Our new Pope - Pope Francis

This morning, Australian time was a unique and monumental moment. The ability to view an event on the other side of the world in real time on a small mobile device such as a Phone is something that was not possible in 2005 when Pope Benedict XVI was elected.

This morning, whilst lying awake in the early hours, a thought came to me that I should check on proceedings at the conclave. It was my body clock working its miracles again as it has so many times before. I had been using the live web cam feed on my previous post to keep an eye on things and had the page open through the web browser on the phone. 

As usual, nothing was happening but I kept watching. It was a surreal moment soon after when what looked to be Black smoke began rising from the chimney. But then it changed, and it was clear to me immediately. It was not on of those moments where I was unclear. I was somewhat surprised to feel a wave of emotions pass over me as the realisation that we had a new Pope dawned on me. 

Pope Francis

When I got to the TV, the news stations still had not picked up on the news. For the next 8 or 9 minutes or so, I found myself fixated on the live feed to the Vatican on my iPad. Again, it was another surreal moment of watching and listening to an event with no interference from commentators, it was simply the sounds of excited crowds and the toiling of the St Peters Basilica bells. 

Unlike the election of Benedict XVI, the bells started to ring very soon after the smoke rose from the chapel chimney.

The election of a new Pope is something that is a relatively rare event although there has been two in the last 8 years, prior to Benedict XVI it had been almost 30 years since these historic events.

John Frost funeral

John Frost was a good friend of mine with whom I communicated with by mail for about 15 years. He died in late October 2008. His son, Peter wrote this for his funeral a few days ago.

With clear blue skies and blazing sunshine, the funeral on Friday 24^th of John Frost went without a hitch and although a very sad day, it was a wonderful celebration of my father's long and illustrious life. After his coffin, draped in the Union Flag, was brought into the chapel of the crematorium, it was standing room only for all the guests who included Phil Reed and John Hirst. Some very fine eulogies were spoken by the minister, as well as two fellow veterans, and also from a letter of tribute by David Levine, his friend of 40 years who lives in New Jersey.

After the funeral, we adjourned to The Royal Chace Hotel a few miles away where we had arranged a buffet in one of their function rooms. It was a wonderful social occasion with many family, friends and fellow veterans of D-Day and other campaigns. My father would have absolutely loved it. Phil Reed gave a glowing speech about him and an explanation of the significance of the Blenheim Award which was then presented to my brother Andrew and I, accompanied by a huge round of applause. It was quite a moving moment for both of us.
It was a wonderful presentation and a great honour. On behalf of my mother Annerose and my brother Andrew, I would like to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone involved in nominating my father and organising this marvellous award. It is a handsome an exceptional piece of craftsmanship and with its touching words of sentiment, is truly a fine, fitting and lasting tribute to the love and devotion my father had for Winston Churchill, the greatest Englishman of our time.
I cannot thank all of you enough. Very best regards and wishes,

Peter Frost

A line-up of veterans of D-Day and other campaigns that my father was close to

outside the crematorium chapel

Some of the many floral tributes, including those from the Normandy Veterans Association and also the Association of Veterans of Foreign Wars;

The presentation of the Blenheim Award 2008 (left to right: Phil Reed, Director of the Churchill Museum & Cabinet War Rooms, Andrew Frost, Peter Frost and John Hirst, Secretary of The Churchill Centre UK)

The front page of the Daily Star of July 11, 2005, when a million people congregated outside Buckingham Palace and in The Mall to celebrate the 60^t anniversary of VE Day. Two of the people there were John Frost and a victim of the London Underground bombings only a few days before. Both were featured on the front page as "True Brits" both of whom, though 60 years apart, had defied terror. The article began: "Proud and defiant – World War Two hero John Frost and London terror survivor Susie Peli show the spirit that makes Britain great."

Cutting the cakes with our mother and John's wife, Annerose.

Salt shaker continued

My fans have been requesting more information about the mysterious salt shaker. So I will continue with the story as far as I can without incriminating myself.

It was a sunny day. 32c degrees and we had just ended a long scouting mission through the hills of Comino. We were thirsty and hungry and only one of us had any money. Rudolph. After the salt shaker incident Trudy and I were left wondering if he had miraculously created this money by the wave of his hand. But let us get back to the story of the shaker.

We were at the beginning of a very well cooked Maltese meal. A hamburger and chips. We wanted salt....... Rupolph, the leader of the expedition reached for the shaker. He shook it. Did he get salt? No. Did he get Pepper? No............... He got Rice. Yes, the food to feed the world. Trudy and I tried to explain that people often put rice into a salt shaker because it stops it from clumping, but Rupolph would not hear of this....... No, he had intended for rice to be thrown from the shaker. Had he wanted water, this also would have been delivered.

So now, the miraculous shaker lives here with me in Sydney. There to stay and to be used whenever I am short of rice.

The magic salt shaker

It has arrived. The magical salt shaker. All the way from the island
of Comino. Touched by the hands of the great one. Now arrived to it's new home.

Back home

Jason is back home again and very happy for it. It's not time to go
back to school yet nor am I ready for it just yet.
So ends the Amazing European Adventures. Thanks to everyone who have
travelled with me in person and through the net. Hope you enjoyed it.
Bye

The best gelato ever!!!!!!

And here it is (pictured. The one on the left, (that's my one) was
only €3. The one on the right (that's Trudy's) was only €2. Why has
she got more than me????? One of many unanswered questions about
Italy. For those of you wishing to indulge in one of your own. Find
the big que to the left of the Vatican, just across from the big wall
leading to the Vatican museum. And they skeeeka the English.

A cultural exchange!

We have a special treat for the readers of the Amazing European Adventure today with guest writers Trudy and Ben publishing their first work. Here it is....

Jason's descriptions of the said umbrella incident are mostly true. We can verify that the event was a most humorous experience... What we would like to clarify is the slightly over-exaggerated description of

it as 'the most hilarious thing we've ever seen'!

We would now like to share another funny moment that was encountered with Merlino over the course of this European Adventure. We have had
many conversations about how us Aussies when travelling overseas, just expect that the locals will speak English, and when they don't, many young Aussie backpackers seem to become quite annoyed. Thus, we have tried, where possible to have 'cultural exchanges' with locals (to use a Ben phrase!)Now, we must firstly say that Jason has impressed us with his ability to interact in Italian, however, in Vienna, we witnessed quite a linguistic event. We were on a bike tour round the city, enjoying the sites of Vienna.... As we entered the gardens containing the golden statue of Strauss, the climax of the tour, we parked our bikes and listened to the guides explanation. The motley crew had parked their bikes all over the place... quite the faux pas in this apparently exquisite city.Most Austrians were too polite to comment (this is the country where children are kidnapped and live with their kidnappers for 19 years because the neighbours don't talk to each other, after all). Well, almost all of them... Slowly an old lady sidled up to the group where no-one would give her any eye contact... Except of course, for Jason, who was as usual, ready for a cultural exchange.

It all went well... That is, until the lady began to speak. It became immediately obvious that she was either angry, or wanted something from Jason - probably both.

But Jason was unperturbed. You see, his theory was that in Europe, you can avoid uncomfortable situations by pretending you don't speak english. This works for beggars, street hawkers and ticket inspectors, and we had both been looking toward to seeing it work.

Little did we know that all it involved was the magic phrase "no speaka da eenglish" spoken repeatedly whole frowning with one hand tucked under the arm and the other gesturing dismissively.Despite the group understanding immediately what the woman was saying (which was helped by her gesturing wildly to the "no bikes!" sign); Jason stuck to his guns and even had us convinced that he didn't, as a matter of fact, "speaka da eeeeenglish!".