1. When I hear someone speaking Italian or Korean or Liverpudlian, I know what language they are speaking even though I can’t understand a word of it. So does a non-Italian deaf person know if someone is signing in Italian or does it just look like random hand movements (as performed by all Italians) like that fraud was doing at the Mandela Memorial in 2013? Just wondering because every time you turn on the TV there’s a politician or a doctor giving a lecture so there’s a lot of signing going on all over the place.

2. First we had social security then social justice then social media and now we have social distancing. Let’s hope this latest example of social engineering doesn’t become as permanent or ubiquitous as the others or social interactions at social gatherings and more intimate one-on-one social connections will be somewhat problematic and we won’t need a potent new virus to impose zero population growth on the populace.

3. I never noticed because it was summer back home in recent months but it seems yoga pants are now all the rage in cold weather. I’m told this item of apparel is more correctly called leisure wear although I’m pretty sure some of the people who wear them haven’t leisured in years. For others I say leisure away because it can be quite a fetching look.As a corollary to this, yesterday morning here in the UK there was a debate program (with participants seated a healthy 2 metres apart and no studio audience) on whether fat shaming is hate speech. We didn’t watch it because this offence mining is getting ridiculous. I have red hair (actually I used to, but most of it has changed colour) and the child bride would like to be three inches taller but no one that I am aware of is taking offence by proxy on behalf of rangas and short-arses. So where do you draw the offence-taking line? Way back at the start before all of this virtue signalling, identity politics bullshit started – that’s where.

4. The wedding we attended two days ago ducked BoJo’s ban on various public access hostelries by a matter of hours. The reception had just started when it was announced but news travels slowly in the backblocks of Lancashire and the Clitheroe pony express was lame so the festivities continued to a logical conclusion and when it’s a wedding in a brewery that conclusion should be obvious (everyone was suitably pissed, for those of you who don’t do obvious). Then yesterday, the hotel the CB and I are staying in prior to flying out today told us they had closed. But we could stay until check out time. So we were the only people in this grand hotel in Alderley Edge and a couple of days ago we were the only paying customers in the Swan and Royal in Clitheroe. And Qantas stops flying international at the end of the month. We were flying home on the 30^th (on Cathay Pacific) originally but brought our return forward to tomorrow on Qantas. I can’t help but feel this virus has been snapping at our heels for the last week but we’re holding it at bay. If either of us eventually get this bloody thing I shall be extremely peeved.

5. I didn’t think it could get any weirder in the short term but now Singapore won’t let Qantas land so our flight from here is London to Darwin – now there’s a first. I wasn’t able to confirm that immediately as they wanted me to call them and I was put in a queue which was between 3 ½ and 4 ½ hours long. The Qantas operator was very busy today! A few hours later Qantas called back and they wanted to know why I called them. Eh?

6. I thought I’d seen it all but I hadn’t. Today, at Manchester airport the CB and I saw a lady in a full hazard suit – the white coverall type with head, face and mouth cover without even her feet outside. She wasn’t waiting to test a suspected virus carrier, she was a passenger waiting to get on a plane. Ours I think. It’s easy to say the world’s gone mad but I guess we all have different views on what are prudent precautions. Further to this, we are now sitting in Terminal 3 (the Qantas Lounge is closed – oh the privations) and there are hazard suits scattered across the main lounge area. I’m guessing most of them have Asians inside judging by the ones we’ve seen up close and personal. The cheaper versions appear to be those raincoat poncho things – there’s a few of them around. As previously reported we’re told that masks protect me from anything the mask-wearer may have. Hopefully on the plane we’ll be surrounded by a praetorian guard of hazard suits but unlikely. Japan Airlines or Air China will get them and we’ll get the gobby blokes in t-shirts.

And on that note, Tales from the Celtic Caravan comes to a close, unfortunately without a contribution from the Paddy Celts. Until next time.

Fortunately this little corner of the world the CB and I find ourselves in has a supermarket which may be bereft of bog rolls but has shelves stocked with Stella, Sav and Syrah. I think our home state of Queensland is the only political jurisdiction on the planet outside the muslim bit where you won’t find this. Since Boris announced yesterday that all bars, restaurants and pubs would close as of today, this has assumed life sustaining importance. So as I sit back in our hotel room contemplating the Alderley Edge Hotel’s empty carpark and the absence of any noise I am able to sip an ice cold beer and the CB can sip a Rosemount Chardie – a good value Aussie quaffer which costs as much in £’s as it does in $’s at home. Incidentally, that applies to just about everything here.

The family wedding the CB and I came over here to attend was completed in the nick of time yesterday. Today would have been a no-go. We were so happy for the bride and groom because the times were rapidly conspiring to make their big day a complete disaster. As it was, plenty of guests including two of the bridesmaids were unable to attend or didn’t want to attend. In less unusual times there would be severe recriminations for bailing out I am sure, but some people are following government directives to the letter so there isn’t really a case to prosecute. Notwithstanding, we have already encountered attitudes ranging from casual indifference to practical pragmatism to full-blown paranoia when it comes to avoiding COVID-19.

If you add the closure of most touristy places to closure of the pubs, bars and restaurants and the abandonment of everything sporting, this place has become instantly boring so it’s just as well we are heading home in two days rather than on our way to Ireland tomorrow. We can look forward to two weeks of isolation with logistics more akin to a spy swap than getting a cab when we land in Brisbane. Our kids have to avoid contact with us so our son will drive our car to the airport and our daughter will follow. Our car will be left for us to drive home and daughter and son will return to their respective homes in daughter’s car.

Bear in mind that we will have just spent 20+ hours in a crowded aeroplane so despite the best laid plans (of mice and men) and the imposition of restrictions the fun-police in Iran would be proud of, contact with other humans is unavoidable in some circumstances. And the people we encountered today in the above mentioned supermarket and in a coffee shop and at the hotel reception didn’t interrogate us as to whether we have participated in crowd forming activities recently. So it’s all a bit scatter-gun really.

Fortunately our son-in-law is manager of a supermarket so the fridge at home has been stocked this week and the local booze retailer home delivers. Netflix here we come.

Well the last couple of days has been frantic what with prime ministers and presidents banning some people but not others from visiting or leaving their countries and multiple airlines pulling flights and here’s the CB and I in the jolly UK. We cancelled our trip to Ireland and have been looking for a way to get home early before ScoMo slams the door. Fortunately, despite Qantas cancelling 90% of their flights, there were a few international seats available and we got two of them. The rest will be gone by the end of the month when the whole airline is grounded. Rather severe restrictions on movement are being imposed it seems.

I am hopeful I don’t encounter another problem because I caught a cold – understandable when considering the weather in Wales. It’s definitely a cold – I’ve had one or two before so am familiar with the signs. However I feel like I shall have to try to disguise the occasional cough and sniffle because I am sure there are members of the public out there taking it upon themselves to out those with devil signs – to the ducking stool with them. So my own version of 1984 (the book not the year) is underway as I try to avoid being revealed as a potential subversive or worse, mass murderer (the chief protagonist in 1984 wasn’t a mass murderer by the way – read the book).

We have a family wedding tomorrow – a cousin’s daughter – and the poor girl is watching as guests bail out and waiting for the dreaded call from the venue and/or the registrar, either of which could derail the whole thing. She’s holding up admirably (in public) so let’s hope we can make it to 2.00pm tomorrow after which the knot will be tied and all that remains is for the remaining guests to do their best with the pre-paid bar tab. Hopefully the pre-ceremony drinks will result in no one noticing my occasional cough into my coat.

But they have chosen an excellent venue – a brewery in a picturesque little town called Clitheroe in the north Lancashire countryside. The CB and I are staying at a local pub – The Swan and Royal. Great spot with a nice (and deserted) bar and big rooms looking out over a narrow main street. The owner was so pleased to see us last night that he gave us a tasty glass of coffee liqueur each. An 800 year old Norman castle in the centre of town dominates the scenery.

We’ve done a lot of castles on this trip, mostly in Wales. I love them and when you consider the engineering that went into them many centuries ago you have to wonder why a pile of cubed rocks arranged on top of one another in ever decreasing square layers until there is only one on the top is considered a wonder of the world and Conwy Castle isn’t.

Occasionally normal programming has to be suspended and this is one of those times. We’ll be visiting Cuz 1’s mother and father, my mum’s sister and brother-in-law and my aunt and uncle today. I haven’t seen them for many years and as they now reside in the cemetery, the last time I saw them will have to suffice as the enduring memory.

They were the most wonderful people who’d do anything for you. They had their foibles – amusing and occasionally annoying like everyone, but as time moves on and memories fade those idiosyncrasies become more endearing.

As parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles they revelled in the joy that their family provided. They lived the life they wanted to lead (with occasional diversions to accommodate cantankerous parents and accident-prone offspring) and apart from the very last phase when they didn’t have a lot of choice, carried it off with aplomb.

So RIP Mildred and Stan. Thanks for the memories (and the beer and the occasional scotch and the cooked breakfasts and the warm bed and the lifts to various places and for letting my old mates know when I was in town and for scolding me for not wearing a suit to a David Bowie concert when he was in his Ziggy Stardust phase and wore more make-up than clothing).

We’re back at the Cuzs’ house in Altrincham after our leisurely swing through Wales and apart from a few seasonal closures, as in opening when it’s a bit warmer, we have encountered exactly zero evidence of a global panic. Of course this excludes watching the carnage on the stock exchange – a buying opportunity if ever there was one because markets always over-react (usual disclaimers apply) –  and listening to the idiots on morning TV like Piers Morgan who are adamant that the Government should “do more” without actually consulting the experts in crisis management who are advising said Government to elaborate on what “doing more” looks like. Something similar to the climate change “doing more” I expect, with similar results. Like journalists all over the world they are all seemingly only interested in the “gotcha” moment when some hapless minister can’t answer the most esoteric of questions.

The two main issues for the CB and I are (1) will this spoil (more than it has already) my cousin’s wedding on Friday and (2) will planes still be flying to Ireland, specifically the one we’re booked on, on Sunday. And the corollary to point (2) is will we be able to get back to Manchester airport from Ireland in time to get our flight back to Australia and will ScoMo let us back into the country anyway. If he follows the lead of Miss Hugs and Pouty Face in New Zealand we may be stuck here. Not to worry. The pubs don’t appear to be running out of beer anytime soon. And the weather’s only going to get better.

It’s now a day later and the Ireland trip has been cancelled. If we’re going to be stuck somewhere, I’d rather it be in the UK where I have relatives. And get this, the Australian Government is recommending that Aussies overseas should return home asap i.e. before the borders are closed and Miss Hugs and Pouty Face scolds us over taking too much time to act like how we haven’t closed all of our coal mines so the world’s temperature will immediately drop by 2 degrees. But at the same time as this is happening, Qantas, the national carrier has cancelled 90% of its flights. We have confirmed flights on Cathay and every flight before ours is full. So the reduction in travellers is being more than off-set by the reduction in flights. Brilliant.

The CB and I lived on the west coast of Tasmania many years ago. Heading west from there the first landfall is Argentina so the weather was pretty wild. It had nothing on Aberystwyth. We were stupid enough to walk along the sea-front promenade from our hotel at one end to the castle at the other end. Copacabana it was not.

We may as well have been walking on the beach because a major proportion of the grit which made up the beach had been deposited by the wind onto the footpath and onto the road. Consequently we expected Cuz 2’s BMW to be paintless on the upwind side. Being parked a few metres from the seawall meant it was also being washed by the waves crashing over the wall when the tide was in.

Moving on, we went to a place which epitomises the saying “verbal diarrhea”. The name of this place is Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. How the hell do you pronounce a word with four consecutive L’s in it let alone 14 consecutive consonants. If you are the slightest bit interested, this place name means “The church of Mary in the hollow of the white hazel near the fierce whirlpool and the church of Tysilio by the red cave”. I suspect I have missed some capital letters there but frankly, I lost interest about a quarter of the way through.

After the South Pole-like conditions of Aberystwyth, surprise, surprise, it’s blue sky over Conwy (that’s not a typo – there’s no “a” after the “w”) today but the weather is as random as daffodils which incidentally grow anywhere and are as ubiquitous as sheep.

We have been rather lucky with the weather in respect of rain. It’s been ear-snappingly cold and the wind has been rapier-like but the rain has held off most of the time – that’s a small blessing. It’s been pretty bleak as well and that’s been a good thing, for me anyway. Those of you who have read all of this blog will have noted my occasional  ambivalence…..no that’s the wrong word…..hatred of “power generating” (ha!) windmills. Bleakness has limited visibility meaning the hundreds of these monstrosities parked a mile or so offshore are largely invisible which is as they should be considering how useless they are in the overall scheme of things.

Llandudno is a very pretty place with an interesting coastline (for the geologically / geomorphologically inclined) but shift your gaze to the open sea and it encounters a veritable forest of those things. Way to stuff up a nice view.

Notwithstanding the windmills, the major consideration at the moment is whether we are stuck here in the UK or whether we’ll be eventually allowed to go home. I expect the boffins will come up with a cure for the coronavirus before long (long before they find one for the Welsh language) but I suspect that won’t be in time to have any impact on our personal situation. So with life as we know it being cancelled in great swathes, for us – Cuz 1, Cuz 2, the CB and me, the intrepid travellers – life goes on. But for Liverpool supporters whose football team is on the cusp of winning their first EPL title in the 30 years existence of the Premier League, the suspension (or quelle horreur, the cancellation) of the competition would be like the cancellation of lunch for Mr Creosote (a Monty Python’s Meaning of Life character, if you were wondering).

At some point in the dim distant past, someone was given the job of converting the various noises that comprise the Welsh language into written English. The selected person obviously had a very wicked sense of humour. How do you take a sound like CLAN and decide it should be spelled LL. And just to make things even more interesting this linguistic genius decided to halve the usage of vowels and double the usage of consonants while at the same time eliminating a goodly proportion of said consonants namely K, Q, V, X and Z. Maybe that’s why L’s are doubled up so often. Those of you who were educated relatively recently may not know what vowels and consonants are (or commas and apostrophes for that matter). You’ll have to look them up. Is it any wonder Welsh is only considered a legitimate means of communication by Prince Charles and a few dozen stoic leek herders.

Fortunately most signs in this country are written in English as well as in English as a second language so finding your way around is as easyish (ha!) as described in Part 2 of this emerging epic. In fact the four of us – Cuz 1, Cuz 2, the CB and me – managed to get lost while walking through Cardigan today. Cuz 2 is Welsh and Cardigan is as big as a few rugby fields which is probably why, as the CB eventually concluded that the sign pointing to “Tourist Information” was in fact, pointing to a pole a few hundred metres down the road which had arrows on it indicating the approximate location of various points of interest.

And the satnav lady was not at all pleased with us at one point when we were trying to get somewhere with lots of L’s, Y’s and M’s in its name. We were heading south when we should have been heading north. To be fair, we rarely saw the sun but to be doubly fair, occasionally we did, but not for long enough to take our bearings. I used to be able to work out which direction I was going in using a conventional watch and the sun. Impossible to do with an iPhone (because it doesn’t have minute and hour hands) unless you can make it tell you. And the car we are travelling in is sufficiently sophisticated to do all of that stuff but we forgot to consult it.

The absence of sun and the presence of wind that would freeze the Yellowstone National Park geysers, limited today’s activities somewhat. Before embarking on this epic journey to parts of the UK the child bride and I hadn’t visited before, one thing we debated was which coats to bring. In both cases we opted for the warmest we have which is just as well. At one point after visiting Aberystwyth Castle we found a bar which was a converted church (previously called St Paul’s and bearing no similarity at all to the school of the same name I attended somewhere back in the mists of time). It was a sanctuary from the elements in more ways that it was when it was a church, obviously.

I can hear the wind whistling and the waves crashing as I type this, sitting adjacent to the radiator in our room. It’s March which is spring in this part of the world but no one told Zeus. The elements have a much greater chance of keeping us indoors than any flu virus.

My experiences of Wales are somewhat limited but I am reliably informed that the Welsh are as accommodating as the Swiss only less affluent. Our barman last night were perfectly fine so it seems Welsh Waiter syndrome is yet to kick in.

If they are anything like their road system however, we are in for a miserable time. What with countless malls, bus lanes, one way streets and no left turns, navigating around Cardiff is like navigating the Hampton Court Maze. Blindfolded. We reached the deliveries entrance of the Marriott Hotel but then had to backtrack via about four blocks to get to the main entrance which, as the dragon flies was about 30m away and just round a (no entrance) corner. Finding the entrance to the Pyramid of Giza would have been easier.

Needless to say this situation generated a modicum of tension and relations between the front seat drivers (Cuz 1 and me) and the back seat drivers (Cuz 2 and the CB) were somewhat strained by the time we parked the car then removed it from the reserved Tabernacle Choir parking bay (£50 fine and tow away) and into a less belligerent parking spot.

So it was Welsh faggots (see my Facebook page if you have access) last night and it’s Cardiff Castle and various other Welsh rare bits today.

Incidentally, one thing I have noticed, and it is quite obvious, is that no one here is wearing a mask. Now Wales is somewhat insular but I’m pretty sure they get international news – I can see a BBC building from the hotel window – so they must know about the corona virus. But they obviously don’t know how serious it is and that’s not down to the paucity of masks. You can still buy toilet paper in the shops.

We are now at about the end of the daylight hours and it hasn’t rained once today. This is most unusual for this time of year. I’m surprised those whackos from Extinction Rebellion aren’t gluing themselves to the road protesting that this is because the end of the planet is nigh and Wales is at the forefront of climate action and must lead the world in ……. leadership or something. That’s what they say in Australia anyway. But if they are still stuck to Lloyd George Street on Saturday when Wales plays Scotland in 6 Nations rugby, they should expect to feel the full weight of coach loads of boyos from the valleys.

Well here we are, in the immortal words of Willie Nelson “on the road again”. Specifically, we are in Hong Kong Airport at the height (actually, that depends on who you talk to because it may have more legs yet) of the coronavirus pandemic or as the more technically inclined call it COVID-19 which I believe is the disease you get from the virus. There are more people here in the airport than I had been led to believe. I’ve seen pictures of it nearly deserted but maybe the not-so-timid are venturing outdoors and taking off again.

The best part of being out and about during a medical panic, especially in this part of the world, is that 90% of the people here are wearing masks. We have recently learned that the masks stop people with the virus from spreading it rather than prevent the wearer from catching it from someone else. So thanks everyone. I couldn’t be bothered buying one of those things but you have all made that consideration redundant anyway.

The coronavirus supposedly causes flu-like symptoms. Fair enough, but it seems to me that the thought of it causes insanity also. It must be like sitting behind your castle wall in Samarkand in 1219 thinking about and waiting for Genghis Khan and his 100,000 strong Mongol horde to come barrelling through the gates. That thought would be enough to send you on a completely unhinged toilet paper buying frenzy which is precisely what is happening world-wide at the moment. I can understand this happening if there is a real prospect of a nuclear holocaust and the bunker in the back yard needs stocking up with life’s essentials like baked beans, bullets and toilet paper. But a virus that causes flu symptoms? Sorry but you bum-wad hoarders have lost me there.

Our flight from Hong Kong to Manchester is the last one out – 1.35am. Beer has kept me awake so far but I may have to pour the next one over my head to stay awake.

On the plane now and all of the flight attendants are wearing masks – like extremely polite outlaws except they are offering us stuff rather than taking it off us.

Apologies for the paucity of posts but I’ve been rather busy. When I think about that statement I’m reminded of the great P.J.O’Rourke’s statement about healthcare – “If you think healthcare is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs when it’s free”. Various wannabe socialist politicians in the US (and elsewhere) should take note. No, my take on that quote is “If you think you’re busy now, think how busy you’ll be when you have nothing to do”.

So I’m supposed to be sliding out of semi-retirement after having fought the good fight for the mining industry for many years. But people keep giving me things to do. The best part of that is that I can choose to do the job in question, or not, as the case may be – back off lawyers with expert witness work; I’ve hung up my spurs. Working for myself affords certain other privileges also. One is to travel whenever the CB wants to travel.

Anyway, there will be a flurry of website activity in coming weeks. You see the CB and I are off to the UK to board our Celtic Caravan (comprising one cousin’s car and two hire cars). Incidentally, the CB doesn’t “do” caravans, as such, other than those kitted out like a house (as is the case with my cousin’s place at Conwy). Caravans in the conventional sense, as in those you tow behind a car, are too much like camping and that has been off the agenda since we almost desiccated to death in a tent on the Gold Coast in heat that would have qualified as a “climate emergency” if I was a Green or a Swedish teenager or an idiot. So it’ll be the aforementioned house-like caravan, hotels and B&B’s.

So a pub crawl round Wales with Cuz1 and Cuz2 will be the first order of business followed by a family wedding at which there will be no respite from doing the Swansea Swig. To finish off, the CB and I will take a leisurely drive round the top half of Ireland where I am reliably informed (by a used car salesman friend) there are no pubs. So get ready for Tales from the Celtic Caravan, coming to a website near you – this website actually.