Back in Blighty and tired as I can possibly be. In every flight so far I've been placed directly behind the baby row (Row 31 on a 747 should you ever need to know that) and have consequently got no sleep at all.

I'm generally fairly well regarded as being quite liberal but this last week had made me come up with a radical hardline idea - namely that any child under the age of 3 should be banned from long-distance flights. They don't enjoy it, they cry CONTINUOUSLY such that no-one around them can sleep and all their parents do is indulge them in that smug way new parents do (as though they should be knighted for fucking without contraception). It should be shut up - or you go out the window, sunshine.

It's just so very selfish. No child of that age will remember a holiday on the other side of the world so the only reason they're flying is for the parents. You had 'em, stay at home with 'em and stop inflicting the squawking things on me when I'm trying to sleep. Grrrrrr.

Sorry, I'm tired. An alternative is a sound-proof box for them. I think it's called 'the hold' :)

So, it's the new year. Great. Next.

I have a resolution though - lose some weight. I'm looking far too cherub-like in this photo:


And I had 258mg/l of alcohol in my blood at that point! :)

From left to right - Rupes, Garry, Dwight, Vas und moi.

I'll leave you with one more. On the final day I woke up late and then headed to Parkdale for a barbie with Kidney and Cath which was lovely and then walked back along Beach Road and got a great pic of the sunset (this is roughly the view from their bedroom window).

Oh yeah, and Jen didn't turn up at Singapore airport :P