I'm doing work - Really.

What could be more wintery than parrots?

2012-01-15T14:05:00.000Z

So, a few mornings ago, in my usual early morning delirium, I noticed, through the skylight, a very pointy feather stuck towards the sky, out in the olive tree. Thinking that was a bit odd, I looked outside, to be met with a small flock of parrots sitting in the tree. Yeah, nothing says British winter like a bunch of parrots hanging upside down in a tree. Apparently, the story goes, they were either released from Shepperton Studios during the filming of African Queen, or are the descendents of released pets. Another story says that they were released by the King, at Hampton Court, sometime back in the 1600s (I think). Anyway, they are all over London - about 30000 of them, and they are increasing to the point where they are considering a cull (whereas with grey squirrels they have been giving them birth control pills (how???) and with Canada Geese, stealing the eggs. Anyway though, I thought it was kind of fun to have a flock of parrots in the back yard. How exotic.

January people

2012-01-10T20:47:00.002Z

There exist in January a certain type of people - possibly even a separate species. You see them predominantly at the gym, and, increasingly, on the roads on shiny new bikes. They tend to be fairly well dressed, or, at least, dressed in fairly new clothing. Shiny new lycra, bulging at the seams. Gym shorts that have never before seen a droplet of sweat. Leather gloves still smelling of curing agent. The prominant activity of the gym sub-set of these people seems to consist mostly of shuffling from weight to weight, pausing in between to examine them in great detail, occasionally by actually lifting them, awkwardly, over their heads in what appears to be quiet confusion (though sometimes not so quiet, as occasionally this ritual is occasioned by loud grunting and general noisemaking). They seem often curiously unaware of the non-January types in their midst, and can sometimes make nuisances of themselves as they examine their new surroundings. The other January sub-set, found predominately on the roads, usually spend their time pedaling slowly, awkwardly between lines of traffic, often pausing to further take in their surroundings. The non-January types have a tendency to find this sort of behaviour puzzling, sometimes shouting helpful suggestions about moving out the way, moving faster - encouragement really. Like mayflies though, these January people mass and then disappear, gone almost before you knew they were there. Almost.

In other non-related news, I have a cold, but am being very stoic about it and not complaining at all. Really. Brooklyn Bridge? Sale?

I tried to go for a bike ride on Saturday, but felt like poo, so turned around. Instead, Avi, David and I hung out, went for dinner at the local pub, and watched Forbidden Kingdom, which, I have to say, was complete pants, though it had some fun kung fu.

And yesterday I went for a really nice bike ride, though I still felt a bit like poo.

Pics below:

Oh look, it's Narnia!

Oh little town of Dorking-ham...

The end of the world, or not.

2012-01-03T17:59:00.000Z

So anyway, yeah - here we are in the last year of the universe, or at least the last year before they will have to come up with some new apocalyptic crap (I have no doubt).

We had a few people over for NYE - very nice - we tromped up the hill to watch all the fireworks shoot off the London Eye and Big Ben (ooh pretty), and then shot off our own, which weren't quite so exciting, but given that we bought them several years ago at the supermarket, and they seemed to shoot about 100 feet into the air and left a big flat patch in the grass (as well as lots of embers), they were lots of fun anyway. No safe and sane for us, thank you very much! A good deal of champagne was harmed during the course of the evening, meaning that NYD was a little on the lazy side (hard not to be lazy when one gets up at noon).

Yesterday I mostly made up for it by going for a very nice 68 mile ride and then taking the high-speed train back. It's a bit of an anticlimax when one's 5 hours of hard work are erased in 38 minutes. I guess I need to start biking at 140 miles per hour. I did make it to 42 miles per hour once - downhill - thought I was going to die.

Oh yeah - David and I went for a really nice 10 mile walk on NYE in the South Downs - hills along the south coast. Very pretty. I put pics for that up HERE. The weather was a bit schlocky, but it was warm (low 50s), so pretty hard to complain about that. Yesterday was chilly and sunny - perfect day for a bike ride - and today was blowy and pissing rain all day. I had all sorts of things I was supposed to do in the garden - didn't do any of them (but I did buy some new pants for work at the Gap, so that's almost the same thing... ;-)

It would have been funnier with the namesake car, but a nice pic nonetheless...

Yeah - This is the sort of reason I so like cycling around England...

Sunset, spines and fence...

A few more pics...

2011-12-28T21:12:00.000Z

So, I figured out how to transfer pics from the camera to the computer, sans cord. Apparently, my computer has a little doodah that reads cards. Who knew? That still leaves one or two pics in the camera's memory that will have to wait until I find a cord, but, this is certainly better than nothings!

Oh, btw - Christmas pics are HERE.

And some other pics...

Country Inn...

Winter sunset, looking out over the back 40...

Deer and Windsor Castle.

The road to Windsor Castle...

Dia del Salud. Oh yeah, and Christmas and Boxing Day

2011-12-27T21:16:00.000Z

So, I was feeling a bit overfed today, not so surprising, considering that I had two Christmas meals on Christmas Day, not to mention a large meal yesterday (Boxing Day). So yeah, feeling a bit overfed today, so I thought, hmm, let's go for a bike ride and go to the gym. It was a lovely bike ride - 66 miles out to Windsor and back, plus the gym after. Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit tuckered out at the moment. But less overfed (of course, I just ate leftover turkey and am about to go hunt for some pumpkin pie). The pumpkin pie came from Whole Foods, in Kensington. It was about $16 and not very big. Kensington though, is a very rich area full of many Americans. What this means is that it actually has a really good supermarket, selling really good things like pumpkin pie, at many times their real price. Anyway, it was yummy.

Christmas was very nice - got up at a sensible hour, went for a nice run through the (relatively) empty streets. Then the three of us cycled 9 miles out to Chiswick to meet George and Neale (driving in from Slough) for the world's most expensive lunch (something like $130 each). It was actually pretty tasty, but still... Anyway, we went for a post lunch consitutional around St. James' Park after that in the failing light (me with a very nearly failing bladder, not improved by the fact that they had just closed the toilets). Then it was back here for presents and Christmas dinner - a whole traditional extravaganza cooked by Robin. Leonel came over for that, and we finally ate (a whole lot of) food about 10pm (and had a whole lot of mulled wine - also made by Robin). Not a bad day to spend Christmas.

Yesterday, Boxing Day, we went over to Paul and Ali's, along with about 12 other people, for a whole lot more food - didn't get back here until late last night.

So, yeah, a whole lot of food and a whole lot of people. Back to work tomorrow for three days - I'm hoping very much for it to be quiet.

Hmm - new camera doesn't seem to come with a cable that allows me to connect it to the computer. Charming - that means I'll have to wait on those pics. A few from my phone though...

Sometimes I have this dream I am being watched by sheep...

Our little window friend...

Aaahhhh! Alien invasion!!!!!

Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!

A Year!

2011-12-22T22:06:00.000Z

Wow - it was a year ago today moved across the park into this house. A year ago it was cold and snowing, the roads were iced over, and I had to rescue the stuck van with handfuls of pelletised chickenshit under the tyres. The house was a mountain of boxes (with a Christmas tree bundled up in a corner). I was so tired and so stressed I can actually hardly remember the day. Today, well, the house still needs new doors (I mean, really, who puts doors with frosted glass on bedrooms?), it needs paint and we have yet to figure out what to do with the back yard - oh, and yeah, we still need art on the walls. But - it's had a new kitchen, a second bathroom, new light fixtures, furniture, a summer's worth of mad flower jungle, several parties, and it's actually becoming home. I still can't believe it's been a year.

So, today, the winter solstice, I got up in the pitch black dark, at 7 and went for a nice run as the sun just peeked over the eastern horizon. (Sunrise/sunset: 8:04am - 3:54pm). It was beautiful and warm this morning - oddly warm - almost like a southern California winter's morning. I felt virtuous out on my morning run (sad, I know). I remember a number of years ago, Dad made a comment about how he really liked being up at stupid o'clock in the morning to take the ferry to Seattle, as this let him see the sun rise. I said something oh so clever like as long as the sun was in the sky when I got up, I knew it would be another day, and I didn't need to get up early just to check! (I also hated the Grape Nuts commercial - "morning is your time"). Well, I'm still a zombie when I get up in the morning - I don't function until after I eat my breakfast (bacon, eggs, beans, milk, orange juice and coffee), but yeah, it's kind of nice to actually see the sun come up. Of course, it's a lot easier in December than it is in June (4:43am - 9:22pm).

Anyway - still working on what I want to do when I grow up. I've come across an MSc programme in Geophysical Hazards at University College London - seems to be designed for GIS-y type people (like me!) who are considering a career shift into hazards, which I am. Definitely worth a look.

That's about it for the moment. I do have lots of pics I need to put up - just need to get off my butt and do so!

Morning pastoral, Hackney style...

Then what such?

As they say here, it was a real tailback... (I know- groan).

Wow - not sure how anyone finds anything in that DIY store!

And for today's bad packaging award...

Going Dutch

2011-12-08T21:47:00.000Z

Or, rather, I have finally figured out how to cycle home from the supermarket with shopping bags hanging from my handlebars. We live about 3/4 of a mile from the supermarket, which isn't so bad, but at night, when the park closes, it's a 1 1/4 mile walk, which is annoying, especially if it's cold, wet and windy, which it is tonight. I was never able to manage to cycle home with the bags hanging from my handlebars - they were too heavy and the swung wildly. Solution? Put the heavy stuff in my backpack and the light stuff hang from the handlebars. Problem solved. Of course, I could get a rack and panniers, and, in fact, I do now own panniers (though not yet a rack), but these are strictly for touring rather than daily use. Putting a rack and panniers on a bike is, as far as I am concerned, the equivalent of buying the minivan. I'm not quite ready for that yet.

Anyway, been thinking more about what I would like to do careerwise. Much as I would love to go back to pure geology, that probably isn't feasible, meaning I should find a way to tie in my GIS skills - build on my career rather than start it over again. I think I'd like to focus on urban hazards, as I've always been drawn to, essentially, people building in stupid places. And - I've always been really interested in our relationship with water - flooding, coasts, etc. This is likely to become a much bigger issue in southern England in the future, as they predict that summer is going to get drier, and the UK ain't got no sensible water policy! Anyway, we'll see...

Blahrific

2011-12-06T21:04:00.000Z

So, as per usual, I intended to write all sorts of amazing and astounding things when David and I were driving hither and yon, up and down the West Coast. What did I write? Well, mostly my name on credit card slips. I'm pretty sure that David and I managed to b eef up most of the previously moribund economy of California. Anyway, the trip was way the hell too short - only a week and a half, but we didn't have the vacation days to spare this year. We did learn a very important life lesson though - never ever take an 11 hour flight back and the end of a long day, because it pretty much sucks donkey dong - especially when they can't get either the jetway or the stairs to function properly at Heathrow and keep you on the plane an extra half hour!

So, we flew out to CA on the 18th - pretty much as flawless a flight as possible (for sitting in coach). Last row of the plane - easy potty access, and only David and me in the row. I actually made it through two entire newspapers on the way out, as well as some of my interminably long and boring book on the history of British urban planning. The brief period of time we were in SFO (the rest of that day and the following) we hung out with Heather (from Carleton - she schlepped down from British Columbia for the occasion). It's kind of amazing how huge amounts of time can pass and people don't change (well, except for popping out a kid, which, I suppose, is a slight change). Anyway, we just sort of dropped back into where we'd left off, which is nice - always a mark of a good friendship!

Sunday, David and I took our very swoopy white hybrid Camry (which only averaged a disappointing 35mpg) and headed off to Oregon (stopping to gym on the way - one must have priorities. Oregon was just as brief, but full of family, which is fab. A brief sojourn back through Sacto, a pop back to SFO for Tgiving, Riverside and San Diego. David was very brave and survived at least 75 of my closest relatives. Anyway, I would love to write more about all the fine details, but, to be honest, I'm tired and crabby and my brain feels a little bit like tapioca, so I suppose I will have to go with brief.

So, David and Robin are currently watching some movie on the TV in the next room, which means that I have the attention span of a gnat (very deer in headlights). I suppose more now and to the point is that I have decided to do something with my boring and going nowhere career. This has been brewing for a while, but I should probably say a lot of the catalyst was talking to Dad. Besides realizing that, well, I'm bored and not too excited about talking about what I'm doing jobwise, he made a point, and much as I hate to admit that it was a good one, it was. What's in the way of me doing what I would like to do? Me. So, I suppose it's time for Me to do something about it. Not quite figured out what it is yet, but I know, and I've always known I really need to reconnect to the Earth Sciences. That's where I started, but for sundry reasons - some of them good but most of them fairly sad and pathetic, I keep finding reason after reason that it just won't work. There are a few practicalities to keep in mind - I need to work, I can't go out and become a ballerina or join the circus (I'm really so bad on the trampolines - just wouldn't work), but I've started contacting programs in London having to do with spatial modelling and natural hazards. It would mean some number of years of zero social life, but if I could reconnect my GIS skills to something I really love, well, I'd be happy as a pig in shit. So anyway, some potential changes, and maybe next trip I take I'll actually blog during it! Yeah.

And the solution to a hangover is...

2011-11-13T19:30:00.001Z

So, last night we had a combined 40th bday party for Robin, a belated bday party for David (as his bday is on 911, so, being that everyone (in America at least, here they, mercifully, don't give a crap) has to put on frownie faces that day, he now has his real bday and his "official bday" - like the Queen. Only problem is we can never figure out when his official bday is, so it's whenever it's most convenient, which is damn convenient). Anyway - we had a party last night with about 12 guys over. There was a lot of alcohol. This being a bunch of homosexuals, we're not talking Bud Lite (though we did have one beer drinker, and there was a fair amount of pear cider downed) - we're talking numerous bottles of champagne, 2 bottles of vodka and a bottle of rum. Not to mention whisky and God only knows what else- lighter fluid maybe. So, our recycling sounds like there are a bunch of alkies living here. We had one person stay the night on the sofa and two in the extra bedroom, and I think I managed to go to bed about 4. Noon came very early, and there may have been some delicateness, though, surprisingly, not that much, all things considered. Fortunately, we'd made a valiant effort on the kitchen last night, and nearly all mess was contained to that room, so there wasn't too much cleanup. Nothing broken either, which isn't bad, considering that someone knocked a full glass of cider into the sink, where there were dirty champagne glasses, and someone else managed to drop a ramacan out of the cupboard onto the tile floor, thinking it was the top of a funny looking glass (rather than two stacked on top of each other). You'd never think that glass could bounce on tile. It's possible there were some arms flapped at that moment in time and several butchness points may have been lost. Anyway, no harm done, save possibly to my friend's ego.

So, today I ran errands in town and went for a little bike ride (my solution to hangover). Robin went to the gym and hung out with a mutual friend (his). And David kept the sofa and the TV occupied (and finally, his). Honestly, I can't do that unless I feel pretty shit-iferous. I have to go outside and do something - even if it's something completly pointless.

Oh yeah - I ripped out quite a lot of the back garden yesterday (as the flowers had mostly died) and put in pansies and verbenas, which are about the only things that will bloom over the winter (unless it gets really cold, in which case they will turn a lovely shade of black). So far though, nothing approaching cold - it's been bizarrely warm, to the point, apparently, where a lot of the plants and animals think it's spring again. I'm sure there is no climate change though... Hmm.

Our "hippo bag" full of crap, being taken away by a crane. Very exciting.

Now kids, this is what happens when you don't wash down there - your ankles glow! (Health and safety alert - Robin is actually wearing underwear).

Party food. The funny thing about a bunch of super health conscious queens is that they start out absolutely avoiding anything vaguely fatty. However, once enough alcohol has been consumed, they seem to go on a fat seeking mission - vacuuming down vast quantities of lard, including the Krispy Kreme donuts that someone brought (which remain untouched until someone opened it, after which the swarming hordes descended).

Random party scene. Unfortunately, the flash on my phone seems to now flash after I actually take the picture, which is a slight problem. Must get new phone and get camera!

Robin and the gayest cake on the planet.

More people and party...

Leonel discovers that I made the drink strong enough to take the enamel off his teeth...

Martin's head seems to have exploded...

Remember, remember, the 5th of November

2011-11-06T19:02:00.000Z

Yesterday was Guy Fawkes Day, which celebrates and unsuccessful attempt to blow up Parliament in 1605, by, ironically, blowing things up. It's a bit like the 4th on steroids, only, instead of just official fireworks shows (of which there are many), every single person seems to have bought out the arsenal of a small country and decides to blow it up. Every store sells fireworks, stands are set up along the road, and we're not talking just the "safe and sane" fireworks - we're talking cool things that shoot hundreds of feet in the air and blow up. They are everywhere - so much so that the air usually smells like sulfur and gunpowder, and a person walking outside could be forgiven for thinking that there was a war on. We actually have quite a number of fireworks hanging around in the house, but we've never gotten around to actually setting them off - maybe New Year's Eve? It was just David and me last night, and, to be honest, we couldn't be bothered (and last time we set off fireworks from the house - from the roof in our previous place, they ended up in the trees and exploded the flower pot being used as the base). Yay! We we had a very safe and sane night watching The Green Lantern. I think my takeaway line from that was, "Make yourself at home; there's water in the tap", and my takeaway message was that sexy, sporty people are good, and excessively smart or nerdy people are bad. Gosh, it sounds like high school, only with green tights, more muscles, and cool superpowers. And here I was wondering how a Green Lantern goes to the bathroom, what with that skintight green, well, skin, I guess. They really should address these important issues - it's very difficult to suspend disbelief otherwise... Then David stayed up watching the Golden Girls (well, technically, he fell asleep on the sofa watching the Golden Girls, which we have now downloaded most of), and I, being the always sensible one (snort) went to bed.

Today, which was grey and yicky, I went for a nice 57 mile poodle around north London on my bike, and David tried to fix the toilet, only to discover that it uses non-standard parts. I may have had the better day. Generally speaking, I do the outdoor stuff - garden and whatnot, and I leave David to the indoor stuff. I'm very good at taking things apart - not so good at putting them back together, and, as far as I'm concerned, electricity is voodoo magic, best left to professionals (esp British, 240v drives on the left electricity - very scary indeed).

Anyway, back to work tomorrow. Yippy skippy.

Some pics for today:

A field, north of London...

Road- north of London.

Um, yes please? ;-)

Yeah, that's pretty secure...

2011-11-05T12:13:00.000Z

So, I decided I was going to switch credit cards, for a variety of reasons. I applied for, and received, my new credit card, and was told I had to call the bank to set up telephone and internet banking. Fine. On the phone, I was told that I would receive the instructions and passwords for the two services in the mail about a week later. In fact, I did. I receieved four identical envelopes on the same day. In two of them were my user names. In the other two were my passwords. Hmm - let's see - person gets four identical envelopes from the bank on the same day. I am sure there can't possibly be any relation between them, so I, as the bad fraudster, wouldn't even think to have a look through those four, identical, surely meaningless envelopes.

Unbelievable.

The Leisurely Progress of Autumn

2011-11-02T18:58:00.000Z

So, yeah, it's been hot, cold, balmy, dry, pretty much all over the map the past month. Apparently, we had one of the warmest Octobers ever, and the trees have gotten overly excited about the whole thing. It actually almost resembles a normal autumn in a normal place with normal trees that turn colours, rather than the usual muted shade of blah they tend to go here (though there is still plenty of that). Granted, many of the trees that are turning would probably turn in Florida (liquidambar), but we'll take what we can get!

I worked from home today, as I had to wait for a furniture delivery (how very exciting and very domestic!). I didn't used to like working from home, because I like to keep a very strong separation between work and home (probably from too many years of being a student), but I've come to realise that I actually get a whole lot more done when I'm at home. I suppose part of it is that I feel slightly guilty about not having to schlep into work, so feel like I need to make up for it, but also because I can just sit here with music playing, without the phone ringing and without any distractions. It's like studying - I could never study anywhere with lots of distractions (though somehow I did manage the art of studying in coffeshops, which is probably part of why I now have crap vision). Oh well. Anyway, a productive day was had at home, and I didn't even have to fend of any Jehovah's Witnesses (though I did have to fend off one guy trying to sell fish). Jehovah's Witnesses - we tend to get those on the weekend - not so surprising, given that we live near a Kingdom Hall. I always tell them I'm Jewish and that all my housemates are Jewish too. That usually throws them - I suppose they figure that it's a real religion, and sort of a precursor to their religion (even though it's clearly the WRONG religion), so by the time they recover I've said my goodbye and shut the door. Of course, they always still manage to shove the Watchtower through the mail slot. I try... They always seem to have a small child in the front, handing out the Watchtower. Now if said child was selling Girl Scout cookies, that would be a different story, but, sadly, they don't do that here, and the Watchtower doesn't taste very good. Hmm - apparently, someone walked off and left me running.

Anyway.

Didn't do much exciting over the weekend - David and I looked at rugs at John Lewis (ooh, hold me back), and we walked around and looked at brown/red leaves in Hyde Park (like I said, we take what we can get). Maybe this weekend I will actually manage a bike ride, if the weather isn't crapalicious. It's getting to that time of the year when it's just as likely to be horrible as anything else. That and it's getting darker noticeably earlier every day. The light has done its shift to winter light (very low, evening-like). It just seems to shift one day, as if there is an angle of incidence (I think that's what it was called - can't remember) - anyway, as if there was a certain angle that suddenly, things look all wintery. California really doesn't get it, b/c it's not far north enough, except right around the winter solstice. I do very much like the winter light here though, the deep shadows, that sort of thing. David has said that the low light makes him nauseous. But then, David is a bit of a fruitcake (unlike me).

David at First Out Cafe, which just closed because of CrossRail, which they are building across London. The cafe was here for 25 years and I think I first visited it 16 or 18 years ago. Really good for hearty veggie food (it was a lesbian cafe, so not much meat on the premises). I'll miss it.

Did this man perhaps forget the rest of his car?

First Out Cafe.

Yeah, that was built into the wall of a toilet cubicle, which, incidentally, had frosted glass in the door. Certainly inspires confidence!

David smiles for his proud pumpkin. Unfortunately, we missed most of the Trick or Treaters, as we weren't home early enough, but we did get quite a lot of candy, before David took the rest of it to his work. How dull.

Yeah, I will never be a brain surgeon.

Ruskin Park (next door to us), looking east towards our neighbourhood.

Looking into the centre of Ruskin Park.

Ruskin Park, looking towards central London.

Our street, from Ruskin Park.

Bern

2011-10-25T17:05:00.001+01:00

Back at work today, feeling tired and cranky from lack of sleep after a really fantastic weekend visiting Kathleen in Bern. I need to be better at using these breaks to help me to make positive change in my life, rather than coming back and moping around that everything isn’t as perfect as it could be. Anyway, enough whining- I did buy a nice cover for my bicycle, so now I can officially take it on all the European trains (they don’t require it in the UK). Now I just need to start planning European bike trips! Anyway, I wrote out my thoughts as the trip went along, and the pics are HERE.

22/10

Currently in a small, propeller driven puddle jumper, somewhere over Belgium. I’m in a row of one, which is fab, right next to the propeller, which is very big and spinning very fast. Definitely seen too many airplane disaster movies. In further proof that we are not flying in the USA (which is obviously much more dangerous), the flight attendant is standing in the cockpit, with the door wide open, having a lovely chat with the pilot, who is blocking out the rising sun with his outstretched hand. Hmm. Anyway, I flew out of London City, which is an absolute joy. It’s a little microdink airport in the Docklands – zero wait and zero hassle. You don’t even have to show your boarding card – just touch it to the gate, which opens automatically to let you go to security. Getting to the airport should be easy as well, but, this being London, very early on a Saturday morning, that never actually happens. So, I was up at 445. Ugh. And, being slow and generally useless at that hour, I missed the 558 bus. I then did something I thought was very clever, which was to take the next bus the other direction, to Brixton, where I could get the Tube. Except, the Victoria Line wasn’t running. Gack – really too tired to be dealing with this! So, it was onto another bus, to the Tube, to another Tube, to the Docklands Light Railway, and then, miraculously, I was only 20 minutes late to the airport. Anyway, all this excitement for a two night visit to Bern to see Kathleen.

Checking out the landscape below, I think, hmm – it would make a fabulous 700 mile bike ride. Hmm.

Oh yeah, it’s always amusing flying foreign airlines – the little things they do differently. Breakfast was some sort of pink yogurty muesli thing with fruit in it – looked a lot like cat barf, but actually tasted nice and a slightly wooden croissant. And, the woman across from me was allowed to fly with her suitcase sitting on the floor, belted in with the seatbelt. Wow.

Just reading a history of planning in GB – I learned that a house, approximately the size of ours, could be bought for £825 in the 1930s. My new bike cost £900. The deposit for the house was £45. Amazing.

OK, I’m convinced I need a camera again. I’ve been using my phone for years with generally good results, but there are, for example, beautiful patterns in the fog below and I can’t turn my phone on to take a picture.

Asshole behind me keeps sneezing. Is it socially acceptable to smother him?

Hmm, flying up to the Alps you really can see how it looks like a smushed up carpet (that’s a scientific term). Gorgeous with fog and autumn leaves. I want a camera!

Funny thought – we took off out of London’s protective blanket of smog. We land in Bern’s protective blanket of fog. Who’s to say which is better?

Sitting on a bench at a school in Bern now, waiting for Kathleen to finish her volleyball game. I spent several hours just wandering, which I love. Bern is such a beautiful city (pics to follow) and very walkable. Every time I go to a German speaking place, I have to say I really appreciate the sense of order. Things are clean and function well. People get upset when the train is a minute late, whereas in England it is considered officially on time if it is less than five minutes late. I realise there is crime and social problems in the German countries, but there is also an overall sense that things should be “just so”. That can cause problems, in itself, for sure (as evidenced by naughty behaviour of the Germans in the past), and I do very much appreciate, for example, the British wackiness that really lacks here. I don’t at all miss the “chav” or “gangsta” culture. But then, I think England has always been essentially held together by string – it’s always been a big mess, yet somehow it works. It somehow managed to take over most of the world, searching, I’m sure, for better cuisine. I’ve always wondered if I could live in a German country, or if I would miss the British absurdity. London is sort of like New York in that it’s a huge mess – nothing ever works properly, everything is always delayed, everything is expensive. Yet, I miss it when I’m away. It’s probably a good place to be.

23/10

Well, today was a bit of a whirlwind!

Anyway, I went to the end of Kathleen’s volleyball game yesterday (as mentioned), where I had definite proof that yes, I am a big homosexual. I walked into this gym full of very fit women in very short shorts, whacking the volleyball over the net, running around, shouting, and hugging each other between each hit. If ever there were a hetero wankfest it was that. And my worry? What would I do if the ball came towards me? Sigh.

We all went, last night, after dinner, down the hill to the river to a volleyball/handball event/party at this sort of dance club in the attic of an old industrial building (reminded me of a converted barn). Fortunately, there were English speakers there, because my Schweiz Deutsch is a bit muy crappo. Anyway, a lot of BSing with various people of sundry nationalities, and I had 4 beers, which is about 3 over my recommended intake. I didn’t get to bed until about 230 and didn’t sleep well because of the alcohol.

Needless to say, this morning was a little rough. But, I managed to straggle out of bed (futon) about 10 and we went off for fantastic brunch in a converted old house. It was a buffet, and the thing about me and buffets is that I tend to eat the whole buffet. Moo. So, suitably blobular, we wandered back to Kathleen and Nik’s, via the supermarket at the train station (the only one open in central Bern on Sunday, as they seem to roll up the sidewalks).

I then ran off about 1/100th of bunch along the river, and after, the weather having cleared from morning fog, Kathleen and I took the tram and the funicular up to the top of a 1000 or so foot tall hill at the edge of the city. The views were absolutely magnificent, off towards the Alps and back towards Bern, and, it being late afternoon/early evening and autumn, the sun was low, the colours all shades of red and gold, and the whole thing was, well, pretty damn amazing. I so wish we had something like this in London – I think that if David and I ever leave London, it’s going to be because of this. I’ve come to realize that I really do need my nature – so does David, even move – and we just don’t get it in SE England.

Sigh.

Anyway, we were very brave and climbed to the top of a 70 or so foot tall tower with a see-through metal mesh floor. I had to walk around like a little old lady, clinging desperately to the railings. Then it was back to Nik & Kathleen’s for pumpkin soup (yum) and fab bread, salmon and a surely no-fat cream and sugar and raspberry dessert. I most certainly can’t complain!

Bed early tonight because OMG am I exhausted, and up at 645 tomorrow.

24/10

I’m killing time today before heading to the airport. I was up with Kathleen & Nik at 645 and went for a misty, early morning run along the Aare. I wandered some after that, did a short gym workout and purchased a bike cover for taking my bike on European trains. They don’t sell them in the UK, from what I have found, because they aren’t required on British trains.

I took the train then down to meet Kathleen for lunch (sauerkraut and meat – yum!) and have been wandering the past hour in the hills above the town. There are marked trails everywhere, forests, farms and entirely unmarked roads, weaving throughout. Must be a nightmare to find anything in a car!

I’m now sitting atop a hill, overlooking cowfields (and smelling of cowshit). Below is an interesting juxtaposition of civilisation and nature. Gumligen (with two little doodahs over the u), a distant suburb of Bern, fades away into cowfields and forests, behind which, as a jagged white wall, are the peaks of the Alps. Every now and then, a tram or train toodles across the valley, and the sounds are an odd mix of the familiar urban din, church bells (there are a lot of church bells here), cow bells (a lot of those too) and some sort of crickety things. I like Switzerland – it’s cool!

Bern Airport is, hands down, the best airport experience I’ve ever had. Set amongst cowfields at the edge of Bern, it has one terminal, one checkin, one security and one gate. It took approximately ten minutes from entering the building to arriving at the gate. The plane took approximately five minutes to load (a bit leisurely, perhaps, given that there were only about ten people), and then, as the only plane taking off at that particular time, we drove out onto the runway, drove to the end, pulled a U-ey and then seriously hauled ass, taking off in about 64 feet. Of course, the slight down side about being in a little puddle jumper when there is weather moving in is that it bounces about like a cork. Ugh.

Funny moment on the plane – the door to the toilet was stuck, so the flight attendant pulled out a – wait for it – Swiss Army Knife and pried it open. And now she’s up there chatting again with the pilots – cockpit door wide open. If ever there was a demonstration that all the drama about flying is totally, 100% unnecessary, this flight is it!

Oh, and finally, ham for victory!

Good God, it's halfway though October!

2011-10-16T18:57:00.000+01:00

So yeah, today was one of those absolutely perfect autumn days when you wake up and think, "hmm, I need to do something outdoorsy today"). So, I finally went for a nice long bike ride on my new bike (63 miles). Robin spent the day wandering around town, and David seems to have kept the couch comfortable. Hmm. I don't honestly know how anyone manages to spend the entire day inside. Anyway, I've been spending a lot of time and effort trying to find a new job. So far, no luck, though I have had several interviews. Apparently I'm not good enough at selling myself. I also need a new suit. I don't know the first thing about suits, and I have managed 38 years so far without being able to tie a tie properly. Sigh - I just want to be able to spend my time in shorts and flip flops.

Hmm - let's see. Last weekend (when David was still in Alabama), Robin and I and a few friends went out clubbing to a leather/rubber club. I used to really enjoy going out, but my nights out are beginning to feel a bit like Eddie and Patsy adventures. So, we all suited and booted (so to speak) - we went out to paint the night red. The venue was very good and there were loads of interesting people there, but, the club being in an old enclosed parking lot (underneath the railroad arches), it didn't actually have any built in plumbing, meaning that they had to bring in portapotties. Well, you put together the combination of hundreds of men, many of them going rather unspeakable things to each other (and completely off their nuts on this, that and the other), and about 10 portapotties, and you have, well, I'm surprised I didn't get cholera (though I suppose that would require that there actually be running water?). Hmm. Anyway, I spent half the night nauseous, Robin was just exhausted, and our friend Leonel was shat upon by a pigeon in the rafters. Tried to convince him it was good luck, but I don't think he was having any of it. So, a great time was had by all! I think I do better sticking with cycling, or perhaps gardening.

Not a lot else, really - just some pics...

Oh wait - I forgot - I actually saw a guy cycling the other day carrying a kitchen sink. Unfortunately, I did not get a picture of that...

Ah yeah - the glitz and glamour of Soho! ;-)

The end of summer...

Can't remember the name of the town, but it was cute...

Smiling hay bale... :-)

Affairs guaranteed?

Damn! ;-)

The lovely, and badly named town of Limpsfield...

Cows and house...

South Downs, looking east...

South Downs, looking south.

My kinda road... ;-)

New Toy!

2011-09-29T21:06:00.000+01:00

So, I just spent a gargantuan amount of money on a new toy - a new bike to replace my disaster-prone old bike, which I am now going to sell. It's a Cannondale Bad Boy R SLX, which, besides having a really cool name, is actually a super zippy and fun bike. Robin, who also has a (now 3 year old) Cannondale, is salivating, and I can't wait to take it out on a long ride this weekend. Now-just need to clean up old bike, put it on E-Bay, and see how much money I can get out of it (as well as hope that this new bike isn't quite such a Calamity-Jane-Mobile as that which it replaces). Fingers crossed!

Wabbit

2011-09-25T21:22:00.001+01:00

So, I went to the supermarket today, and noticed that they were selling rabbit in the meat aisle. Apparently it's bunny season. I thought, hey, why not, so brought home 300g of rabbit (about 1.5 lbs or so). Now I haven't the foggiest idea how to cook up rabbit, but, conveniently, this was already diced up into chunks, so I thought chunks means stir fry! Good God did it stink! I have this Jamaican spice thingie that says it's good on all meat, so I figured, hey, it's meat, so load it up (I wonder why I don't have a Michelin star?). Cooked some veggies to go with it. Finished cooking it and had a taste. Bleh! Quick, spaghetti sauce to the rescue! Safe to say, the bunnies of Great Britain will not be in any danger from me. Oh yeah, I also crunched down on a BB. I wonder if that's good luck or something? Fortunately, I still have all my teeth.

Anyway, I spent this weekend going from bike store to bike store, looking at bikes. What a pain in the behind that is. I've been to twelve stores so far and have yet to actually try a bike, though I'm going to a store tomorrow over lunch that, hopefully, has something that I want! I've had my current bike for 3 1/2 years. In that time I've broken three frames, and have replaced every single part on that bike (save for the cranks, the handlebars and the front derailleur) numerous times. The bike has just attracted bad luck. The latest thing to go wrong, and the final straw, came after I took my bike in b/c the back wheel was going all wonky. Turned out it had cracked in numerous places, which it shouldn't have done, given that it was less than a year old. So, the bike store said they would replace it under warranty. So far so good. However, the one they were supposed to get was back ordered until October, so they got something "just as good". Yeah. I pick up my bike, hoping to not be back there for a while (I am there very frequently), and two miles from the store, there is an almighty bang and my back tire blows right off the rim. Well, as it turns out, in red letters on the side of the rim, it says that the maximum pressure is 60psi. My tires are 120psi. Houston, we have a problem. I didn't read the rim when I left the bike store, as one assumes that they notice these sorts of things. That's it. It is time for a new bike - time to hit the fall sales and quit pouring money into this bike! They are going to be oh so pleased to see me again in the morning.

Last weekend, David and I went off to Brussels for the weekend, both to get out of London, and to see my friend Alex. We got up at the crap of dawn on Saturday (515) to get the train over there, and spent the next two days wandering about. Got back on the Sunday night. It was a nice time, and Brussels is actually a very interesting, and very beautiful city, but OMG I was so tired the whole thing seems a little bit like a blur, and I spent the entire time totally and completely lost. Ah, the stuff that memories are made of (or not, as it might be). And - the Sunday we were there was "car-free Sunday". In the entire city of Brussels (which is not a small city), the only motor powered vehicles allowed were busses, emergency vehicles, taxis and certain cars with permits. It was great! (Only happens once per year, apparently). I wish they would do that here, but my God, the police they would need to get that to work in London!

Pics tomorrow - it's too late now and I have to go make my lunch for tomorrow!

Yeah, I'm afraid it's autumn...

2011-09-14T21:23:00.000+01:00

The trees have that sort of end of summer strained look - like they really aren't entirely sure what to do - perhaps they've stayed around at the party too long? It's getting noticeably darker every day (this happens very quickly at 52 degrees north), the nights are getting a bit nippy and the quality of light is changing. Winter light here is very, well, very high in contrast, as the sun is so low, and there seems to be a particular sun angle where this suddenly starts to happen - it no longer looks summery. This is just now starting to happen. It's easy to forget that while it never actually gets very cold here (as attested to by the numerous palms and eucalyptus), winter is, actually, pretty long - just about as long as Minnesota. David came downstairs a few minutes ago in his big fluffy bathrobe and socks and said it might be time to think about getting a better thermostat, as it's just about time to put the radiators on. Sigh. Funny thing - the work radiators, as with, it seems, most of the official buildings, are turned on on a particular date, regardless of the weather. The result of this is that there are many days where the radiators are on, the air conditioners are on and the windows are open. Now that's government efficiency for you!

David's birthday was on the 11th - we went for pub dinner, which was very nice. We all managed to entirely avoid all the 911 festivities. While I would agree that is good and proper to have some sort of memorial service, I find just about every single that has happened as a result of that awful day entirely revolting and didn't want any part in any official hoopla. Anyway - deep breath...

Not much else exciting. Gotta get my rear wheel re-trued - it's getting all wonky again - like so many other things having to do with my rear. ;-)

The view of London this evening...

Dolly Rocks

2011-09-10T22:38:00.000+01:00

Thirty years ago, in the back seat of the carpool car, on the way to third grade, I first heard "9 to 5". I had absolutely no idea what the song was about (in the same way that I thought "Let's get Physical" was about PE class). Not too sure why that song stuck so much, but it's always been one of my absolute favorite songs. I used to wake David up with the song in the morning (as loud as I could play it, of course), and, over the years, I've pretty much never heard a Dolly Parton song I didn't like. Last year, David and went to Dollywood, which, I have to say, was fabulous.

So, Thursday night we all finally went to a Dolly concert - my first ever. In fact, it was only the second concert of any sort I've ever been to. That woman - 65 years old - really knows how to put on a show. Not only can she get out there and belt it out, but my God, is there an instrument she can't play? Piano, dulcimer, harp, saxaphone, recorder, harmonica, guitar and banjo. We sat way up in the nosebleed section of the O2 Arena (the former Millenium Dome) - not even the cheap section either - $135 each, approximately, and we shared binoculars (though there were very large screens to watch as well). Anyway - yeah - I very much recommend a Dolly concert.

The funny thing is here, where there isn't really any sort of cowboy culture, I had no idea what to expect in the audience. I was not disappointed by the number of gay men - lots and lots and lots of them. It was mostly middle aged, slightly frumpy women though. Lots of married couples, lots of oldies. Not so many kids. And wow - talk about a good place to play "Spot the Ethnic Minority" - you've never seen such a bunch of white folks gathered in such a multi-ethnic city! Oh yeah - lots of pink and white fluffy cowboy hats, a few people in full-on Dolly outfits, and one guy in bad Dolly drag, singing "Jolene" in the Tube stop. It was fantastic.

Even lusher - it's amazing what spreading a bunch of chicken shit on flowers will do!

The view from Box Hill, about 25 miles south of London.

The O2 - where we saw Dolly.

Development along the Thames.

Yes, really - Dolly Parton is down there in all that light. I'm sure her aura overwhelmed my lens... ;-)

A bit of the Dolly crowd, after the concert...

Sunday Sunday!

2011-09-04T12:27:00.000+01:00

So, Robin and David are blobbed out in front of the TV, watching French rugby. Now, I can understand watching rugby from purely aesthetic purposes - any sport where beefy men run around and grab each other's heinies is just fine with me (though, to be honest, I have no ideas about the rules, save for having to pass backwards, which is why they run while looking backwards, which I would find very difficult). Anyway though, Robin is actually cheering them on, getting involved in the sport. Eh? Was ist das feigned heterosexuality? I'm shocked and appalled, and not sure such filth should be allowed in this house.

Anyway, it's grey and shitty out today, which has inspired a lot of lethargy and inaction.

BTW, the French announcer keeps saying 'touche', which I find very funny.

So, I didn't get the job - 'lack of experience' - which is kind of funny, given that I thought the whole point of this job was to offer someone experience. I think it may have more to do with me arguing with members of this person's team, way back when he had a different role, but I can never prove that. So yeah, I'm disappointed and upset, but I've been working on a plan to really increase my GIS skills over the next short while, which I think might be more in my interest.

Went for a nice 61 mile bike ride yesterday - big loop. I find few things as therapeutic as a nice bike ride. Neither David nor Robin really understand that, which is fine - I'm more than happy to be out peddling my ass around on my own. (Hmm).

Funny things I've seen in the past two days:

1. Kid riding his bike through heavy London traffic while sitting backwards on the seat. (That is both very clver and very stupid - I certainly couldn't do it though).
2. Guy yesterday, clad in white lycra (eek!), roped onto two car tires, which he was pulling up a hill behind him. Either I was witnessing some sort of fun new religious rite, or he's a cross country skier. Note to self not to do that though.

Right - I've had enough 'touche' for the moment - think it's time to go shower and get on with my day. Yippy skippy!

Put on my purple suede shoes?

2011-09-01T16:40:00.001+01:00

Well, I had my interview today. I managed not to pee on anyone’s shoes or shout loud obscenities, so I suppose that’s pretty good. Local government interviews are always long. First there was an hour long ‘technical test’, which was mostly about how much I could regurgitate from PRINCE2 or ITIL, with a few random techie questions thrown in just for fun. I was then given a presentation topic and an hour to prepare. Topic was about project managing an IT systems change in the Environmental Health department. I got to write stuff up on large pieces of paper with permanent markers. After an hour of doing that in a small, poorly ventilated room, I’m very surprised I had any brain cells left. Finally – presentation and fifty minutes of being grilled by two people. At least it wasn’t a panel interview, nor did the process take the entire day like the last time I did this. Apparently, it’s between me and one other person – I think we are both probably about equally qualified to do it, so we’ll see. Should know tomorrow. And despite my generally grumpy comments yesterday about not being interested, I am actually interested – I like studying processes behind things, and think I could probably apply that to an organization, as well as the natural environment. Plus, it would be an experience.

I actually had a new version last night of my barefoot dream (usually involving running around in a city with no shoes, and trying to get somewhere entirely random on public transport). Last night someone offered me a pair of purply/brown, suede Nikes (don’t question – it’s my dream). I asked them if they were actually running shoes, and they said that yes, they were. I decided that I would accept them, even though they looked odd, as I could see how they would get me to where I was going. Maybe that was prophetic? I suppose I’ll see!

I'm pretty sure summer happened on Thursday, about 6:45pm

2011-08-31T20:17:00.000+01:00

Yeah, so, it's the last day of August and it's grey and yicky out. Apparently, the UK just had the coldest summer in 18 years, after the warmest spring since the dawn of time. I read a Guardian article recently that said that people would take a lot more notice of climate change if it were called "global weirding" rather than "global warming", people would take a lot more notice. Unless Jesus got involved, in which case the conversation would drop to the intellectual level of puppies, but that's another story.

Anyway.

Much hand wringing has occurred since the riots. There are still some windows boarded up here and there, and the occasional burned out building, but does it really feel like anything profound has changed? No, not really. For about a week there was a lot more police presence (though it never felt overbearing, as I imagine it would in the USA), and we saw things like Welsh police around here "Heddlu", I think they are called. They throw sheep at you if you misbehave or something.

Robin just walked up and said he would like me to say that he just got invited to an "exclusive" sex club. I've never gotten invited to an exclusive sex club. I'm terribly jealous now and hope that he gets crabs. Big hairy ones.

So yeah, police - I suppose there are some more of them about, but it really does almost feel like nothing happened, which, in a way, kind of reinforces the general feeling that the riots, while they may have, at their origin, been about something, were really, mostly, just about getting stuff. Not much different than mugging at the street corner really. An opportunity was had. Interestingly, Hackney made a real effort to clean things up, very quickly. Walworth Road, down closer to where we live, not so much. Still lots of boarded up windows. There was one area, outside of London, where the riots were described as causing "£10 million in improvements". Kind of amusing. One other things that I found interesting, and that was actually reported fairly well, is that while the initial impression of rioters, in London, was that they were predominantly black, this changed as they moved outside, as they moved north. The northern riots were mostly white, which is, not so surprisingly, very much a reflection of the ethnic makeup of the lower classes in these areas.

Right - so, tomorrow I have an interview for the business analyst position, which would initially be for six months. Truth be told, I'm not all that hugely thrilled about the whole thing, mostly because I really couldn't give a rat crap about business processes or project management, but it would pay a lot more and would give me more time to look for something I really wanted. What I really want is to climb volcanoes or model climate or do something that involves science, and not bureaucracy and people and local governmental bullshit, but I think I kind of missed that bus.

Funny enough, I finally, after all these years, came up with a degree idea that actually has to do with geography and local governmental bullshit - did I mention this before? Can't remember and I'm too lazy to check. Anyway, it has occurred to me that it would be really interesting to look at how the overly bureaucratic and now-focussed culture of local government is reflected in the built environment in this country (as local government is, generally speaking, responsible for planning decisions). I ran this idea past work, as they do sometimes pay for degrees and as I think it is kind of theoretically important and unexplored, and as if to prove my point, they said no, because they don't see any way it can directly relate to my job. Yeah. I need out of local government, but I'm just not sure how. That is the current plan. Somehow.

Oh, funny story - I went to a friend's moving-out party the other night. I show up in shorts and t-shirt on my bike, and discover that the part is very "A-Gay" (fashionable and pretty). So - already feeling a little bit like a dork. Then this white cat wanders into the flat. My friend had never seen the cat before, and, this being a room full of gay men, no one seemed to know what to do with this wandering pussy. So, being the hero, I walked over to the cat, bent over and scooped it up. Surprisingly, the cat was fine about being picked up. My shorts, however, were not. The button, which was on its last legs anyway, gave up, popped off, and flew across the room, and my shorts nearly ended up around my ankles. Yeah - definitely looking really cool. Fortunately, my shorts, being A&F, had an internal draw-string. Still though, if the ground could have opened up and swallowed me...

House - the house is looking even more houselike. We're finally replacing the god-awful bare bulbs the previous owners left hanging from the ceiling. We got a dining table and some really cool green chairs. And the back yard actually looks not bad. We had a bbq on Sunday - big success - first time we trashed the kitchen! Yay!

Apparently that's Mexico's national car or something... ;-)

Robin smoking a ciggie in the rain. How butch.

Our front hedge reminds me of "The Thing", with its little whip tendrils all over...

A field of poppies.

View from the North Downs.

It's a purple tree!

My bday - milk in champagne flutes. How fabulous! (And yes, Robin does actually occasionally wear a shirt...)

The Shard - ever higher, ever uglier!

Justin...

Justin and Luke

Yeah, that's not tacky at all!

David launches Sputnik in the kitchen...

Our new front light.

Sputnik again, or the stair light.

A very helpful street sign!

Back yard - looking lush!

Marigolds in place of ivy...

Rainbow on Thames

London Burning

2011-08-09T21:30:00.000+01:00

Oh what a mess. We are witnessing the underclass rebellion, and what do they want? Hoodies and big screen TVs! Things seem a bit quieter in London tonight - possibly because there are 16000 police on the streets (instead of 6000 last night), as well as groups of vigilantes, just waiting for a fight. Funny thing is, in central London, you could be almost forgiven for thinking that there was nothing going on. There are still mobs of tourists roving about, the shows are still on, nothing seems amiss. Not so true if you head out of the center just a bit. The list of areas hit in London reads pretty much like a list of London's black neighborhoods. We were evacuated from work yesterday at about 430 because hooded youth (mostly black) had already started throwing bricks at the already assembled riot cops (mostly white). The official story is that it all started with a stop and search, when the kid refused, but that's bullshit. Stores were closing up at lunchtime because everyone knew something was going to kick off, and there were already riot cops in front of Town Hall. All the little shits needed was an excuse to start throwing things. And they threw, and they looted, and they burned. I didn't go into work today, and those that did were told to leave about 12, because more trouble was expected. To Hackney's credit though, there was an army of people out this morning with brooms - mostly, and I hate to point this out, white. Anyway, there have been riots all over the city, the nearest about a mile from where we live. There were about 30 youths chased into the local train station last night, and a group of hooded, gloved (black) young men congregating outside our house late last night, off to, I would imagine, not a piano recital. It's really been quite terrifying, and we all made sure to be home and inside tonight before dark. They looted the main shopping street heading north from here last night, and there were several huge fires started overnight around the city. Most of the violence has been against businesses, but there have been a number of houses broken into, diners in restaurants attacked, cyclists attacked, pretty much anyone in the wrong area at the wrong time attacked. Tonight the worst of it seems to have shifted out of London - kind of expected, since all the cops in the country are here. Interestingly, in London, for the most part, they targeted the shopping streets in shitty areas (because they were nearby and convenient, I suppose). Tonight, in the other cities, they are targeting the city center shopping areas, with all the big department stores. The police have said they may start using rubber bullets (which they have never done in England, though it is a regular occurrence in Northern Ireland). They have, at the moment, ruled out water cannons, tear gas or the army, but those are all under discussion. What I find really shocking about this is not so much that it has happened - the UK has a mean underclass, many of whom have never worked, and families who have been on welfare for generations. What is shocking to me is how sudden and widespread it has become - but then, I suppose that is part of the power of social media. They were just waiting for an excuse, and the police shooting in Tottenham was what they wanted. I wonder why it was that one, rather than any one of a number of other police fuckups? I really wonder what is going to be the outcome of this? I suppose the US has been having all the flashmobs lately, and Paris had huge riots a number of years ago. This country doesn't have a curfew, but that is one of the options they are discussing at the moment. I do think it's going to lead to some pretty overly agressive policing in the future (Northern Ireland?), as well as really piss poor race relations for a while, and I think it's going to finally end Britain's experiment in multiculturalism (which has been fizzling lately anyway). Unlike the US or Europe or pretty much anywhere else, the UK, I suppose because it is divided up into various little internal countries that dislike each other, has never been really big on pushing what it is to be British - insisting instead on a multicultural mosaic where everything is as good as everything else. The result of that is that it's a tiny little crowded country with many groups of people that have absolutely dipshit to do with each other, and no overriding sense of cohesiveness. That and the fact that you could get lifetime welfare and a place to live simply by being able to breathe independently and pop out babies has left the country with a pretty astounding number of people who do absolutely nothing except hang out. Hackney is one of the worst places for that - I think something like 30% of the housing is owned by the council, and it ain't nice. Anyway, the vast majority of London remains here and in one piece, but OMG I've never experienced anything like what's been going on here the last few days! Our cleaner (yes, we have a cleaner), who is from Albania, said the last time she saw anything like this was in 1997 in Albania, and Der Spiegel just ran an article comparing London with Mogadishu. Fab.

Wet and Squishy

2011-07-20T21:10:00.000+01:00

Yep - it must be the middle of the summer, because it's grey and yucky and cold. We have had, it seems, an endless parade of rainy shitty days lately. A few days it has rained all day, and lately, it's been alternating between clear and absolutely pissing it down with giant buckets of rain. On the plus side, it's very green out - all the nasty crunchy deadness of spring seems to have washed away. It does kind of make cycling a bit difficult though. I was supposed to gym today after work, but got caught in an enormous downpour. I was so wet I actually had to dump out my shoes. Not surprisingly, I went home so I could take a hot shower - nothing like shivering in the middle of July. Oh well - better than drought.

Speaking of bike, I recently bought two new "puncture resistant" tires (tyres). Yeah right. The first one blew out the sidewall when I got it to about 60 psi. The second one lasted a bit longer. I decided to suffer through having two different tires on my bike until I could decide what to do. Fortunately, I didn't have to suffer long. The second one (on the back) hit some invisible object in the middle of a very busy intersection and deflated over the course of about two secondds, leaving me with the great pleasure of walking home, through a bad neigbhborhood, in the increasing dark. I did try returning the first one to the bike store. I still had the label but not the receipt. The nice older guy who first helped me was going to do the return, but the pimple faced jackass store manager wouldn't allow it, because there was no receipt. So, I just dropped the tire on the floor and walked out. Little pimply faced shit. Hmph!

Oh, in a sure indication that David and I are becoming way too domesticated, we went to the Hampton Court Flower Show. Talk about middle class Middle England! We played a fun game of "spot the ethnic minority" and had a lovely time ooing and ahhing over the show gardens and displays of flowers. Now, if we could only get our tiny garden to look like that.

Hmm- I'm sure there is something else exciting going on, but my brain seems to be tapioca at the moment and I can't think of what it is.

I suppose, in other world shattering news, we are going to actually get a dining table tomorrow, and maybe even some chairs to go with it! We still don't have any curtains on the downstairs front window, and God only knows when we'll actually get anything painted. Manana manana...

Oh, I know - vaguely amusing to me... Last weekend Robin's friend Mike was over here from Munich. Mike is an absolute sweety who owns a sex store. Last weekend was Fetish Weekend in London (I'm sure it made all the newspapers). I thought about going out - getting all dressed up in tiny little rubber shorts and big black boots (I am either proud or embarrassed to admit that I own a tiny little pair of rubber shorts, but that's another story). ANYWAY, it was Fetish Weekend, with a number of clubs and bars having big events (lots of men and some women, mostly in leather or rubber, some uniforms... Many of them take it just a little too seriously, but really - it's all grownups playing dressup - I think it's fun). So, Robin and Mike went out, but I was feeling boring, so I did not. I'm sure our street was amused at Mike's hairy ass peeking out of his leather chaps as they walked down the road, but then, this is a pretty gay neighborhood - I'm sure they have seen worse. What a fun little weird gay household I live in... :-)

Not much else - I've got some recent pics, including flower show (not Fetish Weekend), but I'm too lazy to upload them at the moment.

Oh oh oh, I know the other thing... We all went to listen to Gillian Weir play the organ at St Paul's Cathedral. There were also several choirs and the Birmingham Symphony (I think it was the Birmingham Symphony - there were a lot of people playing a lot of instruments and it sounded vaguely classical... ;-) They packed St Paul's (and that's a lot of people), and we got to sit up under the dome, which was pretty fantastic. The audience - old people and gay men. It's funny how often those two groups will be together. And we just paid a shitload of money to go see Dolly Parton in September. Apparently it's her last concert, and it is selling very quickly. I absolutely can't wait - I've never seen Dolly in concert, though I have been to Dollywood... I can't even begin to imagine what that audience will be like, but it will also, most likely, be absolutely crammed to the rafters with gay men. We're everywhere.

How fabulous.

Passport from the Planet Purple

2011-07-07T12:00:00.001+01:00

Woohoo, I got my British passport today! It's got a purple cover and a micrcochip in it, which means that I can go through the automated gate at immigration. It also means that I don't have to wait in the goats and chickens line behind the flight from Mumbai. Wee, I can't wait to use it at the first time! (Have to remember though to use the USA passport going back to the USA because they get their knickers in a twist if you use a foreign passport and you are still a US citizen...

An Interesting Few Weeks...

2011-07-05T21:03:00.000+01:00

So, I've been applying for jobs, including my manager's old job. It would have been managing the GIS team at Hackney, and would actually be quite a techie job. My colleague got it instead, and, to be honest, he really should have, as he's much more technically minded than I am. The process applying was the most difficult for any job to which I've applied so far. We had the usual interview, plus a 10 minute presentation, for which we were given our topic and given an hour to prepare. There was a technical test, and, more unusually, a half-day personalitiy and management styles assessment by an outside company. Turns out I'm a really good people manager, but I have suckass timekeeping (knew that) and I'm disorganized (knew that as well). Apparently, I am very analytical, but I do not have the type of mind to become a software developer. We all had to take this sort of test and I bombed the big one. So, the head of the department has pulled me aside and told me I really (really really) should apply for one of the business analyst/project manager jobs they have going. Say what? She (a former GIS person) told me that, essentially, my technical skills are not good enough, and will likely never be good enough to compete with people 10 years my junior (ah, feeling old - how nice), and that she really thinks I would be very good at this (basically studying processes within the organization) and that she has recommended to the head of IT that I apply. Uh, OK - I guess there is some similarity between processes of the world and processes of a governmental organization, and yes, I can see how it could be quite interesting. But, eh? Total career change! I guess, or not. I don't know, actually. Somehow I've gone from geology to geography to business processes. How utterly bizarre. Now I'd be the first to say that I don't really give a ratcrap about business processes, and my boss was gracious enough to point out to me that no, I don't really care about the business (I don't), but she thinks I would be good at it and that, for no other reason than experience and for major resume points, give it a try. OK - I suppose... It would mean going through another major application process (this being local government, nothing is ever just given away), but I'm willing to try something different. I very much like the other business analysts, so that's something - I think they are intelligent, interesting people. But me, a business analyst? I suppose though that when the head of your department, who used to do the same thing as you, pulls you aside and says stop doing what you are doing, it's a waste of time - try this - it's worth paying some attention. Anyway, will see where that goes - I'm applying for another management job as well, at another council - definitely time to move somewhere, though it would actually be nice to keep working at the same organization, as I generally like the people, and I've been there for three years!

What else...

We just passed the longest day of the year, which I always find slightly depressing. Back on the relentless march towards sunset at 3:45. Still though, June and July evenings are absolutely the best - the sunset lasts for a good hour and a half. Sunset itself is about 915, with the last remnants of light dying out of the northern sky around 11pm. It's back up just after 4. There is also a sort of blue quality to the late evening light that I've never seen further south. Robin just says that it's "twilight" and that I'm being silly, but I'm sure that I've never seen it in the US. Generally speaking, the quality of light in northern places (or, I suppose, to be fair, very southern places) is pretty amazing - much more interesting than the harsh light of, say, Florida. I particularly like the midwinter light - it's sort of perpetual evening, with long, dark shadows, and usually with low scudding clouds and hints of impending weather. I like England.

Speaking of, I applied for and got my passport, which will be delivered to me on Thursday. I had to go in for an interview, where they peppered me, at a very rapid clip, with question after question of things that only I should know - bank transactions, details about parents, my particular citizenship ceremony, etc. It was actually really stressful - I was afraid I'd get a wrong answer - get my name wrong or something. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you caught me - I am a complete fraud and shouldn't get this passport!". I'm very much looking forward to getting to go through European customs in the cool line, rather than the goats and chickens line, behind the flight from Mali. Membership has its privileges.

Fourth of July. Not a big holiday here. I worked. But I felt patriotic. Or something. We had a few friends over on Sunday evening for a bbq in the back yard. It was actually nice and didn't rain, which is good, as we've had more than a few bbqs sitting under umbrellas. We have quite a number of fireworks left over from Guy Fawkes day, last November, but decided against setting them off in our very small back yard, as we thought it might be a little awkward explaining to the neighbs why we set their back yards on fire. Oh well.

OK - some pics.

This is the new, 1000 ft tall "Shard", being built behind City Hall (aka "The Bollock").

Thames at sundown, from Waterloo Bridge, looking towards The City.

David in the weed patch, which is now actually blooming, and which a friend referred to as our "cottage garden". How charitable! Will get flower pics soon...

A rainbow, looking out from the front door.

A face only a mother could love?

David and Robin would kill me about this pic - but this is them watching something on 3D-TV. It just gives me a headache...

Rob and Frank, sitting outside Costa Coffee on Old Compton Street, on their brief foray over from Berlin!

Robin giving death rays to someone's dog in a pub.

Sundown on Northway, just around the corner from our house.

Telephone wires coming from a rather ancient pole.

Oh, I almost forgot - I had a very strange dream last night - strange even for me. First off, and I think I've said this before, I get recurring dream themes. I get water dreams when I am feeling overwhelmed (not as overwhelmed as fire) and I've been having dreams of trying to take public transportation to absurd places lately, which I link to feeling like I'm stuck in my job (in the public sector). So, last night I had a dream that I was on a large ferry. Only on this ferry, we were all strapped in like in a roller coaster, and loaded onto these sort of ferris wheels - cars, people, etc (don't ask, it was my dream). Anyway, I thought this was a bit odd, but whatever. So, then it's time for the ferry to leave, only, instead of lumbering out of the dock as one might normally expect of a ferry, it catapulted out at hundreds of miles per hours, into the air (suppose this was why we were strapped in). As it flew out of the dock, out of nowhere started playing the theme tune - Copacabana (which, incidentally, I heard last night, so at least that made sense). And then David was shaking me awake, telling me to turn my stupid alarm off. To think I nearly made it across the great body of water in the supersonic ferry, only to be thwarted by my alarm.

Typical.

"The Storm Door is Open"

2011-06-08T22:48:00.000+01:00

Yeah, that's one of those things that weather people should never say. In part, this is just b/c it sounds stupid, but also b/c it pretty much guarantees no rain, ever again... Here, the Met Office just announced that parts of England are officially in drought, with other parts, including here, "near drought". So, what does it then do? Pees it down, of course. We've had loads of rain the past few days - a good thing, for sure, but kind of amusing, nonetheless.

Our, um, "wildflower garden" is generally green, at this point (except for back in catshit corner). David and I went to the garden centre yesterday and purchased a bunch of little flowers to fill in the holes. My general idea was to get things that looked like they would fit in a weed, I mean wildflower garden, whereas David had his heart set on begonias. Yeah, those look right at home in a wildflower garden, sitting there and screaming out, "I'm a begonia, look at me in my pinkness!" I upset David by weeding the whole thing - upset him because, as far as he is concerned, they all look like plants (plant identification is not his strong suit). Anyway, if we are lucky, but sometime in the autumn we should actually have a flower or two out there!

I was supposed to finally go for a long bike ride this weekend - the first time since the end of April, but yesterday was gardening and today it rained all day. My poor lonely (and pretty much all new) bike is just sitting here, upset that it's not being used. Sigh.

Not really much going on at the moment - still trying to find a more exciting and better paying job, and slowly slowly slowly getting the house in order. Robin is off in town somewhere and David has parked his butt on the sofa to watch original Star Trek (which makes Robin retch - he is much more of a Voyager kiind of guy - much more realistic, you know... ;-) I had a very exciting day going for a run and going to the gym. Went to GNC as well to look for some new protein powder. The very lovely man who works there gave me some huge spiel on this amazing new protein powder they had, made with real glutamine, angel wings and fairy dust, and imported from America - America even! Land of beautiful people and endless opportunity (and cheap gyms). I heard something like "blah blah blah £24". Yep, sold to one silly American b/c you wore him down with your technical talk (actually, to be honest, it sounded like he swallowed the brochure - I just managed to resist saying as such, as he was, after all, pretty. Is that shallow? Probably. Anyway, the powder only tastes vaguely barf inducing (it's chocolate - I imagine the strawberry would have been just unbearable).

Yep, it's been a pretty important day... ;-)

Rainy Sunday, and Germany

2011-06-05T18:24:00.000+01:00

Well, for the first time in ages, we're finally getting decent rain. Apparently, it's been the dryest spring since the Ming Dynasty, or at least since records began, which is, surprisingly, not so long ago - only about a century here. Makes you wonder where America's obsessive record keeping came from - maybe the Germans? Anyway, we had a very exciting day buying silly amounts of things at Ikea. Robin drove the van and we only nearly had two accidents. Not bad. I made sure to wear clean underwear, just in case. I'm pretty sure it's still clean... just... ;-) David is now doing his butch thing and putting together shelves, whereas I am doing my level best to avoid any Ikea related assembly, as I'm pretty sure it says somewhere in the instuctions that I am not to touch the product until it is safely assembled.

Let's see - I applied for a British passport, which will make coming back through Heathrow more enjoyable, though, admittedly, I've kinda gotten used to the goats and chickens line every time I come back into the UK (I'm pretty sure it's officially called the Goats and Chickens Queue - Non EU and other Icky Foreigners, but I've not actually checked).

Right - the other thing I keep meaning to do is to write down my entries from Germany, where I escaped for a mini-break last week (by myself - went off to visit friends and take many trains to silly places).

---------------

26/5

There's something more impressive about stepping off a train into a foreign country than off a plane - especially when the borders are porous. This morning I was waiting for the 0727 train at our crappy local station. I connected to the Eurostar, which, two hours later, dropped me off in the heart of Brussels, at the very station where a very naive 20 year old suddenly clued in to why all these nice men were lingering about on train platforms late at night (definitely a Eureka moment). I wiled away two hours, trundling my suitcase around in a big circle, and then I was off for another two hours to Cologne on the Thalys - a much shinier, but noticeably slower international train.

The cool thing about travelling around the Continent is that, with the open borders, it only becomes clear that we are in Germany because the little towns suddenly become insanely neat and the license plates change. I'm now sitting outside a Starbucks, across from the Cologne Cathedral (Dom), watching Japanese tourists take pictures of themselves taking pictures, and enjoying the late spring sun. Sometimes, globalization is cool. I'm off to Bonn in a bit, to meet a friend I met on the Internet about seven years ago, and then, Saturday, it's off, by train, to Berlin. I haven't done many random trips by myself over the past few years - I've not felt settled enough. Neither David nor Robin especially understand why I like to do this (though David is, admittedly, much better than Robin) - sometimes it's nice to just float along by oneself, though it's also true that I'm very glad I'm meeting friends in Bonn and Berlin.

--------------

28/5

So, Britain has a bit of an inferiority complex about its trains. They are pokey and old and always late and break down and blah blah blah. I'm sitting on the (very pretty) ICE train, somewhere east of Hannover, randomly stopped for no particularly good reason. How very British. Anyway, I'm taking the train today from Bonn to Berlin. I stayed two nights in Bonn - a rather sleepy but very pretty city on the Rhein. Apparently - it wasn't bombed much - too boring. Lots of big old houses, huge trees, and a general (and very German) sense of order (of which I approve). We went to a bar last night in Cologne, where I had four of probably the smallest beers I've ever seen - 200ml if I'm lucky. No steins there! Cologne is very multi-ethnic, very "happening", and, thanks to the allies, very ugly. It's too bad that WW2 didn't happen at a more aesthetically pleasing time. Interestingly, it was rebuilt in the same sort of pan-European style I've seen from Spain to Sweden (with the notable exeptions of the UK and Ireland). Anyway, I think it's interesting how a similar (but not identical style) is found in such disparate countries. But then, I guess the pics of buildings I've seen in Japan remind me of those in South San Francisco and Daly City. Well, I thought it was interesting, anyway.

So, three nights now in what I've been told is a pretty spartan guest apartment in Berlin. My travelling companion (friend from Bonn) wants to paint the town red, whereas I'd be happy with a light shade of pink. Nothing quite like a fun flight home after an entire weekend out partying - ugh.

Hmm - when you cross into the former East the only real obvious difference now is a dropoff in the general hyper-tidyness. The field edges are a bit messier, the houses, while of the same general design, sag a bit here and there (like England!) and there are the occasional rusting hulks of disused factories, train stations, etc. It's like Germany but unshaven.

They sort recyling into three bins on this train. My God.

-------------

31/5

So, I never understand how exactly people finish up a trip not exhausted. As far as I'm concerned, a mark of a good holiday is the desperate need for an immediate holiday after. By that measure (actually, by just about any measure), it's been a good holiday. I'm sitting here at Berlin's Tegel Airport, exhausted and feeling slightly surreal, eating a sandwich containing some sort of mystery meat, pink stuff, some brightly coloured things I think are veggies, all nested into a roll with the consistency of moist Wonder Bread. Yum. At least there aren't any killer cukes! I spent the past three and a half days in Berlin, staying with friends in a bargain-basement, 1970s, very square holiday apartment. It's gay-owned and caters to gays, which meant that it was tastefully decorated with pictures of beefy men with unusually well develped pecs and penises gracing the walls. These complement the lumpy beds, the bowls of somewhat dusty plastic fruit, the futon with quesionable stains and the carpet that was last vacuumed sometime before the Wall came down. Ah well - it was cheap. The building is under renovation, which meant that people started hammering and drilling (not that kind of hammering and drilling - I'm shocked!) at 8am. Nice - very nice for going out the night before. It's on a quiet cul de sac with an Eastern European hooker that posts herself at the intersection every night. She is (also tastefully) dressed in some skin tight microscopic thing that lets her ass spill out for general public consumption, and shiny black boots that nearly cover what her shorts miss. She also has very perky tits. I figure that's probably important. Yep - high class establishment we found. Apparently, the apartment building itself used to be a male whorehouse. I know this because I talked with someone in Berlin who, apparently, used to work there, and laughed when I told him where we were staying. Yeah, well done us. Anyway, it was fine, and a modicum of sleep was had.

I'm not sure how many times I've been to Berlin at this point - 7 or 8 maybe (and still keine hablo Deutsch), but I really like it and have two good friends there. Oddly, in some ways it reminds me of Barcelona, another city I really like. I always think of the irony that Berlin, the capital of what was one of the most rightwing regimes of all times, is now one of the most progressive cities in Europe, if not the world. It is simply dripping with gay men, random nudity in parks, free art, etc. But then, the Weimar Republic was pretty forward thinking - it was just taken over by numbnuts. Hmm - sounds like another place...

Anyway, the first night I met up with Frank for dinner at the restaurant where he works, and we planned the weekend. Met the other two guys (the Bonn ones) after for drinks. Sunday, after an emergency gym (I am a notorious homosexual, after all - these things are important), I met Frank and his new boy toy (20 years his junior - apparently he has now reached a "certain age") - for outdoor karaoke in a park along the former wall. There were a few thousand people packed into this sort of amphitheater, and an Irish guy with a bicycle, a computer, and some very big speakers. As usual, some of the entrants sucked (including some old boozer who belted out some German oompa loompa song) but there was this nerdy Irish girl who did a very (very) good rap (muthafucka!) complete with all the gang signs, and a little Chinese girl who did an extremely convincing Lady Gaga, complete with all the moves. The crowd loved it and I nearly peed myself laughing. Lotsa fun!

After that, suitably beered up (and with a very very full bladder) we went over to Frank's for a bbq on his balcony (illegal, apparently). I like Germany bbqs - lots of random meat and no vegetables or starch in sight. Yum! The new bf - Rob, showed me where he had been doodling on his leg with his new tattoo machine (hon, you're going to regret that...). The scary thing was that this twenty year old has done things, and is into things that still make even me squeamish. Kids these days! Went to a few bars again after that - they do all sort of blend together, which is slightly distressing.

Yesterday, I went for a morning run, across the former border (I always like to do that), and we had schnitzel for lunch - very yummy and very fattening. I also ate a slice of cucumber - dancing with danger... Shubh (Bonn) and I then walked along Kurfurstendamm (Kudamm), the main shopping area in western Berlin and sat outside a coffeeshop, making rude commentary about passersby. It was for their own benefit, I'm sure. Met my friend Rogger for ice cream and a chat after that. He lives right in Schoneberg, the main gay area in western Berlin, and knows absolutely everyone, it seems, which made walking down the street a very slow endeavour. He showed me one of the kinky holiday apartments he rents out to tourists - very nice - easy clean floor, cage, handcuffs on the wall, a pommel horse (for what I wasn't entirely sure - gymnastics?). More power to him - he makes good money off of tourists who want to pay more for the, um, fully equipped apartment. Rogger is a sweetie. Met him (also) online. I've met many people online - I'm a big fan. Met Frank in a club about 7 years ago.

I think this, more than anything, is why I so love living here. I can just pop off to wherever, and it's a totally different city in a totally different country. Yet, thanks to the very interconnected, very international nature of gaydom, assisted by the connections possible on the Internet, I have made friends all over. Just on this little short trip I saw people I recognized from London (all screamingly gay, of course).

Anyway, finally, today - another long run in the heat, another morning being woken up early by workmen, who, are, of course, only loud first thing in the morning. I went today to the East Side Gallery, a 1.3km section of leftover Wall that has been turned into an open air art gallery. Pretty damn moving. I had lunch - pretzel bread (it has some German name that means something like, "Don't even try to pronounce it, you silly foreigner"), Hungarian salami and some kind of sinky cheese, sitting in a grassy park, full of sunbathers, in the middle of the former death strip. A little odd, admittedly.

And now, I'm on the plane back to London, which, being not an American flight, was taxiing away from the gate as people were still sitting down and closing the overhead bins. It is so much less hassle flying outside of the United States. Much more efficient, just as thorough and minus the feeling that one is automatically viewed as a criminal. Sigh.

The First Day of the Rest of the World...

2011-05-22T10:48:00.001+01:00

So, I can now legitimately answer the question about what I would do if I thought the world was going to end today. I would sleep in late, fart around at home for an excessive amount of time, and then go to Ikea with David to look for a dining table and some shelves. At Ikea, I would eat too many meatballs (as it would likely be my last meal, and Ikea meatballs are yummy), and would also make sure to have some of the deim cake, as that's also really yummy and appropriate for the last day of the world. Slightly marring the occasion, we would differ on taste as far as the furniture went, but end-times can be trying, so one must expect that. As 6pm and the end draws nigh, I would realize there wasn't enough time left for me to hit the tanning salon before it closed, and would rush to get to the bike store, so I could at least ride my fixed bike (with the new frame) into the final sunset. Priorities... 6pm came and went, pretty much without incident (I was waiting on the platform at London Bridge for the train home, with my bike - it needs some adjustment before it can be ridden into any sunsets). So, slightly disappointing on all counts, but, to celebrate the world's continued existence, I went home, made dinner (steak and veggies) and then we all sat around and watched too many episodes of Big Bang Theory. Not a bad way to bring in the new, still-here world, I think!

$82???

2011-05-18T21:47:00.000+01:00

So, in the nearly eight years I've been here, I've finally managed to fill up the pages of my passport, or nearly so anyway. This would likely not be a problem, as this country is perfectly happy to stamp anywhere and everywhere, and as I've applied now for a British passport (finally), which will negate the need for stamps as I travel around Europe. Problem is, this takes a long period of time, and requires I send in my American passport. I'm off to Germany next Thursday, which sort of requires I have a passport, of some sort. Anyway, the problem is that the Germans, being the lovely anal retentive folk that they are, seem to have this thing for always stamping the 'In' stamp next to the 'Out' stamp, and I don't have any ins left next to my outs (always a problem). So, in the interest of not being told 'nein' at the border, I forked over $82 to get an additional 24 pages stitched into my passport (thus making my weenie American passport as big as a hefty European pasport). To do this while in London requires that one visit the American Embassy, which is about as cuddly and friendly as, well, something not very cuddly and friendly. Outside the gates, I have to show ID. I then wait in this line, from which I am called into a rather reinforced looking antebuilding by this sort of door troll (English, actually), where I show my ID again. All of my belongings go through the x-ray and I walk through the metal detector. I am not allowed to bring in any electronic devices of any sort (fortunately, I new this before, so left my phone behind, but they do actually have a phone-check where one can leave one's phone if one was naughty and forgot). After being suitably cleared and telling them my business, I am allowed to leave the antebuilding (you can't leave the back if the door in the front is open). I turn left out of the door and walk towards the corner of the building (still outside), towards the first man with a machine gun. I turn right at the corner and walk towards the steps - towards the second man with the machine gun. Up the steps to the nice (English) ladies at the reception desk, where I receive my number, then up another set of steps into a large waiting room with many chairs in rows, where I sit to wait my turn. Fortunately, as I live in the UK, I am used to spending inordinate amounts of time waiting around in such dreary rooms, and it actually goes fairly quickly. I look around at the decor, which was probably pretty cool looking back in 1960, when it was built, but it's looking a little tired now. Apparently, it's not actually American soil, because the Duke of Westminster refused to sell it to the Americans. Still, it doesn't stop the embassy staff from refusing to pay the London Congestion Charge - they see it as a foreign tax, and therefore have declared themselves exempt. They are the worst, apparently, in terms of unpaid tickets. Charming. Anyway, I handed over my passport, and returned today for the same routine to pick it up.

So, you'd think that for $82 they would make some vague attempt to have it look nice. Ha! Yes, the new pages are stitched into the book, but they aren't even the same size! They are substantially smaller, and each page has some scenic drawing of the USA with some banal or nauseating quotation on top of it. My fave is from Ronald Reagan. Apparently, perhaps in a fit of Cold War busting delirium, he said, "We live in a world lit by lightning. So much is changing and will change, but so much endures and transcends time". Excuse me, what? That's the sort of thing one would say after a few too many bong hints, or possibly something from "Deep thoughts, by Jack Handy". Apparently that was from his second inaugural address. Actually, it sort of reminds me of this famous quote by another famous American:

If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I'd take back those words that hurt you
And you'd stay
If I could reach the stars
I'd give them all to you
Then you'd love me, love me
Like you used to do

But I digress... (Might need to egress, as I'm definitely not going to progress...)

We're having a drought here. Apparently it's the driest in like 100 years, and, to be honest, things are looking pretty crispy and the weather has been generally fabulous. If it were CA I wouldn't worry, but this being England, the vegetation starts looking pretty sad pretty quickly, and apparently crops are on the verge of failure. I'm sure it's not climate change though, even though we just had the warmest spring on record... Hmm.

Oh yeah, and I forgot - David and I voted. It was our very first vote as British citizens, and took approximately 10 seconds, as it was a simple yes/no referendum. Very simple - just two nice ladies with a sheet of paper with our names on it. They gave us each a small sheet of paper and a pencil and we put a big 'X' in the box, folded it and put it in the ballot box. No touch screen voting here, thank you!

And finally - David's mother was here for about two weeks and we actually didn't fight! It's only taken 12 years, but we actually got along. I suppose some of it is that both of us have mellowed in our dotage, some of it is down to me just accepting that things are as they are, but whatever it was, it was pretty nice. I never thought I'd say that...

Right - must make my lunch for tomorrow and then head to bed.

Biking through Welshest Wales...

2011-05-02T21:08:00.000+01:00

So, I got back last night from a mostly fantastic two day bike ride from north to south Wales. Two days, 150 miles and almost two miles of climbing. I took the train on Saturday from here to Bangor, on the north coast of Wales. I spent that day cycling down through Snowdonia National Park to the town of Machynlleth (pronounced Makunthlith). I bought the train ticket quite early, so managed to get a first class seat, which is nice, as it tends to keep out a lot of the riffraff. I had the great privilege though of sitting across from two trainspotters, a small child and their dog. Dogs apparently aren't allowed in first class, but the train conductor was a weenie and didn't press the issue after his first complaint. The dog was actually fine. The trainspotters though- my god what a boring conversation they were having! I'd never eavesdropped on a trainspotting conversation before, and I don't think I probably ever will again! This was the first trip I'd actually seen trainspotters - people on bridges and along the tracks, peering at the train with binoculars. Wow - things really must be a bit boring in Wales (though there are a lot of sheep - can't be that boring! ;-) One of the more striking things about the coast of north Wales, besides the landscape being quite beautiful, is the number of trailer parks. I'd actually never seen so many trailer parks in my life!

Anyway, I got off the train at Bangor, then spent the next half hour or so trying to find a place that sold water. I ended up in the centre - lots of vaguely lardy people wandering about, several people that seemed to be sharing a rather shallow corner of the gene puddle, and a number speaking in Welsh, which is a language that consists mostly of consonants, and a dangerous number of Ls (for example...).

Not much to see in Bangor. So I set off towards Snowdonia - lots of very old, rounded mountaintops - I think it may, technically, be considered an extension of the Appalachians, though that might actually only pertain to the Highlands. I'm too lazy to Google it just now. Lots and lots of wind - lots of wind. And then I had a minor little potential disaster - I discovered that the increasing creaky noise around my seat was actually from a crack in the frame - the third frame with the same crack in the same place. I felt very alone in the world and very upset at that point, as there was just about dipshit I could actually do if my bike decided to fall apart out there, out in the middle of nowhere. So, after feeling sorry for myself for a while and texting David a few thousand times, I decided I wasn't going to allow it to ruin my trip and kept on going, though I was now pretty obsessed with the loud creaking noise and observed the size of the crack pretty constantly.

The rest of the day I cycled down the coast, past Harlech (the first place in the UK I ever visited on my own, 18 years ago). Last time I went there, you didn't have to pay to visit the castle (as there is actually nothing inside). Apparently, they realized they were missing an opportunity to make money. Oh well. It's still very pretty. From the outside. The last bit along the coast was heading east, along what is essentially a fjord, into an absurdly strong headwind, and then there was the slight matter of the 900 foot climb, followed by a pass, and then a long and quite beautiful descent to Machynlleth, a cute b&b, and a really tasty lamb dinner. I was very very very happy to get there, just before the sun set, bike still in one piece, and heinie, more or less, still attached.

The next day was approximately the same length, with a much earlier start, as I didn't have to take the morning train. I thought about shortening it slightly by cheating and taking the train part way, given the perilous state of both my bike and my posterior, but I "accidentally" missed the train, which forced me to do the entire 70 miles. The second day was through rolling farm country, whereas the first day had been mountainous. The funny thing is, the second day was actually much harder, because at least, in north Wales, they seem to understand the concept of a mountain pass - road follows a stream, more or less, over the lowest point in a range of hills or mountains, but in south wales, no, it's much more fun to put the road straight up and down the hill, even if there was a perfectly good valley alongside. It's a bit like England that way, and, to be honest, it looks much more like England - green and verdant grazing country. They speak less Welsh there as well, though I'm pretty sure they still hate the English as much. Everyone seems to hate the English in the United Kingdom. Even the English aren't always too keen on themselves, unless it comes to a sporting event or the royal wedding.

So I made it to the end without the bike collapsing in a big pile. Took the train back in first class, and had my own train car for quite a lot of the way! The bike is in the shop now. The next one is supposed to be the next size up - maybe that will keep it from breaking? I suppose this is my secret plan to get a new bike every year, or something. Sigh.

Oh, btw, just for the record, I watched the royal wedding - the whole thing, from start to finish. It was fab. The British do some things very well, and pomp and circumstance is one of them. I'm not a royalist - I think the whole notion is archaic and absurd, but the whole wedding was, as at least one announcer put it, "quite nice". How very British.

Less nice, I think, is the current reaction in the USA to OBL's supposed recent demise (I say supposed b/c I think the whole affair is steeped in enough bullshit to start a fertilizer factory, but that's another story). Standing on streets, shouting "USA, USA, USA!"??? How utterly revolting - if Americans were shown people in, oh, I don't know, Pakistan, doing exactly the same thing (but, obviously substituting for "USA"), how positive would the reaction be? Hmm. Anyway, I think the whole thing is suspicious in the extreme, but I suppose my suspicioun isn't going to change anything in the world, so I will just gripe about it and be done with it.

Oh, I almost forgot - photo location for Wales...

And a tiny bit of (very rare!) British patriotism...

Swimming in the Ganges, and Other Random Thoughts

2011-04-17T19:30:00.000+01:00

So, I had one of my odd predictive dreams last night. I dreamt that I was swimming in the Ganges (as one does), and was really trying not to swallow any of the water, given all the yummy things I'm sure are floating around in that river. I woke about 7, needing to pee, only to be confronted with a completely flooded bathroom, as one of the intake pipes on the toilet had sprung a leak. Luckily, it was the downstairs (new) toilet, meaning that it didn't go through the ceiling, and that it will be under warranty. Still though, not a nice thing to discover when half awake early on a Sunday morning. I almost just went back to sleep, thinking that it would somehow magically fix myself if I did. I tried to wake David gently - he still woke with a huge start though. Last time I woke him at a slightly unsocial house the next door house was on fire, so I suppose he's a bit primed for disaster...

We've finally finished cleaning up the back yard, and have another huge pile of crap to be taken away out front. There seem to be hundreds of little dinky plants coming up, so either we're going to have the world's greatest weed crop (not unlikely), or some of the 8 jillion random flower seeds we scattered around are going to come up. I've trimmed back the (evil!) ivy even further, (it used to spread all over the ground), so David intends to use this bed for some vegetables. In the fall, the ivy is going to come out (God help us all, as well as the brick wall it's stuck to!) and get replaced with something nicer, like wisteria. We're also going to do something with the back more exciting than just scattering flower seeds - there's only so much one can do at once though.

We seem to be having a drought. We've only had something like 20% of our normal spring rainfall, and while it's green at the moment, it won't be long before everything turns into straw, at this rate. England isn't pretty when there's a drought, and they are already making ominous noises about "hosepipe bans". Sigh. (It doesn't actually rain very much here - only about 22 inches, compared with 18 in Sacramento, 38 in Seattle, and around 50 in NYC. It just tends to get spread around a lot...).

I just went for a nice long run, about 8 miles. Today was the marathon - there were jillions of people in central London for that. I think I'm going to put in my name for the lottery for next year - I've always wanted to do it... I'm planning a 100 mile ride next weekend (which I've not done in 2 years), and an overnight bike ride in Wales the next weekend - probably just me. A friend would like to go, but I don't think there are any more bike tickets for the trains left (it's an extra long bank holiday weekend, thanks to the royal wedding at the beginning of it, and I think there is going to be a huge exodus from London!). Anyway, that will be about 140 miles, with mountains, the Irish Sea, and lots of Welsh speakers (a very odd language if ever there was one!).

Right - some pics:

So, what's going on here then?

Yes, these really do exist here...

Ooh, pretty!

Springtime in southern England.

Random cute town on my bike ride - I knew the name at one point, but I forgot.

Say what?

OK, I really don't think I like where this road is taking me... ;-)

Our (fortunately shrinking!) ivy.

The back 40...

Planted the back 40...

2011-04-03T20:05:00.001+01:00

That's back 40 square feet, not acres. You have to be specific about these things or it's easy to get confused. We decided, in all the jillion things that have to be done with this house, coming up with a permanent back yard solution was just not something that needed to happen this moment and decided to go for the 'riot of colour' design. We've removed all the crap (wow there was a lot of crap out there - basically like half a small dumpster - rocks, building parts, pieces of metal, broken plates, stumps. We've yet to find any dead bodies, which is probably a good thing - I know that London is absolutely full of things like old plague pits - how fun would that be to discover digging around in the back yard)! Anyway, we've put like 20 different kinds of flowers out there - thousands of seeds, all told. Something has to grow! The one problem with digging up and smoothing out the back yard though is that we've created the perfect litter box for the neibhourhood kitties. So, I decided to solve this problem with some cat repellant. Sprinkled it all over the place (it smells kinda nice, like citronella), and even as we were out there, the tabby from next door decided to come over and poop. Yeah, that was money well spent. I suppose, on the plus side, all that catshit means that the dirt's pretty good (well, that and all the worms), but OMG, not something you want to discover while putting in flowers. We've removed all sorts of bracken fern as well - it spreads by underground rhizomes - and it's everywhere. Apparently, if you disturb it, it makes cyanide, so we have to use gloves when taking it out (that and the bits of glass and catshit bombs cut down on the desire to dig through the dirt with bare hands!).

Anyway though, it's very much spring. The daffodils are starting to fade, the flowering cherries and plums are all in bloom, and the trees are thinking about budding. We have a lilac that is putting out flowers - we still can't figure out what colour it's going to be - I'm thinking yellow or white, though I was hoping for purple. I guess that's the fun thing about the first year of someone else's back yard - discovering what's in it! We were filling up the debris bag out front yesterday and a big gust of wind blew the front door shut. Shit - no keys! Front doors here tend to lock when they shut, and our windows don't actually open far enough to climb through. So, we had a bit of a panic, had a chat with many of the neighbours (this is a chatty area), and eventually ended up going through the house next door and climbing over (rather rickety) back fence. Drama solved!

So, I went back to my roots, gymwise. In every city I've lived as an adult - San Francisco, Sacramento, Minneapolis, Dublin and New York I've been a YMCA member, but not London. Six years at Fitness First (Shitness First) - the sort of 24 Hour Fitness of London (not as big or as well-equipped though), and 1.5 years at Nuffield, which was recently taken over by a private hospital, and feels increasingly like a clinic for fat people. Anyway, it will save me about $50/month, which ain't nothing, but it's the first time in almost 12 years that I've been a gym member by myself. However, seeing as how David and I met at the Y (THE Y, of song), I suppose it's somehow appropriate that I should be a member again (it's not convenient for him, so he's going to stay at the much more expensive gym). It's kinda nice to be back, actually - there is a certain "YMCA feeling" that I've never gotten at any other gym, and they tend to be pretty friendly (and this one is very well equipped as well). It's also screamingly gay as well, much like New York - I always thought it was slightly ironic that the Young Men's Christian Association was full of such a number of Nancys, but there you go. Thursday was my last day at the previous gym. I felt strangely wistful about it. Who thought I could feel moody about leaving a gym? I suppose it was probably more about leaving the same gym as David goes to (and also Robin - it was his gym first - I suppose the house that gyms together gets in shape together or something?). I felt like there should be a theme tune playing as I left the gym - Robin suggested the tune at the end of East Enders. Went for a 10 mile run today from the Y, up through Hampstead Heath. Ugh - I could bike all day - give me a 90 minute run though and I feel like it's the end of the world. I think I'd like to apply for London Marathon lottery for next year though - that would certainly require a lot of work!

Had a slightly uncomfortable conversation with a very good friend of mine about his usage of something that rhymes with "Beth". It is probably important to note, first off, that the usage profile of Beth in this country is completely, 100% different than in the US. For starters, until recently, I believe nearly all Beth was imported, b/c one of the main ingredients wasn't easily available. Not sure what changed though, but supposedly it's not being produced in the UK, though I have no idea where (I've not heard of any busts). Consequently though, the price has always been astronomical, and it's been pretty rare. Usage here seems to be about 100% for clubbing/sex, rather than just being sort of everywhere like in the US. And, worryingly, it's the gay community that is really picking up usage (being trend setters, and all). Straight people tend to go out and get completely wasted on alcohol in clubs here (and they fight, knife each other, etc), whereas gay men tended to take pills (e), and also (not surprisingly) tended not to fight. So, the cops generally look the other way b/c they didn't get any problems from the gay clubs (well, not until G came along and guys were passing out and dying on the dance floor - not pretty). Anyway, that (thank God) seems to be dropping off, but, for whatever reason, usage of Beth is now beginning to increase, as are, not surprinsingly, all the other nasty bits that are associated with excessive Beth. It's worrying, b/c Beth pretty much wracked ruin across the American gay community, and I fear it's going to do the same here - I just hope it remains astronomically expensive, as that, combined with it being (formerly) difficult to find, helped keep it at bay. But yeah, Beth usage is a completely different creature here, even if the eventual possible individual outcome remains the same.

So, I would never deny anyone their fun - God knows I've had plenty of my own and have gotten up to all sorts of sillyass thing over the years (and lived to tell the tales). Problem with Beth though is that she tends to move in and make herself at home if one isn't very careful. This wasn't every day, tweeker type Bething, but often enough that it was beginning to send up red flags - "Hon, you need to stop - you're not being normal" - that kind of thing. I don't like those sorts of conversations at all, and yet, oddly, I seem to be the one that gets to have them with people. I do actually think it will be OK, because I think it kinda hit him like a ton of bricks the insiduous nature of what was starting to happen. But yeah, not nice. I know a lot of people who have been acquainted with Beth, and I don't know a single one who feels she's a good long term guest. She's a bit of a sneaky bitch, that Beth.

Anyway, I think (I hope) that's going to be fine - as I said, friend was very very far away from ending up in tweekerland, but it's frightening anyway how easy it is to let things get carried away. I'll never be a prohibitionist - drugs are no different than alcohol - they are simply ways of altering one's reality, for any one of a billion different reasons. Living in Britain, it doesn't take much looking around to see the destruction wrought by alcohol - women yacking up and pissing in the gutter, winos hanging out on street corners with their cans of fortified lager at 8am on a weekday morning, young men beating the living shit out of each other b/c one of them looked at someone else's girlfriend, etc. So yeah, no different than drugs - just a lot more common (officially, anyway, but I have yet to find anyone my age or younger in this city who would not admit to having tried something illegal, at least once), legal, and completely and 100% societally acceptable.

Right - enough preaching - I could go on about that forever. I think my Beth discussion got me wound up. Time to go make lunches for the week. How thrilling.

Deep Thoughts, by Doug Plumer

2011-03-17T22:22:00.000Z

So, like probably just about everyone else in the world, I have been simultaneously transfixed and horrified by events in Japan. I don't honestly know how anyone with the remotest sense of humanity could look at that and not be utterly appalled. I've wondered though, in all this, about the idea of, for lack of a better term, variable sympathy. Some huge number of Japanese have died, in terrible circumstances. Quite a larger number of Haitians died, or people around the rim of the Indian Ocean. Yes, we were transfixed and felt terrible, but was it to the same degree as with the Japanese? Is it easier to identify with the suffering of a country not considered 'Third World'? Granted, there seems to be a lot more video footage and photography from Japan then there was from Port au Prince - not so surprising, given the Japanese proclivity for taking pictures, which makes it easier to identify with people's suffering. Is that the only difference, or is it that it is somehow more horrifying for a developed country to suffer a catastrophe than it is somewhere like Haiti, which is, really, one big long continuous catastrophe? I mean, I do it as well. I wonder, also, what would the opinion have been if this had happened in 1942? Would the US and UK have come up with some crapass statement about how this was divine punishment, good for the war effort, blah blah whatever? Countless thousands of Iraqis have died, for example, but we're not too worried about that, not really. Anyway - it's just interesting, I guess. But yeah, it's pretty damn horrifying, and I imagine that being California sometime, or the East Coast when Las Palmas in the Canaries collapses. Ugh. Think I need to go to bed - getting myself worked up...

Thundercats, No!

2011-03-07T21:29:00.000Z

Oy...! I'm trying to write this blog entry and being subjected to Thundercats. Robin downloaded the first ever episode of it (b/c he'd never heard of it) and David is now watching it. OMG that was a crap program - I even thought it was a crap program when it was on the first time! Fortuntely, I pointed out the absolutely leaden dialogue to David (which, astoundingly, he never noticed before), so I kind of spoilt the magic for him. Oh dear, I feel terrible, really. Of course, I did subject him to an episode of Star Blazers. Somehow, what seemed amazing and deep and moving when I was six is a bit on the super-crap side when I'm 37. I didn't actually realize that it was an American rip-off of a Japanese show, in which they removed all the sex, violence and general entertaining bits. Don't look at that man behind the curtain indeed. Oh God, it's playing the Thundercats song - I may have to go poke out my eyes...

Anyway, more back yard fun. I now have a large pile of crap that I've pulled out of the dirt - broken plates, huge rocks, some sort of enormous metal spike that was either the original edge of the property of the demise of one big vampire. There is also a bumper crop of cat shit (maybe that's why the soil is so good), and, unfortunately, some damaged worms. Oh, and lots of bracken fern I've pulled out - it spreads by underground rhizomes, which, apparently, make cyanide when you disturb them. Nice. I've started to think about seeds for different kinds of flowers - so many choices! Gotta get a few shrubs as well, move a few ferns, move a large fatsia (hmm, that sounded funny), and order railways ties ("sleepers" here), as well as extra dirt. Lots to do. And the funny bit is that it all has to be dragged through the house, since it's not possible to go between the houses.

New bathroom is almost finished - just a few little things to do still, and then the house has to have a really big clean. Zina the cleaning woman (ain't it great, having a cleaning woman with a name like Xena?) does all the normal stuff, but the place has to be blitzed - lots of brick dust. Amusingly, to meet plumbing regulations without having to dig a huge hole in the ground (to hook up the poop pipe, basically), the new toilet has this large white box behind it - a "macerator" (SaniFlo), to, well, chop up things, then pump them uphill to the sewer pipe. So, every time one flushes, the thing fires up and round and round go the blades - a little disconcerting. I suppose one of the useful things about living in a brick house is that all the pipes are outside, so it's pretty easy to add additions...

Not a lot else... Spring is trying, very hard, to be springlike (so say my itchy eyes), but it's gotten cold and a bit crappy again.

OK, Family Guy is on and I'm like deer in headlights - time to go!

Brick dust, how I hate you...

2011-02-28T17:30:00.000Z

Brick dust. I’d never really given it much thought before. I never thought, hmm, bricks are made out of clay, and clay consists of really teeny weeny little particles, which, when they become airborne, can find their way just about anywhere. Fortunately, they are usually safely locked up within bricks, but under certain conditions, such as when the planets are aligned, the moon is waxing poetic, and a builder whacks the crap out of a brick wall, they can be freed – freed to sow chaos and drape their milky white sheen on all they touch.

So, yeah, lots of brick dust.

The bathroom is coming along slowly. I am slightly amazed that we seem to be sticking a toilet, a sink, and a shower into a space smaller than a Smart car. There will be no fat people allowed in this bathroom, apparently.

The back yard continues to look as if a giant mole has been digging through it, and David has removed the back part of the decking. He’s supported the now-exposed beams by smushing some concrete underneath it, between the decking and the paving stones underneath. You’d think that when they put in the decking, they would have sunk posts into the ground to add some stability, but then, you would have underestimated the general uselessness of the (very gay) people living in the house before us. Why actually spend a little more money and do the deck properly when you can do it on the cheap, make it look pretty, sell the house, and then leave it to the poor suckers who bought the place to discover you did a crap job? Stupid homosexuals anyway! (Am I detecting hypocrisy? Eh? What? Sorry, my hearing aid seems to have stopped working). Anyway, David discovered one of those little life lessons yesterday, namely that you shouldn’t mix concrete with your bare hands (did he not see the big warning labels on the bag? Sigh). And in true nerd-fashion, I have started to map out the potential new garden using Visio, so that we can get all the dimensions correct before we buy the plants and turn our back garden into something out of a garden book. (I’m sure). We all have slightly different ideas of what we want though. David has this idea that it would be great to have super-trimmed, conical shrubbery along the kitchen, where I ripped out much of the ivy. Um, yuck? I want a garden cascading over with life and greenery, making our back yard feel like a little oasis in the middle of the city. Maybe I will allow David the side area to do his stupid cones so I can concentrate on the main part. Not sure what Robin wants, b/c he keeps buggering off every single weekend to be with Prince Charming (granted, it’s not his house, but for someone with as strong opinions about plants as he has, you’d think he be being a little more proactive). I’m half tempted to do the whole thing up in orange marigolds and pink hollyhocks just for the shock value to Robin, who, like David, wants order. Ugh – gardening Nazis the both of them!

Not a lot else at the moment – just the end of winter. My itchy eyes say spring, and there are a few timid leaves peeking out, with the crocuses and the occasional daffodil… I still haven’t gone back to normal spring biking though. I almost went for a nice long ride yesterday, but got as far as central London before getting a flat tire and then getting stuck in pouring rain. Feeling slightly disenchanted with the whole thing, I went and got some lesbian coffee and chocolate cake (at a lesbian café, not actually made with lesbians – not sure how that would taste). Anyway, it cheered me up some, then I went home to finish a business case for work (oh the excitement of it all), and go for an 8.5 mile run. Life in the big city indeed.

Treasure Hunting in the Back Yard

2011-02-13T20:36:00.000Z

Well, my weekend has consisted of bashing apart concrete, digging out stumps, and then bagging them and schlepping them through the house to the front (since it's not possible to get from the back to the front without going through the house). The cement and bricks holding in the world's most sturdy laundry post is now in a 'hippo bag' in the front, along with part of the kitchen floor (figured I might as well take advantage of it being there), and the rest of the crap is in bags. I have to call the council now to get them to pick it up. Of course, due to health and safety, no bag can weigh more than 14kg, because we wouldn't want the delicate garbage men straining any part of their physiques. When I first lived here, the general idea was that if you hurt yourself, it was probably your own damn fault, whereas now, the UK has taken health and safety legislation and refined it to the point where I'm surprised we are allowed to walk down the street unassisted. Argh. Anyway, next weekend I'm going to remove an absolute shitload of ivy, and then we get to start thinking about what we actually want to put into the yard.

Amusingly, while things like the laundry pole (very old) would probably have lasted through a nuclear war, the deck, which covers much of the back, is like many of the recent additions to this house - cheap - not sure how long that's going to last. Oh well - live and learn.

Anyway, back to work tomorrow (yuck). Really really really want a better paying job, and so far, the only one that came up would involve a 2 hour commute each way. In the words of George Bush (daddy Bush) - "not gonna happen". Sigh.

Right, off to cut my hair, which has gotten excessively fluffy and is accentuating the grey (and the lack on top - boo).

Oh yeah, I forgot, the initial reason I started to write was to make the (amazing, I'm sure) observation that, unlike in most of the US, as London has been in pretty much continuous occupation for the last 2000+ years, digging in one's back yard turns into a bit of an archaeological adventure. Lots of bricks, plates, an old toothbrush, glass, bits of slate. I actually bought a screen to sift the soil - I'd prefer to be able to dig through with my hands without worrying I'm going to cut myself on glass. And there is the other problem that our yard seems to be the neighbourhood litter box - nothing like freshly turned soil to cozy up to a kitty's bottom! Oh well - I guess it will be fertile, if a bit stinky.

Fun with sledgehammers, and Iceland...

2011-02-12T22:38:00.000Z

Which, of course, are two topics the just segue right into one another. (I think I spelled the correctly, but I'm too damn lazy to actually go check).

Anyway, I spent a fun-filled day in the back yard ('back garden') smashing up concrete and digging out a stump. So, we have a back yard that could probably fit several times over onto a postage stamp, and most of it is decked (badly - the wood doesn't seem to be treated, or not treated much, and it has grooves on it - I mean, really, who put grooves on a deck? They just collect crap!). Anyway, David has been doing indoor stuff, which is great, b/c I tend to hate that sort of thing (building shelves, putting together Ikea, etc.) and I've been amusing myself trying to turn the back yard into something nice. There is a small border around the back and the right-hand side where there are a number of plants. There were also, until today, two rather large posts and a treestump (there was also a Catalpa tree that I removed, as it would become way too big for the space, and was right up against the neighbour's house. I've left the olive... Oh, and there is ivy along the side of the house - the main stems are thicker than my arm, and it's covered the entire dividing wall between us and next door - removing, or at least severely trimming it back, is a later project. Right - posts. There were two posts against the back fence - one of them a metal post with a concrete base, and the other one a concrete post with a washing line attached. Enter sledgehammer. I managed to smash up the concrete base on the metal post in about 20 minutes - lots of fun, but the concrete post turned out to be steel reinforced and took me a full two hours to smash to bits, with bits of concrete and stone flying all over the back yard - I was very happy to have goggles. Why anyone would every need a steel reinforced pole for laundry I don't know. The thing was so heavy that three of us couldn't pull it out, once I dug out the base. Even after two hours of bashing it, I could just barely roll it up onto the deck. I felt a bit like I was knocking down the Berlin Wall. The tree, well, the tree had been dead for some time, but it still took a pickaxe, a spade and a saw to get out. The people living here before just sort of planted around it, and, we've discovered, that's sort of how they did most things - all looks good on the surface until you scratch just a bit...

The kitchen floor, for example - very nice, very thick tile. Of course, it's laid onto plywood, sitting on top of 120 year old floor joists, and the edges of the plywood don't match up to the joists - so, some of the tile has cracked, and when the guy putting in the bathroom took out tiles in the corner of the kitchen, more of them cracked - right along the plywood edges. Charming. Speaking of, the house is full of brick dust again. Bathroom construction guy had to break up the tile floor with a small jackhammer, and has been drilling holes through the brick wall. I hate brick dust! Give me wood dust any day... brick dust just gets everywhere - into all the drawers, under everything, around the corners of every door. And, amazingly, I seem to be allergic to bricks. Not sure how that could happen... The bathroom should be done in about 2 weeks, no thanks to the company supplying the materials. They were a month late already, and they still are missing parts.

I'm sure it will all be worth it in the end, but it will certainly be nice to have the house no longer feel like a construction site. (And I couldn't even use the guy's jackhammer for the posts - I had a look through all his tools today and he didn't leave the jackhammer - imagine...) Probably some stupid health and safety risk - I've not had jackhammer certification or something...

OK - and Iceland - (which I wrote up on the plane...) David says he will get pics up this weekend - hopefully that's true!

-----

2/2

We arrived in Reykjavik today. A three hour flight from London, it really does feel like another planet. First thing, on the plane, is the language. Apparently, Icelandic is very similar to what the Vikings spoke, and is completely impenetrable, both spoken and written, to English speakers (or, at least, to me). Not even a clue where to begin, and with letters that died out, in English, before the Normans.

After the general chaos of London (where it took half an hour to take off) we landed at Keflavik, a very small (and very nice - parquet floors!) airport about 30 miles from Reykjavik. It seemed we were the only plane coming in at that point, and by the time we finished in duty free (four queens - these things take time!), we were the only ones left our side of customs. We were the only ones at Budget Rental car (the woman was over helping at Avis - how neighbourly), and we ended up with a nice 4wd Subaru (lots of scratches, she said, though stone dings don't count, apparently).

Leaving the aiport, we drove off into a sea of white (it was snowing) - a barren treeless landscape with random piles of lava (and equally random, tidy little wooden houses, sitting amongst the nothing). We followed our sat-nav, nearly inaudible, on surprisingly smooth and well organised roads, through a very American feeling band of suburbs (very spread out, fast food joints, etc.) into the excessively cute and human-scale downtown Reykjavik. Lots of 2-3 story, tin-sided buildings, bright roofs and no noticeable trash.

We're staying at the supposedly 3-star Leiffur Eirickson Hotel (I say supposedly b/c we're staying in a microscopic room in the attic, where the roof is so low over the beds we have to duck). The beds are each smaller than a twin. The room's air smells vaguely of mildew and the water of rotten eggs (volcanic sulfur!). Still though, we have a fantastic view of the huge concrete church and Avi is in love with the guy at the hotel reception. We had a fantastic dinner at a very local feeling Italian restaurant (screaming queen waiter - I think Avi is in love with him too). Anyway, bed now, and then off to Mt. Unpronounceable tomorrow. No Northern Lights yet, but that's OK - I think there will be plenty to do. Oh, and btw, the currency is 186 to a pound, so the prices are just stupid. My dinner was 5770 kronur tonight.

6/2

Ah well, as per usual, I meant to write every night, but was busy actually doing things. I'm writing this on the plane back, after spending very happy hours floating like a hippopotamus around the jade-blue milky waters of the Blue Lagoon - a volcanic spa on the way out to the airport. Very odd place - set out in the middle of a very moon-like (well, moon with snow) volcanic landscape near the airport is a spa, with an enormous, outdoor, geothermal pool full of sulfurous, silica-rich, milky blue water. The bottom of the pool is lava, on top of which is a layer of ankle deep, vaguely slimy, foul smelling grey gooey sand. The idea is to smear it on oneself, as it's good for the skin. Of course, it smells like rotten eggs and has the occasional clump of long hair in it (nice!), but I suppose that adds to the charm. Anyway, definitely worth a revisit - where else can you float around outside, in the water, in the snow?

I barely managed to drag my sad ass out of bed this morning. Between the sunrise at 10, the tin roof that flapped and howled with the wind, and the fact that David, for God only knows what reason, was snoriging, oh, and the teensy bed, there wasn't much sleep to be had. No matter. I still managed a very nice run along the waterfront this morning, nearly totally deserted and covered in fresh snow. I could see the dark, snow-filled clouds swirling around the mountains across the bay, and I could feel nearly along in the universe. Iceland seems to be very good for that.

Reykjavik is this surprisingly hip, tightly-knit, comfortable little bit of Europe sitting as an outpost in what really does feel like frontier. 250000 of Iceland's 300000 people live there, apparently. Outside of the centre, the city peters out into rather drab, very utilitarian, very square blocks of suburbia (mixed with the empty hulks of the end of the property boom) and beyond that - nothing - just lumpy whiteness fading away into craggy white mountains, and an often-white sky (interspersed with small, unpronounceable towns that wouldn't look out of place in Wyoming).

The people, outside of Reykjavik, anyway, are uniformly white, often blond, occasionally strikingly beautiful, but more often a bit dough-faced (think northern Wisconsin) and, well, a bit hick (but not white trash, not really). Lots of pickups on REALLY big tires.

Anyway, our first full day there, after hotel breakfast (in a room full of English tourists), we swet out east, on the main highway (I use that term loosely) out of Reykjavik, heading out along hte south coast. Much of the drive was shrouded in fog, or snow, so we couldn't see much beyond the road (which had been ploughed, but was still a bit tricky). Fortunately, though, as we appoached our destination - the coastal plain below Mt Unpronounceable (which I can still neither spell nor say) - the clouds parted and we were presented with a sheer wall of volcanic rock, a 200 and some foot high waterfall (complete with an amazing abundance of ice) and rolling, California-style hills, inside of which, somewhere quite nearby, was the eruption last April. The ground was covered with at least eight inches of heavy, sharp, jet black ash and there were earthworks going on where the road had been washed away by the melting glacier, which we could just see peeking over the top. AFter soaking ourselves in the waterspray (which turned quite quickly to ice), David, Robin and I climbed to the top of the falls (Avi was cold and went back to the car) and we stood, looking out over the North Atlantic and feeling very much at the end of the Earth.

So, we drove back to Reykjavik, had dinner at a cozy little cafe (of which there seem to be many - the Icelanders seem much better at the art of hanging out than do teh British, who tend to require alcohol). That night was our "Northern Lights Tour", which, as I suspected, was a bit of a fiasco. It was generally cloudy and the aurora forecast showed no activity in our area, but we duly boarded a bus with sundry other tourists, including a very annoying couple who seemed intent on sharing their TicTac and we drove all over Kingdom Come, with our trusty host, Bjorg, or whatever his name was, hoping that clear skies and pretty colours were just around the next bend. Hmm - long sentence. Anyway, we did stop in a field and looked at, well, the sky, for about fifteen minutes, and we also stopped out at a lighthouse on the far end of the most southwesterly point in Iceland. There was no aurora, but there were some cool old ships and we had half an hour. Most of the other people - sheeple, really - didn't stray far from the bus (including Robin and Avi), but, of course, David and I went off to look at stuff. We got caught in a sudden hail storm with gale force winds and were the last ones back on the bus, to the disapproving looks of others. Cool. Anyway, that was four hours of my life I will never get back, but at least we managed to (very slightly) inconvenience and entire busload of people, so, all in all, a good night.

The next day, when the weather was generally, to use a scientific term, shitty, we spent wandering around Reykjavik. Boy are there a lot of stores there ready to fleece the tourist, and when the price for dinner looks like it would buy a new car, it can be a bit tough to realise that, oh yeah, that translates back into a big pile of wonga in the real world as well! We tried out the gay scene, as it is, that night. (Reykjavik couldn't give two shits about say or straight, so there isn't much of a "scene", per se). We tried to find this leather bar, which didn't seem to exist, so we ended up in "Barbara", a tiny bar inside a three-story, pink-tin-sided building on the main shopping street. We walked into what felt a bit like a state park function room (with added disco ball and blinky lights) full, I think, of the entire gay population of iceland (most of them under age 20), plus two screaming queens from our flight (there and back). There was a "DJ", who seemed to be playing his high school mix tape, and, well, we all stood out just a bit. Good fun!

And then yesterday - Reykjavik god about 8 inches of new snow and they didn't exactly do a bang up job of ploughing, but, unlike England, the place didn't fall over and die. We drove out to Geysir to see a, well, geyser. The road out there was the equivalent of a state highway, which, apparently, in Iceland, means fifty miles of driving on 100% packed ice and snow, using the reflecting guideposts to avoid ending up in the ditch, and having to pull into quite deep snow, often quickly, when a car, truck or bus would come flying over a hill at top speed. I've never driven at 50-60 mph on unploughed snow and ice before - all I can say is that I am completely sold on Subaru! The geysers really did feel like they were at the edge of the known universe, and I've never had the experience of driving through a 100% white, monochromatic landscape before - not even in Minnesota, where there would be quite a number of trees.

Oh, and I should add as well, being a bunch of rampant homosexuals that we are, we managed to gym 2x as well at a very big and very well equipped gym. That's important, I'm sure.

So, it was a fantastic (though very short) trip and we all agreed we must go back. We were also quite suprised at the amount of American influence in Iceland - much more than in the UK. There are, or at least were, several very large US air force bases in Iceland, which I suppose, given the very small population, would have had a big effect. Anyway - a good time was had by all.

House becoming a home...

2011-01-16T18:00:00.000Z

Well, it's been a while since I've gotten around to doing this... Ironic, I suppose, given that this has been just about the busiest month in the past seven years. We're returning to some sort of normal, or, what passes for normal 'round these parts. I went off cycling today - the first real bike ride since maybe September. 53 miles into the January wind and murk - not bad for not having biked for months. Heinie's a bit delicate now, but I suppose that goes with the territory. David has been blobbing out most of the day - I think he actually managed to get to the supermarket, but most of the day was spent travelling the universe with Voyager. Hmm - I'm going to need to start cracking the whip, I think. Robin has spent the entire weekend with his new beau (and he is a beau, being a former porn star). Robin is what I will call the "12 year old" phase of the relationship. Meaning - he's acting like he's about 12 years old, and female. The guy doesn't call for a few days and oh my God he's dumped. And then he calls, and Robin is back in happy doodah land (to the point that I want to vomit). I'm such a romantic. Anyway, they've spent most of the weekend baked, meaning I'm probably going to get to hear all sorts of exceedingly boring details tonight. Ah well, I suppose that's what friends are for (and I'm sure I'll have sick bag at the ready... ;-)

So, the past month has been a bit of a blur, to be honest - much sleep did not happen. We chose to move during the 'Blizzard of 2010' (blizzard being a rather flexible word, in this case meaning about 4 inches of snow and about 85 feet of hyperbole). We rented a van the weekend before Christmas. David and Robin headed off to Ikea on the 18th, while I spent the day cleaning carpets. Can't remember if I mentioned before I had to schlep the thing back a mile in the snow - fell flat on my ass. Pretty cool. Most of the snow fell that day, meaning, of course, that we chose to move most of the stuff on the 19th, when the roads were absolute sheets of ice. Robin ended up getting the van stuck on ice. He and David tried to unstick it with cardboard under the tires. Big surprise, that didn't work. Enter boy who lived in cold climate for 12 years, who knows that we needed grit, or, at least something that could pass for grit. How did we get the thing unstuck? Chicken shit. Or, rather, chickenshit pellets. Good stuff. Plants love it, and it makes for some pretty good grit. Anyway, there was some teeth gnashing and clothes rending, but we survived the day. (We did have to remove the stair railing to get the ginormous TV out). We moved the rest of the stuff the 22nd, and actually moved in that day. Four van trips, no parking tickets and one phantom accident (someone reported that Robin his their car, which is pretty exciting, since Robin, to the best of his knowledge, didn't hit anything). The first morning here, it took me 45 minutes to find the items to make my breakfast - our little plan to keep things organized didn't go so well.

Anyway, Christmas came and went. Avi came for the day, and Paul and Ali popped over for the afternoon. Amazingly, David managed to cook up an entire Christmas dinner, 3 days after we moved, with all our worldly possessions (or most of them anyway), sitting around in boxes. We at the dinner, on the sofa, in front of the TV, on TV trays. Very yummy. Oh yeah, I forgot, in amongst the various Christmas decorations, I bought a replacement halogen light for the front entrance. David wanted me to get a sort of bluey-red light. So, I went to the electrical supply store and asked for such a light. What did I get? Well, I think it's safe to say that we are now the gayest looking house in a very gay neighborhood. The light it gives off is actually rainbow. Cool! I wanted to name the house 'Gayhurst'. But, I was told I can't actually do that, because 'hurst' means 'on top of the hill'. I could, however, name it 'Gayden', which is both correct and, well, correct, I suppose. I really am very sad.

New Year's Eve we had six people over. Lots of champagne, lots of high fat food, and we schlepped up to the top of the park to watch fireworks shoot from the London Eye. Ooh, pretty!

So, slowly, very slowly, our house is becoming a home. We still have various boxes in corners, and still have no dining table. The bathroom has not yet been constructed (though the kitchen is fine), and the new sofa has been delayed by a month and a half because the factory no longer makes the fabric (it took them 6 weeks to tell us this - they are going to specially make the fabric for us). The jungle that is the back yard is slowly beginning to look, well, ready for business! I've been making full use of the electric hedge trimmers (I love them - very good purchase!) and have been hacking and pruning away. Unfortunately, the neighborhood cats seem to have decided that our yard is their own personal litter box.

Coming home, I'm really happy to round the corner and see our street. It's just so darn cute you just want to squish it! It's particularly cute when you compare it to the streets just the other side of the train tracks, which are, well, the wrong side of the tracks!

Anyway, lots to do this evening. At some point, David will put together a bunch of pictures of our move - we're not quite that organized yet. I've got a few random ones though after this...

(Ah, in retrospect, I looked back and discovered that I already described the amazing healing power of chickenshit. Oh well - I'm sure the world will cope somehow).

Yes, we believe very strongly in electrical safety...

This is the view out of the back of the house (it's not usually snowy).

Our street, in the snow - we're about 3/4 way down, on the left.

The kitchen, as we were moving in - (there is big fridge on the left now).

There - front room is all unpacked!

Sigh, if only.

I'm glad to see I'm not the only one with the sense of humor of an 8 year old!

Snow, and the Healing Power of Chicken Shit

2010-12-18T23:38:00.000Z

So, I spent a fun and exciting day vacuuming up brick dust over at the house. David and Robin went off to Ikea to load up on about £8million worth of household goods. We got about four inches of snow today. The various transport bosses actually had the chutzpah to say they handled the snow well this time. Hmm - lets see - nothing was salted, so all the smaller roads are skating rinks. The airports are closed. The trains aren't running. I managed to fall flat on my ass, and Robin got the van stuck. Fortunately, we have a very large bucket of chicken shit pellets. David was pretty sure that cardboard under the wheels would get the rear-wheel drive van unstuck, but nope - it was the chicken shit.

Packing Sucks Donkey Dong

2010-12-17T23:39:00.000Z

And not in a good way. There is nothing quite so soul destroying, I think, as depersonalizing a house, or realizing that one's entire life can fit into boxes. I suppose it's better than before. I used to be the master at cramming my entire universe into the back of a hatchback. A small hatchback. We're moving most of the stuff tomorrow and Sunday, with the remainder on Weds (the day the fridge arrives). We just had the kitchen redone (in 5 days), and will be getting a new bathroom in January. Until then, the three of us (four over Xmas) will be taking a number for the one toilet, which, blessedly, is separate from the sink and tub. David and Robin will be heading, with rental van, into the Ikea maelstrom in the morning, whereas I get to go pick up a carpet steamer, which I'm going to get to schlep a mile back to the house (nothing like taking a carpet steamer for a walk through a shitty neighbourhood to make people think you're normal!). My task tomorrow is going to be cleaning, cleaning, and more cleaning. Unfortunately, all this kitchen construction, plus the demolition of the kitchen chimney, has left a coating of brick dust on every single surface in the house. Yuck. Still though, I'm not sure which is worse - cleaning all day, or dealing with the mad hordes of pre-Christmas Ikea. Of course, Ikea does have Swedish meatballs, but I'm not entirely sure they would make up for the screaming "But Mummyyyyyy!!!!!!" (And that's just David!).

Ooh, and just for fun, it's supposed to snow tomorrow. London's general snow policy seems to involve about six grains of salt being laid down at strategic intersections. It does vary through from borough to borough. The City, this time, went completely apeshit with the salt - no snow there! Hackney though, with the same amazing advance knowledge that it was going to rain, then freeze, and then snow, put its snow emergency plan into effect. The snow emergency plans pretty much consists of strategic future warming, which, most often coincides with the temperature going above freezing. Last time though, I'll give them this one, they were out salting the walks in front of the council building the afternoon before it was supposed to warm up (about three days after it snowed). Better than nothing, I suppose. So, anyway, it's supposed to snow. It snowed today, about an inch in Hackney (a cm or less in South London), which, combined with the pristine, salt-free roads, made for a really fantastic evening commute (on my bike). Nothing like limping onto the train with one's bike, tail between one's legs.

Kitchen before - last summer when we were looking at the house:

Kitchen at present (dirty and not furniture, but gives the idea...):

God Save the Queen!

2010-12-14T22:09:00.000Z

I pledge allegiance, to the queen, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain, and to the monarchy, for which she stands, one woman, under gowns, indominable, with lager and jam sandwiches for all.

Well, almost like that. David and I had our citizenship ceremony yesterday, down at Southwark Town Hall (just down the road from here). Robin and Paul were our guests. So, we wandered on down there about 1015am and found ourselves in a room of, well, foreigners. Lots of Africans, Middle Easterners and Chinese. Not so many North Americans, Aussies or Kiwis. Welcome to Southwark! Picked up some paperwork, got our nametags, got a nice little plasticated paper flag. We all milled around in there for a while, then were shepherded off, in smaller groups (with guests) to a smaller room for some more milling around, this time with biscuits and tea (or coffee) (and biscuits being cookies, don't forget). After about half an hour, guests were asked to head to the visitor's section of the council chambers, and those of us taking part in the ceremony were seated around where the councillors would normally sit.

Two very boring speeches, both of them essentially about being nice to one another (one of them was by an ex-Mayor of Southwark, resplendant in her gown), as well as some community organizer type guy (Irish - couldn't they have gotten a British one? Whatever). Anyway, boring speeches finished, we were asked to each say "I, [Name]", in turn, after which we recited two pledges.

This was the non-God ceremony - the afternoon one had swearing to God. This one just had affirming. We also had the handshake or no handshake option. I chose handshake. Anyway, it's worth quoting the pledge, and comparing it to the US Oath of Allegiance, and US citizenship ceremonies. Rather different!

UK: Oath of allegiance
I (name) swear by Almighty God that on becoming a British citizen, I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, her heirs and successors, according to law.

(or)

Affirmation of allegiance
I (name) do solemnly and sincerely affirm that on becoming a British citizen, I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, her heirs and successors, according
to law.

After the oath or affirmation, you will make the citizenship pledge:
Citizenship pledge
I will give my loyalty to the United Kingdom and respect its rights and freedoms. I will uphold its democratic values. I will observe its laws faithfully and fulfil my duties and obligations as a British citizen.

The Mayor, or the Mayor's representative, will then present you with your citizenship certificate and a gift.

At the end of the ceremony the new citizens listen to the National Anthem.

Photographs are taken with the Mayor to round off a special, meaningful and enjoyable occasion.

US:
I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

How different.

I have to say I don't think I could have ever become a citizen of the USA were I not already, b/c I sure as hell would never say that pledge!

Anyway, we filed up then to get our certificates and get our pictures taken, and I, being a complete spaz, managed to drop mine on the floor. Great. Auspicious start. I did manage to say something about wanting to provide the entertainment, but, truthfully, I wanted to just die right there - poof, little pile of ash! Sigh - well, this just goes with the Doug territory I guess.

And then we all stood to listen to the first stanza of the national anthem, which is, rather conveniently, sung to the same tune as 'My Country 'tis of Thee...'

God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen:
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save the Queen.

Probably the funniest part of the whole thing, other than me making a dumbass out of myself, was when we were walking home. Set the scene - four silly queens, generally dressed nicely, walking up London street. Three of us are white, with generally shaved head. One is black, but wearing a hat and gloves. (This is relevant). We're walking along with our flags, which is not a normal thing to do here. For the most part, one only sees flags at official occasions, sports events, and being used by white power groups. Anyway, this guy pulls up in a car, leans out, and asks, "Are you guys English Defence League"? (skinheads). Yes, with our new black member. Dumbass! Ah, my fellow countryman...

It was a bit of an anticlimax then to head back to work, though I was, to my amusement, greeted with a flag and cutout of the queen on my monitor. Who said Hackney didn't have class?

Anyway, lots of other stuff, but I'm mostly too tired to mention it at the moment. Maybe tomorrow. We're in the process of getting the kitchen done, have travelled numerous times to Ikea, hardware stores, builder's supply stores, furniture stores, etc... We're moving most of the stuff on the weekend, then actually moving in the 22nd, when the fridge arrives.

So tired.

Hope Floats, and Beware the Hamsters of Doom!

2010-11-21T22:35:00.000Z

So, David and I went to our first ever spa-related event. Or, rather, we went to one of those floaty tank thingies - sensory deprivation kinda thing you know really? Sorry, my brain seems to have imploded. Anyway, he got me gift certificates last Xmas, which we have to use up by this Xmas. I got him to go along b/c, even though it was originally my idea, I thought the whole thing sounded a bit weird. This impression was not helped any by our visit to the place. It was on a back street in south London - behind this building, along an alleyway. We rang a bell to get in, then tromped down into the basement. Fairly non-descript looking place, with a girl, early 20s maybe, working behind the counter. Hmm - many bongs methinks have been partaken by her. Anyway, she gave us the schpiel about the various sensations people feel, that some people hallucinate, float through space, etc. I think, "Love, that's only if you take ecstasy first". But hey, I'm willing to try most things. We make our appointments (apparently the place is quite popular) and head back there Sunday morning, after a hard Saturday of hanging out with friends and watching Harry Potter (which is so tedious I thought I might have to poke my eyes out with canteloupe spoons, just for sheer entertainment). Anyway, I digress. We showed up for our appointment Sunday morning and got yet another schpiel, this time from a (admittely rather cute) male pothead. David was led to one room and I to another. In the room there was a shower, a chair, and this very large pod, with a lid, full of extremely salty water (epsom salt I think?). I take off all my clothes and lower myself into the skin-temperature, slightly slimy water. Ooh, very odd sensation. I lie on my back and float immediately to the surface, like a cork. How strange. With one button the lid clanks down (not very relaxing), and I'm treated to five minutes of ethereal music before it goes silent and I switch off the light. OK, apparently there is no way for me to sink, which means I can relax, which means that maybe I can get rid of this stiff neck. I lie there, in the pitch black dark and silence, thinking about relaxing. RELAX! Yeah - something I'm really good at. Much to my surprise, I do finally manage to relax all the muscles in my body, and float there, thinking I probably look a bit like someone being abducted by aliens (the floaty part, before the probe). Hmm... relax. Thoughts of Shamu... Relax... Bump! Oh, it's the side. There were, much to my great surprise, moments when I did actually feel like I was cartwheeling through space, and the hour goes by, it seems, in about 15 minutes. Just before the end, the music comes back on (which makes me feel like I suddenly am spinning forwards - very weird) and the (dim) lights slowly begin to glow. However, my reverie is broken, rather suddenly, when the lid creaks open. Hello, world! Apparently though, I was quite relaxed, because I nearly fell over when I stood up. I've got one more gift certificate - I'll use it before Xmas. Too bad I don't have any pot brownies handy though... Hmm.

Speaking of pot brownies - recurring dreams.

I've had these recurring dreams for years when I've been stressed. There is a dream about fire when I am really really stressed. There is a dream about being along the Mexican border. One about tsunamis. One about trying to take the subway to somewhere absurd. And finally, one involving hamsters.

Perhaps I need therapy.

Had a subway one recently - I was walking through New York, barefoot, and had to take the subway somewhere. One train was going to Romania, and the other to Mecca. Which should I take? The subway dream, I've figured, out, is me feeling like I'm a bit stuck in my work life - trying to get my somewhere far away and exciting with my public sector job (the subway).

The fire one is feeling overwhelmed and consumed - but, at the end, realizing that things will be OK (I am always OK at the end of the dream). Fire dreams can range from mild - thermostat turned up a bit high, to extreme - nuclear bomb - depending on my level of stress.

Tsunami - same thing - haven't had one of those in a few years though. Last time, I had a tsunami go through my apartment, but then realized afterwards that I just had to dry the carpets a bit.

Mexico - I have no idea - I've not figured that one out yet. It's always me travelling through some very large, open space, just north of the Mexican border - it's always a bit of a wasteland, and I am always on my way somewhere.

A few night ago I had a dream that combined fire and Mexico - or, rather, burned chaparral hills and the Mexican border. Not figured that one out yet.

An finally, hamsters. This is a recent addition to the weird-dream collection. I'm always carrying a hamster and it's squirming out of my hands. I'm trying to get it back to its cage, where it will be safe and not run away. Obviously, I feel like my life is slightly out of control at the moment, what with the whole house purchasing and wait for citizenship, etc. Oh, the last one also had some sort of vague monster that turned into a sunflower. Not figured that part out yet.

Yeah, therapy.

The good thing is, I tend to have entertaining dreams and usually remember them, but my God - it would be nice to have some normal dreams like showing up in class in my underpants or something... (I've had that one too, btw...).

Next door - still no idea why the place caught on fire. It's boarded up now though. I'd be super-pleased if I were buying this place and discovered the next door house had burned down and was now boarded up! A few more cracks have appeared in the bricks here as well - probably nothing to do with the fire, but still worrying. Ah, the wonders of creaky old houses!

And that's the news from Lake Dougbegone.

Oh, and on a Lighter Note...

2010-11-18T22:52:00.000Z

So, I've been out for almost 19 years. I think of myself as generally able to handle myself in most situations. Anyway, I walked into the locker room at the gym just the other day and there is this absolute Adonis of a naked man who actually does a double-take as I walk by. He smiles and just stares. What do I do - introduce myself, calmly and cooly? I've done this sort of thing before? Oh no, I drop half my items onto the floor, and can't even manage to make eye contact - quick, look only in the mirror or you might turn to stone!

That was a serious gay cruising fail that was.

Sad but true.

You'd think I was a 12 year old Japanese girl or something.

Giggle!

And in Other News...

2010-11-18T19:18:00.000Z

OK - there have been mucho many things happening of late, beyond last night (next entry).

For starters, David and I completed the house purchase on the 9th. We met the estate agent at the house at 230pm to pick up keys. To my great embarrassment, David insisted on having the estate agent make a video of us walking up to the door, unlocking it and opening it. Oy vey.

Anyway - first time to actually poke around the nooks and crannies of the house, which, up until then, had people and furniture in it. Ooh, and the first things we discover that aren't quite up to snuff! Oven fan vents to nowhere. Oh well - part of the fun of owning a 120 year old house, I guess... We'd already had the bathroom designer out (for adding the 2nd bathroom). The evening we completed (after popping off to Sainsbury's for £99 worth of cleaning equipment, Robin showed up with a bottle of champagne. Yay, champagne on a school night! We had the kitchen designer showing up about 730 - this late middle aged Polish woman. I'm sure she had no idea we were all a bit tipsy by that point. (Yeah, right). Three hours, and many measurements later, she presents us with drawings of what the kitchen will look like, and the rather astoundingly large bill to get it to that point. Well, we'd already been hosed with the bathroom bill, so we did manage to talk her down quite a bit. I'm sure we still got hosed, but less so.

Wow, a house in London! We've been spending the entire time on weekends at places like B&Q (HomeDepot), appliance stores, paint stores, etc. I now own my very own hedge trimmers. It's a Bosch - got it for only £49 on sale. I never thought I would own a hedge trimmer. But, this being England, we have a hedge, and it needs to be trimmed. David wanted a chainsaw, but I managed to convince him that we probably didn't actually have any need for a chainsaw for our tiny little postage stamp back yard - esp a gas powered one. How boring of me.

So, lots and increasingly more lots of work to be done - all these things I'd never thought about moving into a very old house. "Oh yeah, we can take out the remains of the chimney in the kitchen. Legally we have to support it with steel beams, but if we add some wood to the rafters, it will be fine". Ooh, a leak here! Strange electrical connections there! What the hell is that thing with the numbers on it over the door? They really used horse hair in the plaster? Eek! The pipe covered with hessian - what is it - water? Gas? Oh, it's gas, and looks like it's as old as the house! Hmm, the slate tiles seem to be a bit wavy - in fact, the entire roof is wavy. But then, so are the other houses, and they haven't fallen down yet. Yet.

Ah well, I suppose that's part of the adventure.

Meanwhile, our bitch-troll landlady announced that she wanted us out of current flat by 3rd December so that she can complete her sale by the 10th. Survey says, wrong, b/c we have this cool thing called a contract that you signed and you have to give us two month's written notice. So, I served her with our notice first - ha ha! We're planning on moving before Christmas, but as our rent period goes from the first, we have until the end of December to get the place spic and span and get our deposit back (which, fortunately, is held by the estate agent, who thinks that aforementioned landlady is, essentially, smoking crack, or at least not entirely in tune with her obligations drawn from the contract). That also gives us time to deal with the little, um, furniture issues. When we moved in here, the place was furnished (normal here). Cheapass landlady wouldn't store anything for us, but we could, at about £150/month. Yeah, right. (This is the same landlady who deprived Robin of a working shower for four months after it leaked so she could get the same tile installed, made by a factory in Italy that didn't work over the summer) and us of our shower for several weeks while she tried to find someone suitably cheap to fix it. There was the leaking roof that took, oh, almost three years to get sorted as well. So, we were initially going to try to help her out with her sale, but, to leave early, David would have had to cancel a trip to the USA to visit his mom. So, he asked landlady if we could work out some deal, as he would have to cancel £500, non-refundable tickets. But no, she thought she was being very reasonable by lowering our astromomical rent to something slightly less astronomical for the three months when dozens of people tromped through this place looking to buy, and she feels that David has her up against the wall and is trying to blackmail her. Hmm - lesson 1 - don't mess with queens with a contract. So, David actually did cancel his trip so that we could be out (at a time of our choosing though). We do, however, have a missing couch to figure out (it was broken to begin with, but had an unfortunate encounter with the ground when we shoved it off the roof, having decided that the council could come pick it up. We did shrink wrap it before we put it up there, you know - it may have been white trash, but it was classy white trash). There is the awful wicker chair that has been living on the roof, getting more plant like by the day. Some glue and a lot of lacquer will fix that. There was a bed that went to a friend and then to God only knows where when he moved. Ebay! And there are what were once oil stains and are now slightly bleached patches on the wall-to-wall sisal carpet (I mean, really - what kind of idiot puts in non-cleanable carpet in a flat?). I'm hoping that strong tea, or perhaps coffee can fix the little bleached bits where I cleaned. So yeah, we have a little conniving to do before we move out, I suppose, but all will be as it was when we moved in (actually, probably a lot cleaner than it was, as the girls who lived here before us were complete pigs).

Busy then.

Thank God for Brick

2010-11-18T18:22:00.000Z

Well, I actually have many many things to write about, it's been a very busy few weeks, but I'll put the majority of them into a separate entry. I think last night deserves its own. For once, we got to bed at a reasonable hour - thought maybe today I wouldn't be wandering around as a sleep deprived zombie. Wrong.

About 230am, I woke quite suddenly. I could hear what sounded like furniture being moved around and shoved into walls, also unusual popping sounds. My first assumption was that the neighbours were just being annoying, as they have occasionally woken us during the night, but something told me I should look behind the blinds and out the bedroom window. We live on the third (British second!) floor of a brick rowhouse, and the bedroom faces the back yard. There is an attached house to our left as we face back, where the noises were coming from. Anyway, I looked out the back window and was confronted with flames shooting out the back of the house on the left, right up to rooftop level, and a huge plume of black smoke. There was a faint hint of smoke in our bedroom, but not enough to set the alarm off. I woke David, who is a much sounder sleeper than me, and we ran around to grab passports (don't want to lose those in a foreign country) and the hard drive containing the past 11 years' worth of photos. Robin is in Amsterdam at the moment, so he missed it all. As we're running around grabbing our things, throwing on jackets, shoes, etc, someone is ringing the buzzer incessantly, then pounding on the door. I run down to get it, to let the neighbour know we are awake and leaving. A cop rushes up the stairs to tell us we need to leave immediately. So, everyone ends up down on the street - eight people from our building, three (I think) from the one on fire, and two from the one adjoining it on the other side. There's black smoke pouring out the front of the house.

I count, on our very small street, five fire engines, a cop car, an ambulance, several fire support vehicles, and at least a dozen fire fighters. They get the main bit of the fire out within about half an hour (they were there pretty quickly - traffic must not have been very bad), and it takes about another half hour before we're told we can go back in the building. They're in there until about 530 or so, ripping out walls and throwing them into the back yard - they've got a generator set up in the road out front and God only knows what's going on next door.

David and I sat around for quite a while - had some camomile tea and something to eat and eventually went back to bed. The bedroom smelled terrible, though I've managed to get rid of most of the smell today running the fan all day with the front windows open. Took me ages to fall back to sleep, and I've just had this horrible, leaden feeling all day today. It's funny - both Jonathan and I were exposed to all sorts of things burning down, growing up in CA. He has managed to, in a way, embrace fire, to tame it, possibly even vanquish it, whereas I am completely repelled by it - find it the most horrible thing in the world (though, I suppose, strangely fascinating). When I get really stressed out I have a recurring dream about fire (I have other recurring dreams as well, but when I have a fire one I know I'm really stressed). The only other time I've felt this same awful feeling was when Avi's flat burned down - a friend of his flatmate died in there, or, to be more accurate, died shortly after being in there. Passed out from GHB while holding a cigarette. The bed smoldered, turned the room into a kiln. It never flashed to an actual fire, but it was hot enough to melt the TV, and coat everything in the entire flat with greasy ash. I helped Avi move his stuff out of the flat shortly after it happened (Avi, fortunately, was not at home when this occurred). I stood in the other bedroom and looked at the mangled bed springs - where the guy lay there unconscious and cooked. I didn't see him. Didn't know him, and, I think, had never met him. But that was still, I think, probably one of the worst things I've ever seen. I used to think it was the post 9/11 barbecued flesh smell of the World Trade Center that was the worst, but, in a way, that was so mind-numbingly huge that it was overpowered by this single, and amazingly stupid bedroom tragedy. Anyway, thankfully, no one was injured last night, but I have exactly the same awful feeling again today.

So, we slept, rather badly, until about 10 this morning, and then headed towards work. I made it a whole 1.3 miles before one of my gear cables snapped. Fanfuckingtastic - really what I wanted to have happen today. Just about at the end of my coping capabilities, I walked the bike 1.5 miles to the bike store, and booked it in tomorrow to get the shifters replaced. But no, they don't have the shifters - it will be 5-7 working days. I walk down the street to the next bike store and buy the shifters myself. Walk them back to first bike store. There you are - shifters. Install please. Had lunch with David. Booked ourselves in for a 'floating spa' appointment on Sunday (sounds relaxing - I think we need it), then headed home to 'work from home', which means I actually managed to do about 5 minutes of work today, if that.

Yeah, it's been a really super cool day.

But, on the plus side, at least our flat is still together, and hopefully it will stay that way. I do feel quite badly though for the neighbours, and very much hope they have insurance.

This is the view out of the back of the flat, from Robin's bedroom (next to ours, which would be towards the right, away from the flames).

Front door of the house - ours is out of view on the right.

This is the alleyway between houses - it scorched the backyard on the left, but, fortunately didn't jump the alleyway.

That's the state of the ground floor flat - not much left.

This is from the back of the building - we are on the left, with the curly stairs - the burned building is on the right.

Oh, and just to make things weirder, David just got home, and his gear cable snapped in the same way as mine (fortunately, just after ghetto-trash tried to steal his bike and he was able to get away).

Yeah, all fun and games round these parts today!

The World's Most Inefficient Meeting

2010-11-06T22:18:00.000Z

So, yeah, yesterday I went to a meeting (well, really more of a project launch) in a stone building, in the middle of a field, in a town called Hope. Well, actually, it seemed a bit hopeless, at least to begin. I woke at the ungodly hour of 445, made my bacon, eggs and beans, and pedalled rather wearily towards St Pancras station. The train, the 637 to Sheffield, was delayed by about 20 minutes, for some unknown reason. Unknown for a while, anyway. Pulling out into the gradually brightening northern suburbs, we crept along and eventually stopped. Then started. Then stopped again. Ah, signalling problems. Or perhaps the wrong kind of air. You just never know. Fortunately, to make up for the late departure, the conductor announced that the train was actually going to end at Derby ("Darby"), about 40 miles south of Sheffield. This meant we could take the next scheduled service to Sheffield, which was running on time, and therefore arrive at our destination on time. Cool trick - I should try that when I'm running late! This also had the unfortunate effect of making me miss my connecting train to Hope, the result being that I was over an hour late to the 2.5 hour long meeting.

Now, me being me, I brought my bike along on this trip, knowing that I could make use of the rest of the afternoon to poodle around on my bike, in the Peak District, on company time. Also a good trick. The bike was also quite handy, as the company hosting the meeting was about 1.5 miles from the train station, up this absurdly steep road, in the aforementioned stone building in the middle of a field. Very pretty - not hugely efficient though travelling what turned out to be over four hours north for what then turned out to be a 1.5 hour meeting (as I missed the first hour). Again though, on the fortunate for me front, I got to the thing just as the guy was actually getting around to talking about the product, which, as it turns out, isn't something I think we'd want. So, one coffee, a few cookies and several questions later, I was freed to cycle off into the gathering grey.

I had this great plan to cycle back to Derby, about 45 miles, then get the train back. All tickets were bought and collected, and the ride was planned out on my Garmin. I didn't, however, take into account the rather large hills (it's not called the Peak District for nothing, you know...). Anyway, I didn't make it far - too many places to stop and admire the view, not to mention that I kept having to stop and piddle around with my gears - turns out the indexing was off - always a good thing to find out when one has to shift every 3 seconds. Decided on a loop ride back to Sheffield, which meant I had to buy another ticket back to London. £59.50. Ouch. Work, however, is going to pay. They sent me off to the ends of the Earth for this silly meeting for a useless product they won't buy. Anyway, I need to head back to the Peak District on a day when I have a lot more time - it's the perfect cycling place - tiny little empty roads, climbing, for no apparent reason, up and over ridiculously steep hills. Might pick a day with slightly better weather as well - weather that doesn't test the GoreTex in my new jacket (which actually works pretty well). Anyway, ride was lovely, and pics to follow. The train ride back though was almost as lovely as the ride up. Sheffield Station was heaving with students, heading off for the weekend. The train was packed and I got yelled at for putting my bike into the disabled space (because of all the nonexistent disabled people on the train). We sat for a good 40 minutes, unmoving, south of Sheffield, b/c some dumbass had pushed something onto the tracks. So, that made about seven hours of travel for 90 minutes of sitting in an overheated room with a bunch of other nerdy types, listening to a rambling presentation about a buggy, not-yet-completed piece of software that costs more money than the department has to spend. Nice bike ride though, and, as we all know, that's what matters... :-)

Anyway, David and I spent the day today talking to a bathroom designer, who managed to sell us a complete new bathroom for a giant amount of money. Looks very pretty on CAD. Read some bad reviews about the company though, so, of course, not I'm worrying. Sigh - I'll be very happy once we're moved and settled. Tomorrow we're off to the furniture store to look at sofas. Wee!

Ooh, pretty field and hill, just to the south of Hope.

Almost the Grand Canyon - just give it a few more years (and fewer sheep).

The first of many climbs.

Stone walls in fields - I have no idea how old those are, but they are old enough to be covered in lichen - must have been a lot of random slate lying around these parts!

Aww, it's the town of something-or-other - very scenic, anyway!

Larch plantation - there are quite a lot of replanted areas around here, but, like the rest of Britain, the original forests were felled years and years ago for fuel, ships, etc.

It's the town of Chewandswallow (I might have made that up) again. Fantastic long (though unfortunately bumpy) hill heading down towards the town.

Beech trees - one of my faves.

Ah yes - rain. Wouldn't be a British autumn ride without rain.

Looking east across the moors. All we need is some Sherlock Holmes mist and we're good to go!

Exchange!

2010-10-23T00:27:00.000+01:00

OMG we own a house in London! We exchanged contracts today, which means the purchase is now official. We 'complete' on 9th November, and looks like we will move in early December. It's only taken since early July!

Anyway, I'm exhausted and heading to bed. David and I stayed up watching Coraline, which is one of the strangest movies I've ever seen. Someone has taken a lot of drugs, I think... Good movie though.

I also managed to snarf my way through half a very large bar of Lindt Chocolate, one large chocolate chip cookie, and a small banoffee. I feel like a manatee. Moo. Must do lots of cardio this weekend!

This is the Dawning of the Age of Austerity...

2010-10-20T21:57:00.000+01:00

It was a bit like waiting for and then watching a slow train wreck. Today was the Comprehensive Spending Review, where the government announced all the cuts it intends to make over the next four years. The average cut seems to be about 20%, which, I suppose, isn't as bad as was feared. Sales tax (VAT) is going to 20%, from the current 17.5%, and they estimate that 500000 jobs are going to disappear from the public sector (though the 'natural wastage' over that period of time is nearly 400000, so the actual number of jobs lost won't be as bad as it seems, I suppose...). The French, when presented with a similar scenario, have decided to trash the country, as have plenty of other Europeans, most notably the Greeks. The British and the Irish, on the other hand, seem to have engaged in a collective shoulder shrug. This is particularly true of the Irish, where things have been really terrible. I read somewhere that the general train of thought there is that life is generally difficult, and that there was no way the good times would last. How very Irish. Wonder how long that attitude will last?

Hackney's already announced cutbacks of about 25% over the next few years - we had this huge all-departmental meeting - a 'road-show' - where the borough CEO announced, the blandest tones possible, that 'tough decisions' would have to be made, 'efficiencies' would have to be effected, and various other English words would have to be tortured. Wonder how much it costs to pack several hundred people into the Town Hall (lost productivity!), feed them croissants, fruit, tea and coffee, and tell them nothing they couldn't figure out for themselves? Anyway, so far (fingers crossed) things seem like they will be OK, but I do keep looking for private sector jobs. If the Tories have their way, we'll have no government left - just businesses - like the Republicans without the whole religion garbage.

Ah yes, good times. Glad the bankers are doing OK, and their bonuses are back up. I was very concerned, you know.

Anyway...

I used the new shower today at work - it's so small I can only shower facing one direction, or my arms hit the side. It's supposed to be 'disabled accessible', being on the ground floor, and with little foldable seats and everything. Problem is, the showers and changing areas are so small I seriously doubt a wheelchair bound person, or even someone slightly overweight could possibly use the showers. Ah well, I suppose it was the thought that mattered.

And in my current and general list of gripes - people who insist on putting their entire life to music. What's with the whole wearing headphones in all circumstances thing? Personally, I like to actually hear things around me - especially when I'm cycling. My cycling jacket actually has a place for headphones. Unbelieveable...

Blah, anyway, I should make my lunch and get ready for bed. Pretty exciting...

Frightfully Middle Class...

2010-10-17T21:29:00.000+01:00

I looked at furniture again today, with Robin. Wandered around Heal's (a furniture store) looking at outrageously priced sofas, tables, fitted kitchens (all the rage here) and silly looking toilets. We actually saw one of those Japanese toilets the other day - the kind that heats your butt, pipes out (non-poopy) fragrances, chirps like a bird and goes out to take itself for walks when you are away. Those Japanese will think of everything, apparently. Lots of bidets. I do not, honestly, see the point of a bidet. I mean, really - that's why God created toilet paper! I remember my 6th grade teacher had a funny story about his first encounter with a bidet - he thought it was a urinal. Seems sensible. The only real problem came when he flushed. Oh dear. We have kitchen and bathroom catalogues strewn all over the living room as well. It's actually been kind of fun (as we've not actually had to do anything yet). Of course, we've gone and looked at all the sensible options, but, strangely, we've also gravitated to the specialist stores in the West End - the kinds where they don't list prices on anything, as it is all built to order, and if you have to ask, well... One of my faves was a sink where the water sort of pours out the top of it like a waterfall. I couldn't help but wonder, what happens, for example, if the water was turned off, and you get lots of air in the system - wouldn't it be a bit like having Old Faithful in the bathroom? And, of course, this being, technically, part of Europe, there are any number of possibilities for wet rooms, rather than normal bathrooms. The Swedes seem to like those. I stayed at a hotel in Sweden, and the shower was just sort of built into the bathroom. Everything got wet when I took a shower, and then I had to use the little squeegee to wipe down the walls and the toilet. It is actually quite interesting, the differences in how different countries go about their business. Don't get my started on squat toilets in France. Silly French people!

As for kitchens, the British really like everything to have a smooth surface, to blend into one sort of whole. They even will incorporate the fridge and the dishwasher into the decor of the kitchen, hiding them behind cabinet doors. The washing machine also goes in the kitchen, and, being a small European front loading type, takes 3 hours to wash clothes and sounds like a jet about to take off when it spins. I miss a proper American washing machine that will wash a family of 5.

Anyway, just winding down on Sunday evening - David is watching Buck Rogers (oh dear - to think that I used to think that was a cool program!) and Robin is watching some ridiculous Tom Selleck movie. It's all thrills and spills here in the capital of the world, eh?

Sweety, Darling...

2010-10-16T20:57:00.000+01:00

And once again a whole bunch of time passes and I don't actually write anything. It's getting so I can't write at work, b/c I actually have to do work (imagine), and then I'm tired and grumpy when I get home and it's time for bed. What's a silly little boy to do?

Anyway, David, Robin and I spent today in Chelsea looking at furniture and kitchens. How very extremely middle aged and middle class! We had a lovely lunch of eggs benedict at the in-store brasserie at the department store while we flipped through big, beautiful kitchen and decorating catalogues. It did feel a bit of an AbFab day (minus the big lines of coke, traffic tickets and general mayhem).

Hopefully hopefully hopefully we'll actually exchange contracts next week, and complete the purchase on 9th November. Considering that we first saw this place sometime in July, it's been a bit of a slog. Still though, we're getting excited about decorating stuff, though God only knows how we're going to afford this sort of silliness. Oh well - we'll manage I'm sure, somehow. (I'll find a nice street corner... ;-)

Went out last weekend to a leather/rubber type dance club, held in a car park underneath South London railway arches - a bit sort of rave-esque. There were two dance arches, one 'chill out' arch (complete with a tea/coffee/hot dogs booth - ick), with the punishment cages right next to it (the normal place to put those sorts of things, I am sure). Big smoking area outside, full of trashed queens (leather daddies are usually actually big opera poofters when it comes right down to it - fastidious and ridiculous and unable to see that they are actually grownups playing dress-up games). And, of course, there was the naughty room, complete with a parked car so people could do things in the back seat. Kind of an amusing place I have to say (went there with Robin and Avi - David had more sense). And then there were the toilets - oh God. Put several thousand people, mostly men, add nowhere near enough portapotties, none of which seem to work properly and you get, well, you don't get any surfaces you would like to spend my time anywhere near. Next time I think they need to improve the toilet situation, b/c I'm really surprised no one went away from that place without cholera. But, overall it was an amusing night, though it does, once again, demonstrate to me that I am just far too cynical to take any of this sort of thing even remotely seriously - even when I am running around in clunky big army boots and a rubber surfer suit. Very fashionable. Not very comfortable. Honestly, I don't know how guys go to these things and spend the entire night in head to toe rubber and don't, quite literally, die. I did ask a guy once, and he said you just get used to it. I suppose people ask me the same thing when I say I ride my bike 100 miles. If it's your thing, you just do it, and you figure out how to deal with the difficult bits.

Anyway...

It's definitely autumn. Nights are getting worryingly long, quite quickly, not to mention cold. The leaves are sort of beginning to think about turning vague shades of not green (London is not known for its autumn colours), and I think the trains may have already altered their schedules to make up for the 'wrong kind of leaves' being on the tracks.

Oh, and in a sure sign of the apocalypse, 2.5 years after it was requested, they actually put showers into my building at work - got rid of one of the women's toilets, which is good, b/c we don't want women using the toilet - they might start getting silly ideas about voting or driving cars... ;-) Still can't lock my bike in the building though, as it is a 'health and safety hazard' (you know - they catch fire, bite people in the leg, carry rabies, that sort of thing), so I still have to lock it across the street in the Town Hall basement. How I suffer.

Right, I'm getting random now, so I will probably go. Robin has just fished a CD out of the DVD player, which he has set up in the kitchen, over the sink. Just another Saturday evening in our happy gay household, it seems.

Sunny South London...

2010-09-23T21:42:00.000+01:00

So, I hung out this evening with my friend Nick, outside Caffe Nero on Old Compton Street (good place for discussing the state of the world and making rude comments about passersby). Anyway, it started to rain and the temperature dropped. As we were sitting outside, it got a bit nipply. The exciting part was that I managed to cycle back through the cold front on the four miles back to South London - it was warm and hadn't rained yet. Anyway, I thought it was exciting.

And I had something else exciting to say, but the great big TV is on, meaning my ability to actually have independent thought has gone the way of the proverbial deer in headlights.

Shiny TV!

Run, Forrest, Run!

2010-09-19T21:10:00.001+01:00

Haven't been doing much cycling lately. Obviously, I couldn't very well in the US, but I've not had hte time for a long bike ride since getting back. I did, however, run a very nice 10 mile run today through north London. Both David and Robin think I'm certifiably insane, which is probably true, but I have to admit I actually enjoyed the run. Ran up through Hampstead Heath, which is the closest one can get to running through the English countryside and still be inside central (ish) London.

Hung out with friends today as well and generally BSed and whined about the state of the world - so, all told, a good time.

Anyway, have to make dinner now and cut my hair - it's getting fluffy, which generally emphasizes the grey. Can't be having that!

All Hail the Ginormous TV!

2010-09-18T19:02:00.000+01:00

Yeah, so, once again, and suprisingly, I am sure, my sad attempts to actually sit down and write things on a daily basis on the USA trip came to a grand result of absolute diddlyshit. I suppose I was just too busy doing things to take a step back and contemplate. Actually, it feels like I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to think or fart. Fortunately, farting doesn't take much thinking, or I'd really be in trouble.

Anyway, USA trip was fantastic - 2.5 weeks of pretty much non-ending coolness. I spent the first few days in San Diego, and, for the first time (possibly ever?) a few days in SD on my own. I'm going to have to make a habit of doing that, b/c it gave me the rare chance to actually sit down and have a proper talk with Poppa - sort of one of those life, the universe and everything talks, that is not at all possible when there are crowds of people there and he puts on the happy mask. (I suppose it doesn't say much for my overall powers of observation that it has really only been in the past few years I've fully understood this - I suppose that's sort of one of those 'growing up' things). I think that one of the things that really stands out is the degree to which people (probably subconsciously) end up treating him like he's a delicate piece of china - he might break at the slightest provocation. I mean, really - the guy's been around 93 years and has seen a few things. True, his vision and hearing leave a little to be desired (we had a very exciting conversation at In and Out Burger when he didn't bring his hearing aids), but, not surprisingly, it really irritates the shit out of him that people treat him like he'll break if confronted with the various truths of life. Anyway, I can't overstate how much I really appreciated the time to just sit down and talk.

I did get the chance, this time, for the first time in years, to visit El Cajon and Spring Valley. El Cajon, I have to say, was about as I remembered it (a bit trashy), but, save for the houses that had burned down, and the attempts to gentrify downtown (unsuccessful, I might add), about the same. Spring Valley, on the other hand, had just gone to hell, and that's putting it nicely. The overall impression was one of decay and ruin, with hints of danger (gangbangers hanging about and such). I drove up to see the old house, or, rather, the location of the old house, and found the garage - listing a bit in the shade of the grown eucalyptus - the overgrown remnants of the plants planted by Mom and Dad, and a hideous, half-built monument to greed - a McMansion - in place of the old house. Parked in front were some number of half-dead cars, and taking the place of the garden was a fenced in enclosure containing various types of industrial debris, trucks, etc. I suppose the Szuch's house was still there, greyed with time, replete with the usual 'Keep Out' signs, but, to be honest, the whole experience was heartbreaking. I wish I had never gone back there to see a childhood memory trashed.

That's enough of that.

The wedding was really nice, and I don't use 'nice' in a bland, blah kind of way. I thought Debbie was just about to explode with happiness when the two of them were standing up there in front of Brian. I have a pretty groovy family, I have to admit (weirdos and all!).

After San Diego, I drove up to LA with Mom and Katherine in Katherine's new car. I figured it would be easier if I just tried to find the place we were going while driving, rather than attempting to get one of them to navigate through big bad LA (which, on a Sunday, was pretty dead). We met Robin at this little French bakery right near downtown (I'd been there a few years ago and had a fab omelette, and the French waiters were really dishy). The omelettes remained amazing, but the French seem to have all been replaced by Mexicans. I suppose Mexicans can make omelettes as well... Sigh. So, Mom and Katherine drove off into the sunset (OK, the early afternoon), and Robin and I headed in the rental car out to the Huntington Garden for some serious plant nerding. There is something really refreshing about wandering around a place like that with someone who is about 100x nerdier than me! Robin was a bit jet-lagged, and hadn't gotten much sleep after a crappy flight, an interrogation by the border control (as he is a notorious homosexual), and having lost his luggage. Fortunately, he found solace in the arms of some nice young thing he found on the internet.

Plant chat finished, we drove out to West Hollywood, where we stayed in a fairly astonishingly pink Ramada. I have to say, WeHo is the most ridiculous place I have ever been. I mean, it's so gay that even the police cars have rainbows on them - one can be screwed by the gay boys in all sort of ways in West Hollywood, I suppose. I know - bad. I had a very nice morning run out to Beverly Hills - ran down Rodeo Drive and everything. I managed about a block on that street and had to leave - I was afraid I might be overwhelmed by the number of late middle aged women who had had so many facelifts as to have given themselves a beard (yes, I lifted that from somewhere), not to mention the squirrel dogs, and the roving hordes of tourists taking their pictures. No recession there! Rather cleverly, Beverly Hills had signs up advertising the upcoming 90210 Festival, which started, wait for it, on 9/02/10. Classy.

Anyway, after our run and gym (we have priorities, you know), Robin and I headed out to Century City, to get me onto the car agreement, and then it was time to head north. I managed to convince Robin to let me drive through LA - he is way the hell too timid in LA traffic. I've done that drive back and forth from SoCal so many times I can pretty much do it without thinking - I don't think Robin was terribly pleased about how long and boring it was though - and we even took I-5, which isn't half as bad as 99. We stopped somewhere around Goosefart or Chickenwhistle for dinner, which consisted of something that may well have been a burrito. Note to self - putting two boys who have eaten sketchy burritos into one car and closing the window is a bad plan.

Had a few days to chill then in Sacto. Met Angus, the world's most laid-back enormous dog, did some shopping, collected bugs in Mom's pool (while ostensibly tanning) and went up to Coloma. We also got to hang out with Chloe a bit more, who, I have to say, is a damn cute kid. Probably cuter given that I've never had to change a dirty diaper (thank God), but still, pretty cute - and smart as well. Lots of words, and she's cottonned on pretty quickly to the fact that cuteness will get her a long way (read the umpteenth book to you? no problem!).

Sadly, Robin did not have any boy adventures while in Sacramento, though not for lack of trying. I wasn't sure how exactly I was going to explain to Mom why he needed to take the car out to Elk Grove to visit his long lost cousin that he hadn't known about until five minutes ago...

We did, however, have some very yummy salads and cookies at a lesbionic cafe in midtown Sac. I'm sure that nearly made up for it. Also exchanged the rather wobbly Nissan Altima for a less wobbly, but noticeably dirtier Camry. (I also had to inflate all four tires, which didn't impress me much).

And, Robin tried his hand at being the Marlboro man on Shylah the horse. Of course, I had to take as many pictures as possible, with the hope that one of them might make the grade and end up butching up his Gaydar profile. Anyway, many pictures were taken as he rode around the ring and the sun went down (I should point out that he was shirtless). It's possible though that the pictures more conveyed something along the lines of Lady Godiva than Marlboro. We can but try.

I sent Robin off to SFO on the Amtrak and headed up to Shady Cove, OR, for more family excitement. Fortunately for all, Robin was able to make up for his poor boy-hunting performance. I, on the other hand, had a yummy milkshake in Corning and had an uneventful and suitably pleasant drive 350 miles north to what may be one of the redneckiest towns I've been to on the West Coast.

I would be lying if I said that I hadn't been worrying about that reunion. Well, not about the reunion itself - I love family reunions, but about the fact that this was going to be the first reunion Mom had been to since the divorce. I think she'd managed to work herself up pretty well before then, which, of course, stressed out all the kids, but I have to say that it was fine. Mom talked to Jan, ignored Dad (pretty effectively, to an almost comical degree), and everyone had a good time. We sat around, bullshitted, ate lots of food (including way too much cake), and everyone came out of the experience in one piece. I kind of feel like that may have been a bit of a sea change in the ongoing Mom/Dad drama - God I hope so! (I suppose if the family can move beyond the days of 'Moron Valley' (Morongo Valley), there is hope...

Didn't get much sleep there - the first two nights were in a hotel, shared with Mom and Katherine (I won't make any mention of any sniffing, coughing or nose blowing that went on during the night), and the 3rd night was on an inflato-bed at GP Plumer/Jere's. This would have been fine, had they not an electric, faux-Westminster chimes clock outside the door of the room, which happily announced the top of every hour (without ever actually chiming the hour). Waking up once an hour, every hour, is not generally good for one's overall night's rest. Anyway, having survived the 1000% white, tea-party-loving charm of southern Oregon (well, except for Crater Lake, which, as we all noted, seemed to have been taken over by the Indian subcontinent), I hopped into the car and headed southward and westward, towards Arcata - possibly the world's hippy-dippyest town.

Hung out with Jen there (I'd not seen her since we met at a motel for an evening of bullshit and crap wine in the meth-heavy lovely burg of Ukiah a few years previously). We sat around on the beach, watched the sun set, froze (this is the north coast we're talking about), and then (as one does), capped the evening off with some bad Chinese food (the only thing open on Labor Day).

And you think this might be the 'and finally', but it's not... Made a brief sojourn through SFO, where I dropped the car and met Robin (fresh from yet another boy-venture). Spent not enough hours sleeping in a room with a gorgeous view near Union Square (complete with minor earthquake), then headed the next morning to NYC.

It's kind of hard to get one's brain around San Diego/West Hollywood/Sacramento/Shady Cove/Arcata/SFO/New York - a typical Doug trip. I think, by the time we got to New York, it felt like we'd been gone about a month, but, to be honest, I really didn't feel at all ready to come back to normality, work, routine. I kinda like nomading around.

New York did, and does still feel like home. Robin doesn't much like it - finds it too neurotic and shallow (well, duh?), but there's something about that city I really love. I think it may be the hardest place to go back to, because it really does feel like I'm coming home, more than another other place except here (possibly equal to here though). I've never understood why that city feels as it does - I suppose one just accepts those sorts of things and is happy that there is a place in the world that does actually feel like home.

We had a day to spend in New York - wandered around downtown, walked along the river, ate good food, saw a friend of Robin's and two of mine (Ray and normal-John). Robin spread the love around that city as well (do we notice a pattern here?) and I had a lovely run along the river.

Will have pics up as soon as I can get them together.

I always feel a little out of sort after these trips for a week or so - I've managed to move my life halfway across the world - and it's a little emotionally overwhelming to drop myself back into the extended family, and things from childhood. I wouldn't miss it though. As I said, I have a pretty cool family, and am always happy to schlep my ass across the ocean to see them.

Oh, the title of the blog? Suppose that's b/c David has purchased what may be the world's biggest TV - 63 inches (and 3D). The box would fit a Smart Car (well, almost). However, as he is quick to point out, it's very energy efficient and only weighs 38kg without stand. It's going to get mounted above the fire place after we move. We may need planning permission, as I'm pretty sure it generates its own weather.

So yeah, back to normal. Will try again, as usual, to do this more frequently, which might be easier when I'm not trying to recount several weeks at once.

Ha.

Sunny, with a chance of more sunny...

2010-08-27T05:57:00.000+01:00

That is the beauty of SoCal at the end of the summer... I flew in yesterday to San Diego. My arms were very tired. Sorry. Anyway, I was up way before the crap of dawn yesterday, at 430. Took the bus to the train to the Gatwick plane. Sat my but for 9 hours to Atlanta. Got a 'randomly selected' (my ass) full body scan at Atlanta and was then patted down because of a 'male anomaly'. Excuse me? I managed to get to San Diego about 6 last night and was met by Karen and Bob at the airport. Deliriously tired conversation in the car, then had a shower and brushed my teeth. Ah - a new lease on life! K and B and Poppa and I all went for dinner (I'd been eating all day, but hey, what's more food?) and then Poppa and I stayed up and talked. I've had very few chances in my life to sit around and talk to just Poppa at length. It's kinda funny how everyone seems to assume he's delicate and can't cope with difficult family news items. That is so very far from the truth. I mean, the guy's 93 and has seen a lot - it does always make me wonder why people seem to assume that old people will break if they are let in to all the various gory details of life. It's not like they haven't experienced it themselves!

Anyway... I suffered surprisingly little jet lag today. I managed about 7 fitful hours of sleep, then got up, ran up to the top of Mt Soledad (823 feet up, not that I checked). I love that run, even though I think I had a heart attack and a hernia, or perhaps my heart attack had a hernia. Had a perfect afternoon - nice gay gym, walked around downtown San Diego, went to Horton Plaza and bought - wait for it - socks. (I tried, but that's all I could find on short notice...), and also wandered around Seaport Village, which, I have to say, is pretty damn kitschy - it was adorable when I was like 10, whereas now I just think OMG... Oh well. And finally, Poppa and I finished out with the perfect dinner - burger, fries and a milkshake at In and Out. I will be running again tomorrow!

Oh, and something I always notice but have never understood... US grocery stores, particularly in CA, are always beautiful inside - it's all about the presentation - esp in the produce section, even if the actual quality isn't all that great. In Europe, they just sort of throw things in boxes and you rummage. I really do wonder why there is such a difference in presentation...

Anyway, I might actually get to bed at a reasonably early hour tonight. How strange...

Grammar Patrol...

2010-08-23T21:52:00.000+01:00

Amusingly, I seem to have taken on the unofficial role of grammar patrol for the department. I 'grade' all of my boss' essays before she hands them in for her Master's course (I will never to an MBA as long as I live after this...) and I'm always pointing out bad grammar usage by the council. All this as a bloody foreigner in this supposed land of the English language. Innit!:-) One of my continual pet peeves is the inappropriate usage of the apostrophe. I never thought I would say this, but I do actually believe that Americans, as a whole, might well have better grammar than the Brits.

Anyway - the cause of all this - two car ads that have irked me. One, an ad for a Volkswagen, blathers on about how cheap the car is, and then concludes with 'Eyes on the road please'. Hello? How about 'Eyes on the missing comma, please'. But the real winner of the bad grammar award, produced by the 'We Speakum Good English' ad company, is an ad for a new Alfa Romeo. It has a picture of some vaguely tarty woman on it, wearing too much lipstick, and says, 'Giulietta. I am the stuff dreams are made on.' Oy vey, mamma mia! Where the hell did they come up with that slogan, first grade? That ad is on billboards all over London, and I have to say, it really frosts my muffin.

Unless, of course, they are being coy and talking about having sex on the car, which I suppose is possible.

Oh what a crotchety old thing I will become...

I've got one more day before CA trip, and about a million things to do before then. So, off I go to do.

Microclimate!

2010-08-19T21:35:00.000+01:00

So, I went for a bike ride yesterday after work (I usually do). Part of my ride goes up Highgate Hill, which is the highest hill in North London (not very high, about 300 feet). On occasion, the hill seems to attract weather. This was the case yeterday, when it was raining quite heavily on the hill, but none at all back on the south side, towards central London. How exciting! And squishy. Today's ride was slightly less fun. Some of the nice little ghetto shits, I mean, children in Hackney decided it would be fun to shoot my leg with some sort of plastic bb gun - this on the same street where I had a tennis ball thrown at my face. Perhaps I should avoid that street. I could wish death and destruction on them, but that will probably come later when a drug deal goes bad, or someone doesn't give someone else the requisite amount of 'RESPECT'. Ooh, did I say that? How very un-pc of me. Tsk!

Anyway - how exactly did I get from microclimate to shitheads? These things happen, I suppose. Not a lot else at the moment, really. I got two job rejections in one day, just before I was told they are cutting our capital budget by 40%, so that made for a pretty groovy day. But I should probably take some solace tha the financial sector is picking up and the bankers are making huge boatloads of profit again. How nice that we all get to suffer now while they go back to doing lines of coke off their desks. Or maybe they just did that in the 80s? Unlikely.

Ooh, I am bitter today! I suppose I should go have a shower and eat a bowl of cereal. Life often looks a bit better after a bowl of cereal, I have discovered.

Grumble...

A Country Ramble...

2010-08-15T20:59:00.001+01:00

Well, the weather was pretty crapalacious yesterday, so I didn't get to go cycling. I did go for a long, hilly run, for which I'm paying today, as well as going to the Gap, hanging out with Paul, and generally farting around in town, so, not a bad day. Avi came over last night and we ate junk food and watched Terry Pratchett's 'The Colour of Magic'. Needless to say, I had some pretty wacked out dreams last night...

Anyway - today we had a big way walk in the countryside. Met up with Adrian and co this morning at 1030 at Paddington and took the train about to Cookham, about an hour west of London, in the Thames Valley. The Thames Valley is kind of a strange place - it has several small cities in it - Slough, for one - most of them horrible. The countryside though is very genteel, as are most of the small towns. Lots of Range Rovers these parts - not a pickup truck to be found. So, we tromped through the woods for about 10 miles. The great thing about England is that there is, codified in law, a 'right to roam', which means that you can walk across just about any private land - fields, forests, etc, as long as you stay out of cultivated areas and stick to designated public rights of way. Very different from the US! Anyway, you get six notorious homosexuals in one place, add a long walk, bugs, nettles, and a pub with good food and alcohol, you get a lot of creative carping that goes on. I'm not entirely sure the other pub goers appreciated our clever wit, but I'm sure it was good for them... ;-)

Pictures of the day:

I'm not sure I can come up with a politically correct comment for this one, so I will refrain...

Ah, another silly sign...

Don't we all look like we are having a good time? I think this is when Adrian was trying to figure out where we were supposed to be going...

Beech trees are cool.

David in the forest...

The village of Marlow - apparently Britain's 'Best Kept Town'. Much excessive cuteness... (and lunch).

Pretty view from Makeout Point (not actually sure what it was called, but it seemed appropriate).

Enormous willow in the Thames floodplain... Lots of mud!

David holds up an English Oak...

Lone oak in a field...

'Mos on the move (handbags at the ready!) ;-)

The Thames in Cookham - lotsa money here!

I have decided this is going to be my house - not entirely sure how, but that's beside the point!

Excitement at the Gym...

2010-08-11T16:51:00.001+01:00

Well, there was a little bit of drama at the gym last night, which demonstrated exactly how oblivious people really are in that setting… I was just finishing my workout, and this (very young) guy was on a machine, directly across from me. Quite suddenly, he just sort of rolled off the machine, struck his head on one of the bars, fell on the floor and started convulsing. I ran across the room to see what happened. By this point he’d stopped having a seizure and was lying on his back on the floor. Almost straightaway the guy regained consciousness and I helped him reposition himself on the floor so he wouldn’t bang his head again (he was still pretty confused, and totally shocked at what had happened). I probably should have yelled for someone else to come over, but there was no one else at my end of the gym, so I told him I was going to run to the front desk and have them call an ambulance. I ran downstairs and told the girl at the front desk, then ran back upstairs. Amazingly, despite the commotion, and the fact that there were several other people in the gym, the guy was still lying on his back, on the floor, by himself. Don’t these people notice anything outside their little mp3 world? A trainer followed me upstairs and, trying to be helpful (but being, as he was, thick-as-shit), offered a glass of water. Um, hello, the man needs an ambulance, not a drink… So then the manager appears, asking what was happening. I ask if she’d called an ambulance. No, not yet – she has to ‘assess’ the situation first. Um, excuse me? Not much to assess – man falls, bangs head, has seizure, says this has never happened before – sounds like a pretty clear-cut case for emergency services to me! Fortunately, he has the presence of mind to request an ambulance directly (he’s pretty much OK at this point – just looking a bit green). I mean, I understand why large corporations have policies where they ‘assess’ the situation, even after someone says that an ambulance is needed, but in some cases, one should just trust what the person is saying, b/c to not do so is to, possibly, risk someone’s life. Anyway, I will be writing a letter to the parent company of the gym… (My God, how middle-aged am I getting? Writing concerned letters, complaining about the youth of today, getting a mortgage… Gack!)

A Lovely Day for a Bike Ride...

2010-08-08T20:54:00.000+01:00

So, I'm sitting here trying to pay attention to the computer (difficult when David and Robin are watching 'Allo 'Allo repeats). Just making late dinner on a Sunday night. I was supposed cycle 100 miles today, but, as luck would have it, I got a flat tire, which wasted a good hour. Blah. I did manage 68 miles - decided to pick random roads, which is always an adventure in a city with as silly a road system as this.

David and I spent the day yesterday looking at kitchens and bathrooms - ooh how very domestic (and very expensive)!.

Anyway, not much exciting to say at the moment, but I do have some pics...

It's generally rude to make fun of other people's fashion choices, so I will just put this picture here and let you make fun of them...

Greetings from the planet purple!

My lunch spot on Box Hill, about 25 miles south of London - that's the lovely town of Dorking (giggle) below...)

I'm surrounded by nerds...

2010-08-05T21:07:00.000+01:00

So, one of the fun things about living in a house with two big nerds, I mean, IT professionals, is that the appliances talk to each other (and not just if I've drunk too much). There are five working computers set up in the house - four of them in the living room (two of them on the dining room table), and many an evening passes with us all tippety typeting away in our own little universes. Sometimes David and Robin will speak nerd to each other, and I can only but hope to catch a word or two - 'delviating the ramafram, BRD'. Occasionally, I've even messaged Robin across the room, which tends to result in something being thrown back the other way (usually sarcasm). There is another computer in our bedroom, and, oh, I forgot to mention, a server sitting on the shelf behind the sofa. Both TVs are connected to the computers as well, and I'm waiting for the toaster to strike up conversations in the next little while. (That said, we seem to have an enormous collection of movies and TV shows, all of them perfectly 100% legal I am sure (of course!), and all the computers are named after Muppet characters, so it can't be all bad. Actually, at the moment we are all on different computers - David is ordering a new computer, Robin is transferring data from one computer to another (both of them 'borrowed' from work - must be nice to be an IT manager at a big company). Our happy little very strange household...

Oh, and David and I got the mortgage approved today - woohoo - we are going to be London houseowners! How very posh! David is already picking out new bathroom fixtures - how cute.

David related his very exciting story of cycling derringdoo when I got home today. Some motorist in a big shiny new Chrysler 300 cut off him and a number of other cyclists at a light, so David 'accidentally' left a huge scracth along the side of the car. Big scary car driver makes a big thing about threatening to run over David and says he'd better pull over, blah blah blah, so David pulls over, plays all sweet and dumb and innocent, and gets away with it! Ha ha! I admire the ability to do that - I wouldn't have managed to keep my cool. (Just yesterday I had an altercation with a motorist who honked at and nearly hit me - I caught up with him at a light - he's shouting and honking and making a huge scene (he was a bit of ghetto trash), so I shouted into his open window that 'I have the right to be anywhere on the road I goddamn well please, so f*ck off!', and then planted myself right in front of the car (making sure he doesn't actually get out of the car, doesn't have a gun, and that I know my escape route, of course). Ooh, the excitement of urban cycling! I think I need a Maalox.

Not much else - I'm still sleep deprived, tired and crabby - I should probably go to bed early tonight - that's what I skipped the gym for today, after all. Hmm.

Of Rain and the Coming Republic of Bikelandia...

2010-08-04T17:07:00.000+01:00

Yay – it rained finally! We’ve been having a pretty serious drought this summer. Granted, it doesn’t rain much in London – only about 22 inches, but the rain is usually spread out fairly evenly. With climate change, however, this evenness seems to be being compressed into much shorter, heavier rainstorms. The summers are tending to be either storm-filled or entirely dry. This has been a dry one, though, fortunately, not so hot as the rest of northern Europe. London in a dry summer is not very pretty. The parks all turn to straw, the trees look unhappy, and the general level of crud and birdpoop on everything increases exponentially. But, this afternoon, the heavens opened, and there was at least one anaemic burst of thunder (it doesn’t thunder much here).

I’ve been tired and headachy today – I always seem to be tired and headachy. Wonder what it is like to be awake and alive and alert? Our new intern seems quite bright though, which is good, as he’s been made my responsibility. It does mean though that I can’t just hunker down behind my desk and ignore everyone. Ugh – the burden of responsibility! ;-)

Oh, and in bike news, I saw someone cycling up Mare Street on a double-height bike (a bike attached to the top of the bike), sans helmet. Not sure if that was brave or stupid, being up there six feet above the ground like that, weaving through the busses? Oh, and I learned that the UN is trying to take over the world through bicycles. I am very proud to be part of the revolution, and I’m not even wearing my tinfoil hat! Anyway, seeing as how I am at work and probably should be working (hah), that’s it for now. Trying to be more regular about this though… Oh oh – and finally – more evidence that this is a strange little country (in case that wasn’t inherently obvious already).

Oy vey and a half (Indeed!).

2010-08-03T20:26:00.000+01:00

Well, I've not been at this in a while. You'd think that as life got more stressful, I'd want to write more, but the actuality is that I get home from work and the gym, feel like a big braindead blob, and park my butt in front of the TV. We're still mid-throes of buying a house. What a big pain in the butt. And not in a good way either.

Robin just got home - he's complaining that they sent him the wrong colour blades for his hair clipper (he got replacement blades). Oh major tragedy ensues...

Anyway, back to things I care about... The house buying process in England is a little bit more fraught with uncertainty than in the US. For starters, the prices in London have not gone down at all, and make New York City look almost affordable. It was my job to find the place, as, after 7 years, David still can't find his way out of a paper bag in this city. So, while unobserved, I looked at several hundred places online, and we actually went out to visit about 12. Each place is listed by any number of 'estate agencies', and the estate agent works for the seller only. This means that it is very very much a 'caveat emptor' type situation - you can't trust the estate agent much farther than you can throw them. Much research is needed to make sure the house isn't actually a big piece of crap and is being sold for a (semi) reasonable amount. Once we decided that the place is, indeed, a good house, we put in our first offer. Rejected. Wait a few days - put in a 2nd offer. Wait. The offer is accepted. However, nothing is legally binding. Now comes time to apply for a mortgage (they now require 25% down payment for a decent rate), and hire a solicitor, who is responsible for talking to the seller's solicitor, as well as checking the local planning permission, the title, etc. The house has to be valued by the bank as well. As it dates from 1893, we're going to get a full 'building survey', to make sure it's not going to fall down. Once this is all completed, we exchange contracts with the sellers, after which it becomes legally binding. Finally, on an agreed date, we meet with the sellers and the estate agent and receive the keys. The offer was accepted about a month ago - we don't really expect to be moving until about October. I don't want to be doing this again any time soon!

So, lots of stress, not much sleep - general blahness.

On a completely unrelated note, London just started its bike-hire scheme last week. 6000 or so big, clunky blue bikes that you can check out and drop off, all over central London - 24/7. A brave new world of numbnuts, toodling about on 45lb behemoths. The very first one I saw being used was, appropriately enough, being run through a red light. Ah well - some things never change.

TfL Bike Hire

I'm sure there have been lots of other things to have happened, but I'm too tired at the moment to think about it - plus I have to fix a few things on my bike.

How butch.

I suppose I will try to be a bit better about this (hmm) - so many times I think 'Oh, I should write this down', and then I don't, and I forget...

Sigh.

No, not the comfy chair!

2010-06-20T21:54:00.000+01:00

Oy vey. So, we've been looking at places to live. Just had our second weekend of looking at houses. Avoid anything that is "cute", "quirky", "good condition", "cozy", "can be expanded", etc... Utter and total crap. Very expensive utter and total crap. The funny thing is, the places we have been looking at are all quite small - around 1100 ft2, and obviously designed as the "affordable housing" of 100 years ago. Not affordable anymore! I suppose there is a small part of me that is vaguely curious to go into other people's houses and see how they live, but mostly, I find the whole process depressing - it's amazing how a tiny little shithole nothing of a place can be made to look magnificent through the power of a fisheye lens. But, we knew this was going to happen - London is just about the most expensive city in the world. Blah.

Not a lot else really - I didn't manage a bike ride this weekend, as there was no time, and my bike had yet another problem. Once I get that fixed, the front derailleur, the handlebars, and the pedal cranks will be the only original parts left on the bike. Frankenbike. I did go for a very nice bike ride last weekend though (pics below). And we went to Avi's garden party today - 50 or so people - about 1/2 gay. Funny thing is, quite a number of them are in a gay motorcycle club, so, of course, they were all there in their leathers. What a bunch of queens! David and I chatted with this one guy (who seemed to have a bit of a thing for me (blush!)). Anyway, he was trying very hard to give off as butch of an image as possible, but they he started talking about his bike, and how his gear has to match his bike - even his earplugs match the colour of his bike. Oh dear.

Back to work tomorrow - yuck. Still no hint of another job - stupid crappy economy! And Tuesday is the new national budget, so if things are looking bad now, I don't think they are going to look any better after that. Sigh.

A valley in Kent, just on the southeastern outskirts of London...

Now here's something you don't see very often... The funny thing here about flags is they only tend to appear around sporting events (such as the World Cup) - for the most part, people don't give a ratcrap about the flag, or American-style patriotism, but get a sports event involved, and the flags appear everywhere and people suddenly get very nationalistic. Not sure if that's better or worse - but, they do say that sports are ritualised warfare, so maybe it's one and the same... Hmm. So, with this jerry-rigged flagpole, one might assume that it related to their choice of teams, but as the American flag was flying on top - you just never know.

The view from the North Downs - I would have gotten a slightly bigger view, but there was a couple dry-humping on the other side of the trees, so I thought that might have spoiled my view a bit... Blech.

Hydroponic strawberries. Never seen hydroponic strawberries before...

Wheat fields of Kent... They do grow a lot of wheat these parts...

You just can't make up some of these names...

Bike plus phone box... Is it art, or kitsch? Not sure.

You just can't complain about roads like this - perfect cycling road...

The slightly depressing thing about this ride was that I took the entire afternoon to cycle the 70 miles out to Ashford, and then the shiny new, 140mph train gets be back to town in 38 minutes. Maybe I should cycle faster? Hmm.

Flibble...

2010-06-09T21:11:00.000+01:00

Well, I had a lovely walk today, pushing along my bike, which I just spent £500 fixing up. The cable to the rear derailleur slipped a little bit, then went 'dink!' in, of course, one of the less salubrious parts of East London. For want of a screw... Anyway, the bike is locked up inside London Bridge Stations (next to the bike store, which had better fix the problem for free) and I took the train the rest of the way home.

And breathe...

Mildly stressful thing - our landlady just announced she is going to sell, which means we have to find a new place to live, after three years here. Well that's a fun thing to do this summer! David has decided that it is the time to buy, which means, since I'm the one that knows London, that I'm going to find us a place to live. No stress...

(Where did I put the bubble wrap? MUST SQUISH BUBBLE WRAP!)

I had my job appraisal today. You've not lived until you've had a local government job appraisal. First you get to fill out a 10 page form, where you discuss all your targets, learning goals, etc (many short essays), and then you have a 2.5 hour meeting with your manager to discuss the same. Wee fun! Still though, for whatever reason my manager seems to like me. Suppose it's b/c 'im just such a cutie wootie! ;-)

Some random pics:

A rather precarious chair on a debris pile in Hackney:

This is the kind of fun and excitement we have on a Friday night 'round here. This is David and Robin on the way home from the supermarket. (We're not Dutch enough to actually cycle home with the heavy bags hanging from the handlebars - we just push the bikes).

And isn't this just always the way? ;-) Saw this sign on my bike ride last weekend. It did occur to me as I cycled around on the little dinky 1-lane backroads of rural Essex that, in fact, the fact that the English took down all the direction signs at these intersections to fool the Germans (who would never know the way to such places as Upper Dicker or Cockfosters) must have been terribly confusing for the locals as well!

Here is the trusty steed (before the gear cable incident!)

Here's a thunderstorm picking up steam. A hedge and a wall proved decent shelter from the rain!

One shudders to think...

A wheat field in Essex. Essex has a bad name, given that the towns are full of chavs but the countryside is actually quite pretty - almost Midwestern feeling.

This is the huge metropolis of Coggeshall.

Ooh, is it Kansas, or is it England? (Hint, the wheat grows on the left... ;-)

You can just about see the Olympic stadium in the distance. This is taken from the 23rd floor of the Olympic Delivery Authority, where I went to a very boring meeting in a room with very big windows. Not suprisingly, I spent a lot of time looking out the window.

And finally, what does this package say about the general intelligence level of people who eat Tesco Organic Porridge? Hmmm...

Tired and Crabby.

2010-05-31T20:30:00.000+01:00

Ugh - I've not been sleeping well. I've been taking ages to get to sleep, and then I seem to spend the entire night in bizarre, vivid dreams. Daytime I've been spending feeling like a zombie, then night comes and the process repeats (though, oddly, I feel nearly alive come evening - how useless is that?). I'm afraid I've inherited the Schultz crappy-sleep gene (esp given that I remember, when very little, sitting up half the night and crying b/c I couldn't sleep). Yay.

Anyway, we're just coming to the end of Bank Holiday Weekend, which has been, exhaustion aside, generally not bad. Saturday I hung out with Paul (discussed the world, gossipped, la dee dah) and then headed to a Eurovision Song Contest party on Saturday evening. If ever there was a gay version of the World Cup, that is it.
So many silly people singing terrible songs, and so much overtly political voting - it's fab! Anyway, imagine 25 people, mostly gay men, packed into a small room, shouting at the TV. Like I said - the World Cup for gay men.

Yesterday I cycled a nice 70 mile ride out to Ashford, off through the hills and hop fields of Kent - it was a perfect day for it - sunny and breezy (at my back - I'm not dumb), and took the train back. And today I hung out with David, Avi and Robin - went for pub lunch and had a generally useless time at the bike store (took it in for a tune-up and they were missing two parts - have to take it back Friday - for the third time. Useless).

Last weekend it was a ride out to Bicester (pronounced 'Bister' - OF COURSE!), off through the Chiltern Hills, and the week before that I spent doing the most boring thing I have ever had the displeasure to do - a week-long, PRINCE2 project management course. Ugh, pulls my eyes out with spoons! It's definitely time to get out of local governemnt - just have to find somewhere to go...

I think this is a Hindu temple - it's in North London. Very multicultural, eh?

I just thought this was pretty - it's about 25 miles northwest of central London.

The Chilern Hills - ooh, glacial hills!

Some dead ivy going up this tree...

Pastoral - sheep in Chiltern meadow... Moo! ;-)

It's the town of Quainton. No, I am not making up the name. It's quaint, ain't it?

Bluebells and beech.

Hills and hop-fields of Kent. There's vineyards in there as well - English wine, believe it or not.

And a few of the local London residents - just a normal weekend way wandering around central London (and these are on two completely separate occasions!).

Curse this global warming - I'm cold!

2010-05-12T21:06:00.000+01:00

Well it was another cold and crappy May day - I think we were in the low 50s maybe? I suppose the lsat time I remember it being so cold in May was when it snowed on Memorial Day in Minnesota, but you kind of expect stupid things like that there. The tulips are still blooming, the trees are still in 'spring mode', and there are still cherry blossoms (of course, the cherries here often get confused and bloom in December).

Our leaky roof has finally been fixed - in a rather half-assed manner, but fixed nonetheless. It was a very very slow leak in the back corner of the bedroom, enough to wet the ceiling and the wall, but not enough to actually drip on the floor. Still though, we have to have part of the ceiling ripped out, and there is mold behind the walls, which I am blaming for the wacko dreams David and I have been having every single night for the past several months (if it were just me, I'd be worried about my mental health, but both of us, seems environmental...). Ah, the wonders of rental living - I'm probably brain damaged now. Dur...

Anyway, that's the news today from Lake Dougbegone, where the women are tarts, the men are on the lam, and the children are special needs... ;-)

Oh, I forgot my latest thump-ow incident... Some bad person, not me, I'm sure, left my suitcase out in the way. Like a big dummy, I walked into it - not very hard, I didn't think, but apparently hard enough to bust my little toe. Yay! It's not too bad, but it did turn black and blue and hurts like a mo-fo (though, thankfully, I can still cycle). I suppose it doesn't help that I have simian toes (or 'hobbit feet') as Avi lovingly calls them (he's afraid of my feet). Anyway, I really just a hazard to myself and others. But, they do say, most accidents happen in the home (especially when I am involved). That's about my 6th toe to break in my life, and there is a big lump on my right foot where I dropped a butter knife on it a few years ago and it went into the bone. Yippy skippy!

It's Monday morning and all is crap...

2010-05-10T11:25:00.001+01:00

Why can I never sleep on Sunday night? I lay there last night and tossed and turned for like two hours, somewhere between awake and asleep (that sort of twilight zone full of weird thoughts and general unpleasantness). This morning I could have slept fine, but no, my stupid alarm had other plans, so I feel pretty much like donkey dong. Yay, another week. I just checked the job ads, as I’m bored in this job (though, I guess I should be thankful I have a job in these dark and foreboding days). Anyway, nothing. Blah.

This morning’s ride in was more annoying than usual – got honked at by a truck (I gave him the finger as a helpful indicator that I heard him) and was cut off by another cyclist who didn’t bother to look before he turned. I shouted at him – I’m sure he felt just terrible. Or something.

I neglected to mention the animal count on yesterday’s ride… Three foxes, two deer and six rabbits – none of whom attacked me. It’s probably b/c they are nice tame British rabbits, rather than wild and crazy American swamp bunnies. I’m sure.

Anyway, I should probably look busy…

Sunday Evening, 10pm

2010-05-09T22:05:00.000+01:00

I couldn't think of a clever title - oh well.

So, coming up to my first full week of work now in, well, a few weeks, and, I have to say, I'm not looking forward to it.

We got back on Weds morning, after a delayed flight from Atlanta. The plane had some sort of hydraulic problem (which the flight attendant assured us only related to the brakes - um, hello, planes, hydraulics? Kinda think the hydraulics are important!). We drove around the airport aimlessly, made one aborted attempt to take off, poodled back to the gate, sat around, were told everything was fine (even though it was still making the noise) and managed to get back to London without falling out of the sky. All without any explanation. Yay Delta - you suck. I didn't get any sleep on the way back (I never do), but slept for about 1.5 hours when we got home. I woke up completely confused, couldn't figure out how to turn off my alarm, and generally felt like donkey dong. Still though, I managed to do a short gym workout. Couldn't sleep well that night, so I was a complete zombie the rest of the week.

It was a very good trip though - and neither David's mom nor I had to be put in the naughty corner even once! Maybe we will actually end up getting along... Stranger things have happened!

I slept about 12 hours on Friday night, which is very unusual for me - spent most of yesterday feeling dead. Oddly (or not), I felt much better last night after a few beers at a friend's bday party. Very nice bday party out in Greenwich - almost all female, which was a little odd (though, for better or worse, I can dish it with the best of the women! ;-) There was even a 1 year old there - she didn't drink much. And it was the first part I'd been to since I was about 8 that had a pinata (the bday girl is also a San Diegan). I have to say, it was the best pinata I've ever seen - no crappy Tootsie Rolls for us! No, it was full of Lindt chocolate, Cadburys, and other high-end candy. I llike that kinda pinata! It was a little dangerous breaking it, as the back yard was very (very) small and had one of those propane patio heaters. We opted not to have a blindfold - just as well since one person fell over and another broke the stick in two.

Today I cycled down to Brighton - only about 55 miles - I got up too late for a long ride. Still though, it's spring and beautiful (though very cold - hello? Spring?). And tomorrow back to work. Yuckypoo.

Cricket on a spring afternoon - how very English:

Windmill on the way to Brighton:

Oh yeah, and we had an election. One month of campaigning and now we have (maybe) someone with about as much charisma as cold oatmeal. And that's if Brown actually leaves. British politics is a strange things - not as much sleaze as American - but also not as amusing... Hmm.

Sitting on the Front Porch, on a Lazy Southern Afternoon...

2010-05-03T00:02:00.000+01:00

So, I'm sitting on David's mom's front porch in Birmingham, looking out over a golf course to the leafy hill beyond. It's absolutely bucketing down rain, the humidity is about 900%, and there is thunder in the distance. Perfect Southern Sunday afternoon.

David and I got to Birmingham two nights ago - drove down from Pigeon Forge, about 250 miles. We'd backtracked in seasons, driving from South Carolina to Tennessee, but mid-spring has definitely been pushed forward a few weeks with the drive down to Alabama. It's super-green, unbelieavably muggy, and there is a massive storm working its way east - apparently it just dumped 20 inches of rain on Mississippi and Tennessee. Cool!

Anyway, we got here sort of mid-evening on Friday, after having a lunch stop along the Tennessee River in Chattanooga. First thing we did was to go with David's mom to this old Southern queen's house, where he was busy auctioning off antiques of various sorts. The house was absolutely jampacked full of antique furniture, and the homeowner (mid 50s or 60, native New Orleans screaming queen) had a voice that would have done Scarlett O'Hara proud. The house itself was maybe 100 or so years old. Odd thing was, we were standing around in a hallway, and I heard and then felt this sort of whooshing noise go around and behind my neck, causing all the hairs on my neck to stand up. A few seconds later, the front door, which we had left open (it was a still, warm early evening and he said to just leave the door open), slams shut. Homeowner says, 'oh, that's just the ghost of the guy that was murdered here 50 years ago'. Interesting that was just after I felt something go behind my neck (that was not wind). Hmm. David's mom insists her house is haunted as well, and both of them say her previous house was. Actually, I always wondered if the place I lived in San Francisco was haunted - I'd frequently get the sense that something was in the room with me. Who knows. Anyway, you know it's a proper Southern trip when you feel a ghost...

Yesterday we got up fairly late, then headed down to Oak Mountain State Park, about 15 or 20 miles south of here, to spend the afternoon hiking. Alabama is beautiful and green, but it's also in the Deep South, and it's been a wet spring, apparently. The temperature was probably only about 85, but the humidity was somewhere in the quadruple digits, and the gnats and flies were out in force. Thank God for DEET! I've been trying to get David to know what poison ivy looks like, as both he and his mom seem to just wander through it with alarming frequency. She insists that if you wash yourself with bleach afterwards, it will make sure you don't actually get poison ivy. I wonder if that is just because all your skin falls off? Anyway, we spent the afternoon hiking in the woods. I nerded over the various new kinds of trees. David's mom was way out ahead on some sort of power hike, and David was taking pictures of everything. I very nearly wet my pants when, at the very same instant I stepped on a pine cone, he said "Oh my God!", stopped dead in his tracks, and pointed out the rattlesnake coiled up right next to the pathway, right by where I was standing. Fortunately, pinecone was not snake, and snake was quite happy to just watch us and remain coiled. Good times.

We went out for steak last night. I ordered "steer butt", which was probably the best steak I've ever had in my life. I don't think I'm going to be able to buy steak at the supermarket for a while - esp in England, where the steak usually sucks.

Ooh, cool - the light is taking on a sort of greenish tinge, the rain is getting heavier, and there is more thunder. How I miss this sort of thing from Minnesota. British weather is just boring.

We had another late morning this morning, then headed off for some more hiking. We'd made it about a mile out when the heavens opened, and we headed back as quickly as possible towards the car. That was the first time I've ever been on a trail in the woods with an umbrella (in a thunderstorm, nonetheless) - it was just too warm and muggy to want any extra layers on. We had a lovely picnic lunch under the picnic shelter, then headed to Home Depot to pick up a bunch of scrap lumber and some pallets to put down in the garage so that David's stuff (which will come down from Connecticut) can sit off the ground.

And here I am back on the porch, wondering how long it's going to pour buckets, as I want to run (and don't particularly want to be struck by lightning). American trips are very good for eating all the yummy things I don't get to have in England - they are not so good for staying thin and svelte. Oh well.

Oh - fast forward to late middle age? Not sure - very scary... And lots more lightning - I'm very happy sitting on the porch watching all of it!

Addendum... I went for an evening run up over the (rather large) hill behind the house. There are views of the lights of Birmingham, spread out below, and pretty swanky houses as well. The skies opened once, soaking me completely, but it was a warm rain (I love warm rain!), so it was no big deal. Another thunderstorm is moving into the area now, and it's pouring out again.

London could definitely be improved by some very large thunderstorms... Sigh.

Beware the Swamp Bunnies, and Other Tales of the South...

2010-04-30T03:34:00.001+01:00

So, most people who go into an alligator infested swamp worry about the alligators. Not me. It's the bunnies you gotta fear. There David and I were, having our leisurely stroll through the swamp (as one does), and an Eastern Cottontail darts into the bushes along the trail, ahead of where we were walking. We walk up to the location (wondering where the rabbit has gone, since there is a particularly swampy bit with a big alligator in it to the left). As we approach, both of us spot the rabbit, hiding along the trail. Apparently, it decided that this was a particularly good time to flee - problem was, it didn't seem to notice that I was standing there, and crashed head first into my right leg, did a sort of pirouette, crashed into my left leg, scratched it, then darted off into the bushes again. I'm pretty well flabbergasted by this point. Only I could manage to walk out into a swamp and sustain a bunny rabbit injury. I have a small bruise on my right leg where its head crashed into my shin, and a scratch on the left (which bled some). David wondered, idly, if bunny rabbits carry rabies. I don't think they do, but that would be just my luck to be felled by a rabid rabbit (I wonder if that's sort of like a rampant rabbit? But I digress...).

Anyway, before the great Bunny Terror of 2010, David and I spent a few days in Charleston. Charleston is absolutely just the cutest city ever - I really liked it a lot. The whole downtown area is full of 19th century and earlier houses, leaning in various different directions. Lots of live oaks with Spanish moss. The city gives off a sort of feel of quiet, genteel decay, while being quite obviously full of loads of money (though, as usual for me, I managed to find the really awful areas with the shotgun houses and sofas on the front porches...). We walked all over the city, ate huge amounts of really good food (including fried alligator - yummy!). We drove down to Folly Beach and walked a few miles along a deserted beach (it was cool and very very very windy, which might have had something to do with the lack of people). Anyway, Charleston was thoroughly enjoyable, and I would go back there.\

The drive down to Charleston was mostly quite dull. I-95 is a sort of endless repetition of highway walled in by forest. Deciduous, then mixed deciduous and conifer, then conifer as you drive south. At least driving around the west or midwest you get a view. Not on 95 - endless 'beauty strip' of forest, with the occasional really trashy truck stop. We managed to pick one of the trashiest, in North Carolina - huge truck stop with an 'outlet center' selling every conceivable type of schlock known to mankind. And - big surprise, men doing naughty things in the toilet. I mean, really - the place smelled like the ass of a sick wildebeast (I'm imagining, anyway), and was tended by some ancient toilet troll, who made the occasional half-assed attempt to clean it. What a good place to pull off the road and have a quickie in cubicles that clearly show multiple pairs of feet! Charming! Ah, the American road...

Yesterday, we drove the 350 miles up from Charleston to Pigeon Forge, TN. David's been driving, which is fine with me - I never get to be the passenger - it's been a nice change... Lots more boring driving up through SC, then we hit NC and the mountains just at dark (figures). Had dinner in Asheville - wow - talk about people with banjos falling out of their mouths every time they talk! Anyway, we got into Pigeon Forge late last night, and we spent today at Dollywood!

I think that Dollywood is perhaps the most fun I've had at a theme park ever. For one, we hit it on a non-crowded day - we managed all the really good roller coasters twice. The place itself was full of old people and Bubbas. (Also a bit odd, for someone from CA, living in London - the place was, literally, about 99.9% white). Country music played from all the speakers (including all the live shows), and all the rides were themed around Appalachia Americana. Pigeon Forge is one big (very big) strip of tacky motels, crappy restaurants, kitsch shops, and general 1950s American schlock. It's a bit like South Lake Tahoe on steroids. It's fabulous. And dinner tonight was a huge steak at a Texas Roadhouse, with a proper southern waitress who plopped her butt down next to us and just started talking.

I love going to the South. I don't think I could ever live here, but what fun to visit!

I'm going to have to go on a fennel tea and stick diet when I get back to London. Moo!

Tomorrow we are driving down to Birmingham, via the aquarium in Chattanooga. Pretty random...

Y'all Come Back!...

2010-04-25T15:15:00.000+01:00

Well, I'm sitting on the one working computer in the "business center" at the Kilmarnock Holiday Inn Express, in Kilmarnock, VA - a little po-dunk town out towards the Chesapeake. David and I drove down two days ago from DC - took us 5 hours to go the 140 miles, thanks to epic traffic. However, once we got off of I-95, it just got more and more rural - lots of dinky little houses sitting in the middle of rolling fields - often right next to the old, abandoned houses from the previous generations. There was a subtle shift in churches that went on as well, I noticed - the percentage of Baptist churches has increased quite dramatically, as has the size of the parish hall relative to the church - that's always a good giveaway that you're getting a proper thumper church - not sure why that is - I wonder if anyone has done a scientific study?

Anyway, we managed to fly into NYC on Weds eve, after a half-empty and totally non-eventful flight. Got into the shithole that is JFK at about 830 pm, and then had to schlep our way via AirTrain, Long Island Railroad, New Jersey Transit and Newark Airport Monorail to the rental car place. About 11pm, we picked up our rental - a Saturn Vue, which claims to be an SUV, but is actually such a serious weenie mobile I can't imagine it handling any more than a few dust particles. Our "airport hotel", that I picked out, turns out to be about 8 miles south of the airport, along the NJ Turnpike (v scenic - not). Problem is, we chose to be sensible and cheap, and took the 1-9 down there - a 6 lane horrid road lined with every conceivable type of fast food known to mankind. It is, apparently, physically impossible to turn left across the 1-9 (there is a physical law), so we spent quite a lot of time going up and down teh 1-9, trying to figure out how we were going to get from the west side to the mythical east side of the road (yes, we did try turning right and doing a bit u-turn). Finally, about 45 minutes later, we managed to straggle on into the hotel. Thank god for Google Maps.

Next day we managed to take in, I think, about all of Manhattan and then some (we are efficient). We did actually try to have dinner at the restaurant where we had our first date, but it doesn't seem to exist anymore. Shocking - and no blue plaque there either. I did, however, come to the very definite conclusion that were I to ever come back to the USA (no immediate plans), it would definitely be back to Manhattan. It still feels like home...

After our day of urban-ness, we drove down to DC - got lost twice - made one very illegal turn, and managed to roll in about 2am. Nice hotel, right in downtown DC - only problem was that there was some sort of huge dumpster out behind the hotel that they started emptying, on the hour, every hour, at 3am. Not much sleep was had. Anyway, we complained, and actually got the night for free! Yippee!

Our big DC visit consisted of having lunch with Jerry, and then hopping in the car for some epic I-95 traffic, heading south.

Which brought ut to Kilmarnock. This was the first time I actually met much of David's family. They are a weird and wonderful bunch, and I think he needs to see them more often. His cousin's wedding was at this tiny little Episcopal church out in Chickenwhistle, nowhere - actually, probably the most boring ceremony I've ever been to. Reception was great though - it was held about 30 miles from the wedding at this old-timey southern inn, owned by this very strict-looking, older woman, wearing all black, who spent much of her time fussing about the children.

Anyway, David's side of the family is generally pretty irreverent, big drinkers, rabble-rousers. Her side though - good old fashioned, moneyed, religious southerners. She insisted that he waited for marriage - to the point that he wasn't even allowed to live in the house they had already bought. Her dress was white - I guess legitimately. That poor silly boy. Oh well - her daddy's rich... ;-) I really am a horrible person, I am. (Still, the amount of gossip going around at the wedding - I thoroughly enjoyed myself).

Anyway, David's just come down from showering (and, he says as he reads over my shoulder, "waiting for your ass" - time to pack up and head for South Carolina - further down into Jesus-land...

More later...

Life Under a Cloud...

2010-04-20T19:27:00.000+01:00

Well, today was beautiful and cool and sunny, with a refreshing southwestern breeze. If you look up, you can see, hmm - blue sky. The last few days there was a little brown around the edges, and yesterday a bit of haze, but for all the volcanic gloom and doom, I want it to look a bit more Mordor-like. We are, supposedly, supposed to fly to NYC tomorrow, though, at this point, I don't really want to. The last thing I want to do is to walk voluntarily into the chaos that will be Heathrow Airport, if, indeed, it does open tomorrow. I mean, my God - they are getting the navy involved in getting people home, and here we are thinking about voluntarily leaving the country - we should be locked up! I keep hoping the airline will cancel. I feel guilty trying to convince David to cancel, as it's his relatives, but I just have this gut feeling - NO NO NO NO!

I don't like this.

Hmm - they just announced they are reopening the airports. I hate to think what Heathrow is going to be like tomorrow...

Anyway, today David and I walked around Wimbledon - David really wants to buy something here (and I agree - renting really is throwing money down the toilet). Nice place, Wimbledon - a bit pricey, but I think it's somehwere David and I could both like (I've been trying to guide this whole process, b/c otherwise I think David would happily go out and live in Chickenwhistle, Nowhere, whereas I want to remain in the city, though I'm willing to move out a little bit...

Yesterday I biked 72 miles down to the south coast, then took the train back. Great day for it - just a few clouds and not too much wind. I didn't realize when I chose this ride though that it had not one, not two, but three 17% uphill grades on it. Ugh!

This is 'Bed-Zed', in South London - a low-impact, carbon-neutral housing development. I thought it looked kinda groovy.

And here we have a cock on a sign. Oh yeah, it's the town of Dorking...

Another big cock... (Oh please, do you think I'm that juvenile? ;-)

Cute small town at the foot of the South Downs...

Roots on a trail - thought they looked cool.

Oh dear - big grade I hadn't noticed on my route planning...

See, I wasn't kidding about the grade...

Pompeii Upon Thames

2010-04-17T21:24:00.000+01:00

Well this is a fine mess. David and I were supposed to head to NYC tomorrow, but that ain't gonna happen. Stupid Iceland - first it wrecks the banks and then it wrecks our vacation. It could be worse though - at least we're just stuck at home - better than being stuck in some awful airport with no food or water. Anyway, we're rescheduled, at the moment, for Weds eve, but I have a sneaking suspicion that's not going to happen either, and we're just going to have to cancel. Stupid volcano. Actually, the funny thing is that in the TV newscasts, they don't mention the name a single time. I've not heard it once. The newspapers print it, but it looks completely unpronounceable. I suppose that is why it is just 'the volcano.'

We were supposed to have brilliant sunsets, but nothing so far. The sky has looked a bit dusty - polluted, really, and there is a light dust covering on all the cars, but nothing too spectacular. I mean, yes, I suppose it's not a very good idea to fly planes through the ash, but for all the mess it's causing, I think it should be a little more exciting on the ground - maybe not Yakima though - given that London can't cope with six inches of snow, I'm not too sure how it would deal with a foot of ash. Anyway, I guess we will just see what happens...

This seaon is brought to you by Benadryl...

2010-04-14T20:20:00.000+01:00

So, anyway, all those years of slaving away on a farm, mowing fields, moving rocks, mining salt (ok, I exaggerate a little), and I have, you know, your usual amount of hay fever. Usually I got all sneezy and itchy after I did something silly like mowed over a gopher hole (big belch of dirt, random crap, whatever). And then I go and move into the big city, where you'd think there wouldn't be so many things to be allergic to. Yeah right. Cherry trees - flowering weapons of mass destruction. Daffodils, forsythia, you name it - if it's planted in the city and looks pretty in the spring, I'm allergic. It's not your usual sneezy wheezy type allergy either - it's a much more 'urban', itchy eyes and puffy face type allergy. I'm lobbying the city to have the trees covered with plastic in the spring, but so far haven't had much luck.

Anyway, I've decided to join either the 21st or perhaps late 20th century and actually post some pics in my blog (and David is busy putting several thousand (literally) online, though I'm not sure where they are at the moment. I have yet to join Facebook, and am holding out for a written invitation and sum of no less than six figures.

Yeah - and back in the real world... I've got a few pics here - these are from bike rides and wandering around in London over the past few weeks.

This first one is a few weeks ago, about 15 miles north of London, looking back towards the city (in the far distance).

This next one is a sign pointing to a new housing development in East London. I just liked the name, for some reason... ;-)

This is a church near Windsor - just thought it looked really cool with the monkey puzzle tree...

Windsor Castle... What you can't see here are the hordes of touristas that descend on the town (I tend to stop in Windsor for a snack when I'm cycling west of London - it has a Starbucks, which usually means a guaranteed potty! :-)

Here we have the not-quite-completed Olympic stadium. What is a bit difficult to tell is the size of the fence, which is about 20 feet tall with about 10 strands of electric wire on top. That'll keep those nasty Parisians out of there!

This is last weekend at Hampton Court - lotsa daffodils.

On my bike last weekend - random country road west of London - very good biking country.

I didn't actually get the name of this town, but there are quite a few little towns that look about like this (the newer towns aren't quite so charming...)

Southern English countryside...

Poussin - Tastes like Chicken!

2010-04-09T23:51:00.000+01:00

So, we all went over to Paul and Ali's last night for dinner, along with two other friends of theirs. Paul is a certified 'foodie', and can go on ad nauseum about the magical powers of this that or the other spice to bring out the amazing flavour, texture, aroma, sensual experience of something that most other people would just consider yummy or gross. Anyway, as per usual, the food was fantastic and we rolled out of there feeling somewhere between a manatee and Oprah. We learned all about how the medieval rich folks like to stuff various animals into others to show how wealthy they were at banquets (here I was imagining something like a chinchilla stuffed into a badger stuffed into a pteradactyl or something...). One should have thoughts like those and eat that much food straight before bed. I had a rather vivid dream about being in the departures lounge, at the airport, getting ready to go to the USA. Some woman from customs was going through all our bags, looking for meat products made with brain material. She kept yelling at us for having food made with brain, and we kept asking, 'but how do we avoid food with brains?'. She finally got annoyed with us, said 'I don't have to take this anymore', and stormed out of the room, leaving me to ponder this awkward situation, along with the fact that David was poking me, my alarm was going off, and I had to pee. So, a great start to the day.

Anyway, it was a fairly non-eventful day - lots of boring busywork (we are in the middle of a restructure and have to do very important things like write essays about times that we've shown initiative, rather than getting on with actually showing some initiative. Local government at its finest...). Tomorrow I'm having a nothing day (well, a gym/run/see Alice in Wonderland day, and then an absurdly long bike ride on Sunday.

Hmm - what else - well, Robin is suffering greatly from his excess of fun last weekend - I do feel bad for him, but I have to admit there is some degree of me thinking 'dumbass'. Oh well - these things happen, and sometimes we learn... On the plus side, he can't ever say that I am not stoic... And that's about it - off to the bathroom now to look for some anti-barf meds for Patsy Poops-a-lot. It's all fun and games here in urban gay central! ;-)

The things we do...

2010-04-07T10:42:00.000+01:00

So, at one point, in a conversation that I think was actually entirely sober, David, Robin and I decided what animals we most resembled. David is a polar bear. Robin is a fruit bat (so much so that I once bought him a fluffy stuffed bat at Yosemite b/c it reminded me of him), and I’m a budgie. Anyway, upon Robin’s return last night from a big leather/rubber/fetish party weekend in Berlin (they do those things very well in Germany, go figure), I came up with a new term for Robin – he’s now the “hodent” of the house. No great mystery there, with the bat reference, what that might mean… Anyway, Robin is home today, feeling ill and sorry for himself – pulled a sickie from work, which I’m sure they aren’t suspicious about at all. I’ve suggested plastic on all the furniture. I am actually quite sympathetic, especially given the number of silly situations I’ve gotten myself into over the years, but yeah, there is a certain amount of schadenfreude inherent to the situation, I’m sure… Sigh – the things we do in the name of fun.

Anyway, my long Easter weekend was a little less exciting. Friday I did very little, to the point where I can’t even really remember what I got up to, though David and I did talk about the possibility of buying here at some point… Ooh scary! Saturday we went over to Adrian’s, in East London, for an afternoon roast, then walked out around the Olympic grounds. I was actually fairly amazed at how much building is going on there, and even more amazed by the 20 or so foot tall, unclimbable fence, topped with multiple strands of electric wire, going around the perimeter. I guess they don’t want Parisians getting in there and burying stinky cheese, or other such things… Sunday I hung out with friends, and then Monday I went for a very nice 77.5 mile ride. I got David along for about 35 of it, with some amount of whining. The spring flowers are really finally getting into the swing of things, so it really was a very pretty ride (out around Windsor again), and I was very happy for my anti allergy nasal spray!

David and I are heading in 2 weeks for our big East Coast trip – heading down from CT to AL, via tidewater VA, Charleston and Dollywood (we’re going to really hit the big culture spots in the South!

And now I should probably do some work, before boss gets back from meeting and wonders why I am blogging… :-)

The dangers of Vegas, and other things on a train...

2010-03-27T22:35:00.000Z

Las Vegas is, apparently, a very dangerous place. I learned this on the train today, on the way home from town. It's not dangerous b/c of crime, or gambling, or anything like that, but because of the weather. Apparently, it is so hot that you can't go outside for more than a few seconds without passing out. I learned this from a conversation in (on?) which I was evesdropping. Two teenagers - both very middle class, one girl and one very gay guy. She had been there with her parents, 'back in the day' (back, apparently, when they had CDs). It was so hot that kids couldn't go outside unless their parents drove them. In fact, it was so hot that she had to abandon her CD player outdoors because it was too dangerous for her to venture into the sun to go get it. I'm thinking that perhaps all this sunshine fried her brain as well... Anyway, fun on trains.

So, I was on the train b/c I was doing all sorts of clothing shopping today and didn't feel like schlepping it all home on my bike. I was also on the train b/c I stripped out the screw on one of my pedal cleats, so was tryint to find new shoes. No luck on that - though I did find some cool 'go out' shoes at TKMaxx (I love TKMaxx). I tried also to remove the screw by drilling it out, but no luck, though it did make some terrible noises and smells. Oh well - off for a bike ride tomorrow with one slightly crapped out cleat, which hopefully won't be a problem.

Anyway, it's another exciting night in this gay household. Robin is actually wearing clothing tonight (it happens once in a while), David is on the phone with his mom, there is some crap 007 movie on TV that seems to have shown all the major sites of Lonodn within about 2 blocks of each other, the washing machine sounds like it's going to launch itself into outer space (it's in the kitchen, as are all washing machines here, coming to the end of its 3 hour cycle). And I'm starting to dribble, so I think I will stop now. :-)

Flying tits

2010-03-26T12:04:00.001Z

So, the neighbours have tits under their eves. It’s true! Last year, we had tits in our ventilation shaft, and came home one day to find a young tit fluttering about the bedroom, pooping on everything.

What did you think I was talking about?

Sheeesh!

We’ve definitely gone into spring-mode. The daffodils are daffodildoing (what?), the cherry trees have started to bud (ooh, I’m having a good time with this) and my eyes are watering.

It is entirely possible I need to get out more.

The big drama today at work is that we have no water. Apparently a main burst somewhere around here (they do that a lot), and we have enacted ‘business continuity planning’, whatever the hell that is. I mean really – this is the country that supposedly survived the blitz, and a little water main blows up and all hell breaks loose. Not very impressive.

Ooh, speaking of not very impressive, I just noticed the other day that work (which is trying to save umpteen bazillion pounds in the next few years) has decided to replace their chauffeured Lexus (used for driving around the Speaker) with a chauffeured Mercedes E250, which retails for about £33,000. I’m sure that is money well spent.

Ooh, people are having great fun here trying to figure out why Americans are having a cow about the whole health care thing. From what I’ve read, it seems like pretty small potatoes (and will probably just make the health insurance companies richer). I will never ever be convinced that socialized medicine isn’t a good thing – God knows I’ve made fair use of the NHS!

Anyway, I should probably look busy again… The weekend is coming up (planning a long bike ride tomorrow)… What shall I do? Maybe something really exciting like buy a bag of chicken shit to put in the planters upstairs to get them to grow… It’s just one wild and crazy thing after another…

Spring has sproing...

2010-03-18T20:56:00.000Z

Four score and some odd number of seconds ago, I had a look at my blog and noticed how small and feeble and neglected it was. Well, mostly I'm not at work at the moment (where I have actually been having to work a lot and haven't been able to screw around on the internet as much!). Days go by and I have these fun, witty and amazing observations (I think, anyway), and I don't get off my butt and write them down, then pfft! Gone! It's the end of the week again - another week gone and not much to show... I used to dream of Friday, as the long... week... dragged... on, but now Fridays seem to come with alarming regularity. Not sure if that's getting older, having things to do, or some combination of the two. My big accomplishment the other day, after work, was heading to the dept store to buy a new wok and frying pan. Living la vida local, it would seem...

So, David and I are going to finally get around to filling in the HUGE application for citizenship, where we get to answer questions like are we terrorists (don't think so), have we committed genocide (hmm) and have we ever done anything immoral (of course not!). I mean really - who thinks up these things? We'll have to start travelling around Europe now with large groups of "lager-louts" - maybe go to a stag do or something, get absolutely shitfaced drunk, pee in the fountain, and get arrested while dressed as nuns (with no knickers). I'm pretty sure that's what one is supposed to do as a Brit abroad...

Oh, one minorly crapalacious thing happened... Two weeks ago I took the day off sick from work. However, there was a meeting I really felt I should go to at City Hall, so I biked my poor little self into town to go to this meeting. Turns out I had confused it with another meeting the next day (I was ill, don't forget!) and the person at the front desk had no idea what I was talking about. So, big old dumbalina had to call his boss and ask about the meeting, which turned out to be the next day. Smooth move.

So, I thought, well, I'm in town anyway, so I thought I'd run some errands, have a cup of tea and a muffin while reading the paper, that sort of thing - very civilized. Civilised even. I come out to get my bike after that and discover, to my absolute astonishment and horror, that someone has removed the brakes. Or, rather, the brakes, the cables and the levers. They left the rotors, as the wheels have locking skewers. Now, David had just gone that very day off to a nice B&B weekend up north, which I bought him as a Christmas present, so poor Robin had to deal with me having a complete meltdown on the phone. I had to push my bike the 2 miles to the bike store I go to, in the middle of evening rush hour, getting funny looks the whole time b/c it was obvious there were large parts missing from the bike. £250 later, my bike has new, very good brakes. To these new, very good brakes, I have added a good dollop of black enamel paint - over all shiny parts and all brand names. I have also filled in the eight mounting screws (allen) with superglue, as well as painted around the edges of them. They won't be coming off without a fairly hefty helping of fingernail polish remover. But I mean, my God - to keep my bike (relatively) safe, I now do the following:

1. I have an enormous magnesium coated chain that weighs about a billion pounds that I bought 12 years ago in New York. It's on its third lock (they keep improving them as the theives get better), and I wear it as a belt when I ride. I've cycled tens of thousands of miles with this stupid chain around my waist (it's actually fine there, though I'm not so sure I'd want to fall over on it).

2. I have a cable lock to lock on my seat and seat post when I leave the bike (having lost 1 seat, 2 seat posts and 1 seat post clamp - not all at the same time).

3. I have locking wheel skewers that require a 5-sided wrench to get them off.

4. I remove all lights, bike computer, water bottle.

5. I never ever ever ever leave it out overnight.

But then, my brakes were taken off on a busy street in broad daylight. Un-flipping-believeable. People will steal absolutely everything - they probably sold it onwards on e-Bay. It's probably not nice to wish death and dismemberment on such people... OK, I'd settle for kneecaps and castration. I'm willing to show mercy.

Harumph.

Anyway, I need to go cut my hair, as it's gotten rather fluffy, and is getting to the length that emphasizes just how white it is. Yucky.

Oh yeah, and the spring bit. Finally, after what was billed as the worst winter since possibly the Pleistocene (it was moderately chilly with a few inches of snow -ooh scary), the crocuses have just finshed and the daffodils are starting up. So are my itchy eyes. Oh spring, my favourite season. Now where did I put the antihistamine...

Dur!

2010-02-25T14:22:00.000Z

So, I intended in my previous entry to mention our trip to the Cadbury chocolate factory, on the 13th. David and I were trying to find something nice to do for V-Day, and he came up with the idea of a chocolate factory tour. I'd not been on a factory tour since going to the Tillamook cheese factory when I was eight, so I was game for the idea. And, as I've seen Charlie and Chocolate Factory, I was pretty sure what I was in for.

As if.

So, we shlepped on Virgin Trains up to Birmingham and spent the morning wandering around the centre of town.

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=birmingham&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=17.969195,32.255859&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Birmingham,+West+Midlands,+United+Kingdom&ll=52.486165,-1.899197&spn=0,359.98425&z=16&layer=c&cbll=52.479133,-1.902768&panoid=cLcrkqjYtEBsi_h5PnfcVQ&cbp=12,300.92,,0,5
Robin is from Birmingham, but doesn't like to talk about it much. Could it be something about the number of pinched, in-bred looking faces, Jesus-freaks, and general flotsam and jetsom that seemed to be wandering about? Birmingham was, officially, the first city in the UK to be designed around the car, which means that the city centre (I have to do British spelling, btw, or the website grumps at me), at street level, is laid out in the general spaghetti fashion that is so popular outside of North America (ie., no pattern whatsoever), with the addition of huge viaducts everywhere, packed with traffic. This, combined with the rather high level of empty stores, makes for a very strange place. There is a huge market right in the middle of everything (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Birmingham_Wholesale_Markets.jpg) selling just about everything you could possibly imagine. All was happy and fine until we got to the rack of skinned sheep's heads, sitting among brains, tripe, hooves, entire legs, and things I'm not entirely sure what they were - I wasn't very hungry at that point. ;-) We also went up in one of those huge Ferris wheels they plop into state fairs and whatnot. David, Mr. Totally-Afraid-of-Heights was less than entirely pleased that the glassed-in car was, well, very glass. Oh well. Like big dummies, we spent £10 on pictures of us looking like dorks.

So, we took the local train down to Bournville, a leafy suburb of Birmingham (purpose-built by Cadbury, apparently). As we got off the train the first thing I noticed was that the air smelled like chocolate. So far so good! The Cadbury factory itself very much resembled a huge, old fashioned, Midwestern school building - all red brick with playing fields around it. Cadbury World, here we come!

http://www.cadburyworld.co.uk/CadburyWorld/Pages/CadburyWorld.aspx

The reality is, well, a bit more of a very small version of a chocolate-themed Disneyland done with some chewing gum, a shoe lace, and a little bit of tape. OMG, what an amazing bunch of schlock that was! £11 each to wander around inside a corner of the factory, surrounded by horrid children, listening to various Cadbury propaganda films (my personal fave was the one showing how cocoa is produced - the bits shown in Africa are all in black and white, and look like they are about 75 years old - the bits in the UK are all in glorious colour. PC police on line 1!). There was a little ride that we went on - very much Small World but with little dancing brown turdlike things that I think were supposed to be cocoa beans. We got to peak into a corner of the wrapping plant (we weren't actually allowed inside the factory itself, for 'Health and Safety Reasons'). But yeah - well done them for getting us to pay that much to wander around a cheaply done set and learn all about how fabulous they are! Still though, we did get some free chocolate, and I will admit (secretly) that I had a great time. I neglected to mention the takeover by Kraft while I was there... ;-) Next stop, on our schlock tour of England, is Legoland!

Anyway, not much else. It remains grey and miserable (though it is a lot warmer), and my bike really needs to be washed - the brakes are screaming like banshees at the moment. It doesn't make one look very cool when one pulls up to a light and the pigeons all take off b/c of the noise. Sigh.

Suppose I should do a little work now.

Grumble whine...

Oy vey...

2010-02-23T12:28:00.000Z

Once again, a huge amount of time has passed without me bothering to write anything here. I suppose part of that is because I've actually been busy at work lately - several very big mapping jobs. I still want a better paying job, but at the moment they seem few and far between, so looks like I'll be here for the immediately forseeable future. Annoying smoking man is behind me, coughing up a lung. I've been to that now for over a year and a half, and have resisted throwing a brick over there. I think that shows admirable restraint.

It's cold and grey and generally horrible out. Apparently it's been the coldest winter in 30 years or something - Britain really ain't a cold country. The palms, eucalypts and acacias dotted around town don't seem to be terribly worried. Actually, I was thinking the other day, there is a Canary Island Date Palm at one of the roundabouts (http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=lambeth+bridge,+london&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=17.969195,32.255859&ie=UTF8&hq=lambeth+bridge,&hnear=London,+UK&ll=51.495011,-0.125184&spn=0,359.9685&z=15&layer=c&cbll=51.494909,-0.125142&panoid=7G5tqRo01oP7GDFwbuRdkQ&cbp=12,171.25,,0,5) that I noticed recently actually has a trunk on it. When I first lived in London, in 1996, there was no trunk - shows both how slowly it grows, and the fact that I've been around these parts, on and off, for a while. There are, however, no huge palm trees in London. I wonder if that is because it wasn't the fashion to plant them before fairly recently (I can hardly believe that, given the Victorian's obsession with all things tropical), or that it just wasn't warm enough until recently for them to survive the winter? Interesting question.

Anyway, after several months off, I've started back with long distance cycling. I went out for a 62 mile ride on Sunday, out through the hilly suburbs south of London. I got absolutely dumped on with rain, after which the temperature dropped, resulting in some very numb tooties on my part. Wooly socks are no match for downpours, especially when one's Gore-Tex lined shoes just pool the water inside.

At some point this spring, preferably before April, David and I have to do our citizenship - I think the only two things holding us back at this point are the forms themselves (very very long and tedious), and the cost, which is pretty astronomical. But, the thought of it getting even more astronomical might actually spur us on.

Right - I've got a map to finish. And, as usual, I will say that I will try very hard to do this more often - interesting things happen, and I have interesting thoughts (well, I think they're interesting anyway), and I never get around to writing them down, and then poof, they are gone.

Oh, and person sitting behind me now is eating a pear. Very loudly. What is it with people being gross and annoying in public places? I want a laser cannon and I want it now.

Blah.

Frothings, rants, and general blather...

2010-01-20T11:08:00.001Z

Ah – a lull at work (ie., no bosses around), so I can actually write a bit. It’s cold and grey and crappy out, but at least there is no snow and ice.

So, not surprisingly, I’ve been thinking lots about Haiti over the past week, and, in particular, thinking about what a complete tits-up disaster the country is, how that has come about, and what can be done to fix it. One of the guys I work with, a Ghanaian, made a really interesting comment the other day – he said that the best thing that the NGOs could do right now, as they do their work saving the country, is to work with each other to ensure that it at least looks like the Haitian govt has some control over the matter, as this was the only way that there was ever going to be any respect for or trust in the govt after such a humongous calamity. Unfortunately, this won’t happen, as most of the NGOs have their own (often competing) agendas. (See http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/commentators/mark-steel/mark-steel-consider-the-risks-before-you-send-your-cash-to-haiti-1873076.html for example...). There was an interesting clip on the BBC the day after it happened. It showed fresh-faced, all-white, young, American missionaries boarding a plane to go back home. This one girl, maybe late high school age, said to the reporter, “It was really scary!” Yes, honey, I’m sure it was, but it’s a good thing now that you can board a plane and go back home, leaving everyone else there to deal with the mess. I’m not saying I have the slightest desire to be anywhere near Haiti right now (or ever), but it just struck me that these self-same people, there to save the souls of the heathens living in sin, bugger off back home the minute that their presence there might actually be useful – saving people for real, in the flesh! I wasn’t very impressed, and I have a sneaking suspicion that neither was the BBC producer who slotted that bit into the news report.

In other Haiti related news, our dept has decided to launch a money appeal. All very well and good. The webpage has a nice little message on it about how the dept wants to raise blah amount of money, and a link to go to some pictures – most of them, not surprisingly, rather disturbing. Perhaps even more disturbing is the fact that these pictures are interspersed with pics from the dept Xmas party, including one of me going for the buffet table. There is a minor riot brewing in the office I think – how could anyone think that was in good taste???

Anyway…

I’m picking up my bike today, with the third frame in two years. The second frame cracked in exactly the same places as the first. The woman at the bike store said that Marin frames have had loads of problems. Supposedly, they have put the newest frame on the bike (which has been pretty substantially changed). I wrote a suitably aggrieved letter to the company, and if this one bites it I’m going to write letters to every bike magazine and bicycle forum I can think of. I should have just gotten a penny farthing.

Decided to push back my citizenship a bit until I can finish paying off my credit card. I don’t actually need to get citizenship at the moment – I just want it. It is extremely expensive though – not very helpful for getting one’s debts under control. Poo.

Not a lot else at the moment really – things have been pretty dull, which I guess is not necessarily a bad thing. The days are getting slightly longer, which is most definitely a GOOD THING. Oh, we’ve seen a few movies lately. Saw Wolverine, which was complete crap, but at least fun (though, really – if they are trying to substitute New Zealand for the Canadian Rockies, they really should get rid of the arrows on the wrong side of the road!) We also saw Mary Poppins again, which I’d not seen in years. I still love that movie. (I probably always secretly wanted to be Mary Poppins). That was actually the first movie I ever saw in a movie theatre, with Mom and Grammie. I really didn’t have a hope in hell of ever being a heterosexual! Embarrassingly, I think it also has something to do with my very early interest in England, and how I ended up in this silly little country (though that has more, directly, to do with Jennifer and I running into some hunky Scots with amazing accents at a hostel in Vancouver in 1992…). I digress… We also watched Up, which is probably one of the cutest movies I have ever seen – I very much recommend.

Oh, last thing – it looks like I’m going to be helping David schlep his crap down from CT to AL in a U-Haul in April, stopping off at a wedding along the way (a wedding full of rabid, right-wing Repubs! How fun – I can’t wait!!!). We’re probably going to pick Robin up in Richmond, VA, and have a big gay drive down south (shades of Priscilla in a U-Haul?). We’ll have to endeavour not to end up on the news…

And that’s about it for the mo… I should probably do some work now. How dull…

Y2K and a tenner...

2010-01-01T18:24:00.000Z

And, well it's 2010 - woohoo! We had about 10 people over last night for food and a vast amount of alcohol (luckily, no one was sick or had to be put to bed! I suppose we are all just getting too old and responsible (giggle)). We all piled up onto the roof just before midnight to watch the fireworks being shot off from the London Eye (and numerous other locations), and to clunk together our fancy plastic champagne glasses. Five or so minutes of fireworks were enjoyed, and then we decided it was actually rather cold (and it had started to snow), so we all piled back inside and sat around the rather crispy Christmas tree. People wandered off by about 2 or 3am and the three of us bundled off to bed. Or, rather, David ended up falling asleep on the sofa, I actually went to bed, and I think Robin wandered off in a general bedward direction. This morning (and I say morning in the loosest possible way), there may have been some hangovers to be nursed (not bad ones though, thankfully), but, all and all, a complete success.

And - I think we officially ceased to be white trash today because we no longer have a sofa, shrink-wrapped and under a tarp, living on the roof. Our landlady refused to store any of the (really crappy) furniture this place came with, and we sure as hell weren't going to store it (mucho expensivo), so, we've used some of it, one of the mattresses went off to a friend's and has since disappeared (i.e., got thrown away), and now we are down a sofa as well. We decided it would be cheaper, in the end, just to get some crappy sofas to replace them rather than pay £75/month to keep them in storage. Anyway, we decided to get rid of the sofa b/c the roof started to leak (unrelated to the sofa), and we have a roofer coming out to fix things. It seemed like an opportune moment to get rid of the thing. So, I called the council, which is coming tomorrow morning to pick it up from the front yard (OK, we're still white trash b/c we now have a dead sofa sitting in the front yard). Problem was, the sofa was sitting on the roof, three floors up, and the stairway down is very narrow - no way to get large things down without getting the downstairs neighbours to open their doors so we can back up into their flats. We thought about a variety of ways of getting the sofa down - winching it down using a hose or whatever. But, in the end, David and Robin just gave it the old heave-ho off the back of the building, and I stood at the bottom to catch it, I mean, to make sure there was nothing important that it might hit. Fingers crosses, prayers said, they launched it off the top of the building and it landed with a rather loud crack (but in one piece and without breaking any windows or fences) into a bramble pile. Thank God for brambles! And then we hauled it around the back of the building, into the front yard, where tomorrow morning the council is to come haul it away to make park benches or Volkswagens or something out of it. We hope. If that fails, there is a large housing project next door to here with a big trash area and I'm sure they wouldn't notice the addition of a big, dead sofa... ;-)

So yeah - that's the big excitement so far for 2010 - sofas falling from the sky. It's a brave new world...

This just in - a case of 'you know you live in a gay household when...' Robin has been chatting with some potential love (of the moment) online. Rather abruptly, he marched over here (as I'm eating dinner) and said, 'Do I have a hairy buttcrack?' Apparently, that was on (or off) Mr. Online's checklist... Oh the things we do for good friends...