Morning Australia.

I say this because solely, for a while and for a bit this will be an exclusive websiteblogmonogger for Dickie, who is currently on holiday gap year type running around with knees bent behavior in Australia. Not to be confused with the Australia that half my family lives in, they live in the boring horrible parts where you live in constant fear of being bitten by spider or mauled in the go toos by a wombat. But from there I'm sure I'll let other people see, so I'll write a normal blog entry...so it's not just like an open letter to Dickielar.

Ok that was my sister's wedding, I can take credit for technically pressing the clicker on that one, but it was Nathalie that saw the fact that if you zoomed and cropped you could see my Grandmother suspended in a bubble with my nephew, or her great grandson. Which are kind of funkaaaay, and a rather good spot by the Nathalie.

My grandmother is a bit of a strange one, I know nothing about her, nor do I my grandfather, they both up and left my mum when she was a baby and went their separate ways they obviously decided to go as far apart as possible, but they were obviously thinking the same thing as ma ended up in Australia and pa ended up in New Zeeland, apparently pa is still going and is called Trevor Getliff, and that's about as much as I know about that one side of my family. He looked quite nice in the pictures.

I've only actually met one grand parent, tis the thing with having older parents I suppose and she was lovely and probably the reason why I have slightly ginger flecks to my beard. That ginger gene is a strong one. Though I've heard its reccesive, does that mean all the gingers will die out? I hope not, they're the spice of life hair wise.

Moving swiftly on –

Go to Paris for the Eiffel Tower, stay for the Duck outside la louvre.

Paris is really really really wet around April, take that information with you, also take a lot of cocktail sausages and egg mayonnaise sandwiches, as they'll serve you well. As, contrary to popular belief Paris is a French speaking city with French types, who don't know what Cornflakes are, nor cold milk. HEATHENS! Hah, I jest, they have some lovely buildings and stuff.

Tomorrow I'm off to go and get my knee scanned and they'll be telling me how badly shaped it is, I'm not really looking forward to, if you're new to me and my knee, around 4 years ago I slipped on a sports hall surface which had just been buffed so it'd look good in the end of years photos, but was essentially an ice rink. I ruined tendons and dislodged my Patella, which is the knee cap to those who haven't had 4 years of knee science lessons. And that basically floats around having the time of it’s life exploring the parts of my knee it really shouldn't be going to, and I'm hopefully going to have an operation to put it’s libertine days and pin it down to where it should be. That's a figure of speech, as far as I know, no pins involved.

So here's for being able to walk about again like a normal human being.

I'm getting tired.

N'night.

Aren’t this a sparkly looking thing?