I was on the Eurostar to Brussels when I found out that the Power had lost the GF by an unprecedented margin. And I have to say, it was with outright glee that I read the SMS from Aunty Mel telling me so.
Sucked in Power.
Anyway, I have been pretty slack on here lately, and I apologise to my loyal readers (mainly my grandparents I think).
I am leaving Brussels tonight, bidding my Dad adieu for now, and then Mum is helping me move into my new place tomorrow. She leaves the following day, and so ends a whirlwind trip!
I have lots to write about Labour conference which I went to last week - was wicked. But I cant do it now so until later.
Bye bye!
Monday, October 01, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Beady Eyed Early Morning Hard Core People
Well, up there with the weirdest things I have done in London thus far, this morning I woke up at 4.30 am after two hours sleep, and headed down to notorious antipodean bar the Slug at Fulham to watch the Crows.
So random. Pity about the result. It's very irritating being in close quarters with the supporters of the victor right after you lose, that's for sure!
But even more random was the fact that a) there were about 100 people thereat 5am in a pub NOT serving alcohol to watch the match and b) I bumped into two people I knew! One was a guy I worked at Woolies with back in the day, and the other was my old upstairs neigbour in Norwood. So strange!
I now feel sorta sick as my body is a bit confused about whether it is day or night - I have slept most of the day y'see!
From L-R - Leigh, Me, Neegs, Geoff.
So random. Pity about the result. It's very irritating being in close quarters with the supporters of the victor right after you lose, that's for sure!
But even more random was the fact that a) there were about 100 people thereat 5am in a pub NOT serving alcohol to watch the match and b) I bumped into two people I knew! One was a guy I worked at Woolies with back in the day, and the other was my old upstairs neigbour in Norwood. So strange!
I now feel sorta sick as my body is a bit confused about whether it is day or night - I have slept most of the day y'see!
From L-R - Leigh, Me, Neegs, Geoff.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Hellenic Holiday
Somewhat depressing is the fact that I am writing this post, 6 days after getting back to London, but that it feels like I have been back in this tube-strike-ridden city a lot longer. (Yes there is a tube strike - it took me 3 hours to get to work this morning - and yes, I did want to cry when I finally arrived). The fetta has finally left my system. Just.
No matter. Greece, in case you haven't worked it out, was awesome. It is one of those destinations that I had been imagining going to for so long, that when it actually happened, I had to pinch myself to confirm that yes, I was actually there, and yes, it was actually as beautiful as I had imagined, if not more so.
I flew overnight, on a bizarre short-hop which I coped unexpectedly well with, especially given that the crazy Greek air hostesses insisted on gallivanting up and down the fully lit cabin the whole time.
I ferried out to Ios to meet my friend, and found the ferry ride excruciating, as I had barely slept and couldn't get to sleep in the smoke-filled cabin (aaaah Europe - liberation for hamstrung British smokers). But I wasn't disappointed when I arrived. The view from the hostel was divine and in London would be well out of my price range, but not in Ios, ohhhh no.
After a dip in the sparkling jewel-like Mediterranean (beware - it is so salty it makes bleach blonde hair like a haystack) I essentially headed straight for the pool, where I commenced tan-o-rama, drank some beer, fell asleep in the sun. By coincidence Kevin Yost was playing a set there that evening (some of you may know him??) and so as day turned to night, fabulously attractive Europeans of all stripes danced in their bikinis, boardshorts, and if they were Spaniards of the male variety, their alarmingly brief speedo-style jock bathers.
Dinner was a late one, cut prematurely short by my rapid-onset comatoseness, brought on my 2 hours of sleep the previous evening, sun, and beer.
The next day the routine was repeated, without the alcohol as we had to ferry over to Santorini in the afternoon.
A note on Greek ferries - they are often cancelled, and as we discovered, you don't tend to find that out until the last second. Handy. Nonetheless, we got there in the end, only a couple of house later than planned.
The hostel in Santorini was awesome - tucked away right near the main strip - close enough to revel, far enough to be able to sleep afterwards. Santorini is in one word, breathtaking. It is beautiful in that 'yep (long exhale) I'm in the Greek islands' kind of way. Whoever decided to build towns into the side of cliffs before scaffolding was invented was a total madman, but equally, a visionary. The sunset from those cliffs, as those of you have viewed my pics will know, is heart-meltingly beautiful. Pity you can't get a decent glass of wine to drink as the sun goes down.
A note on Greek wine - don't drink it! ;-)
Pottering through the streets of Fira and Oia was a total treat. I tried to get some pics to capture the spirit of the thing, but I failed really. Must be experienced to be understood.
So, I took a few miscellaneous notes (thankfully as I would have forgotten these things).
Caffe Freddo - delicious split-level espresso coffee concoction - drunk cold & sweet. Heaven.
Body consciousness - if only all women had the confidence of European women. Watching them swan about in all their imperfect glory - not only makes you think that they ARE perfect but rubs off on others less confident. Four days surrounded by that even made me forget about my little pot-belly, wobbly upper arms and a bit-too-solid thighs. I've obviously remembered them again now that I am home. But as I am a proud new member of the gym opposite work, wobble no longer shall I.
Angry Greek Men - my tried and tested travel technique is to , when i am unsure or lost, smile sweetly, speak in a slightly higher voice than normal and look as innocent as possible. It doesn't work on Greeks.
A note on Greek male restaurant owners- don't make jokes with them as you sit down to one of their tables. I was forced to gulp down a plateful of marinated calamari feeling like a naughty schoolgirl for trying to apply the above technique, and, god-forbid, attempting a lame joke.
So there you are. You can blame brevity on tube-strike-induced fatigue. Happy to put travel-agents hat on for those of you who want to ask questions, and are contemplating a potential visit.
Mum gets here soon.
I am house-hunting.
Work is weird.
Greece was tops.
No matter. Greece, in case you haven't worked it out, was awesome. It is one of those destinations that I had been imagining going to for so long, that when it actually happened, I had to pinch myself to confirm that yes, I was actually there, and yes, it was actually as beautiful as I had imagined, if not more so.
I flew overnight, on a bizarre short-hop which I coped unexpectedly well with, especially given that the crazy Greek air hostesses insisted on gallivanting up and down the fully lit cabin the whole time.
I ferried out to Ios to meet my friend, and found the ferry ride excruciating, as I had barely slept and couldn't get to sleep in the smoke-filled cabin (aaaah Europe - liberation for hamstrung British smokers). But I wasn't disappointed when I arrived. The view from the hostel was divine and in London would be well out of my price range, but not in Ios, ohhhh no.
After a dip in the sparkling jewel-like Mediterranean (beware - it is so salty it makes bleach blonde hair like a haystack) I essentially headed straight for the pool, where I commenced tan-o-rama, drank some beer, fell asleep in the sun. By coincidence Kevin Yost was playing a set there that evening (some of you may know him??) and so as day turned to night, fabulously attractive Europeans of all stripes danced in their bikinis, boardshorts, and if they were Spaniards of the male variety, their alarmingly brief speedo-style jock bathers.
Dinner was a late one, cut prematurely short by my rapid-onset comatoseness, brought on my 2 hours of sleep the previous evening, sun, and beer.
The next day the routine was repeated, without the alcohol as we had to ferry over to Santorini in the afternoon.
A note on Greek ferries - they are often cancelled, and as we discovered, you don't tend to find that out until the last second. Handy. Nonetheless, we got there in the end, only a couple of house later than planned.
The hostel in Santorini was awesome - tucked away right near the main strip - close enough to revel, far enough to be able to sleep afterwards. Santorini is in one word, breathtaking. It is beautiful in that 'yep (long exhale) I'm in the Greek islands' kind of way. Whoever decided to build towns into the side of cliffs before scaffolding was invented was a total madman, but equally, a visionary. The sunset from those cliffs, as those of you have viewed my pics will know, is heart-meltingly beautiful. Pity you can't get a decent glass of wine to drink as the sun goes down.
A note on Greek wine - don't drink it! ;-)
Pottering through the streets of Fira and Oia was a total treat. I tried to get some pics to capture the spirit of the thing, but I failed really. Must be experienced to be understood.
So, I took a few miscellaneous notes (thankfully as I would have forgotten these things).
Caffe Freddo - delicious split-level espresso coffee concoction - drunk cold & sweet. Heaven.
Body consciousness - if only all women had the confidence of European women. Watching them swan about in all their imperfect glory - not only makes you think that they ARE perfect but rubs off on others less confident. Four days surrounded by that even made me forget about my little pot-belly, wobbly upper arms and a bit-too-solid thighs. I've obviously remembered them again now that I am home. But as I am a proud new member of the gym opposite work, wobble no longer shall I.
Angry Greek Men - my tried and tested travel technique is to , when i am unsure or lost, smile sweetly, speak in a slightly higher voice than normal and look as innocent as possible. It doesn't work on Greeks.
A note on Greek male restaurant owners- don't make jokes with them as you sit down to one of their tables. I was forced to gulp down a plateful of marinated calamari feeling like a naughty schoolgirl for trying to apply the above technique, and, god-forbid, attempting a lame joke.
So there you are. You can blame brevity on tube-strike-induced fatigue. Happy to put travel-agents hat on for those of you who want to ask questions, and are contemplating a potential visit.
Mum gets here soon.
I am house-hunting.
Work is weird.
Greece was tops.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Back from Greece
I ran up the hill to the Acropolis today in the little time I had in Athens (which fortunately unlike the rest of mainland Greece is NOT burning) to do my bit for democracy in the birthplace of democracy.
Will try to do a Greek Islands post before long.
Click on this pic to see more newies!
Will try to do a Greek Islands post before long.
Click on this pic to see more newies!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Steps on the Path to Becoming A Farmyard Animal or, London! Just Add Sun!
Something cool happens in London on sunny days.
It is as though people conspiratorially throw a glance of each shoulder, tilt their chin to the sky and with their eyes dazzled by the sunshine, shrug their shoulders in unison and agree to be far less uptight than usual.
Consecutive weekends have brought clear days with temperatures in the mid to high 20's, and like a sheep trotting along behind the herd I have lapped it up, even sinking to depths which I would never have admitted to a few short weeks ago; that is, in a mini-skirt and singlet last Sunday I settled in on a park bench in the gardens up the road and read Harry Potter until my skin changed colour.
Today has been another one of those days- temperature wise I mean. And with Frilly away for the weekend and friends busy doing other things, I decided to have a slightly self-indulgent, almost touristy day out.
And so it was that after a nice sleepy lie-in, I got up and did some washing, swallowed some cheese & vegemite on toast, walked to Earl's Court tube and headed over to the biggest book shop in Europe - Waterstone's at Piccadilly. It is one of those big old book stores where you can sit in a big comfy chair and read for as long as you bloody-well like. And nearly two hours later, I walked out of there, arms-full, purse lighter, with three books and a gift.
A pal had tipped me off that just next door was a place called the Japan Centre which is, I think, a rather unimaginative name for what is in essence, a one-stop purveyor of everything Japanese right in the West End! They have handicrafts, books and all that kind of thing, as well as a ground level restaraunt dishing up what looked like delicious, reasonably-priced Japanese nosh (the place was packed!) and a lower-ground with a fresh sushi stand, as well as such treats as "Pocky". I grabbed a few bits and pieces and a tray of delicious fresh sushi (for a startlingly cheap 3 pounds or so) and plodded down Regent Street, Haymarket and (I think) Pall Mall and ended up in a packed Trafalgar Square to eat my lunch!
I was on a patch of grass out the front of the British Museum, which was a perfect vantage point for the fountain and monument, as well as to watch tour groups of various ethnicities undergo the indignity of having bird seed sprinkled in their hair, having photo's taken in awkward looking poses and with uncertain smiles allowing pigeons to perch all over them.
Hehehehe. Funny. See my photo's on the photostream.
After finishing my lunch, and being unable to find a bloody bin (damned hard to find at the best of times in this city due to I suppose, security-related reasons) I dropped my rubbish in the trolley of one of the maintenance-y looking blokes who hover around the Square, and then walked up St Martin's Lane to Covent Garden for a spot of, ahem, shopping.
My regular readers know doubt saw my sarky little post of a few days ago about my imminent trip to the Cyclades Islands in Greece to meet a friend. And I have to say, all the things that I always thought seemed a little foreign about British holiday culture, that I had picked up here and there from various magazines and television shows, are starting to become crystal clear.
The imperative to purchase new items of clothing, for example, has had my heart pumping as I scour the sale racks for 'that' perfect summer dress that shall see my (I hope) sunned self, tracing a path through the streets of Santorini.
I think this is quite an ingrained English thing, such that, editorial in fashion magazines contains lines like 'this crisp linen mini-dress will take you straight from day to night on your Mediteranean summer holiday'. An astute antipodean reads between such lines and sees the truth: 'Let's face it, British weather is so unpredictable and frequently dismal that you are NEVER going to be able to wear a crisp linen mini-dress anywhere here, except perhaps on one of those three warm days that we are expecting this summer. Conclusion- buy it for your holidays.'
Again, this bleating sheep, this oh-so conformist follower of herds, bought not one but TWO mini-dresses today for her mediterranean holiday, albeit that neither of them are crisp white linen.
But I digress. The difference between previous "garment for holidays' purchasing I have done and this new variation on the theme, is that I am highly unlikely to ever wear either dress in London, and certainly nowhere north of here! My holiday clothes shall sit waiting for holidays!
Aaah such extravagance.
I have realised, in other news, that in an administrative oversight I have forgotten to tell you about the theatre that I have seen here thus far.
My first excursion was to The Old Vic to see a great production of Gaslight a play that I vividly recalled my father in, when I was a lot younger. Tracey and I saw it in the middle of the "great deluge" (also known as the period of summer which included the video that I made of the hail for a previous post) and were upgraded to better seats, far away from the leaky drip-drip of the rain weedling in through the gaps.
Second excursion was organised by Frilly, and was to see a brilliant contemporary ballet production of The Car Man, which was (I am told) loosely based on Bizet's Carman, of which I knew nothing. I was in awe at the ability of the dancers to tell in detail a sordid tale, without ever uttering a word.
With Kim coming to visit me in a couple of weeks, I am planning the next theatre trip and I am currently tossing up between Avenue Q and In Celebration which is a play that Orlando Bloom is currently in..... Anyway, it is almost redundant to point out the abundant choice in entertainment here - musicals, plays, ballets every night of the week. Sigh. Sometimes I think that I could easily become a lady of pure, unadulterated leisure. ;-)
Ok, well that is enough for now. I am having a Saturday night in and am rather excited about it. A book, some stir fry and possibly a Monk (the drink) or two. Until next time, adios.
It is as though people conspiratorially throw a glance of each shoulder, tilt their chin to the sky and with their eyes dazzled by the sunshine, shrug their shoulders in unison and agree to be far less uptight than usual.
Consecutive weekends have brought clear days with temperatures in the mid to high 20's, and like a sheep trotting along behind the herd I have lapped it up, even sinking to depths which I would never have admitted to a few short weeks ago; that is, in a mini-skirt and singlet last Sunday I settled in on a park bench in the gardens up the road and read Harry Potter until my skin changed colour.
Today has been another one of those days- temperature wise I mean. And with Frilly away for the weekend and friends busy doing other things, I decided to have a slightly self-indulgent, almost touristy day out.
And so it was that after a nice sleepy lie-in, I got up and did some washing, swallowed some cheese & vegemite on toast, walked to Earl's Court tube and headed over to the biggest book shop in Europe - Waterstone's at Piccadilly. It is one of those big old book stores where you can sit in a big comfy chair and read for as long as you bloody-well like. And nearly two hours later, I walked out of there, arms-full, purse lighter, with three books and a gift.
A pal had tipped me off that just next door was a place called the Japan Centre which is, I think, a rather unimaginative name for what is in essence, a one-stop purveyor of everything Japanese right in the West End! They have handicrafts, books and all that kind of thing, as well as a ground level restaraunt dishing up what looked like delicious, reasonably-priced Japanese nosh (the place was packed!) and a lower-ground with a fresh sushi stand, as well as such treats as "Pocky". I grabbed a few bits and pieces and a tray of delicious fresh sushi (for a startlingly cheap 3 pounds or so) and plodded down Regent Street, Haymarket and (I think) Pall Mall and ended up in a packed Trafalgar Square to eat my lunch!
I was on a patch of grass out the front of the British Museum, which was a perfect vantage point for the fountain and monument, as well as to watch tour groups of various ethnicities undergo the indignity of having bird seed sprinkled in their hair, having photo's taken in awkward looking poses and with uncertain smiles allowing pigeons to perch all over them.
Hehehehe. Funny. See my photo's on the photostream.
After finishing my lunch, and being unable to find a bloody bin (damned hard to find at the best of times in this city due to I suppose, security-related reasons) I dropped my rubbish in the trolley of one of the maintenance-y looking blokes who hover around the Square, and then walked up St Martin's Lane to Covent Garden for a spot of, ahem, shopping.
My regular readers know doubt saw my sarky little post of a few days ago about my imminent trip to the Cyclades Islands in Greece to meet a friend. And I have to say, all the things that I always thought seemed a little foreign about British holiday culture, that I had picked up here and there from various magazines and television shows, are starting to become crystal clear.
The imperative to purchase new items of clothing, for example, has had my heart pumping as I scour the sale racks for 'that' perfect summer dress that shall see my (I hope) sunned self, tracing a path through the streets of Santorini.
I think this is quite an ingrained English thing, such that, editorial in fashion magazines contains lines like 'this crisp linen mini-dress will take you straight from day to night on your Mediteranean summer holiday'. An astute antipodean reads between such lines and sees the truth: 'Let's face it, British weather is so unpredictable and frequently dismal that you are NEVER going to be able to wear a crisp linen mini-dress anywhere here, except perhaps on one of those three warm days that we are expecting this summer. Conclusion- buy it for your holidays.'
Again, this bleating sheep, this oh-so conformist follower of herds, bought not one but TWO mini-dresses today for her mediterranean holiday, albeit that neither of them are crisp white linen.
But I digress. The difference between previous "garment for holidays' purchasing I have done and this new variation on the theme, is that I am highly unlikely to ever wear either dress in London, and certainly nowhere north of here! My holiday clothes shall sit waiting for holidays!
Aaah such extravagance.
I have realised, in other news, that in an administrative oversight I have forgotten to tell you about the theatre that I have seen here thus far.
My first excursion was to The Old Vic to see a great production of Gaslight a play that I vividly recalled my father in, when I was a lot younger. Tracey and I saw it in the middle of the "great deluge" (also known as the period of summer which included the video that I made of the hail for a previous post) and were upgraded to better seats, far away from the leaky drip-drip of the rain weedling in through the gaps.
Second excursion was organised by Frilly, and was to see a brilliant contemporary ballet production of The Car Man, which was (I am told) loosely based on Bizet's Carman, of which I knew nothing. I was in awe at the ability of the dancers to tell in detail a sordid tale, without ever uttering a word.
With Kim coming to visit me in a couple of weeks, I am planning the next theatre trip and I am currently tossing up between Avenue Q and In Celebration which is a play that Orlando Bloom is currently in..... Anyway, it is almost redundant to point out the abundant choice in entertainment here - musicals, plays, ballets every night of the week. Sigh. Sometimes I think that I could easily become a lady of pure, unadulterated leisure. ;-)
Ok, well that is enough for now. I am having a Saturday night in and am rather excited about it. A book, some stir fry and possibly a Monk (the drink) or two. Until next time, adios.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
The Tuesday Funk
Not funk as in funky. Funk as in rut.
This is now the third Tuesday night where I have felt a little bit miserable. The previous two were possibly hangover related from the weekend, but this week my main reason is that I caught up with a friend of my brother's from Adelaide who has been stuggling for 18 months to get back into Australia to see his daughter. And essentially for him, it has been a little bit like pushing the proverbial up a hill.
I am now going to help him get his application sorted and submitted, and fortuitously, having now entered my third week working in the immigration team of a certain law firm, I kinda know a bit about what is wrong with his application as it stands.
Nonetheless, feeling a little (a lot of) empathy for his situ, I was ready to ball my eyes out after seeing him tonight, and I am not even the one who hasn't seen my daughter for 18 whole months.
The Tuesday funk generally ends on a Tuesday, luckily, so tomorrow I will re-read this post and think I sound like a whining loser. But right now, as I enjoy balcony-time and red wine, I thought I would give you a glimpse of my decidedly grey mood. I am sure it makes for thoroughly joyous reading.
Some goodish news brewing, is that after being fairly well mucked around by a particular recruitment agency who dazzled me with the lights of a cool job in Canary Wharf (as previously mentioned in an earlier post), I have tickled and talked my way into an impending short term contract with the afore alluded-to firm which will see me propl'y qualified as a proper solicitor. Lalala. But having yet to see or get a whiff of the contract, I have learned a little lesson about counting chickens etc etc etc.
For those of you who like my soap-box philosopher rants, I have one brewing about my observations of class divisions and money in this lil ol town, but I am musing over it, because my opinions are currently a little ill-formed. I think.
Am reading quite ardently, two books at once. A serious brain-food book on the tube, and Harry Potter at night. It is rather delightful to spend around 90 minutes a day reading. As such, I am becoming quite fond of my daily commute. Althought, I confess, my new habit of reading a book, no matter how packed the tube, has reduced my capacity for observing those around me.
I can however smell them from time to time. Particularly on warm days. Like today. ;-)
BTW - there aren't very many bugs in London. Just something I have noticed.
This is now the third Tuesday night where I have felt a little bit miserable. The previous two were possibly hangover related from the weekend, but this week my main reason is that I caught up with a friend of my brother's from Adelaide who has been stuggling for 18 months to get back into Australia to see his daughter. And essentially for him, it has been a little bit like pushing the proverbial up a hill.
I am now going to help him get his application sorted and submitted, and fortuitously, having now entered my third week working in the immigration team of a certain law firm, I kinda know a bit about what is wrong with his application as it stands.
Nonetheless, feeling a little (a lot of) empathy for his situ, I was ready to ball my eyes out after seeing him tonight, and I am not even the one who hasn't seen my daughter for 18 whole months.
The Tuesday funk generally ends on a Tuesday, luckily, so tomorrow I will re-read this post and think I sound like a whining loser. But right now, as I enjoy balcony-time and red wine, I thought I would give you a glimpse of my decidedly grey mood. I am sure it makes for thoroughly joyous reading.
Some goodish news brewing, is that after being fairly well mucked around by a particular recruitment agency who dazzled me with the lights of a cool job in Canary Wharf (as previously mentioned in an earlier post), I have tickled and talked my way into an impending short term contract with the afore alluded-to firm which will see me propl'y qualified as a proper solicitor. Lalala. But having yet to see or get a whiff of the contract, I have learned a little lesson about counting chickens etc etc etc.
For those of you who like my soap-box philosopher rants, I have one brewing about my observations of class divisions and money in this lil ol town, but I am musing over it, because my opinions are currently a little ill-formed. I think.
Am reading quite ardently, two books at once. A serious brain-food book on the tube, and Harry Potter at night. It is rather delightful to spend around 90 minutes a day reading. As such, I am becoming quite fond of my daily commute. Althought, I confess, my new habit of reading a book, no matter how packed the tube, has reduced my capacity for observing those around me.
I can however smell them from time to time. Particularly on warm days. Like today. ;-)
BTW - there aren't very many bugs in London. Just something I have noticed.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Cheese
I am just posting this picture to make the blog look a little more interesting. (This was at the Borough Market on Saturday).
The post below is what you should be reading.
The post below is what you should be reading.
Solubility
Every day when I walk down the street, catch the tube, watch TV, go to the supermarket, i see loads of things that I would love to write on here - little gems of mini-humour that amuse me no-end. Sadly for all of you, I can never remember them, no matter how much I try and deliberately commit them to memory!
People who have lived in London bear with me, the little insights that I do manage to recall and that I present as my own probably have no whiff of originality for you, and I recognise that they are a bit over-exuberant and self indulgent. But while it's all new I am unapologetic, because my eyes have already started adjusting to the lights of this old town.
I haven't written nearly enough about the tube, and every day I have to stifle laughter for one reason or another when I catch it. The moment I stop being amused by tube body language and my own crazy tube thoughts, I will know that my sense of humour has dissolved and/or I have become the most cynical type of London public transport patron.
It struck me today as I eeked out my path along the District and Circle lines to Barbican station, that every tube ride sees me having numerous conversations in my head. I also tend to imagine what other people are thinking about those around them.
Last Friday night as I caught one of the last tubes back to Earl's Court from Putney, I was alone, observant and a little inebriated having spent the afternoon at the Coat & Badge with some newly arrived pals. There was a bloke of about 26 with a carton of beer in one arm, and a big packet of hot chips under another. He was handing out the beers to whoever would take them, mainly young attractive girls who looked about 17. The dialogue going on in my head at that point was something along the lines of "oh god, please don't roll one of those things at me" given that I was by myself, and probably not particularly able to string a good deflection sentence together.
Ok, so that wasn't one of the most amusing or witty conversations that I have had with myself, but I was tired, full of beer, Pimms (heaven in a jug with cucumber for good measure) tarragon chicken burger, and confused about certain happenings on a certain Putney Bridge.
Today on the way home from work, I moved seats to try and get a bit of space ("Hmmm - a vacant double seat - I can read my copy of London Lite without having to give myself elbow cramps") and at the very next stop a bloke got on and sat right next to me, therefore defeating the point of moving in the first place ("Oh great one Del, draw unnecessary attention to yourself by moving, and then pick the seat where someone sits down straight away.") And then a brief pause..... ("What the hell is that smell? *Subtle sniff* Ok, don't vomit, it's just unwashed clothes, mixed with stale tobacco and alcho-breath. Nothing too offensive.") A casual sideways glance.... "is it a hobo? no it's a man in a suit. *internal grunt & snicker* Oh you fool, you've just inhaled air from his pongy aura".
Even slightly more amusing is the conversation my two selves enjoy when a good-looking man boards the carriage. "Go on give him a wink" says the 5% of me that would ever dream of doing such a thing. "Keep your head down and admire tactfully from afar", says the dominant, sensible, astoundingly Virgo 95%. That fraction always wins. Sigh, if only I were a Gemini.
Now the only reason I can think that I have all these strange little conversations is because of the acute silence on the bloody things. In fact, the only people who speak on the tube are those who speak a language other than English, and (unsurprisingly?) Americans, usually in family groupings. Today when I asked a slightly infirm woman if she would like my seat, she initially looked at me like I had poked her in the rear with a pin, until she realised that I was actually offering to give up my little luxury and stand the rest of the way home rocking on my uncomfortable stiletto heels, for HER BENEFIT.
Anyway, this is just one short instalment in my tube adventures. There will, I can assure you, be more.
BTW those of you who previously read my blog when I was living in Jakarta will know of my penchant for Project Runway, the fashion designer reality show, and I have one eye on it right now as I am typing this. Which is timely, as the commercials have reminded me of something else - the fact that I suppose in an effort to not be London-posh-centric, commercials in and of themselves are oh-so-politically correct in that one will come on with a Welsh voice-over or a Jordy voice over or a Cockney voice over or what I like to call "miscellaneous-northern-sounding-but-not-quite-discernible-accent". I actually don't call it that at all, but you get what I mean.
And in my phrase of the week which I don't know whether makes me laugh or cry, an Irish lady in my current workplace came over to the desk next to mine earlier today and said "This fu**ing thing is about as tidy as a tinker's trolley". I need to practice my poker face, as when she saw my reaction she looked at me and winked. Naturally I was aghast.
Anyway, I am not talking about work this week. I am doing a short stint in a painfully boring role until the other thing is sorted (Government, pah!) and it is killing me. My brain is numb.
My final little self-indulgence for this post is to say a shout-out to the exquisite Ruby-Mae, my new little cousin who could not be cuter if she tried. Don't let her grow up until I come home.
People who have lived in London bear with me, the little insights that I do manage to recall and that I present as my own probably have no whiff of originality for you, and I recognise that they are a bit over-exuberant and self indulgent. But while it's all new I am unapologetic, because my eyes have already started adjusting to the lights of this old town.
I haven't written nearly enough about the tube, and every day I have to stifle laughter for one reason or another when I catch it. The moment I stop being amused by tube body language and my own crazy tube thoughts, I will know that my sense of humour has dissolved and/or I have become the most cynical type of London public transport patron.
It struck me today as I eeked out my path along the District and Circle lines to Barbican station, that every tube ride sees me having numerous conversations in my head. I also tend to imagine what other people are thinking about those around them.
Last Friday night as I caught one of the last tubes back to Earl's Court from Putney, I was alone, observant and a little inebriated having spent the afternoon at the Coat & Badge with some newly arrived pals. There was a bloke of about 26 with a carton of beer in one arm, and a big packet of hot chips under another. He was handing out the beers to whoever would take them, mainly young attractive girls who looked about 17. The dialogue going on in my head at that point was something along the lines of "oh god, please don't roll one of those things at me" given that I was by myself, and probably not particularly able to string a good deflection sentence together.
Ok, so that wasn't one of the most amusing or witty conversations that I have had with myself, but I was tired, full of beer, Pimms (heaven in a jug with cucumber for good measure) tarragon chicken burger, and confused about certain happenings on a certain Putney Bridge.
Today on the way home from work, I moved seats to try and get a bit of space ("Hmmm - a vacant double seat - I can read my copy of London Lite without having to give myself elbow cramps") and at the very next stop a bloke got on and sat right next to me, therefore defeating the point of moving in the first place ("Oh great one Del, draw unnecessary attention to yourself by moving, and then pick the seat where someone sits down straight away.") And then a brief pause..... ("What the hell is that smell? *Subtle sniff* Ok, don't vomit, it's just unwashed clothes, mixed with stale tobacco and alcho-breath. Nothing too offensive.") A casual sideways glance.... "is it a hobo? no it's a man in a suit. *internal grunt & snicker* Oh you fool, you've just inhaled air from his pongy aura".
Even slightly more amusing is the conversation my two selves enjoy when a good-looking man boards the carriage. "Go on give him a wink" says the 5% of me that would ever dream of doing such a thing. "Keep your head down and admire tactfully from afar", says the dominant, sensible, astoundingly Virgo 95%. That fraction always wins. Sigh, if only I were a Gemini.
Now the only reason I can think that I have all these strange little conversations is because of the acute silence on the bloody things. In fact, the only people who speak on the tube are those who speak a language other than English, and (unsurprisingly?) Americans, usually in family groupings. Today when I asked a slightly infirm woman if she would like my seat, she initially looked at me like I had poked her in the rear with a pin, until she realised that I was actually offering to give up my little luxury and stand the rest of the way home rocking on my uncomfortable stiletto heels, for HER BENEFIT.
Anyway, this is just one short instalment in my tube adventures. There will, I can assure you, be more.
BTW those of you who previously read my blog when I was living in Jakarta will know of my penchant for Project Runway, the fashion designer reality show, and I have one eye on it right now as I am typing this. Which is timely, as the commercials have reminded me of something else - the fact that I suppose in an effort to not be London-posh-centric, commercials in and of themselves are oh-so-politically correct in that one will come on with a Welsh voice-over or a Jordy voice over or a Cockney voice over or what I like to call "miscellaneous-northern-sounding-but-not-quite-discernible-accent". I actually don't call it that at all, but you get what I mean.
And in my phrase of the week which I don't know whether makes me laugh or cry, an Irish lady in my current workplace came over to the desk next to mine earlier today and said "This fu**ing thing is about as tidy as a tinker's trolley". I need to practice my poker face, as when she saw my reaction she looked at me and winked. Naturally I was aghast.
Anyway, I am not talking about work this week. I am doing a short stint in a painfully boring role until the other thing is sorted (Government, pah!) and it is killing me. My brain is numb.
My final little self-indulgence for this post is to say a shout-out to the exquisite Ruby-Mae, my new little cousin who could not be cuter if she tried. Don't let her grow up until I come home.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Plethora of Things I've Noticed
Well first thing's first - I am disappointed to report that the post about going to see Angus and Julia Stone was a little eager. I traipsed across town to Hoxton & Shoreditch to a little place called the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen only to be told the damn show was sold out. Fortunately Geoff came with me in the end, so I didn't have to sit there like an idiot, alone. The worst thing was that I reckon we were the only Aussies there, and the door bitches took sadistic delight in denying our entry. Cows.
Anyway I've been noticing silly little things and I want to write them on here now before I stop noticing them and they become normal.
So first thing is - apparently road helmets are not compulsory here. I am not sure why this bothers me, given that I am entirely disinterested in cycling anywhere, ever. However some seldom used neuron in my brain seems to remember a graphic advertising campaign when helmets were made compulsory in Australia. Something to do with a watermelon smashing on a road?? (Have I imagined this?) So basically when I am walking down the street seeing all these un-helmeted cyclists, they transform into a bunch of melon-heads on two-wheelers. Kind of entertaining. I just don't want to see anyone fall off.
Second thing is, unsurprisingly, the ongoing neuroticism about and obsession with, the weather. The entire first week I was here was miserable - punctuated with an absolutely divine weekend last weekend (I got sunburnt a little bit!) and even Monday was pretty good. Now, having grown up in Australia where wide open spaces are not an especial privilege (except if you live in inner-Sydney I guess) I cracked a chuckle on the street (strict no-no anywhere in the world i suppose -makes you look like a bit of a nutter) when I saw people in BIKINIS sunbaking on the Redcliffe Square Gardens just up the road. It is a common lawned area that is locked in the evenings, but when the sun was out, people were lying there catching rays. I found that absolutely bizarre. It seems unnatural (and a little brave) to me to lie scantily clad in a garden that is in full view of surrounding 4 story terrace houses.
But each to their pasty-skinned own i guess!
Some big news here lately has been the recent smoking ban. It is now absolutely illegal in the UK to smoke anywhere that is not completely outdoors. I have seen some amusing debates on the likes of Sky and BBC where they have pulled in a 40 a day smoker, croaking her way through the irritating consequences of the ban on her life, alongside a self-righteous loner who is happy that he will now be able to enjoy is solitary pint in smoke-free solitude. Hurrah. I must confess it was a weird novelty to get home last Saturday in the early-hours and not reek of smoke.
The other weird thing about getting home at 3.30 am, was that the sun was already rising. Now THAT dear friends, is damned hard to get used to. Especially since it is not properly dark until around 10.30pm. My jet lag (which was already fairly annoying) was made even harder to bear by my body's stubborn determination to awaken at 6am regardless of the time I went to bed. The benefits of long days however, are that, given the erratic weather, the longer the day the greater the likelihood of sunshine. (See I am starting to get fixated on the weather already!)
Running around here is not as easy as I would like - although once you get down to the river, the Chelsea Embankment is not a bad run. Unfortunately, I am out of running action for perhaps one more day as I have blisters on my heels, basically because I was stupid enough to wear new shoes when I walked to the shop. They hacked up my heels so fast it was astonishing. And given that I start work soon I don't want to aggravate them further.
Oh yeah, work. So I have a job. 3 month contract through a legal recruiter. Doing some hopefully interesting work with this organisation. ;-)
Anyway I've been noticing silly little things and I want to write them on here now before I stop noticing them and they become normal.
So first thing is - apparently road helmets are not compulsory here. I am not sure why this bothers me, given that I am entirely disinterested in cycling anywhere, ever. However some seldom used neuron in my brain seems to remember a graphic advertising campaign when helmets were made compulsory in Australia. Something to do with a watermelon smashing on a road?? (Have I imagined this?) So basically when I am walking down the street seeing all these un-helmeted cyclists, they transform into a bunch of melon-heads on two-wheelers. Kind of entertaining. I just don't want to see anyone fall off.
Second thing is, unsurprisingly, the ongoing neuroticism about and obsession with, the weather. The entire first week I was here was miserable - punctuated with an absolutely divine weekend last weekend (I got sunburnt a little bit!) and even Monday was pretty good. Now, having grown up in Australia where wide open spaces are not an especial privilege (except if you live in inner-Sydney I guess) I cracked a chuckle on the street (strict no-no anywhere in the world i suppose -makes you look like a bit of a nutter) when I saw people in BIKINIS sunbaking on the Redcliffe Square Gardens just up the road. It is a common lawned area that is locked in the evenings, but when the sun was out, people were lying there catching rays. I found that absolutely bizarre. It seems unnatural (and a little brave) to me to lie scantily clad in a garden that is in full view of surrounding 4 story terrace houses.
But each to their pasty-skinned own i guess!
Some big news here lately has been the recent smoking ban. It is now absolutely illegal in the UK to smoke anywhere that is not completely outdoors. I have seen some amusing debates on the likes of Sky and BBC where they have pulled in a 40 a day smoker, croaking her way through the irritating consequences of the ban on her life, alongside a self-righteous loner who is happy that he will now be able to enjoy is solitary pint in smoke-free solitude. Hurrah. I must confess it was a weird novelty to get home last Saturday in the early-hours and not reek of smoke.
The other weird thing about getting home at 3.30 am, was that the sun was already rising. Now THAT dear friends, is damned hard to get used to. Especially since it is not properly dark until around 10.30pm. My jet lag (which was already fairly annoying) was made even harder to bear by my body's stubborn determination to awaken at 6am regardless of the time I went to bed. The benefits of long days however, are that, given the erratic weather, the longer the day the greater the likelihood of sunshine. (See I am starting to get fixated on the weather already!)
Running around here is not as easy as I would like - although once you get down to the river, the Chelsea Embankment is not a bad run. Unfortunately, I am out of running action for perhaps one more day as I have blisters on my heels, basically because I was stupid enough to wear new shoes when I walked to the shop. They hacked up my heels so fast it was astonishing. And given that I start work soon I don't want to aggravate them further.
Oh yeah, work. So I have a job. 3 month contract through a legal recruiter. Doing some hopefully interesting work with this organisation. ;-)
Monday, July 09, 2007
I am.....
......GOING TO SEE ANGUS AND JULIA STONE TONIGHT IN LONDON (alone probably!)
Yayayayaya.
New pics on the photostream btw.
Yayayayaya.
New pics on the photostream btw.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Three Virgo's Walk Into A Bar.....
.....one says "let's make a list", the second says "well I'm going to have to be the one that writes it", the third says nothing and knows that he could do it far better than the other two. The third also orders some champagne.
I had a lovely dinner Monday night with Frilly and an old colleague of hers. We ate at a little restaurant - Tom's Kitchen - which is I think like a side-project of a famous chef. I'm sorry, I've forgotten his name but I assume it is Tom something...... Anyway, as it turns out - we were all virgos and had a relatively entertaining discussion (among others) about our shared traits. I wasn't attempting a joke with that first paragraph (well I sort of was) - but virgos in my readership will be amused I'm sure.
I ate a delicious grilled tuna nicoise salad, and consumed copious amounts of champagne, and suffered the entire day yesterday because of it. I actually did very little apart from sit transfixed as it HAILED in the middle of summer (as depicted in the video below).
Sunday night I popped over to an old school and uni friend of dad's place - who is now the Minister of State for Climate Change here. I hereby publicly vouch for his cooking - absolutely delicious - Thai Pork Chops and mushrooms. Yummmmmy!
Monday I had an interview with an agency who called me three hours later to offer me work (that didn't pay enough ;-) and then I had another interview that will potentially become work in September, once I have finished the GDLP requirements. So, things are simmering away on that front, happily.
Last night I caught a train with an old family friend, up to Cheshire and am currently writing this from his cottage. I had a lengthy conversation with him on the train about how, even though leaving Australia entails saying goodbye to for example, nice weather, great lifestyle, comparatively cheap cost of living etc - living in the UK brings new treats, such as being able to visit friends in 300 year old cottages. Yes, this house is older than post-settlement Australia.
People who have found me on Facebook (new addiction) will have noticed my current status which is "Adelle is in Cheshire, and coming to terms with the fact that living in the UK means that "weekends in Europe" is actually a phrase that exists." Yes people, I anticipate a short sojourn in Europe in the next four weeks. Honestly, the tickets are so cheap, and now with all the bombing plots etc people are a bit antsy about travelling. Not me!
My final thought for this post is on the terror stuff. I can't help but be rather envious of the way in which the Prime Minister and Home Secretary have chosen their words carefully on the subject - careful not to make statements that have the effect of demonising all Muslims. John Howard is probably champing at the bit for a plot to be foiled in Australia so that he can roll out his nasty, divisive, xenophobic rhetoric and claw his way back up a few points in the polls.
Political nuts might be surprised to hear that the NT Aboriginal Stuff has also made the news here -the mates I saw on Friday night seemed to know a fair bit about it, which was surprising.
Anyhoo, am jumping out of my skin as Kim is arriving here soon, and I get to meet Tilly (her daughter). Will put photo's on ASAP.
I had a lovely dinner Monday night with Frilly and an old colleague of hers. We ate at a little restaurant - Tom's Kitchen - which is I think like a side-project of a famous chef. I'm sorry, I've forgotten his name but I assume it is Tom something...... Anyway, as it turns out - we were all virgos and had a relatively entertaining discussion (among others) about our shared traits. I wasn't attempting a joke with that first paragraph (well I sort of was) - but virgos in my readership will be amused I'm sure.
I ate a delicious grilled tuna nicoise salad, and consumed copious amounts of champagne, and suffered the entire day yesterday because of it. I actually did very little apart from sit transfixed as it HAILED in the middle of summer (as depicted in the video below).
Sunday night I popped over to an old school and uni friend of dad's place - who is now the Minister of State for Climate Change here. I hereby publicly vouch for his cooking - absolutely delicious - Thai Pork Chops and mushrooms. Yummmmmy!
Monday I had an interview with an agency who called me three hours later to offer me work (that didn't pay enough ;-) and then I had another interview that will potentially become work in September, once I have finished the GDLP requirements. So, things are simmering away on that front, happily.
Last night I caught a train with an old family friend, up to Cheshire and am currently writing this from his cottage. I had a lengthy conversation with him on the train about how, even though leaving Australia entails saying goodbye to for example, nice weather, great lifestyle, comparatively cheap cost of living etc - living in the UK brings new treats, such as being able to visit friends in 300 year old cottages. Yes, this house is older than post-settlement Australia.
People who have found me on Facebook (new addiction) will have noticed my current status which is "Adelle is in Cheshire, and coming to terms with the fact that living in the UK means that "weekends in Europe" is actually a phrase that exists." Yes people, I anticipate a short sojourn in Europe in the next four weeks. Honestly, the tickets are so cheap, and now with all the bombing plots etc people are a bit antsy about travelling. Not me!
My final thought for this post is on the terror stuff. I can't help but be rather envious of the way in which the Prime Minister and Home Secretary have chosen their words carefully on the subject - careful not to make statements that have the effect of demonising all Muslims. John Howard is probably champing at the bit for a plot to be foiled in Australia so that he can roll out his nasty, divisive, xenophobic rhetoric and claw his way back up a few points in the polls.
Political nuts might be surprised to hear that the NT Aboriginal Stuff has also made the news here -the mates I saw on Friday night seemed to know a fair bit about it, which was surprising.
Anyhoo, am jumping out of my skin as Kim is arriving here soon, and I get to meet Tilly (her daughter). Will put photo's on ASAP.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Irony and Fatigue
As I stated in the first post of this particular adventure, I am a devoted fan of discordant juxtapositions. Equally however, I am fascinated by irony.
In that context, you can imagine by current state of mind, given that after having just travelled through a country at war (Sri Lanka) my arrival in London was timed perfectly to coincide to a new wave of apparent terrorism, albeit apparently in an amateurish form .
As I sit now, I am watching Sky News about the Glasgow car attack which happened just a couple of hours ago. Rewinding back to yesterday, I was running a few first-day errands, one of which involved a visit to Piccadilly to pick up my bank card. I naively assumed, seeing a section of the Circus cordoned off, that someone famous was in town or that a movie was being shot. Imagine my surprise then, as I descended underground to jump on the tube back to Earls Court, at seeing a newspaper stand screaming the words "London Nightclub Terror Plot". Serves me right for not watching the morning news.
Anyway, can barely believe it, but not to worry. There's not really a lot to be done.
Meanwhile, London has been a blast thus far. Admittedly, I haven't done much, and my body is stubbornly clinging to abnormally early wake-up times whilst at the same time giving me mid-evening second-winds that keep me awake. So I have a growing sleep deficit, that I am determined to rectify this evening - I was mean to be training it out to Woking to catch up with family friends, but after packing my bag and getting ready to leave, sat down and fell asleep!
Other than that, I can't resist mentioning a weird thing that keeps happening, and I am dead keen to hear if anyone else has had this happen to them in a similar situation. Basically, as I have been walking the streets I keep seeing people and double-taking because they bear striking resemblance to people at home. It has happened about 20 times now and is completely bizarre!
Something else strange that happened today after I went out to find a salon that sold decent shampoo and conditioner (yes, dear friends know I am finnicky about hair products!) was that I popped in to subway to grab myself some lunch and was in the queue behind an Aussie guy who upon hearing my accent turned around and asked me where I was from. Turns out he and his mate were from Adelaide - a pair of Italian guys called "Johnny and Vince" who work in the Europa Cafe down at Glenelg. So I sat down and ate with them, because I suppose, there was no reason not too, and we had a good laugh. The idea of starting an "Adelaide Club" was mooted. Numbers were exchanged. They are heading over to Spain for the running of the bulls, so if they make it back in one piece, I expect we shall meet for beers. Random.
And finally, another, well not ironic, but somewhat fortuitous thing occurred last night. Many of you would have recieved the email with my contact details in the UK which I sent last night. (If not, let me know). Anyway, as I was winding down last night (immediately prior to the arrival of the "second-wind") I got a call from an unidentified male speaking in a relatively thick Sri-Lankan sounding accent. I interrupted to say basically "who the hell is this" - and after a bit of a laugh at the other end of the line, the mystery man revealed himself to be my mate Kara, who I met in Yogya last year. It turned out that he was at his girlfriend's place a mere 100m or so away from where I am staying. So we caught up for a beer (and a Monk - cointrea, soda and lime) at a pub in Chelsea called The Hollywood Arms, and reminisced on old times! Very pleasant!
Anyway, eyes are shutting and I want to get to sleep before bloody second-wind arrives! Although with about 50 channels of news to watch all this stuff unfolding, I'm struggling to drag myself away. The fact that it stays light until about 9.30 doesn't help either - and is probably adding to the confusion of my already befuddled body-clock.
Should have jobs update for you very soon. As I have managed to burn through a couple of hundred quid already ("establishment expenses!") need to hurry up and get one! Can you believe my dry-cleaning bill for my suit, two jackets and a dress was about $70??!!! Aaaargh!
Also, to the alcho's who called me in the middle of the Adelaide night to say hello - you made my day. Hehehehe. Bet your heads are thumping today.
In that context, you can imagine by current state of mind, given that after having just travelled through a country at war (Sri Lanka) my arrival in London was timed perfectly to coincide to a new wave of apparent terrorism, albeit apparently in an amateurish form .
As I sit now, I am watching Sky News about the Glasgow car attack which happened just a couple of hours ago. Rewinding back to yesterday, I was running a few first-day errands, one of which involved a visit to Piccadilly to pick up my bank card. I naively assumed, seeing a section of the Circus cordoned off, that someone famous was in town or that a movie was being shot. Imagine my surprise then, as I descended underground to jump on the tube back to Earls Court, at seeing a newspaper stand screaming the words "London Nightclub Terror Plot". Serves me right for not watching the morning news.
Anyway, can barely believe it, but not to worry. There's not really a lot to be done.
Meanwhile, London has been a blast thus far. Admittedly, I haven't done much, and my body is stubbornly clinging to abnormally early wake-up times whilst at the same time giving me mid-evening second-winds that keep me awake. So I have a growing sleep deficit, that I am determined to rectify this evening - I was mean to be training it out to Woking to catch up with family friends, but after packing my bag and getting ready to leave, sat down and fell asleep!
Other than that, I can't resist mentioning a weird thing that keeps happening, and I am dead keen to hear if anyone else has had this happen to them in a similar situation. Basically, as I have been walking the streets I keep seeing people and double-taking because they bear striking resemblance to people at home. It has happened about 20 times now and is completely bizarre!
Something else strange that happened today after I went out to find a salon that sold decent shampoo and conditioner (yes, dear friends know I am finnicky about hair products!) was that I popped in to subway to grab myself some lunch and was in the queue behind an Aussie guy who upon hearing my accent turned around and asked me where I was from. Turns out he and his mate were from Adelaide - a pair of Italian guys called "Johnny and Vince" who work in the Europa Cafe down at Glenelg. So I sat down and ate with them, because I suppose, there was no reason not too, and we had a good laugh. The idea of starting an "Adelaide Club" was mooted. Numbers were exchanged. They are heading over to Spain for the running of the bulls, so if they make it back in one piece, I expect we shall meet for beers. Random.
And finally, another, well not ironic, but somewhat fortuitous thing occurred last night. Many of you would have recieved the email with my contact details in the UK which I sent last night. (If not, let me know). Anyway, as I was winding down last night (immediately prior to the arrival of the "second-wind") I got a call from an unidentified male speaking in a relatively thick Sri-Lankan sounding accent. I interrupted to say basically "who the hell is this" - and after a bit of a laugh at the other end of the line, the mystery man revealed himself to be my mate Kara, who I met in Yogya last year. It turned out that he was at his girlfriend's place a mere 100m or so away from where I am staying. So we caught up for a beer (and a Monk - cointrea, soda and lime) at a pub in Chelsea called The Hollywood Arms, and reminisced on old times! Very pleasant!
Anyway, eyes are shutting and I want to get to sleep before bloody second-wind arrives! Although with about 50 channels of news to watch all this stuff unfolding, I'm struggling to drag myself away. The fact that it stays light until about 9.30 doesn't help either - and is probably adding to the confusion of my already befuddled body-clock.
Should have jobs update for you very soon. As I have managed to burn through a couple of hundred quid already ("establishment expenses!") need to hurry up and get one! Can you believe my dry-cleaning bill for my suit, two jackets and a dress was about $70??!!! Aaaargh!
Also, to the alcho's who called me in the middle of the Adelaide night to say hello - you made my day. Hehehehe. Bet your heads are thumping today.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Reading Balzac, Knocking Back...Lion Beer?
I wasn't planning on getting to the internet this early today, but a crazy Irish woman showed up at my hotel last night and has been causing trouble this morning - disturbing the serenity for me, the only other guest. All the other SriLankan's are saying she is absolutely nuts, and after a short conversation with her in which she managed to tell about 5 lies, I concur.
Meanwhile, with a belly full of devilled crab last night, I sat taking photo's, reading my Balzac book (am now obsessed with it - it's fantastic) and wrote these things (among others) in my little book of thoughts that I am carrying with me;
What do crabs eat?
How many people die each year at the hands (shells?)of falling coconuts?
Happiness is not a warm gun; happiness is a warm bed, a warm beer (sometimes) a warm belly (a full belly), a warm heart.
"There never was a truer saying than the most beautiful things in the world are a frigate at full sail, a galloping horse and a woman dancing." The character Eugene, "Old Goriot", Balzac.
"To do what you want is freedom, to do what you like is happness" - Anande, Manager, Lucky Dolphin, 23/6/07.
A rupee for your thoughts Madame? A rupee for my thoughts.
Meanwhile, with a belly full of devilled crab last night, I sat taking photo's, reading my Balzac book (am now obsessed with it - it's fantastic) and wrote these things (among others) in my little book of thoughts that I am carrying with me;
What do crabs eat?
How many people die each year at the hands (shells?)of falling coconuts?
Happiness is not a warm gun; happiness is a warm bed, a warm beer (sometimes) a warm belly (a full belly), a warm heart.
"There never was a truer saying than the most beautiful things in the world are a frigate at full sail, a galloping horse and a woman dancing." The character Eugene, "Old Goriot", Balzac.
"To do what you want is freedom, to do what you like is happness" - Anande, Manager, Lucky Dolphin, 23/6/07.
A rupee for your thoughts Madame? A rupee for my thoughts.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Jelly Legs
Well, I knew I couldn't maintain my early pace for long and consequently I now have to catch you up on the last few incredibly relaxing days in one post. Fortunately (for me and my lazy typing fingers) I haven't been doing very much.
To begin with, it is very much low season here in Hikkaduwa. Which is fine in many respects - no drunk backpackers screaming on the beach, cheaper prices and no waiting anywhere. The downside is that the high, rough monsoon seas have taken a big bite out of the beach which is too rough for swimming, I stick out like a sore thumb, and there aren't many people to talk to about the place.
I have been therefore engaged in several activities which are entirely undemanding, being; sleeping, eating, reading, and ayuervedic treatment.
The first two are fairly self-explanatory. Eating here is good and cheap and because I am next to the ocean have scoffed down a variety of seafood. Also tried vegetable rotti today for the first time, which for fans of Indian food, is like a piece of naan bread stuffed with yummy vege filling.
On the reading - I just finished the book club book, "The Year of Living Dangerously" and am now left with a choice between Balzac or Shakespeare, which were the only 2 English language books I could find in a little book stall I came across. Heavy.
As for the Ayurveda - well that came about because I was looking for somewhere to have a massage - and came upon a clinic where there was actually a Doctor of Ayurvedic medicine. I ended up having a consultation, after which he prescribed me a 3 two-hour sessions of various treatments to re balance my chi or something like that (am being a little trite, mainly because I can't remember the name of what it is that needed to be rebalanced....)
So for the last three days I have been variously slapped, chopped, kneaded, rubbed, prodded, beaten with bags of milk soaked rice, given a facial and had my face massaged (definite winner for those of you who have never had that done) bathed in herbal water and given different energy tonics and herbal concoctions to swallow.
The best thing however was definitely the Shirodara which I was a little worried about at first, as it reminded me of Chinese water torture, but after half an hour of oil plopping on my forehead and running through my hair, I was asleep like a baby and very deeply relaxed. I left the clinic yesterday with my oiled hair wrapped in a weird cloth (much to the amusement of the tuk-tuk drivers on the side of the road as I walked back to my cabana) with strict instructions not to wash my hair until evening, and to "very relax" for the rest of the day. I read my book for about an hour and then fell into a total coma for three hours, at which time I could no longer stand the oil in my hair and ended up washing it and going out to find dinner. But I very much recommend Shirodara.
One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that Hikkaduwa was one of the parts of Sri Lanka quite affected by the Tsunami. It is not as bad as some of the places up north that I saw on my way from Colombo (my driver pointed out one spot where an entire train full of people were wiped out - 1500 people in one 200 metre spot). On the way down here there were lots of signs along the road, indicating where various aid organisations and donations from countries have paid for regeneration. Hikka was nowhere near as bad as those places, but a lot of the people here lost their families and livelihoods.
Last night I chanced upon just about the only other Aussie in town, a guy from Perth, and after the restaurant we were eating in shut at 10, we took two Lion beers with us and sat on the beach, musing over what we would do if the sea started sucking out in anticipation of a killer wave. I am not sure what conclusion we ultimately reached, but I think it was something along the lines of "run into the jungle as fast as you bloody can". I wasn't too keen on the topic of conversation.
Nonetheless, am not worried - Nimal assured me that Tsunami's happen about every 200 years in Sri Lanka just to wipe out some of the excess population; "You see Madam, every few hundred years the earth get too heavy - like when you carry to many coconut in one arm and your arm tired - you dropping no? - tsunami it get rid of extra people so earth not falling out from sky."
Pristine logic no?
Anyway, have reconfirmed my flight for the next leg. (Apparently Sri Lankan Air are notorious for bumping you if you don't) - and now is time to face the next challenge - getting through Immigration in the UK without my British passport. Sigh. No amount of Ayurveda is going to cure my anxiety about that.
I will try and upload some more photo's - video even. Haven't taken many though - as I haven't moved very far out of the same 2Km stretch of road since Saturday.
Ok am going now - an ancient Sri Lankan lady who looks a little bit like she might be involved in the dark arts (i.e. be a witch) just extended her hand through the window, and I was too scared not to give her 50 rupees. I am sure she is perfectly fine and very nice, but there was something worrisome about that hooky little nose.......
To begin with, it is very much low season here in Hikkaduwa. Which is fine in many respects - no drunk backpackers screaming on the beach, cheaper prices and no waiting anywhere. The downside is that the high, rough monsoon seas have taken a big bite out of the beach which is too rough for swimming, I stick out like a sore thumb, and there aren't many people to talk to about the place.
I have been therefore engaged in several activities which are entirely undemanding, being; sleeping, eating, reading, and ayuervedic treatment.
The first two are fairly self-explanatory. Eating here is good and cheap and because I am next to the ocean have scoffed down a variety of seafood. Also tried vegetable rotti today for the first time, which for fans of Indian food, is like a piece of naan bread stuffed with yummy vege filling.
On the reading - I just finished the book club book, "The Year of Living Dangerously" and am now left with a choice between Balzac or Shakespeare, which were the only 2 English language books I could find in a little book stall I came across. Heavy.
As for the Ayurveda - well that came about because I was looking for somewhere to have a massage - and came upon a clinic where there was actually a Doctor of Ayurvedic medicine. I ended up having a consultation, after which he prescribed me a 3 two-hour sessions of various treatments to re balance my chi or something like that (am being a little trite, mainly because I can't remember the name of what it is that needed to be rebalanced....)
So for the last three days I have been variously slapped, chopped, kneaded, rubbed, prodded, beaten with bags of milk soaked rice, given a facial and had my face massaged (definite winner for those of you who have never had that done) bathed in herbal water and given different energy tonics and herbal concoctions to swallow.
The best thing however was definitely the Shirodara which I was a little worried about at first, as it reminded me of Chinese water torture, but after half an hour of oil plopping on my forehead and running through my hair, I was asleep like a baby and very deeply relaxed. I left the clinic yesterday with my oiled hair wrapped in a weird cloth (much to the amusement of the tuk-tuk drivers on the side of the road as I walked back to my cabana) with strict instructions not to wash my hair until evening, and to "very relax" for the rest of the day. I read my book for about an hour and then fell into a total coma for three hours, at which time I could no longer stand the oil in my hair and ended up washing it and going out to find dinner. But I very much recommend Shirodara.
One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that Hikkaduwa was one of the parts of Sri Lanka quite affected by the Tsunami. It is not as bad as some of the places up north that I saw on my way from Colombo (my driver pointed out one spot where an entire train full of people were wiped out - 1500 people in one 200 metre spot). On the way down here there were lots of signs along the road, indicating where various aid organisations and donations from countries have paid for regeneration. Hikka was nowhere near as bad as those places, but a lot of the people here lost their families and livelihoods.
Last night I chanced upon just about the only other Aussie in town, a guy from Perth, and after the restaurant we were eating in shut at 10, we took two Lion beers with us and sat on the beach, musing over what we would do if the sea started sucking out in anticipation of a killer wave. I am not sure what conclusion we ultimately reached, but I think it was something along the lines of "run into the jungle as fast as you bloody can". I wasn't too keen on the topic of conversation.
Nonetheless, am not worried - Nimal assured me that Tsunami's happen about every 200 years in Sri Lanka just to wipe out some of the excess population; "You see Madam, every few hundred years the earth get too heavy - like when you carry to many coconut in one arm and your arm tired - you dropping no? - tsunami it get rid of extra people so earth not falling out from sky."
Pristine logic no?
Anyway, have reconfirmed my flight for the next leg. (Apparently Sri Lankan Air are notorious for bumping you if you don't) - and now is time to face the next challenge - getting through Immigration in the UK without my British passport. Sigh. No amount of Ayurveda is going to cure my anxiety about that.
I will try and upload some more photo's - video even. Haven't taken many though - as I haven't moved very far out of the same 2Km stretch of road since Saturday.
Ok am going now - an ancient Sri Lankan lady who looks a little bit like she might be involved in the dark arts (i.e. be a witch) just extended her hand through the window, and I was too scared not to give her 50 rupees. I am sure she is perfectly fine and very nice, but there was something worrisome about that hooky little nose.......
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Cheeky Post
Just to make it 4 from 4 days - and to tell you that I have uploaded some pics of the trip so far for your enjoyment.
You know the drill.
You know the drill.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Hikkaduwa
Well I can barely believe it, but I have limped my way down the coast to Hikkaduwa and wouldn't you know it, the sea air has breathed some new life into my still-hurting throat.
My hotel, The Lucky Dolphin, is run by a dutch guy and is impeccably clean, very cute, and damn cheap. So ner mum! You CAN a decent room for 20 bucks a night.
I am mainly blogging today for the benefit of Uncle Daz, because he asked before I left to have cricket related tales relayed to him and I can't leave this one out. (As a side point, what is with the recurring cricketing theme of the journey so far?!
Once again the present story involves Nimal, my driver.
As we were leaving the airport and he was sussing me out so as to try and sell me his driving services, he asked where I was from. This has happened a number of times now (usually blokes asking) and when you say "Australia", they ramble off all the cities that have cricket grounds, and when they get to "Adelaide" and I say "yes", the inevitable answer is, "oh, that's a very famous cricket ground, Adelaide Oval" (sounds funnier if you imagine it said with a Sri Lankan accent - like Indian basically).
So Nimal launched into this tirade, "Well your country, you beat my country in world cup. Australian is cricketing King. Sri Lanka, we only come second."
"But that Adam Gilchrist, he is no good man".
To which I responded "Really, why do you think so?".
"Oh you know, he play with the ball in his glove and he wrecking the ball during world cup. He bad man."
Now I knew nothing of these ball tampering allegations whatsoever. So I was a little incredulous, and was sitting there musing over it when Nimal begrudginly said;
"Don't get me wrong, Adam Gilchrist, he is the "Master Blaster", but he no good man, he playing with ball."
Did I hear Nimal correctly? "Excuse me?, I said.
"Oh you know, Gillie is the Master Blaster. He is bloody good player."
I am not sure this comes across as funnily in print as it did in person, but my goodness, I had to bite my fist not to wet myself with laughter.
Its really hilarious, that Cricket is the cultural reference point for me and the bulk of the Sri Lankan populace, given that I generally loathe the Australian team. Nonetheless, it is nice that EVERYONE has heard of Adelaide here, if a little weird.
Meanwhile, all my male friends beware - I have merged you into one man and create a mythical boyfriend of you, just to keep people off my back when they ask if I have one. Don't ask which traits I have taken from which friend.....
Ok, have befriended and Irish lady here in the net cafe and invited myself to join them tonight when they are having drinks. Not going too hard, given my ongoing affliction (bought antibiotics today - that was amusing in itself - an ancient Sri Lankan man insisted on talking to me through a microphone that the whole pharmacy could hear, even when I was standing directly in front of him!) but will be nice to have a beer.
Okey. I believe thats three for three. (In some people's language I believe that is in fact called, a hattrick!)
My hotel, The Lucky Dolphin, is run by a dutch guy and is impeccably clean, very cute, and damn cheap. So ner mum! You CAN a decent room for 20 bucks a night.
I am mainly blogging today for the benefit of Uncle Daz, because he asked before I left to have cricket related tales relayed to him and I can't leave this one out. (As a side point, what is with the recurring cricketing theme of the journey so far?!
Once again the present story involves Nimal, my driver.
As we were leaving the airport and he was sussing me out so as to try and sell me his driving services, he asked where I was from. This has happened a number of times now (usually blokes asking) and when you say "Australia", they ramble off all the cities that have cricket grounds, and when they get to "Adelaide" and I say "yes", the inevitable answer is, "oh, that's a very famous cricket ground, Adelaide Oval" (sounds funnier if you imagine it said with a Sri Lankan accent - like Indian basically).
So Nimal launched into this tirade, "Well your country, you beat my country in world cup. Australian is cricketing King. Sri Lanka, we only come second."
"But that Adam Gilchrist, he is no good man".
To which I responded "Really, why do you think so?".
"Oh you know, he play with the ball in his glove and he wrecking the ball during world cup. He bad man."
Now I knew nothing of these ball tampering allegations whatsoever. So I was a little incredulous, and was sitting there musing over it when Nimal begrudginly said;
"Don't get me wrong, Adam Gilchrist, he is the "Master Blaster", but he no good man, he playing with ball."
Did I hear Nimal correctly? "Excuse me?, I said.
"Oh you know, Gillie is the Master Blaster. He is bloody good player."
I am not sure this comes across as funnily in print as it did in person, but my goodness, I had to bite my fist not to wet myself with laughter.
Its really hilarious, that Cricket is the cultural reference point for me and the bulk of the Sri Lankan populace, given that I generally loathe the Australian team. Nonetheless, it is nice that EVERYONE has heard of Adelaide here, if a little weird.
Meanwhile, all my male friends beware - I have merged you into one man and create a mythical boyfriend of you, just to keep people off my back when they ask if I have one. Don't ask which traits I have taken from which friend.....
Ok, have befriended and Irish lady here in the net cafe and invited myself to join them tonight when they are having drinks. Not going too hard, given my ongoing affliction (bought antibiotics today - that was amusing in itself - an ancient Sri Lankan man insisted on talking to me through a microphone that the whole pharmacy could hear, even when I was standing directly in front of him!) but will be nice to have a beer.
Okey. I believe thats three for three. (In some people's language I believe that is in fact called, a hattrick!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
