100 Days in the UK: A Jolly Good ol' time
In the blink of an eye, our 100 days in the UK are up. Where on earth did the time go?
We didn’t do much in the way of sightseeing, but we really hit a groove with homeschooling. The kids had valuable quality time with their grandparents (and their two dogs, who now think the kids are permanent live‑in snack dispensers). And it’s been a good chance to reset before we start making our way slowly home.
The last few weeks have seen the UK drenched in boiling sunshine. It didn’t quite reach Penang‑level intensity, and we never found ourselves joining the British chorus of “it’s too hot,” but it was definitely a sweltering step up from those first six weeks where we basically froze solid.
A Day Club for Old Farts
But the heat didn’t stop me having a day out at a nightclub in London.
The 1990s UK club scene was a movement never seen before — and quite possibly never again. Millions lined up outside clubs at midnight to see superstar DJs and rave until sunrise. No trouble, no drama, just friendly vibes and a national obsession with dance music.
Fast‑forward 30 years and one of those club nights, Clockwork Orange, has made a comeback. The old DJs are back. The old crowd is back. And I had a ticket, along with a couple of my old raving school mates.
The club opened at 2pm and closed at 10pm. Because we’re all now too old to carry on all night. A day club for old farts. A genius creation.
Cue an average age of 55, legendary DJs still dropping bangers, and three packed sweaty dance floors. We had a proper party on our hands — dancing like it was 1995.
Epic.
Lowestoft: The Surprise Gem
The Suffolk town of Lowestoft has two claims to fame:
- It’s the most easterly point of Great Britain.
- The one‑hit‑wonder band The Darkness came from there.
What many don’t know is that its beach is one of the most stunning in this part of the UK — a few kilometres of wide, bright yellow sand lined with fish‑and‑chip shops and arcades.
We spent a couple of days there admiring the view, watching fluffy seagull chicks wobble around, and using up all our last coins in the arcade machines. We won hundreds of tickets and exchanged them for crappy toys that broke within five minutes. A perfect British seaside experience.
Africa Alive: A Few Surprises Left
Africa Alive is a wildlife park just down the road from Lowestoft, so we headed in for a day.
We’ve already had a lifetime’s share of wildlife on this trip, so we didn’t expect many surprises. But there were still some firsts — I’d never seen an aardvark before. The kids got to feed giraffes for the first time. And grandma and grandad managed to stay awake the whole day.
A win for everyone.
Packing, LEGO, and British Culture
After several days of packing and sending home a box stuffed with surplus LEGO sets (too bulky to travel, too precious to throw away), it was time to say goodbye.
New Zealand is our home now, but the UK still holds deep memories of my childhood and early adult life. Coming back as an outsider gives me a different perspective on British culture.
For example: The way British people struggle to commit to a decision for fear of hurting someone’s feelings. Or: The way Brits get obsessed with one adversity and spend weeks discussing it.
While we were there, the big national crisis was… the bins. New bins. Different coloured lids. Different items in different bins. New collection days. One street divided into two sides with different collection days.
Everyone was in a muddle. “What goes in this bin?” “Why hasn’t my bin been emptied for weeks?” “They’ve changed the lids again!” The internet was red‑hot with moaning. Neighbours were discussing it like it was Brexit 2.0. The council was useless.
One guy even created his own list of dates for each bin, photocopied it, and distributed it to the neighbourhood like some kind of bin‑day prophet.
A right British palaver.
And that — looking from the outside — is something I now see as classically, beautifully British.
The Britishness I Miss
I do miss that true Britishness: the self‑degradation, the wit, the humour, the friendliness on the street, the banter. Brits have a unique way of getting over their moaning by making fun of themselves and everyone around them. It’s a skill I’d lost a little, but coming back has sharpened me up again.
Onwards to Russia
And so — onto Russia. With Western sanctions still in place, the only way to get there is a ten‑hour flight via Turkey. Luckily we’re all used to long flights now, and it passed fairly easily.
We have no idea how long we’ll stay, but for now it’s day one and we’re just figuring out how to get connected to the outside world.
More to come…
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