A howler ...

Phew, it's the end of birthday week for another year. Lucky, because I don't have the energy that I used to. I am, after all, now officially in my mid-20s (okay late-20s). How did that happen?

The Howling Bells at Koko

Last night, we marked the end of birthday week with a bit of Aussie music at a fantastic club in Koko in Camden. The Howling Bells were great but the venue was the real showstopper. An old style theatre, the balconies decorated gilded with red and gold, chandelliers all over the place.

My actual birthday was on Tuesday though. I had to work, but all the birthday messages I recieved made the day bearable. Dinner at the Electric Brasserie on Portabello Road and a movie at the famous old Electric Cinema didn't hurt either. On Saturday night, we put on our dancing shoes and headed to a club in Brixton. Got home at 5am ... not a bad innings for an ol' bird, don't ya think?

Thanks for everyone who texted, emailed or called! A big shout out to all those misbehaver who helped me run amok on Saturday night. Now, it's time to catch up on all that beauty sleep I missed ...

It's snowing on Quill Lane!

So I risked life and limb this morning to run outside in my ugg boots and pjs and take a picture in the snow. Later, when there's a bit more, I'll go out and do a snow angel ... and I'll ignore the disapproving looks I get from the English who think snow is just a disruption to their train journey. I may also go and find a nice spot in a cafe, near a window, and watch people slip on the cobbles ... sadistic I know, but you can't beat a bit of real life slapstick!

Snow on our lane

No barbecues right now!

Australia V Denmark

Revoke his passport! He doesn't deserve it! Don Carlos watched the Socceroos play Denmark tonight ... and he wore his Danish soccer shirt. And he sent this message to me at half time:
"3 nil to the mighty danes, half time. Barnesy sung the national anthem! Worse display than the aussie boys".

Traitor. Was certainly a different story last year in June, when the danes didn't make it to the world cup and the Aussies did. Need a little reminder ...

Six friends, one Parisian apartment ...

... and a couple of bottles of Moet. Now that's what I call Christmas! We've been talking about having a 'friends' christmas for such a long time. Can't really think of a better way to celebrate than in an apartment in Paris, with copious amounts of wine, cheese and pastry.

So what if we wasted our first and only clear day in the apartment?

Christmas chaos

Right now, I am trying to be very tres chic by tapping away on our Mac on the Eurostar to Paris, but we very nearly didn’t make it. Two days before the Christmas travel onslaught a dense frosty fog descended over Stinktown bringing almost all airports to a grinding halt. Our flights were cancelled yesterday along with thousands of other domestic and short haul European flights. My first thought was that the curse of Emma and Carl had returned with a vengence. When our friends and paris travel partners, Ash and Sarah, told us of their own travel track record (two trips to Queensland thwarted by bad weather?), we knew we were screwed.

BUT WE ARE NOT PUT OFF EASILY. Our apartment in Paris awaits so we threw caution to the wind, slapped our credit cards over the counter for some ridiculously priced Eurostar tickets and joined the hoardes of edgy travellers at Waterloo station.

To say it was packed would be an understatement. We enjoyed a little argy bargy with a pompous git in a lemon (not yellow) cashmere sweater – he called Carl a kookaburra! – and made it to the train with minutes to spare. Sitting here now with the beautiful French countryside flying past, it’s all pretty amusing. Although I think the crazy screaming woman at the security check may disagree.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Sarah and Em get their skates on

Last year, Carl broke the cardinal novice ice skating rule by refusing to let go of my hand when he fell over and sent me sailing on my stomach across the ice. But ice skating has become a bit of a christmas tradition for us here in London, so I wasn't about to let that spill or Carl's "bad knee" put me off. In fact, I am sure we could all think of worse ways to start our christmas holiday this year. A couple of twirls around the Tower of London ice rink followed by dinner at Busaba Eathai (well worth the half hour wait outside in the freezing cold). And not a bruise or broken bone in sight.

The golden circle

Typical. Last night we skipped Reykjavik's notorious pub crawl, the Runter, and headed out in search of the northern lights. All the signs were there - clear skies, no wind, and the northern light tour buses had headed out for the first time in three or four days. But, alas, we drove and we drove and we drove. And we waited and we waited and we waited. And we saw nothing. Just the black night sky. No spectacular green light show. Nothing.

At breakfast this morning, we listened in on other people's conversations intently just in case their luck was better than ours. Didn't sound like it. It did sound like they had a bloody good time on the Runter though. Bugger.

Definitely worth leaving the comfort of your car to get a snap like this!

Oh well. Onwards and upwards. Not wanting to dwell on our bad luck, we hit the road again. This time, we were searching for the Golden Circle. And no, I am not talking about some kind of kinky Icelandic invention to help pass the time on those cold dark winter days. The Golden Circle refers to the three unique sites just outside of Reykjavik: Gulfoss, Geysir and Pingvellir.

We did this little tour in reverse, just because we could, so first stop was Pingvellir national park, the site of the world's first democratic Parliament - the Alping.

The Alping

You gotta give it to the Vikings. They picked a pretty spectacular spot to sit and gesticulate over the big issues. The area sits on the edge of an immense rift caused by the separating North American and Eurasian tetonic plates and was made a Unesco world heritage site in 2004. Set up in 930 AD, you can still see the remains of the booths, where the Vikings camped. Nearby is Iceland's largest lake, Pingvalavatn. Unfortunately, it was too bloody cold for us to do much exploring but I did manage to take the money shot of the weekend.

The money shot - Pingvallavatn, Iceland's largest lake

Stop number two: the three spouting hot springs at Geysir. The biggest spring, the Great Geysir, was clogged years ago by stupid tourists chucking things into it to get it to explode. But you can still get excited (?) about Strokkur, which bubbles away like crazy and explodes every ten minutes or so ... it sounds naff, but it's kinda cool ...

Carl times his shot perfectly

Emma tries to be funny

Stop three: Gulfoss, a massive double waterfall. By the time we reached Gulfoss, the temperature had plummeted to about -10. Add a serious windchill and it's fair to say that there wasn't that much enjoyment to be had here. Unless, of course, you count the monster truck, which I think was the highlight of Carl's day!

Gulfoss (golden falls)

Slightly bigger - and perhaps appropriate for driving around icy roads - than our little Fiat punto!

Geothermal bliss!

The Sun-Craft sculpture with Mt Esja in the background

We took this photo at noon. The sun only came up half an hour earlier, which made it damn hard to wake up this morning. We were meant to have set out much earlier - this was our first stop - but who really gives a damn when you are on holidays!

We rented a car today and drove and drove and drove. At points, we were the only car for miles. We took a detour, seduced by a large blob of steam in the distance which didn't seem to be moving at all, and ended up in the carpark of one of the many geothermal plants that power this city. Most of Reyjavik's energy is piped from volcanic areas in the form of super-heated geothermal water, so there is barely any pollution. It's a far cry from the smog filled skies of stink town. Our lungs almost couldn't cope, so we sought comfort at the Blue Lagoon, one of Iceland's most famous attractions.

Steam from a geothermal plant

The Blue Lagoon is a spa about 50km out of Reyjavik in the middle of a vast black lava plain. We timed our visit perfectly - no tour groups in sight. In fact, it was nearly empty and, at times, we felt like the only people there. According to the guidebook, the Blue Lagoon has its critics but "most people have to be dragged out, sobbing and swearing to return" ... it' safe to say that we were no different to "most people".

It was 38 degrees in the water and about -5 out. After three blissful hours, we finally worked up the willpower to hit the showers. We left relaxed, happy, and looking just a little odd with red faces and solid hair.

Relaxing in the blue lagoon!

It's icy in Iceland

Not surprising, I know. But even the runway at Keflavik airport was a big long block of ice this morning.

Touching down in Iceland - thank god we had a female pilot!

We enjoyed the most spectacular views along the southern coast as we flew in - glaciers, volcanic rock and ice all tinged pink from the sun which sits just on the horizon.

Iceland from above

It's very cool (pardon the pun) to be somewhere that is so completely different from other places we have been. The city feels very christmassy and it already wins a double-thumbs up for serving us our first good strong flat white in a long long time. Thank you, Kaffatir! And the ol' Viking juice ain't too bad either ...

Viking beer - now that's a tough beer

Georgy porgy!

As far as political statements go, this one is pretty explicit. Thankfully, for most of his concert, George Michael stuck to what he knows best ... belting out some amazing tunes which took us right back to Wham. SJ took a great clip during Careless whispers but the chick standing next to her was given it all she had, so all you can hear is some squeaky pom ... and no, I am not talking about George Michael. He really was Amazing!

George Bush - lets go outside in the sunshine