Boy, is it ever big....!

That's right - the Grand Canyon is huge, massive, enormous! We splashed out and booked a helicopter ride that would take us out to the Canyon, via the Hoover Dam; we would also land at the bottom (or as close as you get in a helicopter) to have a short champagne lunch.

It all started with a stretch limousine ride from our hotel. Unfortunately, there was no champagne in the limo - just lots of bottled water. After arriving at the flight centre we weighed in - you heard it right - they're very cagey about one's weight - you have to balance out the other passengers or the chopper flies funny. Finally, we took off and started our 45 minute flight to the Canyon.

It really is quite an amazing landscape, part desert, part mountains, with the Hoover Dam and the largest man-made lake in Northern America, Lake Mead.

The chopper flew us under the canyon rim on the way to our lunch spot. Although we saw just a small part of the canyon, it only impressed us further how big it really is. The pilot said it was a mile deep and a mile wide in most parts.


Photos don't do the canyon justice, it is so massive, but hopefully you get the idea.

The lunch was held on a small mesa that is owned by the local native Americans. We had to stay to the areas and paths to avoid the rattle snakes! Afterwards, we flew back to Las Vegas, where the views of the city were pretty spectatular in their own right.

It was probably one of the more amazing things we did, on an amazing trip.

The Cure at Royal Albert Hall

It seems my Goth days are over.

I have joined the slightly suspicious group of people who wear too much black, but don't have anything to be depressed about.

Through her work*, Bridie managed to get us two tickets to see the The Cure last night.

A 3 hour set, with three encores. Which proves that Robert Smith (or Bob as we used call him in Goth Land) is still rockin', or his drugs are exceptionally good.

But in the Royal Albert Hall?

I remember a concert in Melbourne (maybe 12 years ago?) where the whole area was swarming with black hair (and occasionally, bright red hair), long jackets and makeup that could keep a mortician in business for a week.

To paraphrase a friend of mine; it looked like aliens had landed.

This happened here to a lesser extent. But we mostly had the Commercial FM listeners (AKA I've-got-a-sensible-car) who were waiting for the only song they knew - Love Cats. Which would have been disappointing, because they never played it.

But I only knew about half of the songs myself. Was the Goth genre moving without me?

Most of the audience seemed to be in the same boat. The Cure were playing stuff that nobody knew. We have a theory that they were their own support band. Or that they have a new concert tour coming up, and they're testing all the songs off the new album. Or maybe that we are just out of touch.

But we clapped anyway.

And they definitely ended on a high. It was like they moved back through time, covering the genres in reverse order. People were starting to recognise stuff. The hall became standing row only.

Everyone was excited.

And when the second encore was composed of the ever controversial "Killing an Arab" or "Fire in Cairo" - the very early songs - we thought all was lost. They didn't play our favourite songs.

But in times like these - watch the mixing desk. As a Sound Engineer friend of mine says, if they're not packing up, then there is more. And sure enough they were attentive at the desk.

And there was a third encore! And we had all the songs we wanted to hear; "Boys don't cry" for Bridie, and "A forest" for me. Aaaahh.

So we went home happy.

The Goths returned to Camden. The Suits returned to their 4WDs. And the Cure returned to their status as a SuperBand.

And me?

I guess I'm a has-been Goth now.

Note *: Her company is a sponsor of the Teenage Cancer Trust. And this was a fundraising gig.