“Here I go again on my own, going down the only road I’ve ever known…
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone, an’ I’ve made up my mind, I ain’t wasting no more time.”

Thanks Whitesnake, but I’m not on my own. As always, I’ve got the fantastic Wandering Miltonian to escort me on the latest part of this here adventure, this time to the continent of South America. I couldn’t be happier, and not just because I don’t speak a word of Portuguese and I think he’s getting actually quite passable (discounting the accent perhaps). He is without question my better half in a spectacular variety of ways, and I wouldn’t, couldn’t be without him even for all the tea in China.

So like some msn-addicted teenager in the 90s, I’ve been picking up all sorts of lyrics that pertain to adventuring whenever I’ve been listening to music recently, and did have a great plan that I could do one whole blog just made of song lyrics and it could be a challenge for readers to identify them from my mostly pop addled but sometimes eclectic musical tastes. But then I couldn’t remember a single line the day after I’d heard the song, so that cunning plan ultimately came to no fruition whatsoever, besides the little one at the top. Perhaps I’ll just splatter some in later blogs (will there be later blogs? WHO KNOWS!) and send prizes on the back of postcards to whoever correctly identifies the song first. I live a fun and exciting life and I’m sure you’d love to be a part of it.

As you can probably tell already, this blog is quite certainly going to be even more ramble-y than last time. I’m just going to spew whatever verbal nonsense appears in my crazy neural pathways onto an internet page and not expect anyone to read it at all or I’ll never hit the publish button for fear of being dragged backwards through a hedge to the nearest psychotherapist. So if you want short sharp updates, follow me on the old instagram @gillythep and be guaranteed a photo with each post, and quite probably fewer than 150 words at a time. I’m hoping to do an average of one of those a day, but we’ll see how that goes. Not too well so far…………

This weekend has consisted of an extraordinarily long trip into London, the coerced viewing of two of the first three Star Wars films, both of us coming to the realisation that we have left something/s behind already, getting the family together for a pretend-Christmas catch up meal and taking Rob to the hospital walk in centre to help solve a ear/jaw/headache that was only getting worse after a rather pointless trip to the GP earlier in the week. Proving that Jeremy Hunt really doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about and that we already have a seven day NHS, as if proof was even remotely needed, Rob got sorted out and should all be back to his normal selectively deaf yet generally pain-free self with the help of an ear spray in a few days. On a Saturday. All it took was a bit of patience. Healthcare professionals work exceptionally hard and the proposed changes to junior doctor’s contracts risks the NHS collapsing around our collective ears. To keep to my theme and quote another song lyric “don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…”. I’d also like to add that despite a significant wait, Rob was still at the hospital far less time than I was in Canada when I broke my hand – both weekend admittances. And again, when I went to that same walk in centre when I got back last time, they were brilliant.

Tomorrow we hang out in London with the famous globetrotters Oldy and Fi (you know, from oldsnfi.com, and the previous faces of Swan Valley Wine Tours) for the world press photographer exhibition and what I suspect will turn into several beers – we’ve got seven months worth to make up after all. Catching up with awesome friends on a cheeky Monday holiday in one of the world’s best cities? I’ll drink to that.