More Sad Times

This past week has been a sad time for Orlando. As many of you know, his dear mum passed away peacefully on Friday 10 November. He is in London right now for the funeral, and I am holding the fort here at home.

If you see him, give him a hug from me.

Desert Island Discs

www.desertislanddiscs.blogspot.com

Bollywood Movie Stars Party

It was the party of the year (well, in my diary it was the only party in the year). A Bollywood Movie Stars bash to celebrate my 40th birthday: it doesn’t get any better than this.

Twenty or so of my family and closest friends gathered on 4th November dressed in what can only be described as Bollywood-tastic outfits to dance the night away.

Eileen and Kelvin won the Most Fabulous Outfits award with their stunning outfits from Little India in Dandenong.

My family made a great effort too: Lee looked sophisticated and graceful in a black and silver sari, and Mena had more Bollywood Bling than the rest of us put together.

Orlando looked rugged and handsome in his all-black kurta pajama, and has made such a fuss of me throughout all my birthday celebrations. He is a superstar.

Photo Gallery

Other highlights of the evening included:

Paul Curran as a Bollywood Bad Guy, complete with maximum eyeliner, dark glasses and shark’s tooth medallion

Damien’s Derby Day extreme facial sunburn including a rather fetching white band where his sunglasses had been (it turns out some people thought he'd made himself up to look like that)

The Irish contingent doing the entire (it seemed) Riverdance, then Mena and Mairead’s solo reel, finished by Mena, Mairead, Eileen and Carmel in full Indian regalia doing a full set of the Walls of Limerick

Mena leading the soca dancing into the wee hours (“Follow me – I’m the leader of the parade!”) ("This is the music of my soul!")

Sam’s amazing bum-wiggling dance which reduced all women present to tears

Sam and Paul's talented dance interpretation of the song "A-E-I-O-U" by Freeez: popular consensus is that Paul's "E" was particularly impressive and rendered all audience members helpless with laughter

The main conversation in the back yard about which song you want played as the last song at your funeral (and if you didn't make a choice it was going to be November Rain by Guns N Roses)

Kelvin dancing, full stop

Kelvin almost being tempted to sip some rum instead of red wine

Mena at 5am having a smoke: "I am the oldest one here, the birds are singing and I am the last one partying"

Mena about the Irish dancing - "You are all doing it wrong, here let me show you"

Eileen about the Irish dancing - "You are all doing it wrong, here let me show you"

Lee talking to Orlando - "Now let me guess which food you put out: the cake and the popcorn"

Lee - "The thing I like about this sari is that I can breathe out and it hides my belly"

Carmel - "The thing I like about this sari is that I can breathe out and it hides my belly"

Orlando - "I am going over there to act as a buffer between Sam and the TV"

Paul's AEIOU - " I am not happy with my 'E' I have to rethink this"

Sam about raising children "I have a secret weapon, it is called music"

Mairead talking about cooking for the party - "...So I said to myself, I will show him, I will make the Tandoori chicken red..."

Paul takes off his sunglasses "I thought it was a bit dark in here, and I could not work it out..."

Sam dancing with Carmel - "Grab me from behind"

Paul talks to Orlando about dancing with Sam's wife -"I don't think it is your hands that he is worried about"

Orlando teaching Sam and Amanda soca - "Get in closer, don't be shy, you are married"

Mena (a number of times in the evening) - "I'm back!!!"

Mena (a number of times in the evening) - "Why is it that every time I go to the toilet, all I can hear is people calling 'Where's Mena?'"

The delicious food that everybody brought

Mairead and Eileen trying to do their much-awaited Party Piece, drunk, unprepared, and with at least one Achilles tendon injury; but their smiles never faltered: divas to the last

Paul and Carmel vainly trying to teach Sam and Amanda to twirl properly like Irish dancers

Thanks to all my friends for making such a huge effort on the night. Nobody knew more than one or two other people but you'd never have known it - the noise of the conversation was deafening and the dancing spirited to say the least. Thanks for all my beautiful cards and gifts too - it was the most special birthday for me and I am delighted you could share it!

Desert Island Discs

Well it all started with a conversation I had with Nick Lawrance after the Top Eight Books were published. It went along the lines of:

Nick: So, can we do top ten albums next, then? Can we?
Me: Oh, go on then.

So, here we go then. The rules are:
1. No greatest hits or compilations or various artists except for item 2 below.
2. Soundtracks are allowed (I relented after a serious onslaught by Orlando over a full weekend away in Brisbane).
3. Where possible, be specific about the version of the album you are talking about (eg, the original on vinyl, or the 2004 remastered edition).
4. Albums don't have to be in order (ie favourite at number one), just the ten last albums you would like to be left with in the world.
5. Give a reason as to why it makes your list.
6. List your favourite track on each album if you have one.

Answers by email or comment please. You have until 31 October 2006 to respond, then I will collate the responses and publish here.

I have created my top ten for starters. You will find a link to my list on amazon.co.uk here.

1. Boz Scaggs Silk Degrees 1976

This album reminds me of my brother. More specifically, it reminds me of my first ever trip to new York in 1989. I stayed with Bernard and Naomi in their house in Amityville, Long Island (it was right around the corner from the Amityville Horror house) and played his records for three weeks. Almost twenty years later – and a full thirty years after its release - I still listen to this album in its entirety probably every month or more.
Favourite track: Harbour Lights

2. Buena Vista Social Club Buena Vista Social Club 1997
I first heard this album on a hot summer’s afternoon in a friend’s London garden. Even now, the first bars of “Chan Chan” make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Pause and allow the richness of the music to transport you to Cuba. A genuine masterpiece.
Favourite track: Chan Chan

3. Earth, Wind & Fire All ‘n’ All 1979
This was a toss-up between I Am and All ‘n’ All (in the absence of a Greatest Hits). In the end I simply counted the tracks on each I couldn’t do without, and this album won by a hair. EWF make joyful, intelligent, soulful, uplifting music capable of lifting anybody’s spirits.
Favourite track: (if I must) Jupiter

4. Maxwell Urban Hang Suite 1996
This is one of those albums I played on constant loop for months after I bought it. Maxwell’s voice is angelic, and the full-band, heavily-produced R&B sound is rich and sweet.
Favourite track: Whenever Wherever Whatever

5. Michael Jackson Off the Wall 1979
Probably one of the best albums ever made. Destined to make you get up and dance, this was, in my opinion, the best album Michael Jackson ever made. The depth of emotion he conveys in this soulful, funky album is complete: his unselfconscious whoop of laughter in the middle of “Get On The Floor” is completely infectious, and contrasts with his tears whilst singing “She’s Out Of My Life”. The remastered version you can buy now has interesting interviews with Quincy Jones, and a couple of demos where you can hear Michal bickering with his siblings.
Favourite track: sorry, can’t choose

6. Missy Elliott Under Construction 2002
This was the first Missy album I ever bought. I’m not a natural hip-hop fan but I love Missy’s in-your-face attitude, her confidence, her humour. Under Construction is a lot mellower than most of her previous work (she was grieving for her friend Aaliyah at the time) and there are some great old-school-sounding songs on there.
Favourite track: Work It

7. Planxty Live 2004 2004
Never mind U2: Planxty was Ireland’s very first super-group. They broke up in the early 80s and we thought we would never hear them play together again. Twenty years later, they got together for some low-key sessions in Lisdoonvarna, and finally played the tiny Vicar Street in late 2004. It wasn’t enough. The Point Theatre was booked and six nights sold out in one day. Hearing these men play again is like a homecoming for most Irish people: we are privileged to have lived when they collaborated. When Liam Og O'Flynn chimes in with the uileann pipes about a minute into the first track, it's magic.
Favourite track: The Starting Gate

8. Prince Sign o’ The Times 1987
It’s hard to pick just one Prince album when you possess his entire back-catalogue. This is one of his most eclectic albums, from the pure funk of Housequake to the pure romance of Adore. His humour shines through, he doesn’t take himself very seriously, and, above all, his musical genius is all over this album.
Favourite track: Housequake

9. Talking Heads Stop Making Sense 1984
The 1983 movie Stop Making Sense played a midnight show in Dublin’s Ambassador Cinema for years. This was break-through New York conceptual art meets the Top 40 and we loved it. The album (re-released in 1999 with almost all movie tracks on) is still a classic. David Byrne’s reedy voice adds a weirdness to the already complex funk of the melodies. And who can forget the Big Suit?
Favourite track: Girlfriend is Better

10. Luther Vandross Give Me The Reason 1986
Ah, Luther. What will we do without you? This was almost the point at which I broke my own “no greatest hits allowed” rule. How do you choose when considering an artist who was better known for his individual hit singles than his albums? How do you select only a tiny handful to listen to for all time, and forget the rest? This was almost an arbitrary selection in the end, but as seven out of the nine tracks were released as singles, it was the best value I could find. Nobody will ever sing a love song like Luther.
Favourite track: So Amazing

Roy Webb MBE 1945 - 2006

A great friend, a trusted mentor, a bon vivant

and a sharply-dressed gent

It is a year, almost to the day, since I last saw Roy. It was my last day at London Ambulance Service. Not trusting even our CEO do to the job, Roy delayed one of his early chemo sessions to give the official farewell speech at my leaving do in the boardroom.

As usual, he held the audience in the palm of his hand while he spoke off the cuff, regaling us with tall tales, most of which had Roy in the starring role. He loved the limelight and he was a natural showman. He would have loved the big fuss being made of him today.

At work Roy was no less of a superstar. When Roy said he was passionate about patients, you believed him. He broke all the rules over the years, in the name of better patient care. He often exasperated the rest of us who followed along behind, tidying up after him, and doing the necessary paperwork. But you could never question his motives.He knew more about excellent patient care than anyone, and was known all over London for it. Once we did a survey of hospitals whose contracts we had lost, and asked what they missed about the LAS. One hospital simply replied “Roy Webb”. To many in south-west London, Roy Webb was the LAS.

Last July, we had a managers’ away day which conveniently coincided with Roy’s 60th birthday. Roy turned up in his new Porsche, baseball cap at a rakish angle, grinning from ear to ear. He looked every inch the man who had decided to grow old disgracefully. Roy continued to be the star of the show that evening at a formal dinner in his honour, complete with champagne and birthday cake. Naturally, he lapped up all the attention, and was one of the last to bed.

Two days later was the 7th of July, the London bombings. Roy was the lynchpin of the PTS response. He spent all day running up and down to Gold Control in the boardroom, offering PTS up for anything he thought we could do, then relaying it to us for execution. He was personally responsible for the broad role PTS played on the day, volunteering our ambulances to rescue stranded schoolchildren and elderly people, to get HQ staff home at night and to ferry equipment all over London. He was the one who suggested putting PTS ambulances alongside A&E in the response cells we set up.

He worked over 14 hours straight that day, finally leaving for home at almost eleven o’clock at night. It was for these actions, and many more like them, that Roy was awarded an MBE in the Queen’s New Year’s Honours List.

Here he is with Sue on the day.

Outside work, he was a great friend. Most of all I will remember Roy’s tremendous support when my own father died: Roy was in constant contact, sending me daily, sometimes hourly, text messages, helping to get me through the tough days.

I will always remember Roy’s infectious laugh – he somehow managed to sound roguish and sheepish at the same time.

I will also remember Roy Webb, the Michael Caine impersonator – recently Roy chose a Mini as his new car just so he could pretend he was starring in a remake of The Italian Job. His favourite line was “You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!” and he worked it into every conversation. He even took a photo of it at Buckingham Palace the day he got his MBE.

I will remember Roy as the ultimate sharp-dressed gentleman, his taste in clothing getting more and more expensive and exquisite as the years progressed. He wasn't above doing what it took to hide the baldness, though.

But most of all I will remember Roy’s resolutely upbeat and optimistic take on life. He wrote to me a few months ago telling me how he was getting on. He quoted his doctor who had said “Roy, you know I can’t make you better” to which Roy’s response was “But you can make me better than today”.

The Roy Webb Appreciation Society has a worldwide membership. Sue’s daughter Jo, who also lives here in Melbourne, will be lighting a candle for Roy round about now, to commemorate his life. As for the rest of us here who knew and loved Roy, we will be marking the occasion exactly as Roy would have wished. We have booked a table at an expensive restaurant. We will get all dressed up in our designer gear. We will order a ridiculously expensive bottle of red wine. And as the sun sets across the bay, we will raise our glasses and toast the most wonderful bloke in the world.

Goodbye, mate – we will miss you.

Sad News

We learned this week of the sad loss of my friend Keith’s wife Jan to cancer. Keith was our Director of PTS at the London Ambulance Service for a number of years, and he is a great guy. We have kept in touch since both moving on, and he dropped me a note yesterday to tell of his very sad news. Many of you who read this website will have known and respected Keith – if you wish to drop me a note I will make sure that any messages of sympathy are passed on.

That's got to hurt

Our mate Lee is a bit mad. Man-Lee as he is called (to differentiate him from Woman-Lee and Fami-Lee) looks suspiciously like Beavis (or is it Butthead?), is a dedicated martial arts expert with a bad back, wife to Fi, and father to Fred & Barney. With another child on the way, the jury is out as to whether the new addition will be called Pebbles or Bam-Bam.

To add further to his lunacy, Lee has now decided to do a sponsored bike ride. My idea of being sponsored to do something was my epic 5km Race for Life a few years ago, but Lee has gone one further.

"The 2006 Tour L'Etape is a testing 116 mile Alpine adventure based in the Alps starting at Gap and finishing at the top of the legendary climb of Alpe D'Huez..."

Lee says, "Somehow, Bill persuaded me that this would be a good idea - before the course details were available. I was especially pleased to note that this year's course finished at the top of a very steep hill, where previous versions had a long whizz down at the end. C'est la vie!

"It will probably take about 10 hours so dig deep!Cancer Research UK is a good, self-interested choice - most of my deceased relatives had one form or another, so hopefully they'll find a cure."

Cancer Research UK is my favourite charity too so if you have a spare tenner floating around, log onto www.justgiving.com/leeandbill and pledge some money for the cause. He promises not to take the escape van no matter how tough it gets!

Diamonds Ball

Thursday night saw me attending one of Melbourne's biggest balls, a women-only event called the Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend ball. It is run every year for the Challenge charity (www.challenge.org.au), an organisation providing services and programs that support children and families living with cancer and other life-threatening blood disorders.

I don't get to wear my saris very often, and this lilac one was a gift from family friend Shara. I hadn't worn it before and I was looking forward to an evening out of the Melbourne uniform of all-black.

Arriving at the Crown Hotel alone, I walked into the 5-storey atrium foyer, a famous Melbourne attraction hosting an award-winning light and sound show. Enormous crystal chandeliers and animated lights move and sway in the cavernous space, accompanied by magical music which keeps children enthralled, especially at Christmas.

Ahead of me lay the Fred-Astaire-and-Ginger-Rogers staircase of black marble with fountains streaming down each side. I lifted my head high and walked as majestically as I could through the tourists, Sugarplum Fairy music in my ears. I picked up my skirts elegantly and glided up the sweeping staircase, concentraing on every step.

One or two Indian members of staff shot me appreciating glances as I arrived. Well, I do take pride in my sari pleats.

Every little girl has imagined herself as Cinderella arriving at the ball, and last night I lived the dream.

Eileen and I have been friends for about 30 years, but living in different countries for so long, the last formal "do" we attended together (apart from her wedding) was our debs dance back in 1983 god help us.

I haven't a photo of that eventful night to hand (but by god I will find one) so here's what we looked like at Eileen's wedding, 15 years ago this month. Happy anniversary, Eileen and Kelvin!

Homesick

It's been a weird week. The work-life balance seems a lot lighter on both sides of the scales. I miss my friends and family, and work is frustrating to say the least. The novelty of living in a new country has more than worn off, and it feels like most of what I care most about in life is half a world away. However, we continue to persevere, and Orlando has been great about keeping my spirits up.

We spent an enjoyable winter afternoon yesterday wandering down Chapel Street (a fashionable shopping area east of the city centre), people-watching from our vantage point at the laminated table of a tiny Greek cafe where we feasted on hearty vegetable soup, home-made cakes and good coffee.

Later, after the cinema, we ate in a long-established "cheap eats" place called Tusk which has been around for years (as evidenced by the genuine 1970s decor including a huge palm-trees-at-sunset mural). Maybe life here isn't so bad after all.

Top Eight Books for Future Leaders

Imagine your child, your god-child, or perhaps a child you know will become the leader of the free world, can only ever read ten books in their lifetime. What would those books be?

Thanks to all who contributed to the experiment. I received some wonderful lists from people, many of whom also gave their reasons why they chose the books.

In the end, we didn't have a full top ten. There was a handful of books who were nominated a number of times, and a clear number one book. But the rest of the books nominated make such a great collection that I have listed them all here. Click here to buy any or all of the Top Eight from Amazon. Enjoy!

Number 1 – four votes
Animal Farm by George Orwell

Nominated by:

Nick Lawrance
“Read this book firstly as a fairy tale”
“Then to be read a second time immediately after The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx, as an allegory of how power corrupts and all that”

Mairead Doyle
“This book can be read again and again in life to appreciate its many layers”

Katea Downie

Joint 2nd
Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell

Nominated by:
Manu Pillai
Katea Downie
Mairead Doyle
“The ultimate cautionary tale for our times”

Joint 2nd
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon

Nominated by:

Nick Lawrance
“Because mental health problems are just health problems”

Eileen Kershaw

Mairead Doyle

Joint 4th
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque

Nominated by:

Sam Evans
“Read this book and you won't have a great view of humanity; like no other book it reveals the human cost of wars and why they should never be fought”

Mairead Doyle
“Probably the best war book ever written”

Joint 4th
Cloudstreet by Tim Winton

Nominated by:

Bres
“A modern Australian flavour”

Sam Evans
“An Australian masterpiece, amazingly written book about two poor families in western australia that suffer catastrophies but live on - wonderful use of Australian rural language”

Joint 4th
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Nominated by:

Katea Downie
Katharine Haines

Joint 4th

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Nominated by:

Katea Downie

Mairead Doyle
“A powerful story about growing up in an imperfect world”

Joint 4th
The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama

Nominated by:

Manu Pillai

Sam Evans

“Helped me get perspective - I think I’ll need to re-read this every few years to keep its messages fresh”

Other Nominated Books (Title, Author, Nominated by)

100 Years of Solitude
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Suzanne Parsons

A Shropshire Lad
AE Housman
Katharine Haines

A Well Dressed Gentleman's Pocket Guide
Oscar Lenius
Orlando Gibson

Anna Karenina
Leo Tolstoy
Sam Evans

Art of War
Sun Tzu
Manu Pillai

Between You & I
James Cochrane
Orlando Gibson

Bhowani Junction
John Masters
Hayley Burchill

Bible
Reference
Lesa Campbell

Black Beauty
Anna Sewell
Louise Beechey

Black Dogs
Ian McEwan
Bres

Bonjour Tristesse
Francoise Sagan
Katharine Haines

Brave New World
Aldous Huxley
Manu Pillai

Bridge to Terebithia
Kathrine Patterson
Alison Crimmins

Brotherman
Herb Boyd & Robert Allen
Orlando Gibson

Captain Correlli's Mandolin
Louis de Bernieres
Louise Beechey

Catch 22
Joseph Heller
Nick Lawrance

Catcher in the Rye
J D Salinger
Katea Downey

Change the World
Robert E Quinn
Dean Campbell

Computer Programming for Dummies
Reference
Orlando Gibson

Crime & Punishment
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Louise Beechey

Danny, Champion of the World
Roald Dahl
Nick Lawrance

Definitely Atlas Shrugged
Ayn Rand
Alison Crimmins

Dracula
Bram Stoker
Nick Lawrance

Elizabeth - Red Rose of the House of Tudor
Kathryn Lasky
Kathryn Fridman

Endurance
Alfred Lansing
Sam Evans

Famous Five or Secret Seven
Enid Blyton
Eileen Kershaw

Fast Food Nation
Eric Schlosser
Katharine Haines

Howl's Moving Castle
Diana Wynne Jones
Kathryn Fridman

I Capture the Castle
Dodie Smith
Katharine Haines

I, Coriander
Sally Gardener
Kathryn Fridman

If This Is A Man
Primo Levi
Katharine Haines

In Praise of Slow
Carl Honore
Katharine Haines

In Spain
Ted Walker
Annette Doyle

Journey to the River Sea
Eva Ibbotson
Kathryn Fridman

Les Miserables
Victor Hugo
Louise Beechey

Lord of the Rings
J R R Tolkien
Sam Evans

Lyn: A Diary of Prostitution
Lyn Madden
Annette Doyle

Maid of Buttermere
Melvyn Bragg
Louise Beechey

Martin and Malcolm and America
James H Cone
Orlando Gibson

Master and Commander
Patrick O'Brien
Hayley Burchill

Mayor of Casterbridge
Thomas Hardy
Louise Beechey

Midnight's Children
Salman Rushdie
Mairead Doyle

Mr God This Is Anna
Finn
Mairead Doyle

Northern Lights
Philip Pullman
Kathryn Fridman

Noughts and Crosses
Malorie Blackman
Mairead Doyle

On Her Majesty's Secret Service
Ian Fleming
Nick Lawrance

Oxford English Dictionary
Reference
Orlando Gibson

Parade's End
Ford Madox Ford
Hayley Burchill

Pilgrim's Progress
John Bunyon
Hayley Burchill

Pole to Pole
Michael Palin
Katharine Haines

Puffin Book of Utterly Brilliant Poetry
Various
Louise Beechey

Rachel's Holiday
Marian Keyes
Annette Doyle

RHS Gardening Manual
Reference
Hayley Burchill

Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare
Katea Downey

Schindler's Ark
Thomas Kenneally
Mairead Doyle

Sophie's World
Jostein Gaarder
Bres

Teach Yourself Chinese
Reference
Orlando Gibson

Teach Yourself Spanish
Reference
Orlando Gibson

The Butcher Boy
Patrick McCabe
Annette Doyle

The Communist Manifesto
Karl Marx
Nick Lawrance

The Constant Gardener
John le Carre
Suzanne Parsons

The Five People You Meet in Heaven
Mitch Alborn
Bres

The Horse Whisperer
Nicholas Evans
Annette Doyle

The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini
Suzanne Parsons

The Lady Grace Mysteries - Assassin
Patricia Finney
Kathryn Fridman

The Lonely Planet - India
Lonely Planet
Annette Doyle

The Lost World of the Kalahari
Laurens van der Post
Katharine Haines

The Mousehole Cat
Antonia Barber
Louise Beechey

The New York Trilogy
Paul Auster
Bres

The Once and Future King
T H White
Katharine Haines

The Piano Tuner
Daniel Mason
Hayley Burchill

The Prophet
Kahlil Gibran
Annette Doyle

The Reader
Bernard Schlink
Nick Lawrance

The Silent World
Jacques Cousteau
Louise Beechey

The Star of Kazan
Eva Ibbotson
Kathryn Fridman

The Treatment
Mo Hayder
Annette Doyle

The Worlds of Chrestomanci - The Magicians of Capriona
Diana Wynne Jones
Kathryn Fridman

Time Bandits
Michael Palin & Terry Gilliam
Orlando Gibson

Twinkle Annual
-
Eileen Kershaw

Veronika Decides to Die
Paul Coelho
Annette Doyle

Vile Victorians (Horrible Histories)
Terry Deary
Kathryn Fridman

Voyage of the Dawn Treader
C S Lewis
Nick Lawrance

Winnie the Pooh - Complete Collection of Poems and Stories
A A Milne
Mairead Doyle

Women's Room
Marilyn French
Annette Doyle

Mornington Wineries

We cruised down country lanes with the colours of autumn all around us. We saw glorious red and golden vineyards through the trees, and tantalising glimpses of the bay and the Tasman Sea glinting on the horizon, as we hopped from winery to winery tasting the best of the Mornington Peninsula’s wines.

One was Eileen’s favourite winery restaurant. The Montalto vineyard and olive grove also has a sculpture exhibition dotted around the estate which allowed us to enjoy spectacular views across the vineyards whilst inspecting the exhibits. The restaurant terrace certainly looked lovely, and we will visit again one winter afternoon for a fix of sunshine with our food.

My personal favourite was the last place we visited, the Hurley winery at Balnarring, run as a hobby by two pinot noir enthusiasts, lawyer Trish and her QC husband Kevin. They have three vineyards surrounding their house, Lodestone, Garamond and all of which produce a wonderful pinot noir. We sampled the 2004 vintage before Trish gave us a tour of the vineyards, delivering the best short course possible on winemaking in 20 minutes! It was hugely educational, and I was fascinated to see how close together the three vineyards were (they are essentially right beside each other, just separated by wind-breaking trees) given the vast difference between the two wines I’d just tasted. The third vineyard’s wine had not been launched from the 2004 vintage as they were not happy with it.

Back in the tasting barn, Trish gave us a taste of the 2005 vintage which were sitting in oak barrels. This time the three vineyards were represented, and again I was amazed at how different they were. Despite Orlando’s protestations that I buy no more wine, I had to come away with just two of the Lodestone 2004 vintage. However I was eclipsed by Kelvin who bought 10 bottles to make up a full case between us!

The Hurley wines are available at a number of good restaurants across Melbourne, and you can get on their mailing list to keep track of their wines too.

Yarra Valley Wineries

It was so different to London on a Friday afternoon: we set off on our journey to the Yarra Valley in prime-time rush hour, expecting the worst. However it seemed that most of Melbourne had already headed home and were relaxing in the garden with a beer. We were out of the suburbs in less than an hour and the low red-tiled houses gave way to gentle hills and smallholdings.The Yarra Valley is a wine buff’s paradise, and a gourmet’s pantry. A network of small towns offer boutique accommodation, spa getaways and gastronomic experiences as well as a plethora of small and no-so-small wineries to tour and sample.

Soon we were well into wine country with vines covering the low hills into the distance. Many of the vines were covered with muslin, and it made some of the fields look like lakes from a distance.

The countryside was gentle but beautiful. The small towns we drove through were modest but attractive, low-rise wooden buildings with generous verandahs lining the wide main streets. Beyond the towns the darkening horizon was broken by the outline of majestic gum trees, their red or silver or fire-blackened spindly arms offering clumping umbrellas of dark green leaves to the enormous sky.

In time we approached our destination. Healesville is home to a famous native animal sanctuary where people can see koala, platypus, wombats and possums up close. We sought out the Sanctuary House Hotel as the sun started to set, and found a retro-looking American-style motel amongst the gum trees, rooms set around a small pool in which a family was splashing.

Our room was waiting for us – a simple but clean room overlooking the pool, straight out of the 70s. We tidied ourselves up and went in search of Katharine and Pete’s campsite, where they were waiting for us in their small but perfectly formed three-berth camper van.After a convivial (and extremely intimate given the surroundings!) evening of pasta, wine and chat, Orlando and I set off again through the darkness to find our hotel again. We stopped at a side road to gaze at the most amazing night sky emblazoned with an infinity of stars. The Southern Cross and Orion were easily picked out, but the most spectacular thing was the white stain of the Milky Way clearly laid out before us.

Morning saw us in search of a winery or two. We headed off through the hills again, clocking up at least one winery sign per kilometre at one stage. Familiar names like de Bortoli and Domaine Chandon jostled amongst tiny family-run vineyards. We stopped at the famous Yering Station, Victoria’s very first winery. The wine tasting area was through a gourmet’s delight of a shop, with everything from fresh sourdough bread, preserves, salamis and chocolate on sale.

Katharine slowed, but I resisted and headed straight for the wine counter. Well, somebody has to show backbone, I reasoned.

Friendly young waiting staff waited until we chose and poured a modest amount of our choices into glasses for us to try. Enthused by a couple of mouthfuls of amazing cabernet sauvignon before 11.30 in the morning, I vowed to try every red they had. Three of four tastings later, I was a slightly confused and not a little tipsy. Steady, I told myself.

I allowed myself to be led outside into the glorious sunshine where we wandered through the gardens and into the restaurant pavilion, where you can peer through well-placed windows into the cellars and wine-making area below. The view from the lawn (and from the restaurant) across the valley was panoramic, with hills echoing into the haze as far as the eye could see.Back at the wine counter I couldn’t resist a bottle or too of one of the loveliest Sangioveses I’ve ever met, and tried a couple more wines while I was waiting for the sale to go through.

I think I’ve found my calling.

Hanging Rock: It's No Picnic

North and west of Melbourne, the Macedon Ranges are perhaps best known as a wine-making area, and also boasts Australia’s highest concentration of mineral springs making it classic spa country too. Our journey (in convoy, our Honda following Katharine and Pete’s campervan) had as its destination the famous Hanging Rock, a mysterious place where a group of young female students disappeared without a trace way back in 1900 (or did they? Some say it was fiction). The movie Picnic At Hanging Rock told this chilling tale – I remember being taken to see it years ago as a birthday treat.

We parked under the gum trees and spied a lone wallaby or small kangaroo lounging in the shade. He lay quietly and allowed us to pet him; even so, I noticed his powerful rear quarters and the razor-sharp nails on his front paws. Cuddly, but not so cuddly.

The sign said it was a forty-minute return walk to the top of the rock formation. We had plenty of time before the park closed and we headed off up a well-defined footpath. Elderly couples strolled along and children chased each other through the rocks as the path climbed up through the volcanic rock formations.

We were glad of the shade offered by the gum trees. Part way up the actual Hanging Rock crossed the pathway, a huge plinth making a roof for the path and presenting an excellent photo opportunity for those who wish to be seen using amazing strength to keep the rock in place. (Yes, we did).

From the top of the rock formation we had spectacular views in every direction, except that the Macedon Ranges obscured our view of Melbourne city in the distance. Dull gold-coloured fields were littered with copses, and country roads cut dead straight lines through it all. No winding laneways here in this big country.

Time was passing on and it was time to make our descent. Three of us were wearing sensible footwear, while one of our party (OK, it was me) wore fashionable cream-coloured suede flip flops. But this place is a well-trodden tourist attraction and our walk to the summit had been easy and uneventful. There would be no problem.

Then the menfolk saw two teenage girls taking a slightly off-piste path down a tricky bit, and decided not to be outdone. Being ill-prepared shoe-wise for this, and my companion being dressed in a knee-length skirt, we chose the more sedate and modest route and followed the original path. Or so we thought. False start after false start saw us ascending more often than we descended. At one point we found ourselves in yet another dead end, cut off by a sheer descent on one side and a wire fence on the other. So much for taking the less intrepid route, I mused. Not less intrepid, quoth Katharine, just differently trepid.

Eventually, and not after we had both seriously begun to regret our lack of emergency flares and water supplies, we spied something vaguely man-made through the rocks and scrambled down until we found ourselves on tourist ground again. I strode along with my handbag relegated to my neck, rather like (as Katharine kindly pointed out) a St. Bernard dog's brandy barrel. Charming. By this time it was less than ten minutes to the park’s closing time, and we could only hope that our beloved partners would not leave without first raising the alarm of yet more luckless females disappearing on the rock. Would they make a movie about us this time?

We strode along as quickly as we dared, finally reaching the café and shop with moments to spare. In typical country style, they were only tidying up and there seemed no danger of us being locked in for the night. Our men were lounging under an umbrella with cold drinks, looking suspiciously unworried about our plight.

Hanging Rock: it’s no picnic.

Roy Webb gets an MBE

Message from His Majesty Roy Webb MBE:

"Thank you all so much for making this special day possible. Clearly I could not have achieved such high recognition without an environment in which to flourish and the huge support of colleagues both within and outside the LAS.

I had loads to say to Her Majesty about my passion for the LAS and the huge disadvantages suffered by people with surnames ending in “W” like Windsor (I was the very last to be awarded) but protocol insists that the meeting is at an end when the Queen offers her hand, which came, in my view, far too early for me but in retrospect just about on cue I guess.

My brother was until recently a senior officer in the London Fire Brigade and our careers have run in parallel. Over those years he dealt with every major incident in London from a plane crash through all the rail disasters and quite properly received recognition from the Queen some 3 years ago. The LAS attended all those incidents but rarely got a mention about our vital role. I found this very irritating.

In consequence therefore, I had the pleasure, last night of speaking (electronically, I am not that brave) to my brother, Robert Webb QFSM and saying “ya boo sucks to you” as one is allowed under protocol to ones elder sibling with a lesser award.

Thanks again guys (a non gender specific term of affection)."

Traffic and Culture

The State Opening of Parliament may look good on the Six O'Clock News, with snippets of the Queen in her carriage, and Black Rod banging on the door of the Commons, but if you happen to work nearby it is a real nightmare. I got caught in the traffic that morning - I counted more than 10 ambassadors en route in their diplomatic Mercedes - and it took me almost three hours to do the 13 mile trip to work. Remind me next year to take the day off...

The rest of the day really made up for it though. Sue and I met after work on a crowded Shaftesbury Avenue, and went to see famous Latin American novelist Carlos Fuentes being interviewed in the Gielgud Theatre. It was part of the Orange Word festival, which brings famous writers to London each year for discussion and interview. Check out www.orangeword.co.uk.

He was fascinating to listen to - an erudite, philosopical, charming old-world gentleman who had interesting opinions on everything from world literature to world politics, from Mexican history to the art of writing.

Afterwards we had a drink in a great over-the-top cocktail bar on the edge of Soho which was all pink glitter and gothic art. Dinner was eaten in Chinatown, at the Wong Kei where the waiters are all rude to you (they only smile at me!). Then we wandered past Piccadilly Circus and spent an hour or two browsing the books in the big Waterstones which is open till 10pm.

When we got kicked out at closing time we headed back towards Green Park tube at a leisurely pace, passing the Ritz with all its Tinseltown lighting, and Fortum and Mason's Christmas window display. I know it is supposed to be worth a visit every year to see their windows, but this year I thought the baroque-looking smiling and grimacing faces framing the tableaux were a bit scary really!

Home through the (thankfully light) night-time traffic, with Tony Blackburn on Jazz FM playing the Stylistics, Dionne Warwick and other great classic soul. After such an inauspicious start it turned out to be a great day to live in London!

Paul Curran marries Carmel Bennett

On Friday 16 July 2004, my dear friend Paul from UCD days married the beautiful Carmel Bennett in Sallynoggin Church. So what better excuse for a bit of a reunion? Joe Dalton and Elva came, and Michael Ward flew in especially from Idaho with wife Kris. Orlando and I made the trip too and it turned out to be a hell of a day.

The church ceremony was lovely, and Carmel looked radiant as she walked up the aisle to her fate. Paul looked so handsome in his formal outfit, and although he insisted that his calm exterior belied the turmoil within, he looked pretty happy to me!

The reception was at the Marriott at Druid's Glen in Newtownmountkennedy, starting with a champagne reception and a coin toss between Joe and Elva to see who was the designated driver.... they took a cab in the end! The menfolk did seem to find the Guinness even more palatable than the champagne too...

We tried taking a photo of the women's fabulous eyes - me with brown, Elva with deep blue, and Kris with iridescent green... but I'm afraid all you can see is our amazing beauty in this shot!

It was so great to catch up, and the bride and groom were not shy in rambling about during the reception, gossiping and generally getting to spend time with their guests. The speeches were perfect - sentimental, funny and not too long - and I have to say the food and wine were fantastic.

The night was a long one, especially for Michael and Kris who had flown in on a 20-hour marathon that morning and had yet to sleep. This did not stop Kris from becoming the queen of the dancefloor before spiralling finally into a deep sleep on Michael's shoulder at about 2am.

All in all, it was so good to get together for such a fantastic occasion. I will admit to a few happy tears toward the end of the evening, as I saw how happy Paul was. And now I can rest - all my "five boys" nicely married off to women with good prospects. I can do no more for them!

A Christening and a Reunion

One weekend in June I travelled down to my old home town Maidstone in Kent, for the christening of the third offspring of my old friends Denis and Lizzie. Denis and I were in University College Dublin together, along with the rest of the core group – Joe Dalton, Brian Costello, Paul Curran, Michael Ward, Conor Byrne, and Colin McDonnell, with Manu Pillai joining the gang halfway through.

Denis, Brian and I worked together in Maidstone for several years, and they both got nabbed by local women. Brian still lives there with his wife Alison and their kids Ryan and Kara (in a great big posh house I might add). Denis, on the other hand, convinced Lizzie to move back to the wilds of the Donegal Gaeltacht with him, where they live with their three children, Sam, Eilis and bay Róise.

So Roise was christened in Maidstone on the family’s way to France on holiday. A lovely ceremony was held in the church where Biran and Ali got married about 100 years ago. Brian (god help us all) was godfather to this poor unsuspecting child. Afterwards we all met up in a local church hall to eat food, drink wine and catch up.Turns out there is a rash of ceremonies happening this year.

Paul Curran gets married to the lovely Carmel in a couple of weeks in Wicklow (photos to follow I promise). And Colin McDonnell has been snared by a beautiful Galway woman, we hear, and the nuptials are occurring in October. Looks like 2004 is turning into a great year for a reunion and a few beers!

Like Father.....

Like Sons!!!! Personally I think it is scary how Brian and Denis (above) have passed on their genes to sons Ryan and Sam

I managed to herd the Costello clan to gether for one nice photo but failed to do so for the five wild Ferrys.

If you are reading this and are thinking of your old school or college mates, pick up the phone (or click on your mouse) and get in touch now. You’ll never guess what they’ve been up to…