JUNE 2 - HOME AT LAST

FIRST off, apologies for the distinct lack of updates recently thanks to my PC going tits up, meaning I haven't been able to update PlanetMut at all. However, bugger that for now as I'm back in the UK and bloody loving it.

We got back on Saturday, landing in Heathrow at three in the afternoon after a 10-hour flight from LA. Everything went OK (except Ev got stuck in the immigration line for a while) and we reached my aunt's house in London at about 5pm, from where we made an immediate run for the local chippie.

Here's dinner - steak and kidney pie, a saveloy and chips, all liberally doused with chip shop curry sauce. Soon after this we both crashed out at 9pm, only to wake up at 5am Sunday morning.

JUNE 3

AFTER a few hours of watching crappy early-morning TV everyone else got up and me, Ev, my cousin and my sister set out on the six-mile walk my cousin had planned.

Here's a shot of Finchley Tube Station from the bridge.

And here's a shot from platform level. We were heading towards Archway to walk up the hill to Highgate Cemetery.

This is a small statue of Dick Whittington's cat, which is just down the road from the Whittington Hospital and on our route to Highgate.

We managed to arrive at the west side of Highgate just in time for a guided tour. This part of the cemetery is huge and very overgrown, which make for great photos. All we need now is someone who can take great photos and we're laughing. Anyway, here's a few of the 200 I took there.

The tour was about an hour long and fascinating - Highgate's history is long and complicated. From the west side we headed across the road to the east side, where several famous people are buried.

Here's Karl Marx in all his glory. The bundle of flowers on the bottom left had something written on the paper in Russian - possibly "thanks a lot, you bastard." Here are some more photos from the east side:

From Highgate we headed downhill towards London through Tufnell Park. Although it's not the greatest-looking part of London, it did have some great graffiti and the distinction of being the place where Spaced was filmed.

Tufnell Park led us to Kentish Town where we stopped for something to eat at McDonald's. Amazingly, McD's has started putting the nutritional information for its burgers on the boxes. I would have got a pic of one but my feet were killing me and I couldn't be bothered. And, as you may imagine, there's not an awful lot of nutrition in a Filet o' Fish anyway. Here's some photos of Kentish Town in all its glory:

From Kentish Town we're now heading towards Camden. As it was market day - in other words, packed - and as we've all been to Camden Market before we avoided the crowds and headed towards Regent's Park. There are some pics of Camden Market I took in 2003 here, and here's a couple of Camden in general I took on the day:

We grabbed a couple of 99's at this ice-cream van outside Regent's Park. Despite several gloomy forecasts from my dad in the week before we flew the weather was great, with temperatures in the low 80s. For those not in the know, a 99 is pictured on the pillar on the right of the van. Then we headed into the park.

Here's this year's obligatory arse-cleavage shot.

Regent's Park is big, green and peaceful, something you don't really expect in the middle of London. After a rest on a bench we set off across the park heading to Great Portland Street tube station.

We passed the BT Tower on the way.

From Great Portland Street we headed to Covent Garden. It's a pretty cool place with lots of street performers, shops and cafes. I took a few pics there before we went for a coffee:

After wandering around Covent Garden for an hour we headed to Chinatown, which is centered around Gerrard Street. They had iPod Shuffles for fifty quid, but somehow I doubt they were genuine. But I did manage to pick up a Mini postcard so I was happy.

Following tradition, here's the obligatory pic of a Smart car.

By now we had walked six miles and were shagged out, so we dived into Garfunkel's for a fry-up and then jumped on the tube back to Southgate and my aunt's place. I took some more photos on the way back:

JUNE 4

AFTER shooting over to Argos to buy some blank CDs so I could get the photos off my CF cards, we headed to Paddington to catch the train back to Gloucester. After buying a coffee and waiting for my sis and Ev to get out of McDonald's we said goodbye to my cousin and headed off on the train.

We took the A40 back, a windy road through the countryside. For the Americans reading this, that is a two-way road you're looking at. Back at mum and dad's I phoned Flynn and James and we met them at the Prince of Wales for a pint or three.

Here's the table after the first round (faces have been cropped out to protect the innocent and readers' sanity). We were sitting outside as it was a nice night, and 'cos I'm at a pub, which means I'm smoking. The night was going fantastically, with lots of drinking and even more piss-taking, when I went for a slash and came back to this:

Yes, two gits (who shall remain nameless - let's just call them Flynn and James) had taken all my fags and filled the packet with twigs. Not that I noticed 'til I tried to light one, oh no. Much hilarity ensued and then Flynn was beaten until he bought another round.

Here's the table shortly before we headed home. Note the packet of cheese and onion crisps which I forgot to eat. A great night was had by all. Matt, if you're reading this I forgot to get a photo of the Prince but have no fear, I'll take one for you.

JUNE 5

FOR some reason I woke up at 7am strangely hangover-free. After several coffees (I've basically finished the pack of Kona Coffee we brought over for dad... oops) and taking a look at the pics I'd shot in London, dad called us to brekkies.

And what a brekkies it was - bacon, egg, mushrooms, black pudding, fried bread, tea and orange juice all liberally doused in HP Sauce. I miss Britain.

Today we were heading into South Wales to visit Big Pit in Blaenavon, a World Heritage Site where you can go 900 feet underground and tour a coal mine.

After fighting our way through the roadworks on the Heads of the Valley Road we go to Big Pit. I'd been here before when I was about 13 but couldn't remember much of it.

There were shedloads of schoolkids at the place as we waited for our turn to go underground. We were given helmets, lamps and battery packs before we got in the life. The miner who put my pack on - who was also our guide underground - praised me for wearing a Welsh rugby jersey and when I told him I lived in California he asked what it was like to be back. Fantastic, I told him. "Good for you, son, good for you" he said.

We got into the lift with some other adults and about 20 schoolkids and their teacher. The miner (unfortunately I didn't get his name) laid down the law to them about messing around and we headed down under the ground. As cameras aren't allowed in the mine itself - I left mine with dad - I have to go by memory, which is crap at the best of times. We were shown the ventilation doors (operated by kids aged seven when the mine opened in 1880, which sounds like a good idea to me), told about the history of the mine and shown the last seam of coal. It was cold and damp underground and at one point we had to walk up a slope bending down as the roof is about five feet high at that point - both me and Ev smacked our helmeted heads on the ceiling a few times. After going through the stables where the pit horses were kept underground for pretty much all their lives we headed back to the surface. It was a superb tour and it's a shame we couldn't take photos. But I took more when I got back to the surface, and here's some of them (and I apologise for the blurry fingerprint on the lens - I have no idea how my dad managed that):

After touring Big Pit we headed to Ebbw Vale and Cwm, where my mum's from. On the way we stopped in Beaufort at the church my parents got married in (it'll be 46 years in March) for a look:

We reached Cwm and drove up Marine Street to the top end where my grandparents used to live. Cwm was bordered at one end by the steelworks and by Marine Colliery at the other. Both have been demolished now.

This is Marine Street, which is very, very long. My grandad used to take me for walks up and down it. It's a fairly typical street in a typical Welsh mining town - lots and lots of terraced houses.

Over the years my mum, aunt, sister, cousins and me have all slid down the side of this mountain on sheets of cardboard. At the bottom of it is a stream from which I used to drag old bikes and car bits, much to the horror of my mum.

This is the field where my grandparent's ashes are scattered. My nan used to take me for walks around it and me and my dad used to play football there. After having a look around we headed back home.

JUNE 6

TODAY we headed back into Wales to travel on the Brecon and Monmouthshire Canal, something we'd wanted to do since Ev stumbled across their website a few months ago.

We got to Brecon a bit early so I shot some pics of where you get on the boat:

The bottom pic is the boat we were going to travel on, the Dragonfly, which holds about 50 people. Once everyone was aboard we set off up the canal for the first part of the trip, and I started snapping photos:

About halfway up the canal we came to a lock. We stopped and the girl on the boat got off to open the gate and lower the water, which dropped us about 10 feet:

We went through the lock and continued up the canal, eventually reaching a place where the boat could be turned around. Most of us got off to have a look at the scenery:

With the boat turned around we headed back down the canal to Brecon. As we came to the lock I managed to get up on the back of the Dragonfly and take some pics looking along it to the lock. We had to hang on a bit as there was another boat coming through.

We were on the last stretch by now, heading back to Brecon. After a cuppa and a Mars Bar (which I cannot find in the States) we arrived back at the dock and headed down to the Heads of the Valley Road. On the way we stopped in a lay-by to get an ice cream and look at the Brecon Beacons.

On the way home we stopped in Merthyr so dad could show Ev where he went to school. It's pretty impressive:

Cyfarthfa Castle, built in 1824 by ironnmaster and complete bastard William Crawshay, is still a school but part of it is a museum which we took a look around. This gave dad the opportunity to point out the headmaster's office and the number of times he was sent there. Ironically, I used to live about a quarter of a mile from the castle but it wasn't until I came home on a trip from the States that I actually bothered to go and see it. After having a shufty we headed home as we were going to Cornwall the following day.

JUNE 7

THE drive to Cornwall was OK, except we stopped at the wrong service station (a total dump) and my mum tried a new way of driving through Cornwall itself which got us lost and added an hour onto our trip. We finally arrived at my aunt's and then went to have a look at Jamaica Inn.

Now I don't want to sound like I'm putting Jamaica Inn down, but let's face it - it's complete bullshit. The "legend" is that tunnels were dug from the beaches under the cliffs to the inn so smugglers could bring their goods ashore. Trouble is, Jamaica Inn is miles from the coast and tunnelling to it from the beaches would have defeated the world's population of moles, let alone your average Cornish smuggler.

So we go in and me and dad go up to the bar. There are two blokes behind it, one on his mobile and the other staring at the wall. As if by some magic signal they both decide to piss off and send the trainee in. I don't know for a fact that he was the trainee, but a few clues gave it away. For starters, he couldn't find the gin. When he did find it he couldn't work the optic so he had to go and get Mr Mobile Phone who poured the drink while still talking on his phone. Then the trainee messes up two other orders, can't find the scampi fries when they're six inches in front of him, can't work the till and drops the ice on the floor. Wonderful.

We swigged down our drinks, took a look around the shop and buggered off back to my aunt's place in time for her side of the family (there are millions of them) to turn up for a party, where Ev cemented her brilliantness by handing out free chocolate. During the party Jules called me to see how things were going - we had planned to meet up in London but it didn't come off. He told me that the Mexican Navy is moored outside his office in Canary Wharf and hopefully he'll send photos of both the dinghies so I can put them on here.

JUNE 8

ME, EV and my aunt set out early as we had a busy day planned. Our first stop was to get something to eat at a roadside cafe on the coast (the takeaway cream tea we got is pictured above). The beaches on the south coast of Cornwall are beautiful, so I nipped off to take some pics:

We could see St Michael's Mount across the water and decided to go over to it. The little island it's on is accessible by a causeway at low tide, but as the tide was in we had to get a boat over to it. As we made our way towards the village of Marazion we came across some classic cars that were taking part in a rally:

After I'd been dragged away from the cars we found the entrance to the beach where we could catch a boat across to the island. It only took about five minutes but was fun as the water's only about three feet deep:

On the island we made our way to the ticket office. I could see ominous signs saying that the climb to the castle was steep and should be made with caution, which set alarm bells ringing. But we paid up and set off up the hill.

It doesn't look too bad.

Oh shit.

It's a lot steeper than it looks, and the temperature was in the high 80s. And I was wearing jeans. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. The climb was worth it as the views from the island are fantastic:

We went and had a look inside the house/castle, which has housed the same family for 300 years. You can't take photos inside so here's some of the outside:

While wandering around the grounds I looked over the side and saw that the tide was going out, making the causeway visible:

After taking a look in the church we decided to head back down, which was a lot easier than going up. We stopped in the restaurant to get a bite to eat (bangers and mash and tea all round) then I went to get some more photos of the island's little harbour:

We debated walking back across the causeway but as the water was still about six inches deep we gave it a miss and caught another boat back.

I did get a pic of people crossing it. As the tide was out we got off the boat about 200 yards further from the shore than where we got on. One source of amusement was an argument between some German tourists; I think they were debating the merits of invading Poland again.

From St Michael's Mount we headed west towards Land's End to the Minack Theatre, which is an outdoor theatre carved out of the cliffside. My aunt got a bit lost on the way but we made it eventually and found the car park.

I don't know what this is, but I sort of like it. Maybe. Anyway we asked directions to the theatre and were told it was up another bloody hill, so off we went. The one saving grace of the walk was the view, which was spectacular:

So up to the top of the hill we go, only to discover we'd parked in the wrong bloody car park and could have driven to the theatre. Oh well. We went in and to be honest, it's fantastic. Here's some pics:

We left the Minack and headed back to my aunt's place as the parents were driving home that night. Despite living in Cornwall for about 30 years, my aunt managed to take some magical mystery tour around most of the county to ensure we got back late. After a fag and a cuppa we set off home, only stopping at another lovely service station where three coffees, a tea and a Mars bar cost about $50, the bogs were out of paper and there was graffiti in the kharzi dating back to 1997. Oh, and there were signs up everywhere saying the place was open 24 hours but they kicked us out at 11pm. Still, we got back safe at 1am and crashed out for the night.

JUNE 9

WE'D decided to take it easy on Saturday, so I spent most of the morning updating Planet Mut while Ev had a lie-in. Dad took me down town so I could get some blank CDs and start burning the 2,000 or so photos I'd taken.

While in town I nipped into Greggs to get a steak bake and a doughnut.

This is the Gwalia store, which is great as it stocks odd brands of cigarettes you can't get in supermarkets. I want to dive in here before we leave to pick some up.

Saturday evening was spent at the Hungry Horse with Flynn, James, Helen, Becky and my sis. It's a theme pub, restaurant and chav hang-out near the racecourse in Hereford. One of our first warnings was that the tables were sticky, and that's "sticky" with a capital STICKY. Once the food arrived (there was a 45-minute wait with it being Friday) our second warning was the fact that there was a dead ant in the salt cellar.

Let me say that again: THERE WAS A DEAD ANT IN THE SALT CELLAR. It's the dark smudge to the left. The food wasn't too bad and it does look like American-sized portions are catching on over here, meaning we have type 2 diabetes and six-seater cars that'll hold two people to look forward to.

We then adjourned to the garden to drink, be merry and listen to the stupid teenage girls on the table behind us.

A great time was had by all, as you can tell from Flynn's gesture of happiness.

JUNE 10

WE WENT to Raglan Castle on Sunday with Flynn and Becky. I've been a couple of times but Ev's never seen it, and the cat sleeping on the grass on the way in made her day as it reminded her of Emric (who has thrown up several times since we left. Shame.) As always I had the camera and took a load of pics:

I guess this is where they held the breakdancing competitions.

On the way back home for lunch I spotted the greatest truck in the universe and Becky obligingly pedalled her Fiat faster so I could get some pics of it. Bless her.

After lunch Lou took us down to see Blunty and his family. We had a great time just yakking in his back garden and then he took us for a spin to the coast in his new camper van. We were plagued by bugs as we had a cuppa by the beach but we managed to get a couple using a combination of my cap and a child's spade. On the way home we got detoured miles out of our bloody way into Cardiff and back up the A48. Going through Monmouth, some twat started pulling out on a red light and my sis had to take emergency action to get around him - basically we swerved back and forth across both lanes before she got control of the car. We made it home safe but I think Lou might have to replace her back seat.

JUNE 11

WE DECIDED to have another lazy day on Monday, so I'd like to know how I ended up digging my dad's garden for him. We went down to Ross in the afternoon to get some pens so I could write on the CDs I bought. I'll give Ross kids one thing, the standard of graffiti has improved since I lived here:

I got the pens and a book on the Two Ronnies, which pretty much made my day. Oh, and Matt, here's your pic of the Prince of Wales.

JUNE 12

TODAY was another pretty lazy day. But something fairly interesting happened when me and dad were down town.

See the bloke to the right who's leaning on the front of the bus? Apparently for some reason the driver wouldn't let him on so he decided to stage a one-man protest - by standing in front of the bus and holding the traffic up.

And hold it up he did - for about 20 minutes while a queue of cars and buses built up from here down the road to Safeway and around the corner.

The other bus drivers took the opportunity to have a fag break, then called the police. But the guy eventually allowed himself to be talked from the front of the bus without the Old Bill getting involved.

After taking pics of the bus fiasco I walked down to Safeway (or Morrisons as it's now called). Passing an alley, I spotted something which again proved how the standard of graffiti has improved over the years:

In the afternoon we decided to get out of the house for a bit and go for a drive. We set out for Foy, a small village in the wilds of Herefordshire, only to get lost and end up driving around narrow lanes for a bit (one is pictured below - yes, it is two-way). We luckily found King's Caple instead and so didn't have to send up any distress flares. Me and Ev got out to take a look at the church.

After leaving King's Caple we tried again to find Foy, only to give up and head back to Ross, only to find a signpost for Foy. So we followed it, found the village and again had a look at the church.

The views from the back of the church over the countryside were pretty spectacular too.

The bottom picture shows what we Welsh call a leisure centre.

The day was finished off with another visit to the Prince of Wales - where Flynn managed to pour a pint of Coke over himself (see below) - and a trip to the Chinese where I had a curry and toilets all over Ross were put on standby.

JUNE 13

I WAS having a fag in the garage earlier today when I spotted this blast from my past:

I took it inside and opened the box for the first time in probably 25 years.

I think the words "action-packed" must have meant something different in the early 80s. And how three different beeps can be described as "realistic sound effects" is beyond me.

The first thing out was the lightgun. Note how the screw at the front is missing, meaning only one thing: I took it apart at some point and very probably buggered it up.

Here's the console itself. Note the chunky 1970s design, the Grandstand-style sport icons on the right and the single speaker. I assume the "Manserve" button calls the butler, and now I'm old enough to realise that "Start" is a polite way of saying "Reset".

Here is the complete set-up the happy new owner would have seen in 1979 when this was released. The delightful orange is probably meant to blend in with the nylon curtains. But does it still work?

Oh crap, it takes batteries - six D-cells to be precise. Hang on, I'll raid the parents' supply.

Great, they only have three and they're crappy supermarket own-brand ones. Looks like a trip to the Spar store is in order.

On the way to town through the churchyard we spotted this graffiti. I only hope this guy's medication kicks in soon.

The batteries (which cost 14 quid!!) are in, the lead is plugged into the back of the telly and Ev is claiming she can kick my arse at tennis. All I have to do now is tune the TV in, switch it on and we're back to 1981.

Holy crap, not only does it work but Ev beat me 15-12. I have liberated Stalingrad in Call of Duty, destroyed alien worlds in Quake II, fragged my way through Unreal Tournament and survived Half-Life 2 and I can't play bloody Pong?

TRUE to form, Jules emailed me some photos of the Mexican navy boat that's docked near his office in Canary Wharf, proving Ponty boys are only just below Tonteg boys for greatness.

JUNE 22

WE'RE back in the States and just about over the jetlag. I am planning to do a bigger update, but for now here's some photos of the recent Star Wars convention that Ryan sent me.

JUNE 23

BUGGER the dead batteries - Eddie Izzard was fantastic, doing an hysterical two-hour show at the Coronet which kept us in stitches the whole time. We were lucky enough to get great seats, as this artist's impression - done with every expense spared - shows:

In case you're wondering, "drunk girl" is a very nice girl from Iowa who was pissed as a fart and fell asleep halfway through the gig. She did wake up a couple of times, clapped randomly, then passed out again. Bless. Ev was ready with her phone and got a pic of Eddie in full flight:

Yeah, it came out crap. But it is Eddie Izzard. Honest.

TONIGHT we're going to see Eddie Izzard at the Coronet in LA. But I just wanted to pause for a moment to remember all the batteries that ran out during our trip home, and also to remind myself to use the bloody rechargeables next time.

JUNE 24

FOR the three of you who care, here's how our trip to the UK ended.

On Thursday we headed into Hereford for a while, stopping at the cathedral for a cuppa. In the evening we went to the Chinese place we'd been frequenting with Flynn and James to try out their all-you-can-eat buffet, which was great.

It pissed down most of Friday so we pretty much stayed in the house, emerging only for lunch with Jo and Tig, and then Ev started the packing while I manfully skived off in the garage. Wait, that's wrong - I ended up digging another part of my dad's garden for him. On Friday night we went to my parents' favourite restaurant for an early Father's Day dinner.

On Saturday - our last full day - Blunty brought the family over in his new(ish) camper-van thingy (I don't know what it is, I drive a Mini). We set off for the Forest of Dean, stopping on the way for lunch at a pub I'd driven past probably a million times but never actually visited. The food was great and made even better by Blunty paying for it. Afterwards we crossed the road to have a look at the river and spotted this:

I remember saying words to the effect of "Why is that bloke hanging onto the end of that boat?" when we realised they were heading for a shallow bit:

Oops. The rest of our trip to the forest passed uneventfully, but six more Duracells died in the service of my camera and I'd forgotten to take spares.

In the evening Flynn and Becky came over bearing gifts in the shape of Hot Fuzz on DVD and a big bag of crisps. We watched the movie (2 1/2 times if I remember right) and ate all the crisps, and did a good job of demolishing my sister's store of Pepsi. After a night of eating, drinking and making fun of Becky, they cleared off and we headed to bed as we had to be up at 7am to get to Heathrow.

The trip to Heathrow went without a hitch, although the bill for toast, tea, coffee and diet Coke at a motorway service station on the way came to nearly $25. We arrived at Terminal 3, checked our suitcases and then hung around a cafe for three hours waiting for a gate number for our flight. When it came up we made our way to the line for security where I broke a record by bursting into tears before my mum did. I was then pulled out of the line and told that I could only take two bags through security (I had my satchel and camera bag on me) even though people were going through with a bag and a laptop. Dear British Airport Authority, you really are a bunch of wallet-raping arseholes. We got around this stupid rule by stuffing my satchel into Ev's holdall, went through the line and to our gate, a gentle walk of what seemed like three miles.

I really can't remember that much about the flight as luckily I slept through most of it, although I looked at the map shortly after takeoff and noticed that our pilot seemed to be drunk. I was awakened only by a bloody crying baby and some woman who obsessivley shuffled a pack of cards for what seemed like hours. We arrived back in LA on time, got through immigration, picked up our luggage and went out of the airport to weather that was, frankly, crapper than Britain's. Arriving home (Ev's mum picked us up) by 8.30pm, I managed to stay awake for an hour before crashing out - only to wake up at 5am, a whole eight hours before I was due to leave for work. Bugger.

JUNE 29

THERE are eight new wallpapers up, so feel free to grab one.