the importance of this song, but those words began to haunt me, it just sounded so creepy. The next day, I rang my brother and asked him to send me all of his Pink Floyd CDs down to me - I had to hear more.

After they arrived, I listened to The Wall a few times, as well as Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here. I kinda liked them, but at the time they just didn't click with me.

Nothing really changed until roughly a year later, and even now I can't remember exactly what the catalyst was. I guess I thought I'd give another Floyd album a listen. It was probably The Wall: I had become obsessed by its story and had done a lot of reading about it. Forgive the pretentiousness, but there were sections of it that struck very close to home to me - particularly the alienation from my long-time girlfriend (our relationship had already dissolved beyond repair by this point).

This time it hit me. Hard. And this time it stuck. I started listening to them non-stop. I bought up every one of their CDs I could find - I couldn't get enough. Pink Floyd had become my drug, and it was more addictive than anything I could possibly imagine.

By now I knew the entire history of the band - including the falling out between Roger Waters and the rest of the band, as well as David Gilmour's retirement of Pink Floyd. Sad as I was that I'd never get the chance to see them live, I was intrigued that one of the more well-regarded cover bands was touring Australia in November. Figuring this would be as close as I'd get to seeing them live, I rang my brother and asked if he was interested in seeing them with me. As luck would have it, he was going to be in Melbourne the very weekend they were playing here.

This was the point I discovered something about my brother: he wasn't actually that big a fan of Floyd. He knew the hits, but beyond that they were just another bunch of CDs in his collection. Despite this, he was interested in seeing the show so he said yes. Like me, he figured he should become a bit more acquainted with their material if he was going to catch a live show. The fool - he had no idea what he was getting himself into!

Like me, another Floyd fan was born. Every time we spoke we'd talk about Floyd: what we'd been listening to, nuances in David Gilmour's guitar solos - everything. It was especially exciting for me as at last I had a common musical point with my brother, something we've not really had for almost 20 years.

As the Pink Floyd Experience show grew closer, an even bigger event appeared on the horizon: Roger Waters announced an Australian tour. It was a foregone conclusion that we were going, so I booked tickets in Sydney the instant they went on sale. And after months of waiting, the show finally arrived last Thursday.

I think we both weren't really expecting that great a show. I can only speak for myself, but I was more excited at getting a chance to see a musical legend in concert than hearing a man in his 60s relive the songs of his youth. I mean, this is the man who wrote roughly 95 per cent of Pink Floyd's music and lyrics - that deserves more than just a little respect in my books. Unfortunately, if you've seen the full Live 8 set, Waters's vocals were the least impressive part of the show, and I think we were both expecting the whole show to be similarly underwhelming.

I am extremely happy to report that we were both completely and utterly wrong. The show was unbelievably awesome: the sound, the stage show, the songs and the band were all excellent, but Waters himself delivered in every possible way. Not only was he gracious on stage, gladly stepping to the side to let other band members have their time in the spotlight, but he sounded just as good as he did back in the '70s and '80s - I was truly impressed. By the time the intermission arrived, we both agreed that this show was a million times better than we could have possibly imagined.

My brother and I have always been close over the years, so it's been strange being so far away over the last eight years or so - particularly since I moved to Melbourne. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye on everything, which is natural - in most respects, we're extremely different people. I guess this is why I have such a special place in my heart for Pink Floyd now, it's helped open up a new common ground in our lives, something we're able to share together. And this is why I had such a great weekend, I got to share a fantastic day with one of the most important people in my life, doing something we both enjoyed.

Thanks Russell, I'm gonna miss ya.

Nothing much of interest to report...

... oh, except I've now booked my accommodation in Japan.

It's true though, it's been a boring week. More work. Oh, and I sold off a LOT of DVDs, which means less packing.

But this weekend I had to plan my Japanese trip, so I trudged into work on Saturday afternoon to get it done - for some reason I wasn't getting anything done at home. After a couple of hours, I'd planned out a route that took me from Tokyo to Mt. Fuji, then to Kyoto, Hiroshima and Osaka, before heading back to Tokyo for the flight to London. I also looked at a whole bunch of hostels, ryokans and hotels, trying to figure out where to stay.

After more consultation with Alex and Bron, I decided to drop Mt. Fuji from the trip.

Today, I booked everything. The only disappointment was that there was this fantastic looking ryokan in Hiroshima that I really wanted to stay at, but they don't allow single travellers. Oh well.

That's about it really for this week. I warned you at the beginning there wasn't much of interest to report. Sorry.

Strange coincidences and stupidity tax

It's funny how your life can change so dramatically over the course of a day. Today, I took the biggest step of them all: I've now booked my flights to London (via Japan). There's no going back now.

Of course, nothing I do ever seems to go completely to plan. I woke up early this morning, had some breakfast, listened to some music, had a shower - nothing new there. The biggest difference with this particular Saturday morning was that I knew I was going to book the tickets for my trip in just a few hours. I'd actually planned to do this on Thursday night, but fortune struck again when I went up to Victoria Gardens and found out the travel agent was closed (despite it being late night shopping).

Anyway, when I arrived at the travel agent I spent an hour or so discussing my plans and carefully choosing which flights to take with the very lovely Danielle. By the end of it all, I had bought tickets from Sydney to Osaka on the 23rd of February, then from Osaka to London on the 2nd of March. Perfect - I wanted to arrive before my birthday, this gets me there a week and a half early. I figured there was no point wasting time paying, so I handed over my credit card and it was all done. After a quick warning that I couldn't change my flight plans once I'd paid (unless I wanted to pay a $500 cancellation fee), I was on my way home to pick up my passport for a quick visual verification.

I mentioned in my last post about stupidity tax; I don't know if it's a widely known phenomenon, but this is what I like to call money I've wasted doing something rash or impulsive (read: stupid). Last time it looked like I was going to be paying a stupidity tax for not following the visa application instructions properly. If you were wondering why I mentioned the $500 cancellation fee just now, I think it's time to make the connection.

Coming home, I picked up my passport and flipped to my visa. I'd had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind when I'd paid for my tickets, and now it suddenly hit me what it was: my visa wasn't valid until the 8th of March. That's six days after I arrive. Considering I now had to head back to the travel agent and cancel my flights not 30 minutes after I'd booked them, and considering this simple act was going to cost me $500, I think I kept my cool quite well.

With my tail between my legs, I headed back to see Danielle and break the bad news - which is the exact moment when she became one of my favourite people in the whole world. It turns out that, because my tickets hadn't been issued yet, it wasn't necessary for me to pay the cancellation fee. I didn't have to pay stupidity tax. We could organise new flights. Everything was okay again and I could dislodge the knot that had taken up residence in my stomache.

Another hour later, I walked out with a brand new flight itenarary: this time, I fly from Sydney to Tokyo on the 28th of February (which is great, I don't miss out on seeing Tokyo now!), then on the 8th of March I fly from Tokyo to London. Better yet, these new flights were even cheaper than the last lot - I saved a whole two dollars! Hey, when you're facing a $500 fine for being negligent in intelligence, you savour every positive moment where you can.

So that's my travel schedule. It's a little closer than I was expecting, but it's turned out to be perfect. I get to spend an extra day in Japan, I don't have to stay in Newcastle for as long as I thought I would and I get to see in my thirties exactly how I wanted.

Seeing how things had gone so well today, I figured I should celebrate a little tonight. I thought it'd be nice to stay in, eat some junk food and watch a movie, so I strapped on my shoes and headed out the door to visit my favourite pizza place. By strange coincidence, just as I was about to turn the corner to head to my car I noticed something sticking out of my mailbox: a menu for a pizza shop. A menu for the exact pizza shop I was about to drive to. I'm not superstitious by any means, but I figured this was a definite sign that my course was the correct one.

Visas agogo!

Wow, I'm impressed. As mentioned in my last post, I recently applied for my UK Ancestry visa - it was actually on Thursday, three days before that post. I had wanted to apply for my visa last month because the Britaus website says it takes around three or four weeks for the applications to be processed and they recommend not booking flights until the visa has been cleared. So here I am, watching the time fly by and flight fares rising along with it.

Okay, the reason it took so long to get the visa application completed is down to birth certificates and a bit of stupidity on my part. I misread the list of documents that were needed for the application and didn't notice that I needed mum's birth certificate as well as nan's (for some reason, I thought I only needed nan's). Mum already had nan's birth certificate, but it turned out she only had a copy of her own and the application required originals. If that wasn't enough, nan's birth certificate was lost in the mail on the way down to me (thankfully, it turned up a week later) - unfortunately, it wasn't what I needed! Once again, mum came to the rescue and ordered the right one for me online.

To cut an already boring story short, everything I needed arrived last Thursday which is when I quickly filled in the online application and sent my documents off express.

Cut to yesterday afternoon (Tuesday) and getting home I find a parcel note in the mail. The first thing that occurs to me is that my package from China has been sent to the wrong address. It's too late to call the courier, so I figure I'll just pick it up in the morning early before work (all the way out at Tullamarine - near the airport).

In the morning, as I'm getting ready to leave, it suddenly occurs to me that a company in Hong Kong isn't going to send me a package using Australia Air Express. The only thing I'm expecting to come from an Australian courier is... oh shit. My visa. They can't have processed it in a day, there's something wrong. Looks like I'm going to end up paying a stupidity tax again. Maybe not, I'm not sure. But it looks likely.

Taking the morning off work, I drive off and pick up my package. First impressions aren't good - it's obviously a document pouch, no doubt returning my stuff and a list of things I've neglected to send them. No use delaying the inevitable, ripping it open something falls out... it's my passport. Wait a minute, what's this big sticker thing? Holy crap, it's my visa!

Suddenly I've gone from despair to elation - I ring dad to let him and mum know; I ring Alex to let him know, and I ring Johnny at work so he can berate me for being so pessimistic. Suddenly, everything in the world is good again. Suddenly, I realise just how close it is until I leave and I can finally book my tickets!

So, a big thank you to the British Consulate in Canberra! A whole day to process my visa application, I can't be happier.

First post jitters

Okay, here I go - my first post.

Well, let's begin with a bit about me. At the moment, I'm 29 years old. I was born in Newcastle and lived there (more or less) until I was 22, when I moved to Sydney with my girlfriend. We lived there for five or so years until we both decided we didn't really like Sydney, which is when we moved to Melbourne - that was almost three years ago now.

We broke up about four or five months ago. I don't really want to delve into that too much right now, only to say that we're still good friends and the split was amicable. I'm not exactly sure what she'd think of me divulging too much information about her in this journal, but I have a pretty good idea. For this reason, I'll keep her name and any other incriminating details a secret.

Anyway, not long after I'd moved out on my own I was sent an email by an old friend of mine who is currently living and working over in London. Basically, he mentioned that he had a spare room for visitors to stay and I was welcome to be one of those visitors.

Talk about timing! Here I am: 29 years old; I've just broken up with my girlfriend of eight years; I've not left the country since I was about five or so; I've not been on a proper holiday in years, and I've been offered somewhere to stay in a country I've always wanted to visit. I think it took me a day to decide to take up his offer.

The thing is, I figured if I'm going overseas I should dedicate a proper amount of time to it, otherwise it's not going to be really worth it. Two months at the minimum was my initial thought, maybe three. I definitely had enough money to last for that long. Better yet, my 30th birthday was coming up in March and the thought of entering my thirties in a different country held a huge amount of appeal to me.

It was around this time I discovered I was eligible for a UK Ancestry visa, which means I can live and work with no restrictions in the UK for up to five years. A new thought suddenly occurred to me: after I've finished having a holiday, why don't I stay?

So basically, my progress until now is as follows: I've started to sell off my unwanted possessions, I've quit my band (which is one of my few regrets about leaving), I've applied for my visa and I've quit my job. The lease on my flat expires around the middle of February, which is when I plan to drive up to Newcastle and stay with my parents until it's time to fly away. Everything's starting to fall into place quite nicely.

To add to the fun, I've also decided to spend a week in Japan - another country I've always wanted to visit. This idea came about when I went to enquire about flights one day: the girl who was helping me told me I could stop over in any Asian country I liked. As a joke, I suggested Japan - almost everyone I know tells me they always stop over in Singapore, I figured this was the standard stop over point and Japan would be too far out of the way. Nope, turns out that's perfectly fine. Better yet, she told me that if there were no connecting flights that day, the airline would put me up in a hotel for the night so I could get the next flight out the next day.

Once again, the cogs started to turn and I realised it would be really nice to actually spend a few days in Japan, not just the one night. After discussing it with my friend Alex, I've decided a week would be just the right amount of time for my "stop over". This leads me quite neatly to tonight: researching my brief Japanese visit. I've been looking up accommodation mostly - Al has advised me to stay in ryokan inns instead of hotels, so I've been reading up on them.

I think that's enough for one night. I might as well add that I've also set up accounts on Flickr, del.icio.us and YouTube, so hopefully I'll get a chance to make the most of them while I'm away.