klang—sydney

Impressive-sounding thunder announced the start of this day from about 4:30am, though we finally rose to heavy rain at 7:30am. We headed with the Ngs to their church, the Port Klang Gospel Hall, where we enjoyed their fellowship, the only white-faces in the crowd. The speaker, a Haematologist by day, spoke of the need for us to forgive people where they do wrong to us. Events of the last four years surely underscore the ongoing relevance of this. Thought provoking. Visiting with this warm and welcoming group highlighted again the way the Church internationally is under it all a worldwide family, even where form and practice may differ from place to place.

The Ngs were clearly taking responsibility for extending our culinary experiences, and in the course of the afternoon we had Roti with various curry sauces and an refreshing chilled coconut cream drink in a bowl, that contained shaved ice, cooked red kidney beans, and short gelatinous green things a bit like pasta but made with pea flour. Top it all off with a dollop of raw sugar, mix together, and drink with a spoon. Intriguing. Bronwyn found this one a little challenging!

All good things come to an end, however, and soon it is time to return to the airport to move on to our next adventure. On the way Mr Ng takes us via the town which is the new centre of government, Putrajaya. This impressive designed city has been built from scratch around an artificial lake in just five years. While still in its infancy this attractive town is clear evidence that Malaysia is going places.

Checking in over three hours early, still informed that more than 200 people have checked in before us, and that the exit row seats are all taken. D'oh. We decide in the end these are people checked through from Heathrow, as there is no one at the gate virtually. Turns out one of those zip-around tarmac vehicles crashed into yesterday's plane at Heathrow before it took off, causing the flight to be cancelled. They're all now with us, making our plane completely full. Can't be helping. So we fly the eight hour overnight flight to Sydney, with only an aisle seat for comfort, getting little sleep. To make matters worse, I was the guy on the plane everyone hates, who sneezes and blows their nose throughout the flight... the one you blame when you get a bad cold the following day. We stagger into Sydney airport at 8am Monday morning, to be re-united with my parents after two years, blurry eyed and fluey. Some triumphant return.

kuala lumpur—klang

It was spitting with rain as I checked email from the balcony this morning at 7am. That would have been a useful location as Bronwyn still asleep, even if it wasn't the only place I could do it from. Online existence came to an abrupt end however when the laptop battery went flat, not incidentally because I couldn't have charged it—it turns out they have UK-style power sockets here—but because I didn't get around to plugging it in. Bronwyn continued to sleep. I ruled out even a shower as too noisy, and thus hit upon the idea of a swim in the hotel pool. I knew Bronwyn wouldn't be upset to be missing out, as she'd accidentally left her togs in her main pack, which was in Klang. (We'd thus not swum yesterday.) Down to the pool headed I.

The pool was outdoors on one end of the second floor. All rooms on that side of the hotel looked over the pool from their terraced balconies (which were clearly much smaller than ours!) I swam in the just cooler than body temperature water beneath the impressive spectacle of a Petronus Tower. Having it entirely to myself, I did orbital lengths (circumferences?) around the kidney-shaped pool and splashed around a bit. Eventually I bored, and hit the showers.

When Bronwyn was ready we headed down to a complimentary buffet breakfast in one of the hotel restaurants. It had all the usual suspects, with an additional Asian flavour should one prefer fried rice to Croissants for breakfast. Always keen to extensively examine the dental work of a gifted horse, we dined extensively.

The day's meals potentially out of the way, we checked out of the hotel and headed into town. Tickets to the Petronus Towers skybridge secured for late in the day then freed us up to explore. We elected for a low-key self-guided walking tour through Chinatown, Lonely Planet-powered, and metro'd our way to the start line. The next couple of hours saw a rambling amble through local stalls, streets and markets. Nick and Hayley's recent gift of a iPod ensured Bronwyn could browse unobstructed in the largest market, while I happily sat on an air conditioned staircase and listened to an episode of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. We were glad the tour was self-guided, as I think we would have been disappointed had we paid for a guide. However, it was interesting to get more of a feel for this intriguing city.

The tour ended without much ado near a large highway, where we negotiated our way through underpass tunnels that were notably almost entirely free of graffiti. Through the absolutely classic old main railway station, with over-the-top colonial domes and spires, we negotiated our way back to KLCC and the Petronus Towers. There we found that even from the skybridge—only one third of the way up the towers—the view was great. The gardens and squares below were beautiful, and clearly designed with a mind to arial perspective. (There was plenty of smoke-enhanced areal perspective too, but that's another matter...) We determined to visit a previously unnoticed metallic whale sculpture we saw in the gardens below.

Lazy for local, we ate dinner again in the food courts of the seven-story KLCC mall below the towers, eating authentic asian at what we later learned was a substantial premium. (It remained highly reasonable by both UK and even NZ standards—our meal came to c. £2/NZ$5.) We wandered in the gardens and found our whale before we were dislodged back to our hotel by a thunder-inflated sprinkling. Collecting our bags, we took the metro then an overland train some hour down to the town of nearby Klang. Met at the station by Fiona's Dad, we were soon installed in the spacious guest room at the house next door, occupied by Mr & Mrs Ng senior, and Fiona's aunt. Showered, sorted, talked into the night. Crashed at 12:30am, tired but happy to be in Klang.

kuala lumpur

We've arrived safe and sound in Kuala Lumpur. Our 12.5 hour flight was uneventful... perhaps too uneventful! We arrived at 7am local time, and a few bad movies were no substitute for sleep on the flight, which had left at 10:50am London time. We were met at the airport by Philip Ng, the father of our Wimbledon friend from church Fiona. He drove us to KL from the airport (c. 1hr) and gave us a car tour of the city and we got some food prior to taking us to our hotel to check in. He then dropped us at the bird park we wanted to visit today, which was on his way home.

We're staying in the Hotel Corus for one night only. I'm being amused by the fact that while the guests in the usual rooms (floors 2-9) push a button in the lift, we have a key to allow access to our “Executive Suite” floor! Decided not to pay the RM2/minute (c. NZ$1/minute) for broadband in the room, and found I could access two open wireless networks from our excellent-view-appointed "Executive Suite" veranda! From there we can see one of the two Petronus Towers (the other is directly behind that one). Debates about what constitutes a tower aside, these remain the second (and third) tallest buildings in the world, and they're just around the corner.

Tomorrow we'll tour KL some more and perhaps head out of the city to a nature reserve nearby. In the evening, we'll catch a train out to nearby Klang, where Fiona's family live. We'll be staying with her aunt there, who lives next door to her parents, and we'll attend their church on Sunday. As we're seeing them again we've been able to leave our main packs with Fiona's Dad, keeping just our daypacks for the days we're in KL, which is great.

Completing the absolutely fabulous hospitality they've already extended us, on Sunday afternoon he'll be dropping us back to the airport where we'll fly on to Sydney. That's only an 8 hour flight, and only a 3 hour timezone change, which we're looking forward to. At 5:46pm, we're struggling to keep going here today, but know that we need to hang out a little longer before crashing or we'll face jetlag threemorrow.

(un)finished

A little over two years ago, we left New Zealand, and came to London. But now, it's time to be home.

I've said, since before we left New Zealand, that it would probably be time to be back in New Zealand before we felt we were finished in London. And that's the way it is. There are things that make us excited to be going home... enjoying the company again of family, refreshing long-standing relationships with dear friends, exploring new work and life opportunities. We've even already bought a car, through the excellent assistance of Bronwyn's parents. But though we look forward, we don't leave London neatly tied off and done. Rather, we hope that the people we've come to know here will continue to be a part of our lives, even once we return to New Zealand. We're not finished with you yet!

It is fitting that the writing of this entry should be hurried. Despite 20 weeks of detailed planning to launch ourselves back around the globe, when it comes down to it you work to the available time. So it's 12:21am here and we're 99 percent packed—as much as you can be when you still have to sleep yet. But in just over six hours time we'll be in a car, heading to the airport. We'll be driven there by Pip, who with her husband was our first introduction to the community we've experienced at our local church, when they drove us to Leeds just after they first met us. So we'll be taken to the airport, again experiencing their generosity. Thanks for getting up so early Pip. One of many people we shall miss.

So for all those of you we leave behind, keep in touch. Because our friendships remain, unfinished.

dPod

Saturday night we dedicated to be our official final flat meal, even though we were going to be having at least one more meal together before we fly out Thursday. We had a great meal cooked by resident expert chef Nick, played Cranium together, and watched a couple of episodes of flat staple Stargate. (We're trying to finish Season Five together before we leave.)

During the evening, Nick and Hayley (unexpectedly) presented us with unbelievably generous leaving gifts. Back for my birthday they'd given me a USB keychain device for storing data. Unfortunately, the plastic had cracked suggesting a manufacturing flaw. I had been led to believe that it was being returned to the manufacturer for repair/replacement.

Unwrapping one of the leaving gifts revealed a major upgrade, however... ai-yi-yi-pod! It's an iPod!

iPod Shuffle, to be exact—the flash memory music player that is the latest addition to the Apple lineup. This one can store four times as much data as that original keychain device, but comes with headphones, a 12 hour battery life, and can store up to 8 hours of music in its memory. It's tiny: slightly larger than the previous keychain device, but still smaller than a packet of chewing gum. It rocks. Walking through the tube station the other night listening to my tunes, it really is like being in a movie with a soundtrack you like. Thank you SO much Nick and Hayley. You rock too! [Currently playing on the iPod: Fade Away, Che Fu.]

Bronwyn and I had been wondering about how we would feed our Stargate cravings once we weren't here any more... I'd been planning on investigating local DVD rental stores for options. Well, Nick and Hayley's second again totally generous gift addresses the issue—a three-month subscription to an as-many-DVDs-as-you-want (2 at a time) service. They have Stargate in their library, and they'll no doubt be getting heavy use from us! [Currently playing on the iPod: One More Cup of Coffee, Bob Dylan, evoking memories of our original departure from New Zealand just over two years ago.]

Thanks so much Nick and Hayley! Totally insane leaving gifts, but totally appreciated! Wow. Ahh.. and there's the dPod... My precioussss...

this is why

This is why I shall be sad to leave London: It is not the easy hop to Europe... it is not the career opportunities... it is not the ability to hide away a few pounds to ease our return to New Zealand... it's not even London's famously clement weather. It is people.

My workmates are some of those people. Last night we were out together at The Piano Lounge, about 25 of us, marking the end of my time with them... The last almost two years I've spent at the Wolfson haven't always been easy; there have been some tough times for me. But the team of people I've had the privilege to work alongside are outstanding. Sure, they are skilled clinicians. But they're also genuinely nice people to work with. And quite a few of them have become friends.

In the Lord of the Rings-raised profile of New Zealand tourism, everyone here wants to visit New Zealand these days... and it hasn't always been like that. There are logistics to consider—you can't get much further from London—but people are dreaming of a green and golden southern land. (Most people imagine the New Zealand climate to be like Australia... but I don't think Aotearoa means “Land of the Long Warm Summer”...) In any case, many people hope to come.

We've extended invitations widely: come and stay with us! And we mean every one of them. If you're thinking of coming, please know that in a decomissioned refridgerated shipping container on a farm in Waikanae is a queen-sized Posturpaedic guest bed, along with our other gear, just waiting for your visit! (We hope to have a guest room to put it in soon, even.) So whether it's via Dubai in July, or not till 2009, do look us up. We mean it! (Yes, you. Even if you think we didn't know you that well... You may be the only one who ends up making it that far down under.) We will be pleased to have the opportunity to keep you as part of our lives.

interview

I had my first interview for a job in New Zealand tonight—a phone interview to Wellington with a panel of Names...

Suffice it to say at this point that the interview went well. There were fairly explicit encouraging signs at the end. I'm in the process of exploring four positions, and we're yet to see how this all pans out. But it's good to have an Option.

penultimate day

My penultimate day at work today, and not a client scheduled as I put my head down to complete final reports and letters. Mid-afternoon saw my “tea”, hosted by our friendly Speechies who are also up for facilitating some social communication! The entire afternoon-tea thing is a premise, of course, to provide an opportunity for the last rites of passage. These traditions have been built up over time on the simple premise that you may improve staff retention by punishing those who would dare to leave!

Photographic evidence may follow, though my camera batteries did not charge last night so they are all on other people's cameras currently. Now, it has commonly occurred in the past that people have been thrown in the hydrotherapy pool. However, with the only solid male—Richard the physio—being away today, the group of women remaining decided there might be health and safety issues with trying to get me in the pool. Considering I (quite literally) weigh what two of them put together would weigh, I don't think I'd have been the only one in the pool, either.

At various work events I've developed somewhat of a reputation for my Chocolate Brownie. The order of the day, therefore, had to be Brownie related. First though, they presented me with a new, too-small Hulk-impression white shirt, which they proceeded to write farewell messages on (while I am wearing it) with various pens and markers. It was a bit like being nibbled by piranas. The team read out a really nice multidisciplinary poem that they'd written for me. Aww. But then it got nasty.

I am instructed to stand. Plastic sheeting is laid around and under my chair. (This can surely never be a good sign.) It is no coincidence that my watch is locked in my office drawer, and I am wearing carefully selected older clothes. I've met these people before. A nursing apron is applied, I am blindfolded, I am sitting back down. A large vat is placed on my lap, filled with... goop. It is Brownie mixture. On the “all, some or none” scale, this is “all” the Brownie mixture. I am instructed: there are nine types of sweets within the mixture. Since I am the King of Brownie, I shall identify the nine types of sweets. Otherwise, the mixture goes on my head.

Suddenly, I understand the value of culture-fair tests. I don't know English sweets! I get the marshmallow, the popcorn, the Worther's Original! There is something small that tastes just like a Tangy Fruit; that holds no water. Ah, raisins. Apparently they don't count. I'm still at three. A Rolo. There is a debate about accent and pronunciation—I repeat in my best British plum... accepted. A few more but time is running out. I'm up to my elbows in Brownie mix, waving my hands in the hope of hitting my tormentors, to no success. A weight is lifted. My head suddenly feels... strangely cool.

I sit, contemplating the dripping mixture that is making it's way into my pockets, down my trousers. I'm still blindfolded. “What now?”, I say. “I'm between you and the door”, I note. I agree to do it the nice way, though accidentally smear Brownie mix all over ringleader Claire's face, when I misstep on the way out the door... A shower at the therapy pool is prevented by three horrified elderly women who have the facility booked and cannot believe what I was intending. A reccy reveals the men's changing facilities downstairs have no shower. And so (for the first time, I hasten to add) I make use of the women's changing room instead, figuring it is mid-afternoon and it probably never gets used.

And it didn't. Except just after I got out of the shower, when someone came into the outside changing area to use other facilities. I kept quiet, not keen to explain myself or embarrass her. She came, she err... went.... she left. I slipped out, undetected.

Did you know a hot shower can cook Brownie mixture?

valentine's day: take the orange pill

A weekend of Codral, Beechams, and Sudafed nasal spray was not enough to return me to health, so Valentine's Day saw me spending the day in bed, but not for reasons of amore. Actually, I dragged myself out in the morning to see our friendly GP—completely free on the NHS, gotta love this country sometimes—who concluded it was most likely viral, but gave me antibiotics to be sure in light of our flight plans next week. So while Morpheus offers the choice of the Red Pill or the Blue Pill, I'm content to be taking the Orange Pill for this week.

And maybe there's some sense in there too, because if the Blue Pill was blissful ignorance, and the Red Pill “The Truth”, maybe the Orange Pill could be thoughtful uncertainty or something. That would describe our launch plans at this time. While we know when we'll be leaving, where we're travelling on the way, and the date we'll finally sight the Long White Cloud again, beyond that things are pretty hazy. I'm exploring jobs, and we're still open about cities. Bronwyn is waiting on my lead on this one really.

And I realised, actually, this is the first time I've ever been in this position. If we don't end up stitching up a plan before we depart, it'll be the first time I've ever been a completely floating free agent. From primary school my intermediate and high schools were pretty much set (ignoring the Wellington College misfire in the middle). I'd enrolled at Vic before leaving school, and been accepted by Massey by the time I'd finished my first degree. I'd lined up employment as I graduated from clinical training, and obtained my London job while still in New Zealand.

But there's time yet to turn that Orange Pill to Red. I've a job interview this coming Thursday night—Friday by Wellington time. They initially offered it to me for 2pm Friday, though as this equated to a 1am start here I asked for a recount. We've settled on 9:30am their time/8:30pm mine. A reschedule of my leaving drinks after work to Friday and we're sorted. It sounds like a good job; one of a handful I'm current investigating. We'll see how deep this rabbit hole goes...

606

It was the archetypal jazz joint. On an unspectacular street in Chelsea, opposite a formidable Victorian factory, a single lamp lit the door labelled simply “606”. Through the door to a heavy wire mesh gate at the top of a staircase. An intercom button summoned a man to the bottom of the stairs, who checked us out then buzzed us through. We descended down into the club.

This is a joint for musicians. After gigs elsewhere, the musicati relax here with a drink. Last night: the Robin Jones sextet playing Salsa at the 606 club. Brownyn's friend Claire, a jazz singer herself, had booked the table and ushered us into this smoky and at least seemingly secretive world of the London jazz scene. The food was expensive, and we made a strange group between three of us drinking mineral water while Claire's it-turns-out-alcoholic friend generated a Class 3 Cringe-field. But she left early, apologising, leaving a £16 tip and paying the entire table's bill on her way out, so she's redeemed her reputation as far as I'm concerned!

We left at 1:15am, just as the band were starting their third 45-minute set. These guys (and by that stage, girl) had stamina. Head still reeling from salsa rhythms and decibels. Two terrible bus connections home made for a 45-minute longer journey than required. Meanwhile I'm cultivating a nice flu, that should have kept me home from work on both Thursday and Friday, if I hadn't had critical work to do. Guess we've no-one to blame but ourselves at this point, though. Still, with only one more Friday night in London, I've no regrets...

am

It's 2:35am and we've just got home. I'll tell you why tomorrow...

1Mbit/s

As Nick said, I must be sick. I'd finished cooking dinner, we'd done the dishes, and despite a new megabit cable internet service in the house after a week without the internet, I'm just lying on the bed, munted.

I've had a throat-and-ear thing going on since Thursday night last week. It got somewhat better, became quite background early this week, but was back with a vengeance today. If I hadn't had some totally critical stuff on at work today, I'd definitely have been quite justifiably in bed. Come lunchtime I knew I needed those nasty pharmaceutical multinationals to save me, though, so I headed down the hill to the local shop. A dose of Lemsip was the deal and kept me going till 4:00.

Tonight though I've dug out the vintage stuff. A rummage in the pack revealed a half-remaining packet of antipodean Codral found when moving, much more effective than the local alternatives thanks no doubt to the Codeine dose. Two of those have given me enough ggn to do this entry.

And along with the cable net service comes a phone line so we're back in contact with the world at last. So wonder no more: if you don't hear from us now, it really is because we don't love you...

slip

The week slips away, but solid progress is being made on all goals work, social, and intercontinential-launch wise... Hard to believe we'll soon be gone.

The big news of the week had to be picking up a cheque made out for £1800 last evening, the full amount of our “deposit” (ie. bond) on our old flat refunded. Perhaps I'd better retract some of my previous comments. Our recently-ex-landlord has certainly gone up in our estimations!  : )  With the cheque burning a hole in my pocket I splashed out on the way home and got my afro shaved off. That didn't leave much change, but well, it was worth it.

We remain without internet access or phone, though all going well that's going to change tomorrow. In the meantime, I suppose we're probably getting more done? Hmm. Maybe not.

waitangi day: happy birthday jenny!

It was a strange Happy Birthday we sent out to Bronwyn's mother, Jenny, today, being as we were without telephone or internet access. A txt message had to suffice for direct contact, along with a gift, that just like a TV chef, we'd “prepared in advance...”

Happy Birthday Jenny. Can't believe you're turning 45 next year! You look great...

done

It is done. We moved out yesterday, shifting all the boxes and bags in 90 minutes with the help of our friend Ruth and later also Sonja. At that point, 11:30am, Bronwyn had to head to school. She was playing music for the matinee of the pantomime that she's been practising for these last weeks. Meanwhile Hayley, Nick and I returned to the old flat for final cleaning, concluding with Nick and I washing, waxing and polishing the wooden floors throughout. (There isn't a square inch of carpet in the old flat—just lino and wood.) Then finally, it was all done.

We turned out attention to sprucing ourselves up, and headed out to Bronwyn's school for the evening show of the Pantomime. Bronwyn's playing was good. The sets and costumes were impressive. And I can honestly say I've never seen a Pantomime before...

Nick and Hayley's new place is nice, and quite spacious... for a couple. Currently, there are four of us here. So it's cozy. With Nick and Hayley, Bronwyn and I have been playing at move-in, like guessing where the dishes might be supposed to go after you dry them, re-pressurising the central heating system, and bleeding air bubbles out of the radiators. The lounge is a bit of a mess at times, but once Nick and Hayley evict the squatters in a couple of weeks things should look considerably more sensible.

If the eye of the hurricane is quiet, so is the eye of the move... That sudden stillness between shifting out, and getting technology connected at the other end. While BT made the generous offer to send an engineer round in about a month to connect a telephone, Nick has located a cable company who will do phone and internet together this Thursday... That still amounts to six days without the internet (at home). I'm in withdrawal. I can get a fix at work, but it's not the same. Meanwhile, for emergencies Bronwyn and I both have our mobiles still.

As for the old flat, tomorrow we return the keys.

last night

Even if Microsoft Excel had no other purpose, its existence could probably be justified through enabling the following kind of calculation: tonight is our 668th and final night as tenants at Thornton Hill.

Technically, our tenancy extends through to night 670, moving us a little further from our current “neighbours of the beast” contract length. Since we'll be well installed in Nick and Hayley's new flat by then though, we're not really counting. It does mean I can call in here at the old place on Monday to check for mail though, before handing back the keys. Initiating a fairly late mail redirection has meant otherwise that we're at risk of losing some of those royalty checks that just must be about to start rolling in about now... for something... surely... or advance payments, perhaps? Whatever. Mail redirection partly delayed, a further three days, by (English so need we say) bureaucratic Royal Mail systems that would not accept two official documents from the Inland Revenue department as being proof of our current address. (“It's not on the list... Which box would I tick? They'd just send it back.”)

We've recruited a couple of hapless locals with cars for the shuttling process to the new property, which would be within easy walking distance should one not be encumbered by a van's worth of boxes. These properties would be close by New Zealand standards, let alone London benchmarks, which is mucho handy. In any case, Bronwyn and I now have only our two packs, plus a small number of items in another box (me) and largish carrybag (Bronwyn) that we assure Nick and Hayley will fit in our packs, when we get around to packing them properly. And there is the washing that is drying at the moment. And the broadband router. And this laptop. It'll all go in there, really. Hardy things, Macpac bags.

Finishing up a work is a challenge. I'm going to miss the team enormously. Such a great group of people there. Demographics of teams in London too different from I'd guess almost anywhere else in the world, so I'll be leaving lots of mates behind. Not before I write 16 reports though, I worked out yesterday, with at that stage 12 days to write them. I knocked off 5 yesterday, in an extended session, and am trying to carve out time to complete the rest ASAP. “New admission? What new admission...” ahem.

Meanwhile no progress on the work front in New Zealand, as yet, though I've made some initial enquiries and even submitted one formal application. It's easy to forget how much New Zealand goes to sleep in January, with the (I now realise ridiculous) combination of Christmas and summer holidays at the same time. Nonsensical arrangement, really. A month of leisure in March is looking pretty attractive, actually. But now it is February, I am hoping New Zealand is going to start stirring soon. Wakey wakey, kiwis...

clean

It's been a week of cleaning things. I admit, I'm not a natural Spring Cleaner. Perhaps a close cousin, the Spring Organiser, at times, admittedly. I routinely have without question the tidiest desk and office in the building at work. So it might come as some surprise to my colleagues were they to see the mess I tolerate, nay perpetuate, for various long periods from time to time at home. My work habits have arisen partly from necessity, for quite some time working multiple jobs in different offices, where you simply couldn't afford to leave loose ends hanging. But at home, there's always a better website/dvd/book I guess.

The main point is, in recent days we've been cleaning things I know at least I haven't cleaned since we moved in here almost two years ago... The kind of things you wouldn't normally think to clean. (No boys, I'm not talking about the toilet.) But like the top of the seven foot high cupboard in the kitchen, or lying on the kitchen bench to get head, shoulders, and torso down behind the stove that's chained to the wall. (Ok, I actually cleaned both of those tomorrow; there's some slightly dubious dating of entries going on round here...)

Anyway, kudos to Nick and particularly Hayley who are spearheading this operation, while Bronwyn is dragged out to Pantomime practises and I have us swanning off to dinners with workmates. (Tonight was cool, Nikki and Matt!) Meanwhile back home Nick and Hayley are making sure the flat is so clean that moving out will just be shifting boxes, and there'll be plenty of time to watch the end of Stargate Season 4 on DVD over the weekend...

Mmmm, Stargate gooood.