Mediocre Daily Adventures

Make mine a double.

2010-02-08T08:03:00.000-08:00

So I'm a lot better after a weekend spent, not in Long Island, USA with my husband but in our London apartment with both a Cold and Cough and Cabin Fever. The Cold and Cough were a result of getting far too cold out and about taking photos at my photography course and the Cabin Fever was due to my feverishly reading all weekend. After each chapter I would think, 'yes it's time to go out' but as the kitchen was well stocked and I had a seemingly endless supply of Lempsips to keep the dizziness away, I ended up keeping the chain on the door until this morning. I'm prone to having days of hibernation from time to time which are a despicable waste of my days and also gleefully enjoyable. I had phone calls and Instant Messaging conversations and On Demand television so I did use my sore vocal chords during the two days.
Sleep did not go well over the weekend with odd dreams that had me wondering 'What the hey? Why did I dream about that person?' Might well have been the slight fever I was running in body and mind.

Forgot to mention an odd sight from the other day. Was walking along another metal tube corridor under London city and saw a man with a perfect square bald patch at the back of his head, just up from his neck. He had a full beard and a conservative look so the sizeable patch had me thinking. Was this an intentional patch born out of a love of symmatary or due to some hair pulling compulsion? The patch also was at a perfect hat rim position so was the square due to hat wear and tear? He didn't seem to have a scare on the patch and he seemed happy enough with his lot in life so no answers were found even after I realised that I was more or less following him and staring at the back of his head. Might have just been an odd case of male pattern baldness.

My Monday morning class has doubled in size (2) so felt a little better about heading to a nice café not far from the venue. I like the food and the coffee and also listening away to the three ladies that work there. One girl can actually pull off a beige cardigan. Now I'm a massive cardigan fan but agree with Billy Connolly about people who are 'beige' or beige wearers. And yet with this girl, she is an exception to the beige rule. She can completely complicate the ordering process though and manages to get you to spend less and not more at the café.
Whilst pouring over the last few articles in this months Empire, a man came in to order some lunch. He was asked if he wanted a coffee. He paused for a moment considering the question. Then, as he answered, a near medical urgency came into his tone. He said that 'Yes I'd better have a coffee. Better make it a double expresso.' All he left out was 'STAT.' Coffee is not medicine people, though it's very nice after your lunch.

One nice thing happened the other day. Was walking in with 'Cosmic Love' blaring in my ears by my beloved Florence + the Machine and as I turned off my iPod, the same song, at the very same line of the song was also playing where I work. It's like they did a great edit on the soundtrack of my film-like life. Smooth.

In other news, my husband got me the best pair of jeans from the States. The buying of jeans is fraught with peril never mind when you are buying for what the magazines would call a 'curvy' ('fat' in magazine language) woman. He's a genius.

Mer

Comedy of Errors and Green Grass

2010-02-05T11:19:00.000-08:00

So it's been an eventual week and has veered towards the amusing with each twist and turn. The week started off by my receiving phone calls from my increasingly frantic husband as he endevered to keep green grass warm and dry over a cold and pre-Practical Completion weekend. Random thoughts such as 'if I get more electric blankets that should do it. Ok have got to go.' He had rang me seemingly with time available to discuss the world outside of the grassy courtyard but then an ephiphany such as the one quoted above would happen and he spun off into another engineering dimension. Ultimately the courtyard and it's grass was kept dry and nice and warm under the numberous electric blankets and the 30 ordinary duvets that were used to cover the full area. This did not occur however, until after the 3am call from the night watchman who had been put on ice and snow alert. With the Snow alarm sounding in his head, the assigned man dutifully made the call that had me woken to my husband assuring the caller that 'Yes you did the right thing. It's ok, you did the right thing. We were worried about snow and possible electricution [of the grass], I'll coming right in.'
I wonder if the Roman's had such problems? They were know for their feats of engineering. It would be interesting to know what their most difficult and odd world conquering engineering cunundrum might have been?
With all the talk of grass, it was ventured that asking the advice of known reformed (other) grass growers might be enlisted. Ultimately virtuous engineering won the day and PC.

Working amongst people again has also brought me amongst more children. It's interesting to see the children who know that really really high pitched and extremely loud crying does seem to work in their favour or at least seems to be how they are in the world. There is one such child I've noticed resently and today I was sitting having a comfort breakfast with my husband - more on that later, in my favoured working environment, on my day off I should add, when the little-pair-of-lungs-that-would came in with her mother. We had been sitting beside a lady who seems to like to include everyone in her thoughts and they are nice happy and very direct thoughts. Upon hearing Little Lungs she over whelmed even the volume of the little girl to ask her mother and the rest of the café how anyone could put up with that sort of noise and performance for more than a moment? She continued to ask all the questions every one else kept to themselves and it was quite satisfying to nod along in agreement. By the end of the breakfast she knew how long we were married; commented favourably about my skin and general appearance of the day; we discussed the jewellery that we both wore and how much we admired it all; she told me the name of a great local tattoo artist and had shown me some of her tattooes while her little dog slept in her bag. She had to get back to watching 24 on her iPhone just as we had to leave. What a marvellous breakfast.
A comfort breakfast was deemed necessary by my husband and I enjoyed a busman's holiday as a result as he woke me up while sprinting out of our bed. You see, he was due to be in New York today. His bag was packed, tickets and passport secured and double checked. I set my alarm, woke to it, thought it a bit too early, got up though, got some water and turned off snooze because sure 'he has set his alarm anyway' and went back for a little sleep. With the Bed to Car record being broken I was told that my husband had awoken with a feeling of being rested and cosy. It felt like a Saturday. Not just a regular Saturday but a Saturday when he didn't need to go to work. 'Look, ' he thought, 'it's bright so early these mornings, Spring is really here and there is my wife asleep beside me.' Then he looked at his phone to check the time and realised that we had slept in by nearly three hours as he'd forgotten to set his alarm. Then we sprinted to the car. Has to be said, he did make me a Lempsip as I have a cold and packed three bananas for the journey in mid sprint. Impressive.
When hope was gone in morning traffic, flights were rearranged for this afternoon after unhelpful people at the end of phone lines who began conversations with 'Can I help you?' were cursed at and then hung up on after insisting they weren't to be spoken to in that manner. Had to agree with them to be honest. No one wants to be the person taking those calls so they don't need to be cursed at even if they clearly aren't bothering to actually do their jobs. All possible hope for reaching the airport was gone and was a probable cause of curses as my husband was seen with his mobile to his ear in traffic and was duly pulled over by police who were staring right at him at the time. Ironically he was being told by the law abiding citizen to his left to hand her the phone as he shouldn't be using it when driving. He fought the law and the law won.
The rest of my day was spent without required glasses. Switching from sunglasses to regular glasses found that my regular (short sighted) glasses were broken and needed to be repaired. Going along to my photography course I also remembered that I had forgotten my reading/computer glasses. So for two hours I couldn't really see the main screen and then my eyes were burning from the computer screens we were using today and without my reading/computer glasses I was fighting the urge to both ice my burning eyes and not fall alseep. It's a brain thing of mine. Long two hours.
Glasses fixed and not travelling tonight so I'm finally home with multiple books to read and the new Vanity Fair in hand. Lempsip will hopefully also do it's magic.
Mer

Tights

2010-02-01T11:07:00.000-08:00

So it being Monday, I was up early in what appears to be new Spring light to head off to teach a class. It's a regular class and regularly holds one student but at least we both turn up and get the job done. It's particularly cold here in London so much so that a Cold is skirting around my ammune system, considering an attack by sending out scouting parties to tickle my throat and give me a slight running of the sinuses. All such attacks are clearly taken personally and fought off by ignoring symptoms and indulging in the only good thing about Colds, Lempsip.
Anyway, with a virgin EMPIRE magazine to be opened, I was sitting on the Tube and noticed a woman with quite a large hold in her tights, right by the inner leg just below the knee. She was wearing a skirt that would show off this hole for the entire day and she looked nonplussed about it. There was no futile yanking down of the skirt to disguise the hole amoungst skirt fabric and she sat nearly brazen in her acceptance and perhaps, approval of the hole in her tights. Unlike in Camden where just one hole in one's tights is like voting for the Conservative Party, she didn't seem like the sort of woman who habitually chose to wear tights witih a large hole. Maybe she does the old trick of knowing full well that she has a noticeable hole in her tights but if or when it's pointed out to her by a concerned friend or colleague, she will don a blank, near shocked expression and word out a marvelled 'Really?' A certain woman who once birthed me does this trick, but she shall remain nameless.
Perhaps this blog has recommended this before, but a visit to Clapham North Tube station here in London really is a must for all. Every day they have a new Thought for the Day. That phrase is underlined in black marker on a white board. Todays thought is: 'We are not what we think or what we feel. We are what we do.' Others would argue that we are not what we do (as in our jobs) but what we think and what we feel. Personally, I quite like the 'what we do' side of the equation. The fact that every single day someone writes up a Thought for the Day is something well worth doing and taking a picture of every time I'm there. As the Thought will we whiped clean every day, I like the thought of someone preserving the effort made on film or in this case, on Blackberry.
They will often play soothing Classical music at this station. This is surely going above and beyond the call of duty for London commuters. Outside the station you can get a delightful coffee from the ever cheery barista who makes coffee so well that there is no need for sugar.
Speaking of coffee, well of coffee institutions, I've been commissioned for my first photoshoot as a photographer at the Café of my employ. I say commissioned, but I might well be paid just in coffee beans, but at least the request has been made and it'll go right to the top of my Photographic CV.
The unsual occurance of my going out for Indian take-out has occured and having just placed my hand to my chin to ponder my words deeply the whiff of a freash garlic naam has maddened my hungry stomach so I shall away.
By the way, going through the pages of EMPIRE magazine, it seems that I will be at the cinema Alot this month. The expense and joy of pre-Oscar cinema going makes the cold days of February create a nice inner glow.
Mer

Get your Froth On.

2010-01-28T11:40:00.001-08:00

So it's been a while. DtM called this fact to my attention on his birthday. My apologise to all or at least, to DtM on his birthday week. Both he and George Clooney will never feel like they have gone passed 35, to me anyway.
What adventures have been had? Well last Saturday, we headed off to East London to check out the improbability of a photographic exhibition made up entirely of works taken by partially or completely blind people. The concept seeme to suggest an oximoran and therefore had to be seen to be believed. Turned out to be a very interesting exhibition indeed and 95% of the pieces were in focus. The other 5% were out of focus but interesting and edgy all the same. A lesson in Never Say Never really now isn't it?
A few books and a few more films have been read and seen in the blogging pause. THE LIFE OF PI and THE ROAD have me considering what I would be prepared to do in the face of a life threatening situation and/or an Apocolaypse. There can only really be the one apocolaypse, were it to happen, but you see what I mean. Having a neat store of canned food, biscuits and knowing where the nearest freash water spring is seem to be the main things to consider. I've pondered it and have decided that cannibalism isn't for me. Just in case though, I'm giving my spouse extra rations at the moment - you never know after all.
UP IN THE AIR and the film version of THE ROAD along with THE BOOK OF ELI were also viewed. Note the Apocolypic theme continuing. UP IN THE AIR was more than pleasing in that it didn't ease itself into familiar slippers towards the end and Anna Kendrick was the real standout performance. Who hasn't held it together that tightly and then emotionally exploded uncontrollably and inappropriately in front of George Clooney? Mr. Clooney is gracefully looking his age, though again, to me, he will always be 35.
I went to see THE ROAD on a day that felt very gloomy to me and headed in to see the early showing. As with all early showings on a Thursday, there are just a few people and there is a shared sense of commradery between such an audience because, honestly, why are we all off at noon on a Thursday and going to see a film? It's a beautiful film, with beautiful pain and painful hope. Viggo Mortenson more than deserves an Oscar nomination for his role.
Normally with small day time audiences, if there are tears to be shed, it's done in a quiet, dignified manner because who exactly is crying can be clearly pinpointed. Not so with this film. People were openly hiccuping with big rolling tears. At the end, the house lights came up right as the credits began to roll and the cinema management cruely gave but moments for us all to pull it together before stumbling out into the mid-afternoon light. All attempts to mask hidden cinema tears was scattered under the lights and the full expanse of palms were slapped across tear sodden cheeks while exiting.
The other occurance is that I am now working in my Favourite Café in London. The transition to the other side of the counter is now complete and my feet are catching up with a few years not standing on them for longer than an hour at a time. There were fears that I had lost my Froth but it came back and I've firmly got my Froth On once more. Regulars are becoming known, helloes given as people are walking across the floor and the ordering of cakes are given with assurances that no guilt or calories are attached. It's a joy to be truely busy again, though I'm just there part-time. To have some focus and little time to think is a real pleasure. The company is a blessing.
Mer

The Big Snooze

2010-01-11T04:44:00.000-08:00

So there were a lot of plans made for how time would and should be spent this weekend. True there was still a lot of snow on the ground, but that was not going to deter our wee household from embracing all that London could offer us. Life would be enriched, culture would be enjoyed and our very beings would be altered from the wonder of it all.
Then I did a full on Tums, Bums and Thighs class on Friday night and forgot that pain often follows such activities. A quick spin class followed by an ab workout would surely blow off the wobble in my thighs Saturday morning, or so I thought. Bracing myself against the cold, I got out of bed and to the local fitness centre. I hadn't attended any classes by this particular instructor and it turns out that he just believes in being 'tough' and if you weren't one of the 'tough' people then his contempt for you was palpable. After a four minute warm up we went to climbing Everest having just choppered passed Base Camp because gradually climbing to Base Camp would be for those who 'weren't tough' it seems. Got through it all by ignoring the ever increasing call for 'tough' gears and did enjoy the abs section of the workout. It was also enjoyable to smile at the very embarrassing sweat stain on the instructors front that look remarkably like he had wet himself.
With thighs that no longer held much feeling, I reapplied layers and called into our now, local vegetable shop. In this place I'm greated with a 'Hello Young Lady' and I offer back 'Hello Young Man.' It's a small thing, but it's nice when you are greeted by your local green grocer. Gives a sense of place and where good spuds can be obtained. Why I keep refusing the multiple bags they offer me to wrap every single piece of food, still seems to confuse them.
My husband had declared the need to go to work on Saturday morning. This is never received with an Ode to Joy and he was a little late when he got home. The project is nearing it's end so that's the the cookie crumbles. Our heroic adventures were meant to start but instead we couch surfed and actually got take-away Indian food. Random television was watched and we continued to get through our box set of Family Guy. We promised each other that Sunday would be adventure filled and only admitted to each other later on, that we had enjoyed just hanging out on the couch with each other all day.
Sunday had me wake up with determination for adventures but then to hit the snooze button. The Snooze Button is the death knell of all wondermeant. Before my eyelids fluttered shut I could see my husband reading in bed with no intention of changing postion. We finally got up at an embarrassing late hour but layered up in weather appropriate defenses and headed outside. We got to what was meant to be an open Tube station only for it to be closed and then all resolve was lost. Instead we sought the warmth of a new restaurant (new to us) The Alice House and stayed for two courses and lots of tea. The walk to the Tube and beyond also illustrated just how sore my thighs had become. Every incline and decline was soundtracked with an Ohh and a Agghh. Thinking it would amuse me, my husband kneed me, apparently gentle into the thigh. Aggghhhhh. Not funny and not amusing.
Anyway, in the restuarant, our waitress moved quietly and slowly and was making her interest in my husband more than clear by staring whistefully at him every time she created another reason to come a little closer to the table. So obvious was her adoration that even my husband noted it and gave a little blush. He commented that he was glad I did not have any pet rabbitts because he feared for their lives around this particular waitress.
Though it was incredibly unglamourous or heroic, finishing off the weekend with three games of cards, made for wonderful times. Just hanging out with someone you really like and who will laugh at you when you whimper at the sight of stairs that torture your over exercised lower limbs, can be just as good as any other adventures.
Mer

New Year Adventures

2010-01-07T10:52:00.000-08:00

So yes, it's been awhile. I know. I'm sure you've all been wondering what I've been up to over the Christmas and New Year period. Well to sum up: Eating and Sleeping. Bit of travelling and a lot of driving to and from Ireland. Met lovely friends and was extra homesick. That's about it. It's amazing that during the Christmas period, you are flicking through the stations and see GLADIATOR is on. What do you do after seeing it three times in the cinema when it came out - long story why I went to see it three times, but anyway, it's on the telly again, and yes you end up watching it again. And then again the next night when it's on another station.

Since being back in London, I've noticed that I honestly don't have fashionable clothes for winter. I still look like a hiker who has pieced together their outfit due to practicality. It should also be noted that hats and glasses don't make good bed fellows. Perhaps it's just the hats that I like to wear, don't actually work with the glasses I need to wear. Might we worth having my eyes lasered just to enjoy wearing hats.

Went back to Spin classes last night. When moving up and down off the saddle and especially during the spints, bits of me that don't usual wobble had a significant wobble motion attached to them. The Jelly Effect was some what alarming and the mirror beside me suggested a far more rotund individual than was there before Christmas. Hmmm, wonder if all the Eating and Sleeping had anything to do with that?

I've noticed that though I'm a coldie, others are not. When out for a Jog/Splutter/Please-God-Keep-My-Heart-Beating on Hampstead Heath on Sunday with four layers of clothes on an unflattering beanie hat, I staggered passed a girl in denim hotpants with just shere tights and small wee ankle boots. Now in fairness to this girl, if I had legs like that, I'd be wearing hotpants, but those tights weren't thermal and I wonder if she survived the walk without frostbite on her knees at least. Today, I actively searched for someone wearing shoes without socks and found one. I am always fascinted by people who don't have cold feet. This girl who I half followed just out of curiousity due to her sockless state, had feet that looked red raw from the cold and yet she scampered forward with her three bags without a 'My feet are cold' expression on her face. Wonder if she was going to the airport for a warmer climate and couldn't fit any socks in her bags for the journey? Knew a surfer before who would start wearing his sandles from March onwards in Ireland because it was 'warmer.' He also wore socks with sandles. Never, ever good.

Out taking some photos in Trafalgar Square today and it was so cold that the two fountains there were frozen over. Now that's cold. Pretty, but cold. Went into one of the thousand of chain coffee shops nearby to get warm and after a medium coffee, the need for the bathroom arose. Denied. The pipes were frozen so a Plan B was required. Plan B meant going on two Tubes and then trying to sprint slowly and carefully up hill on ice to get in home to deal with the situation.

Signed up for a photography course from next week onwards. Now that's a real adventure. Once a week for 11 weeks. I have found myself thinking phrases about light being either 'good' or 'bad' of late. I might actually know what I'm talking about in about a year.

Mer

Snowmer

2009-12-21T11:38:00.000-08:00

So it's been snowing over here in London. We're not talking the weak kneed sort of snow that thinks about sticking, gets you all excited that it might stick and then promptly doesn't stick. No this is proper snow that stays on the ground and has you wearing your hiking boots just to go to the shop.
I have been looking about me and I realised that I don't do very cold weather well in terms of my wardrobe. Spring weather and Autumnal weather, that's when I come into my own. Other people know how to produce the right coat, boots and hat combination to look effortlessly warm and stylish whilst I break out the industrail strength hiking gear. The problem is that I have very big calves from a misspent youth bouncing up and down on my feet for far too many hours. As a result, getting the right boots is often more difficult than finding the perfect fitting pair of jeans. Oh I have boots, for sure, but not the proper wintery stylish kind. The thick leather that keeps your pins all snuggled are not part of my clothing arsenal. With the state of my funds at the moment, they won't be either for many a long wintery night.
I also need a nice long dark coat. I have a lovely white coat but need the sort of coat that you go about the city without worrying if anyone has actually touched the coat at any stage for fear of stains. I once had my parents; my fresh-from-the-dry-cleaners white coat and a few chocolate bars in the back of the car. When I got out of the car to put on my coat, my parents had managed to get chocolate all over the back of it. Life in reverse there.
Over the weekend I ended up, in totally unplanned events, to end up having two Thai massages from the Thai Massage centre not too far from us here. It was like being in a warm bubble in the place. My on going back and neck issues were treated to knees, knuckles and being stretched off in ways that caused clicks and then relief. The second massage was done with me lying on the floor and not on a table. A tinitiny woman came along and asked if it was alright to walk on my back. Having had massages like that before, I agreed.
The interesting thing about Thai people is that though they are usually, not very tall and they tend to be on the very slim side, they actually can produce more downward pressure than being three miles under water. 'Baby got the Bends, oh no.' With just her toes, the knots and kinks in my back were mangled into submission. Having someone stand on your sacrum and push their foot into your body is somwhat surreal. I mean, you wouldn't normally calmly take that in any other situation. When I was put into a half nelson and then twisted to and froe (as expected) there were resounding alignments made in my body and a hearty ickle giggle from my Thai masseur.
I often wonder if they all do speak fluent English, but just say a few learnt lines with a heavily Thai accented voice to avoid having to actually talk to people during a massage. Personally, I don't like talking when getting a massage. This is one of the reasons I love Thai massage. You are just a bit of meat that they are going to soften up and then say goodbye to. There is no emotional connections or in depth chats about anything. Therefore, to me, though it can knock the wind out of you with tremendous force, it's also lovely and relaxing.

Straight from the massage via a nice bit of Ben and Jerrys bought in a pre-emptive strike on a decent cinema seat, we headed off to see AVATAR. Unfortunately, we only got to see it in 2D and you know that I shall be back in to see it in 3D by the end of the week. No prizes for best screenplay will be won, but just enjoying it for the pure spectacle and concept of it all was worth it. DANCES WITH WOLVES is clearly one of James Cameron's favourite films judging from the plot and it would be nice to have breasts that don't move at all even when flying through the air; jumping up and down or running. Plus being 10' tall and blue would always be interesting.

Bit more shopping to do tomorrow. Nearly forgot a few people but saved my ass in time to get them something. Still don't feel in the least bit Christmassy. Then again, I'm not a massive fan of the time. I'd prefer to just be asleep and wake up for tea and some reading. Having to do things 'because it's Christmas' makes me want to hibernate even more.
Happy Solitice though and welcome back Mr. Sun, it's been a while.
Mer

Cold and Coffee

2009-12-17T10:27:00.000-08:00

So today was a cold one here in London. Hats, gloves and scarves with an extra pair of socks cold. Any bit of skin being exposed was quickly smothered up again in fabric. For some reason every time it's cold over here, I think of someone being homeless in the Victorian period. Just how miserably cold that would be? I type this now from the warmth of our underground bunker with spuds on the boil for mashing up for inside my tummy.

After covering a Yoga class for a friend of mine in Clapham this morning - yes I know, someone actually willing and able to cross the river in this city, I made my way to my local part of the metropolis to have a trial at my Favourite Coffee Shop. I was a little nervous. Would the magic be gone once I crossed that line between public and potential employee? Would knowing the inner workings of the place, take the sheen off my happy experiences?

I am delighted to report that it just enhanced my love of the place. After three hours of re-establishing my barista chops and lots of washing up and talking to people, we were in negotiations for possible working days and shifts. It's not about the money, though hey, some of that is always nice, it's about the experience. That sense of belonging in a wee corner that you understand and where people say hello to you by name when you come through the door.

Most of the people working today all shared names with just three letters. Or at least went by names that were all shortened to three letters. The Slovakian girl working had a longer name, but maybe it's the shorter version of her Slovakian name and can therefore count.

First few goes on the unfamiliar coffee machine weren't exactly memeorable efforts. The touch and feel had yet to course through my all too ungranulated fingers. But the break through began to come and when I made an official coffee for the owner, the beloved words of 'oh the milk is just right' were heard and a cheer went up inside my head.

Until 2010 I'm still a punter in the place. They have realised that I listen in to their general conversations. At least I won't have to always muffle my laughs or nods of agreement as the conversation and coffee flows about the place from now on.
Mer

Police and Snow

2009-12-16T09:21:00.001-08:00

So I was just thinking that it was a bit of a slow Tuesday (yesterday) as I was getting ready to head out. Then there was a knock at the door. In these modern times, there is rarely a knock at the door unless preceeded by a phone call and then a text to confirm that there would be a knock at the door at a specified time. Sometimes there is even a secend text message sent to pre-warn of said expectant knocking action. Therefore, when the knock came, my shoes were already on and I went up the stairs to the door and called out 'who's there?' The answer? 'The Police.' Hmmm, now I hadn't done anything criminal at all and hadn't called the police so the chain was duly applied and the door tentatively open. Just because someone says 'it's the police' doesn't necessarily mean that it will be them. And to my surprise, it was the police. Two young gentlemen who looked younger than me. When did that happen? The police are getting younger than me. Sigh.
Anyway, the two young fellas were offering free anti-burglar devices for the Christmas season and they needed to come inside for five minutes for a demonstration. Making sure of their credentials, they came in and I began seeing my apartment for how it really looked. You know when the place looks tidy for just yourself and your spouse/housemate and then there is 'visitor tidy?' Well the apartment leaned towards the former and I actually heard myself say the line; 'Sorry guys, I wasn't expecting the police' as I moved wayward newspapers and coats slung on a chair. After a short demonstration which had quite fiddly elements to it, I had to sign a form to show that I had been given the equipment. These members of the Metropolitan police nimbly gave me a pen when my hand looked for one and deftly produced a notepad to lean on for my signature. This part was done with expert percision. With the anti-burglary sales pitch over, the two police men noticably relaxed and I asked them if they had drawn the short straw on this? They had. But they only had this responsiblilty to the general public for an hour and I had taken up about 10 minutes of it. Off they went, job done, member of the public suitable protected and impressed.
The rest of the afternoon was happily spent off Regent Street. I didn't go shopping though the pull to that was strong in this young Jedi. No instead I went searching for the London Photographic Gallery. London was on a roll yesterday because not only did it's police force impress me, so did this gallery. Wonderful work was there on display and if I had the funds, a lot of work would have come home with me.
Today was notable for an enjoyable pregnancy class that I taught followed by a walk in the snow. Yes it was actually snowing in London today and lads, it was sticking. For some reason, I have never noticed people holding up umbrellas against the snow before but Londoners like to do this. Perhaps I haven't been around enough snow in my life to see people doing this. Is this a regular snow thing to do? Makes sense. I'm not a regular hat wearer, but I had luckily brought a hat with me today so the snow didn't bother me. With curly hair, you get very noticable 'hat hair' but as most of the city was wearing dampened, flattened hairstyles, I blended right in.
To get out of the cold and lets face it, just because I love the place, I went into my favourite local coffee shop. The playlist for today was just wonderful with 'The Wichita Linesman' by Glen Campbell playing. Pure class. Well on the way out, the owners were there and we got to talking about coffee. I had snapped up my head with agreement when one of the owners was giving a short tutorial on making coffee to one of the waitresses. We locked eyes and nods of approval at the instructions. Well they asked me where I had trained and when I said, Sydney they both gave 'ahhs' of approval. When asked where in Sydney I lived, turns out they used to live down the road from me. Mentioned that I was thinking of getting back into the barista game again for a while as I've just moved over (and having a massive identity crisis - kept that to myself) and they offered me a trial. So tomorrow will be the day I get some coffee grains into my fingers again. To be honest, I'm nervous. What if the barista magic is gone? Will just have to give it a go and see what happens.
However this is argueably a dangerous thing to do. What if I don't hit it off there and then ruin being able to go into my favourite London coffee shop? Then again, if I love the place, well that'll be great. Fingers crossed that it works out. As they say, 'Be careful what you wish for, it might come true' or at least accept when it does. It'll make for a more eventual blog for tomorrow. There's always that.
Mer

Paddington Bear.

2009-12-11T09:41:00.001-08:00

So today was a quiet day. I'm having a lot of those. Perhaps it's the weather or more likely, it's me and the weather. I did venture out to go along to an open day in a university but ended up going way out of my way on the trains. What was meant to be a 20 minute train ride, turned out to span a little over an hour and vast tracks of London. Entire stations were rushed by on the Fast Train I was on so some station hopping was needed to finally get me back to the familiar. It was too late to go along to the open day but I'll go along another time.
ALICE IN WONDERLAND is my read of the moment and ending up in unexpected places seemed to work well with the oddity of the book.
Coming back to recognised local bricks and morter I wandered into my favourite cafe. Again, it's probably the weather, but my coffee intake has gone up to one a day. Back in the day it was, well, more than that especially when I made coffee as part of my living. Got a burnt coffee today and in fairness to the owners, they noticed my needing some sugar and asked me about it when I paid. Now that is service. During my stay I ended up reading the review section of a paper and have a mother with her two young sons sit near me. They pulled out pencils and a Paddigton Bear book. Now, it should be noted at this point that I have a great regard for Paddington Bear as one of my favourite childhood books featured him. As the story was being read out I realised that I was listening as much as the kids. Well, I was probably listening more intently as I have developed an attention span a little larger than theirs at this stage. Whenever one of the kids interrupted the story by, well being kids, I was on the verge of saying 'go on with the story!' but one or other of the children would deftly do that for me. The family spoke in fluent English and German and zipped between both languages. The verdict about the story was given by the older child in German but I like to think that he enjoyed it as much as me. I nearly answered in the part when it was asked what does 'Bear' and 'Bottle' begin with. The older boy drowned out my whispered 'B' with his exuberant bright loud 'B'.
It was a good story.
Mer

Santuary

2009-12-09T02:01:00.000-08:00

So yesterday I kept myself out and about as much as possible. I was still underground at intervals but at least I wasn't surrounded by steel and tile all day. After an appointment in Pimlico, I got lost in Pimlico but decided that I would enjoy the experience. Pimlico, as it turns out, is a delightful part of London. It's bright and moneyed and seems to be populated by foodie people. The type of people who care what goes into their mouths and can afford to be discerning. With lunch time loaming and, oddly for me, very little having been had for breakfast, I walked passed and then walked back to a lovely bistro along a street, who's name I should remember. To my delight, the place is owned and run by New Zealand woman which means there will be lovely organic food and the coffee will be world class. I waited for a while as a New Zealand customer talked in depth with the NZ owner about another coffee shop and the type of coffee they buy. Having been a barista in Sydney, I actually find such talk of great importance and it was nice to update my knowledge.
With my food secured I sat down to hear two women from different generations chat away. After a while I realised that the idle tinkering conversation was actually between two women who just met each other but were keeping each other company as they were sitting across a table from each other. Communial long tables, quite popular about London now, has a way of getting you to talk. When the older lady was leaving, she thanked the younger woman for the talk. In such a big city, it's so very common for people to not even make eye contact. To have people talking to each other just for the sake of sharing their lunch time, was lovely.
Then this pair was replaced by a heavily pregnant American woman and another NZ woman. Obviously the word has gotten out about this place amongst the All Blacks. The American woman had an Underground pin saying 'Baby on Board.' I couldn't help but ask her about it. Turns out you can get one of these at any Tube stop. Signals that you're not over weight, just pregnant and yes, give the woman your seat. Genius.
After visiting the National Portrait Gallery to check out a new photography exhibition -which I completely loved by the way, I wondered around Trafalgar Square. I've been to the gallery a few times now, but haven't gone along the tourist route very much. Realising that I haven't done hardly anything 'touristy' I decided to watch tourists being proper tourists. They posed with the giant lions on the Square and just bubbled with joy at being in a picture of the very place they had only recently seen pictures of in a book.
Spying a large church, I also remembered that I like to sit in churches when I'm new to a city. This is another tradition I had forgotten to do, so six months behind schedule, I went into a beautiful church. The church was built in the Classical style. People were organising things and chatting away without any inclination to whisper and someone was snoring. It wasn't a polite snore, it was a 'I'm here for the night' snore. Following the sound brought me to the deep wooden seats that wrap about all the windows. There was a homeless man safe and sleeping soundly. But he wasn't the snorer. There were more and more people, just curled up and asleep in this beautiful sanctuary. In Medieval times, Churches were sanctuaries, safe houses where people were not meant to attack each other. Here in this huge city, these men had found a safe place to rest. I sat down and looked around glad to have some place to sit where people can chat, people can pray and people can snore all surrounded by beautiful architecture. Things may not be wonderful for everyone one there, but at least there could be a respite, a sanctuary for a while.
Still have to fix my glasses. My eyeballs are nearly burnt to bits looking at this screen. Superglue to the rescue later.
Mer

Mole

2009-12-07T11:10:00.001-08:00

So I realised something today about my time here. I realised that I spend most of my time underground. Our apartment is a basement apartment. In realestate language that would be 'a garden apartment.' But basically we live underground with the light coming in at certain times of the day. Without a car, I spend my time travelling from A to B in the Underground. On Friday, after a misjudged decision, I ended up spending two hours underground, not on a train, but just going from A to underground B. Metal and tiles surround me for about two hours a day and then I go to live underground again. The light rushes into a train when we have finally climbed upwards, it always snaps my head up even from the most interesting of reads.
Perhaps I've entered Hades and didn't realise it? My eyes and my brain much prefer to read and right in dim light so perhaps I'm becoming a mole more than a human? My eyes blinking in bright light and preferring to have sunglasses on the moment the sun beams out from behind the clouds. If someone beautiful suggests that I lead them out from a Tube stop at any stage, but warns me not to look back to check if they are still there, well I think, in my version of the story, I won't glimpse back and then we'll see an alternative to the traditional Escape from Hades story, 'even after Chris said don't.'
Speaking of glasses, I broke my reading glasses over the weekend. They can be glued back together and will eventually have to be replaced. As they are special (darkened) coloured reading glasses, this will be an expensive affair. However, as this computer screen is painfully searing into my eyes as I type, the expense will be worth it. Lots of reading in dim rooms for me until the superglue does it's magic and new glasses are purcured.
Mer.

Spinning Music

2009-12-03T12:39:00.001-08:00

So as my upper body has decided to get my constant attention by providing me with low lying pain, I've taken more and more to spinning classes in my local spinning gym. My legs and I are getting on great nowadays so at least they are working. I've tried out a good few of the new instructors at my local Spin centre. They are all 'new' in that the centre is only just up and running. Today I was expecting a different trainer, but instead I got the Zen Master want-to-be instructor. At the begining of this instructors' classes we are pretty much asked to get in touch with our inner feelings, to close our eyes and become one with the bike. We are then, always told about the fat burning elements of the class and our heart rates. Once or twice hearing this speech is fine, but in every one of the classes it begins to grate. I'm not one for enforcing a smile on command from an instructor either. When I'm training I tend to be some some what busy and unfortunately don't always beam from ear to ear especially when on a climbing section.

Anyway, there has been an odd number of small people about the place lately, or at least about the places that I have passed through. Little people or small people? I'm not sure of the correct termenology. On some of the undergrounds here, instead of escalators there are the treadmill type contraptions that are found in airports to make you imagine that you can walk really quickly and effortlessly. Well the other day, following the masses as they streamed along en-route a Little person made the life threatening decision to actually stop in place. As he came up to my waist, he could have easily be trampled underfoot had it not been for some facy foot work on my part. My quick route diversion signaled to people in my sway to change route so the Little person was saved. That said he looked completely uninterested in it all.
I've completely circumed to the city life of a book and music pumping into my ears. I've even organised various playlists that tempt me to sing along even as I trot along to the beat out in public. My headphones are clamped in place for most of my journeys now, soundtracking my time here. Like a film can be lifted from the mediocre to the sublime depending on it's soundtrack, I'm attempted to make something out of my ever increasingly dull days with some handy tunes. Seems to be helping matters.
Mer

Visits

2009-12-01T07:30:00.001-08:00

So yesterday I was all set for a day of being out of the rain with my book for the week. CLEAVING by Julia Powell is this weeks read. Ordered it about six weeks ago from Waterstones and it finally came in. Come hell or high water I'm going to get through it this week seeing as I waited for it for so long. It's ironic that as someone who doesn't happen to eat meat any more, I find the descriptions of disecting various animals most absorbing.
Well I was interrupted in my afternoon plan, before actually going out to teach, with an Irish mobile number coming up on my phone. Turns out to be one of my brothers who would happen to be in Paddington Station in about 10 minutes. Total surprise. He was over for a company Oscar style work nomination and was being a dark horse about it all. Bringing along my choice of read for the week, met up with him and we ended up having a late lunch in the most American of diners you're likely to find outside of the States.
In my genes I carry the plight of my brothers in that they are all colour blind. Before running off to our various destinations; brother to an award ceremony, me to teach no-one (as it turned out) he needed help picking out a tie. Left alone, his well appointed dark brown suit and tasteful light blue shirt, could have ended up with a floral bright pink tie. Sales lady made her suggestions and agreement was reached. Goodbyes were shared and off we went.
First time I've met a sibling in this city like that. Was waiting to cross the road and could see him looking out for me. Odd to see someone so familiar in unfamiliar surroundings.

In other news, I also paid a visit to the BBC today, to meet a friend of mine who works there. I've always wanted to have a look about the BBC, even one section of it and it didn't disappoint. Years ago a friend of mine in New York walked me about the offices of Seaseme Street where she worked at the time. Unlike today, I didn't really have security clearance, so ultimately, I got bounced out of Seaseme Street. Got to keep my pace smooth as I came out of the BBC unescourted and very impressed by their colour scheme and meeting rooms and longing to have one of those BBC security clearance cards of my very own. Ah well, maybe one day.
Mer

Ups and Downs

2009-11-27T13:47:00.001-08:00

So, I've been noticing things in my absence from writing. A lot of people use canes in this big city. Some people just use them for getting around, this is clear. The day I noticed a woman in 6" heels using crutches did make me turn my head twice to confirm what I had seen.
Escalators. Up and down, standing or walking. With a big bag or without. As I go up and down these so often I started to have a look about me. The feeling of vertigo has long gone as I come over the cusp of the near virtical descent down underground.
The other day, I noticed all the different things people do to amuse themselves now that the miles of escalators have just become as familiar as background noise to them. There are, of course, those that continue to practice their bored stares. There are those that take the time to readjust their clothing, often right when their buttock line is placed directly in your eye line. But the other day, I saw a lady eating blue berries going down an escalator. Blue berries right from the carton. She was using her escalator time to fit in some anti-oxidants in her day. Interesting. Other people, used the glide downwards to equal out the height between them and their paramour and indulge in some kissing. Younger people, seem to like to take the opportunity of the particular accustics to shout to each other and appear flamboyant and 'cool' in that under 20 sort of a way. Very occasionally, will you see people recognising someone else and either ducking their heads down or expanding into a great smile, their bored vacant stares completely abandoned for those few gliding moments.
Might be an interesting challenge. To do something subtle, but unexpected as you go up and down an escalator and see if someone notices it enough to write about it.
Mer .

Couples

2009-11-13T10:56:00.000-08:00

So I looked up today and noticed a younger couple locked together as if none of the rest of us on the busy Friday evening Tube were any where near them. It was us who looked away to give this couple the privacy that they were not looking for themselves. But there was something very private about how they were kissing and wrapped around each other. Noticing the other people near them, no one looked uncomfortable, just more respectful. This was not a display for other people, it was just necessary for that couple at the time. There was a near visable pull that wrapped them up together. How long this couple will last who's to know. Perhaps by the time they got off the Tube it was all over, but for that journey there was no one else there. There seemed to be a lot of comfort in how they were pulled together like that. Like anything was possible because of that pull.
Deciding to continue the theme, I had a look about me to see how you can tell when people are together. When there is something there between people. It does not have to be the locked lips of people in their early 20s, it can just be how people position themselves around each other. How they will share an article they are reading or casually position their feet near someone elses. Yesterday I was sitting opposite a woman, well left of centre to her. She was beaming every once and a while like there was that flow between herself and someone else, like she had positioned herself near someone in that particular way that couples do. The train was very crowded and it wasn't clear who the other person might be and then I spotted him. The man who obviously had given her the ring on her fourth finger and who she beamed at in that particular way. Her eyes were dancing and being on a train on a Thursday seemed like the best adventure in the world to her just because of who was sitting across from her. She didn't need to touch him, didn't need others to instinctively give them privacy like the couple today, but it was there to see, that sense of someone being bound up with another person.
A friend of mine has a lushioius mane of long grey hair. She leaves strands of it every where. I once heard her, aftering hugging someone, comment that she could never have an affair because her stray hairs would always give her away. It was a true comment. But that flow, that physical positioning of people around each other, that surely gives people away every time?
Even with the press of so many people in a big city, you can still see the strings between people and that pull. For some reason, that always seems comforting.
Mer

Mirror Images

2009-11-12T08:17:00.000-08:00

So what caught my attention this week was a few instances when people were dressed remarkably like each other or just completely mirrored each other. I was taking my time walking along the other day and notice one of the thousands of guys who wear jeans but don't seem to make any real use of the belts they have so carefully chosen. The belt is there and yet the jean line is stationed for whole minutes at a time just below the hip line. Using or mis-using a belt in this way means that, if he has been brought up with any decently, the guy will studiously pull up his jeans to the 'right' level, just below the hip bone again and again and again. If he is not as well versed in manners, the jeans tend to slip below the bum line for far too long, especially when on an escalator right at backside level.
I bring this all up because I was walking just behind this particular guy and he was decked out to urban perfection in greys and blacks. There was even a casual looking beanie being worn. We were going along in the same direction and then I notice a beaufiful girl also perfection in urban clothing. My interest was held as they greeted each other and it was clear that they were together and had been waiting to see each other. That lovely smile that slips out and leaks all over someones' face even when they are attempting to muffle it. His hair was short and dark and her hair long and blonde. Her beanie was light grey, his black. I suddenly realised that they had dressed to completely mirror each other. Where he had black, she had grey and vice versa. They were Vice Versa.
Walking passed them, I thought that they were meeting each other for the first time that day in a big city and had dressed separately to each other having not spent the previous night together. Somehow they had both completely tapped into the other and dressed to compliment each other. Do they compliment each other all the time? Will they also always and do they plan to? That all said, perhaps they had just thrown on the same clothes they had been wearing the night before when they went to a Vice Versa party. These Vice Versa parties might not exist at all being just a joke between this couple to see if anyone in a big city would notice their little insider joke. Either way, they looked very happy to see each other. The smiles were leaking out all over them and complimenting their urban chique.
On a shorter walk with music happily blaring in my ears, I noticed two girls walking along in matching dotted pygamas. Not Bananas in Pygamas you understand, just dotted pygamas. Their black jackets with crusty fake fur collars started to make them look like over slept twins bar that they had not co-ordinated their footwear. One wore scuffed black boots and the other, perhaps the more inventive twin, wore long strippy orange and black socks with black Van runners. These girls walked in step with each other and perhaps were waiting for someone to notice that they were dressing like bed bound twins that day. Maybe not. I smiled though and then kept step with the music blaring in my ears.
Mer

Leaves and Santa Updates

2009-11-06T03:13:00.000-08:00

So it's been a while. I'm sure you were all very worried about what had become of me, but sure I'm back now and all is well.

I was away at a Yogaland thingy and off the radar as a result. Had a great time even through the sleep depravity. At one stage, people were having a hard time computing how to do a particular meditation. The explanation took so long that I had actually fallen asleep, had a wee nap and then woke up again while they were still asking how it was to be done. For your information it was, breath in for 20 seconds, hold your breath in for 20 seconds and then breath out for 20 seconds and repeat. See it's easy once you've actually HAD some sleep recently.

Well it's Autumn here in this big city. It's Spring time if you're in the Southern Hemisphere. Now what I've noticed is that there are still leaves on the street. Not just a few stray leaves, but big fat juicy delicious, nearly roastable leaves. They complain here about rain, but by God, they know nothing of it. The leaves are still about the place as there seems to be no wind in this city and the lack of substantial bouts of rain beyond a day or so, means that all the leaves are there to be shuffled and kicked under foot. The other day, I even walked down a street and there were huge leaves sailing down to the ground, peacefully deciding to end their tree living days. They weren't thrashed to the ground with mad winds and rain. No, they were graceful and elegantly waving a fond farewell to their parent tree as they floated away to the big brown soil on the ground.

In other news, there have been more Santa sightings. My favourite local coffee shop is also Santa's favourite coffee shop. The other day I needed to squeeze passed him to get a seat but another lady was getting up so I didn't actually get to say anything to him bar an acknowledging nod of thanks for his offer of moving. He was dressed in a red jumper and a red and white checkered shirt. His fedora hat was left beside him and his dark brown jacket had a red hankerchief. He was working furiously on a piece of paper in between some nice looking chocolate brownie. Santa obviously is partial to chocolate brownies, just in case you are thinking he's more of a cookie man.

Just finished the book AMERICAN WIFE which was recommended and placed in my hand by a friend. Very interesting read. I'm considering buying another copy of a book that I lent to a friend because I want to re-read it and I can't actually wait to go back home to Ireland to pick it up again. Has to be done.

Off on the train later down to Berkshire for the weekend, to see more trees or the inside of a cold barn.

Have a Happy Friday. Do something that makes you happy tonight. I'll be catching up on Jonathan Ross on Sunday when I finally get back home to my cuddily husband.

Mer

White Cliffs and Park Walk

2009-10-19T11:30:00.001-07:00

So the White Cliffs of Dover. Now I think that we've all heard quite a bit about these Dover Cliffs over the years. On a walk with BBC Radio 4 in my ears, I heard all about Vera Lynn and blue birds that were meant to fly over the White Cliffs of Dover. The irony is that 'Blue Birds over the White Cliffs of Dover' is actually an American written song that Vera Lynn took over and had a hit with during World War 2. I didn't see any blue birds on our long walk along the Dover Cliffs.
As with all big land marks, they suffered from over exposure and hype. 'Oh there they are then' is how you end up reacting. True they are white and chalky. When I asked how in the 18th C a harbour could have been built, all the chalk lying about the place was more than useful for my engineering husband to draw a diagram out to help explain all the engineering jargon he kept using.
It was lovely to be by the sea again and interesting that we were so close to France that we got texts to welcome us to the local French phone network. Huge boats were coming in and out and a pleasant sounding woman often spoke over the PA system getting people to do this and that.
We also got out of the city by going for a pleasnt walk around a petting farm on Sunday. Seeing trees without a street surrounding them was enjoyable. Thankfully the people careering towards us on their bikes always remembered to sound their bells first.
In other breaking news, I applied for a job today. Work was done on my CV and a Cover letter to inspire joy and the odd tear to the eye was constructed. I'm hoping I'll at least get an interview and then get the job. What's the point in getting to an interview unless you get to the job afterwards? Well, sure will see how it goes.
So basically some countryside adventures were had and some cupcakes were made by my own hand, over the weekend.
Mer

Sleeping Adventures

2009-10-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

So I'm meant to be having adventures when I'm awake but of late, my best adventures have been when I'm asleep.
I have been informed, as I was asleep, that for about a half an hour the other night, I was happily chuckling away to myself. I do have a vague recollection that I was having funny dreams but apparently for that half and hour, I was laughing away to myself in that soft amused sort of a way.
The second nocturnal adventure was last night/early this morning. It is very important to understand that I don't like my nose being touched or interfered with at all. One of the main reasons that I have no interest in drugs is that they seem to have to be administered into the vein (yeuk) or worse, through the nose. My nose is certainly not my best feature so I have no interest in spending more time with it than is necessary. However, I was informed that after observing me sleep for 40 minutes this morning, I have a night time habit of rubbing my nose. Shocking eh? At intervals of 15 - 20 minutes I would give my nose a substantial rub. One of the reasons I don't like my nose being touched is that it gets quite sore on the inside. No wonder if I'm the one exacerbating the problem for all of these nights.
You learn something new every day.
And now we're off to the White Cliffs of Dover. I remember getting a copy of a Blur album with the album track 'The White Cliffs of Dover' on it and loving that song.
'I'm on the White Cliffs of Dover.
Thinking it over and over.
And if I jump it's all over.
A cautionary tale for you.'
I will of course have to sing the chorus to myself and to the cliffs when I finally get to see them. Now that's a Proper Adventure.
Mer

Banks and Manhatton

2009-10-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

So todays new thing was opening a new bank account here. This was my second attempt as the bill that I brought along wasn't enough of a bill. Not billy enough perhaps. The blue eyed lovely lady from yesterday recognised me and still called me 'darling' and 'sweetheart.' This is something that I have to get used to when here. That and having to kiss everyone on the cheek when you meet them in a friends or potential friends situation. The Irish head nod From a Distance accompanied by a 'Well' just doesn't cut it here. Sigh.
After an hour of questions and talking with the delightful lady reading me through the forms and agreements, I was all signed up. At one point though, my free over draft, which would always be free and therefore would remain free, had the option of protecting it by 80pence per £100. Why I would need to pay to protect my free overdraft just didn't make sense and we all agreed that I wouldn't be going for that option. It also turns out that I have an excellent credit rating. Excellent. No income at the moment but whenever that might kick in, I'm up there in credit terms.
The interesting thing is that the banks here won't take a cheque that's made out to you under your nickname or under your husbands name when you were clearly given a postal order as a wedding gift. The line 'Well that's my husbands name' would normally slice through red tape at home, but not over here. Odd.
On my way home I decided to capitalise on my morning Yoga class by walking home instead of taking the train. I had already finished my book and without a book to read, being on a train seems fruitless. I can but recommend the Millenium Trilogy. I love a good book series. Problem is that you rush your way through them knowing that there will be another one. However, with the last book of the series, you have set yourself such a fast pace that you forget to slow down to really appreciate the last page. Mine was had under the ground in a deserted station as I hurried to take in the last page. I'm starting on a new book tonight that is much smaller in size. It's in my possession on a recommendation from a friend. I'll see how it goes.
During my walk home the phenomena (no idea how to spell that word correctly and too tired to check) of people asking me for directions continued. No matter where I go in the world, I will be asked for directions. Some days I will be on a roll and three people will ask me for directions. Today I was walking in the same direction as a Real Estate agent from Manhattan who was over here just for a week on holiday. He was feeling jetlagged. The eight hour plane journey was a little too much for him. He obviously has never flown to New Zealand. Eight hours on a plane is just two films and a few meals compared to that trip - Five films, lots of snacks and loads of hot towels. We ended up walking beside each other for a little while. He had on great glasses. After he asked what I did and did the obligatory 'I'm not flexible' routine I ended up asking him what he did. He mentioned being in Real Estate and that he was a writer. He said the Writer bit with expectation in his eye. That look that just hoped I would ask him what he was working on. I didn't ask. The reason for this is that I once ended up living with 'A Writer' in Sydney. He told me the entire contents of his obviously dire book when I was trying to get a place to live without having to pay a deposit. I think he took my glazed eyes to have been interested and I didn't have to pay a deposit, just very high rent for a place full of cockroaches and a really bad Writer, who really smelled.
Still though it's always nice to be helpful with directions and with a smile I sped up my pace and we all got to where we intended to go.
Mer

Man in Red and Reading.

2009-10-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

Today is Wednesday and not a whole lot often goes on on a Wednesday. It's one of those run of the mill sort of a days. When you're busy working, Wednesday can feel quite comforting. It's a predictable day and the ease of movement in it glides you along.
Finding myself on my way home via my now favourite café - well organising it that I got off the train so that I would specifically be walking passed the café, I went in for some late lunch and to read. Somehow I manage a more speedy pace of reading when in a café. The coffee might just help the speed. Not expecting anything of great magnitude to happen, as it was Wednesday afternoon, in walks Santa. Santa off duty or at least taking a break. He was dressed casually with a red jumper, red cord pants, brown jacket and red hankerchief in his jacket pocket. He also sported a carvat and a well trimmed volumous beard, grey of course.
As with Bill Nighly yesterday, he took a seat and seamlessly took to his corner of the café. He seemed to be making notes/a list and being very careful about the contents. The three babies and their mothers who were sitting near me didn't seem to notice him. I guess the children were too young to see Santa at such an early stage of their lives.
You have to wonder if he was just visiting this city or if he bases his operations from here using Heathrow as a convenient airport hub.
Either way he seemed like a nice man. Looked like he enjoyed his food in general and that he would be well able to chop up wood for a nice fire if needed.

This report just in: The police were at the main door earlier as there was an attempted break in into our building. I read through the burglary signs near the house yesterday and I might have inadvertedly drawn a few men of that profession to visit. This is like when someone pops into my head that I haven't thought about for a long time, then that day or a few days later, there they will be. Obviously if it's someone I don't want to meet, like say burglers, I try to wish them away. Should have taken more precautions after reading the sign. They didn't get in though so all is alright for the moment.
Mind you I wasn't even thinking about meeting Santa and there he was today. Maybe my favourite café just has a really good reputation and even Santa has heard of it?
Mer

Famous Lunch and Ether

2009-10-13T11:02:00.001-07:00

As usual on a Tuesday morning I went along to my class to teach just myself. Later on in the day I went to a new venue to also just teach myself. Whatever lesson I'm meant to be getting I look forward to actually getting it so that more people can come into the room where I teach. At the very least it would be nice to have company.
It has been a tremendously sunny day here and that has helped boast Vitamin levels and lowering spirits. It has been the sort of day that you get to wear something warm while also wearing your sun glasses. A perfect sort of a day for my skin.
To stay out in the sun and to bolster Hope levels I decided to float in some consistantly mindbogglingly wonderful soup in our local café where the coffee is so good no sugar is ever needed. Taking a window seat I settled myself down with the humongous but brilliant book I'm currently lugging about the city and delving into any chance I get. Looking up I saw a man looking back at me. Without any widening of my eyes I realised that it was Bill Nighly the actor. I think I had a very Irish reaction to it. 'Bill Nighly. That's him over there so. Having lunch in the same place as myself. Well Bill.'
All of this was done in my head as I had no intention of disturbing the man as he very polietly ordered another coffee. Bill did put in some sweetener from a yellow sweetner dispensor that he had brought with him. But the coffee is so good Bill, there's no need for sweetner. Each to their own I suppose.
Now I really like Bill Nighly as an actor. He even raised UNDERWORLD up a level when he was on screen. I don't like to talk about the sequel as clearly he was under contract for that one. During the course of eating the Most delicious mushroom soup I have ever had the priviledge to consume, I realised that I had seen Bill Nighly naked except for his wearing a guitar in LOVE ACTUALLY. It's strange to sit opposite a poliet nice man in a coffee shop and realise that you have all that information and to him, I would have been just the girl in the green jumper reading a huge book on a sunny Tuesday.
The thing is, if you've ever watched a film with me with Bill Nighly in it, I will enevitably wonder what happened to his hands. I even thought that when I was listening to a fantastic radio play that he did recently for BBC Radio 4. His ring and little fingers on both hands seem to be frozen in place as if he's holding car keys but needs the other two fingers and thumbs for something. At first I thought it was done for just one character. But no, he's the same in ever film and, as proven today, in real life. Today I had a golden chance to not even have to walk the three paces over to him, I could have asked him from my seat - 'What happened to your hands Bill?' He would have been very poliet and told me and we would have both gone back to our coffees with peace of mind. But I left the man to sit there wishing that someone would finally ask him what happend to his fingers. Maybe he thinks that no-one cares what happened to his fingers? I care. Maybe he'll never hear me say it, but at least I think it and say it out loud during his films.
In the end Bill left before me as I was wrapped up in another chapter of my giant book. I watched him casually stroll up the road as he wore his comfortable brown shoes. Bill is a shoe man it seems. He's not a runner wearer, he's more for shoes and good tailoring but he's not flashy in his style.
Bill was the highlight of my day and I was more than happy that I'd seen him in real life. Thanks Bill.
Mer

Sleepiness and Thai Food

2009-10-12T09:23:00.000-07:00

So this weekend just gone was punctuated with a whole lot of sleeping and Thai food. Went out with three of my most favourite ladies in the world to have some Amazing Thai. When you go to a new restaurant you can but be brave and try something new. The Thai Fish cakes caught my attention and each of us chose different starters and in true women fashion, to share things around. Good lord, but those fish cakes were the most delicious things ever. They were just too small and gone too soon, but the memory and where the restaurant is located will stay with me forever.
The food just got better and better with each dish and the conversation excelled even the food. Four women with all different things going on, all non-natives to this big city talking about life. Hmmm, there might be a book, highly popular TV series that might last for say, seven years and a massively successful film, with a sequel on the way in all of this.
My husband and I then went out for some Thai food on Sunday night down by Madia Vale. We have decided during a post-dinner digestive stroll that we should probably end up buying a full house in Madia Vale and live lives of philantropic grace. The Thai food in that restaurant was also delicious. Ordering a green tea to help the food go down, produced
the tini tiniest littliest ickliest wee glass cup I had ever seen. It felt like I was drinking that pot of green tea forever. 17 cups later we were on our stroll and the determined real estate dream was born.
Outside of Thai food I also did a lot of sleeping. I mean, a lot of sleeping. 12 hours straight on Saturday night along with a two hour impromtu snooze on the couch on Sunday. Being married to an Olympic standard snorer means that 12 continuous hours of sleep is a rare thing. On Sunday, I woke up to have had our official Snooze Blanket wrapped around me. Always nice. No idea why I was so sleepy apart from the full throttle Kundalini Yoga class we went to run by a Kiwi friend of ours in Brixton on Saturday.
Brixton, nice place on a sunny Saturday morning. Our Kiwi friend also brought me to my new favourite shop. It's actually called JOY and I felt like singing the Ode to Joy as I entered it's doors. I then scurried out again as I'm not bringing in the moola to spend with joy in such a place. Now, I'm not saying that PAGAN in Galway will ever be replaced in my heart, but having a little JOY can but be a good thing, yes?
After the Brixton class my right calf decided to cease up and I have a bruise on my left hand. I'm still tough though, but can't walk all that fast today.
Mer x

For the 8th of September. Photoshoot

2009-10-09T03:01:00.000-07:00

Had a few people around for an impromtu dinner party last night. Oddly enough, what I would normally cook for just two people, though to include some left overs for my husband's lunch, actually fed five of us with leftovers. Hmm, I may need to consider more portion control. The chocolate cake made in honour of our guests was enjoyed so that was nice to see. There comes a time in one's life, when knowing how to whip up a good chocolate cake becomes important.
Yesterday's late morning and early afternoon was taken up with a photoshoot. I have done photos for my old website before but never one that was specifically for and about me. Came up with a few good shots and my years of America's Next Top Model watching came in useful. Well they did in my brain anyway. The photos are mostly close ups of my feet and hands and a few head shots for my new website which should be up and running soon.
It's odd, my backside has increased of late but it seemed to have exploded in size during the photoshoot, even though my hands and feet were the main feature. Seems like my backside had a hysterical upsizing yesterday. Wonder if that's a syndrome? Like it only happens when you put on jeans you haven't dared put on for a long while or when you're getting changed in a brightly lit changing room with 360 mirrors? Must be a syndrome. Must be. Or an indicator of greater portion control.
Mer

Umbrellas.

2009-10-07T13:02:00.000-07:00

So today we had rain where we are and there was a lot of rain. It rained all day and my favourite boots turn out to be more cold weather boots than rain weather boots. At the same time, it was warm which really confuses your clothing options. You need a coat, but at the same time you don't want to be too hot. You don't want your toes to get all dirty in the rain and yet wearing your boots, though leaky boots, seem a bit too much for what would be considered a balmy day in the West of Ireland.
Rain leads to umbrellas. My bright green umbrella was out in force. Oddly it completely co-ordinated with my green love heart t-shirt. This was not a planned co-ordination but a happy one. I've had this umbrella for a very long time in Umbrella Ownershipland. The umbrellas that you find, rather than the ones that you have bought, always seem to be the umbrellas that stay with you for the longest time. This green umbrella brings back memories of my bright red umbrella which I found during my first year of college. It rained more in my college city than I thought it could ever rain any where. So the day that I found this red umbrella was a good day. That umbrella was with me for most of that college year. I think in the end it was the force of a massive storm that finally defeated that faithful umbrella.
Today on my adventures to my new GP's place, I was walking behind a Muslim woman who had a beautiful pink head covering. But the woman was a mass of contradictions. Her head scarf was like an ornament on her head but on her feet were old ordinary runners under an odd choice of pants. What topped off the contradictions was that she was holding a childs umbrella to keep the rain off her well attended head. As my walk continued, I was entrigued to see another adult, a middle aged casually dressed man also holding a childs umbrella over his head against the rain.
Had two adults stolen umbrellas from their or another's child? Where were the children and were they soaking wet? Is the use of a child sized umbrella a new craze or an old tradition I have just walked up behind on a rainy day? If so why had I never heard of this before? Perhaps I have just introduced to the world a new fashion of child sized umbrellas. Am I at the very edge of cutting fashion?
On my walk back from my new GP - I was just registering with them though I never go to the doctor. The registration was my way of not having to hear my husband giving out to me about not having registered with one. Anyway, on the walk back under my bright green umbrella, there was a woman up ahead with one child on her hip and another primary school. girl (with her hood up and without a child sized umbrella) at her side. She looked really cross and was clearly in a verbal tossel with her hooded daughter. The source of the arguement seemed to be due to her umbrella being turned inside out and her daughter not knowing how to or just not going to turn the umbrella right side in. The mothers face showed that this irritating situation was going on for a while. As I was coming up close to them, I was just about to offer my free hand when a guy came up behind them and flipped over the umbrella for them. The mother still looked cross but also conscious that she had clearly been giving out to her little girl just because it was raining heavily and a 6/7 year old wasn't sure how to flip an umbrella. When I passed, I got a contrite but sullen look in the eye when I gave a 'Saw what just Happened' strangers smile.
Three adults and two children were brought together in a big city over their umbrellas and the rain over their heads. It's the little incidents on a rainy day that can get you thinking and giving a smile to a stranger.
Mer

Shoulders, Knees and Toes

2009-10-06T14:01:00.000-07:00

Sleep deprivation is one of the ways in which a cult can break down people to get them to do their bidding. Well I started my internship for Kundalini Yoga teacher training and it consisted of about 3/4 hours of sleep a night and then a long day. The usual really. Most enjoyable but hence the gap between blogs. I'm sure ye weren't all waiting with baited breath or anything, but just to keep you all informed.

So my new adventure today was to watch someone who has double jointed shoulders. Fascinating. Just imagine a world in which you are wearing a lovely party dress and need to zip it up. You just don't seem to have enough arm to go around, right around to that zip. You do a little shimmy to somehow magically shorten your body just for the few moments it would take to zip up that dress. You then try to lengthen out the dress a bit more so that it would reach your arms more easily. At this stage you are getting sweaty and this might stain the dress. Then you worry that you will never get this dress on and there is no one there to help you. No one. This increases your body tempeture somewhat and the extra blood coursing through your veins makes you expand and has the zipper slide further away from your thwarted arm reach. You have never felt so alone in all of your life. You can sense that defeat is near.
Or worese, you are in a tiny changing room trying not to keep ruffling the curtain as you flail like a whale in it's death throws trying to get this dress on. Surely you are not the only person to not be able to get this dress on? There is a row of these dresses so it's expected that people can Get This Dress On. What is wrong with you?
But wait, what is this, you're double jointed shoulders finally come into their own. You pop that joint around to the back of your ears and glide that zipper up along your spine. Calm and grace is restored. All because of your double jointed shoulders. More of us should have these sorts of shoulders.
Mer

An Afternoon at the Cinema.

2009-10-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

If having received a phone call from someone sitting in a car wash was not a new enough thing to have occured, I decided that I would go along to the cinema in the afternoon. Going to the cinema in the afternoon is not something new to me. In every country I've been to, the cinema has been visited. However, I haven't gone to the cinema in the afternoon in London yet. So a new adventure of the small kind.

One of the more memorable afternoon cinema going experiences that I had was going to see THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST in Sydney. There were four of us in the cinema crunched down into our well separated seats as we cringed along with Jesus whilst I kept saying 'Jesus' and then realising the irony of it all. One person couldn't take that amount of bloodshed on a Thursday afternoon and left just before they broke Jesus' 6th rib.

Today was far more pleasant. Afternoon cinemagoers can turn out to be a strange lot. Some might well be keeping out of sight of the Police, hiding away in the dark or just hiding away from their lives for a while. Why did we all have so much time on our hands that we were off on a Thursday going to the cinema? Most of us were on our own bar the older couple who chatted as if we all weren't there before the film finally began. There were a total of 8 of us today. 6 of us came in right when the film was supposed to begin. Little did I know that it would be a full 25 minutes before it actually got started. All was forgiven though when the trailers finally got up on screen. The last two came in with ice-cream just before the film came on. Well timed. They have gone to the cinema in the afternoon before as they walked in unflustered with absolute certainty that they would get a suitable seat.

The film was just lovely, JULIE & JULIA and perfect for my life at the moment. I think Meryl will be getting another Oscar nomination again this year.
After the film created another first. In a city as huge as London, the woman who sat directly in front of me at the cinema was there in the supermarket shopping like me for food. I still didn't see her face, just the back of her. I liked her boots and hope she cooked something nice for herself when she got home.

I'm going along for a Shamanic treatment tomorrow. A definate first. Not sure if I can Blog from my Blackberry though as I'm off for a Yoga weekend straight afterwards. Will see what I can do.
Blogging from my Blackberry? Now that's new.
Mer

Camden Market

2009-09-30T09:30:00.001-07:00

Oh and I also got lost walking about Camden Market. It's only a quiet Wednesday and yet every single stall had their music played at the volume setting of Blaring. I'd ended up venturing into parts of the Market I'd never seen before. There are so many beautiful and lifesized sculptures around the market. My hair is still too short but at least I had a real adventure into the new parts of Camden Market.

Shampoo and Camden Market

2009-09-30T09:17:00.000-07:00

As we are all aware, I had my hair cut on Monday. You may not be aware that we had no water in our apartment for the vast majority of yesterday which meant that the hairdresser's use of mousse and hair spray and extra hair serum was still lacqured around my hair until this morning. Therefore, I could not see the full extent of how much length was lost to my locks until after my morning shower.
Enjoying the full miracle of having water gushing out of our tapes I got down to a new adventure straight away. My new adventure was to use my new shampoo, bought from my new hairdresser. This shampoo has a black bottle. A black bottle. That must mean it's extra important and so confident that it can pull off being covered all in black, like Karl Lagerfeld's permanently black leather clad gloves. It also includes such healthy wholesomeness as oats and honey. Working it into my mousse thick hair, it smelt like I had just made porridge for my husband and he had added even more honey over the oates than Winnie the Pooh would think appropriate. This new shampoo promised to create a healthy glow and to condition my hair as well was clean it.
Unfortunately I had to tie up my semi-dry hair in a turban to teach a Yoga class. As anyone with curly hair knows, tying up semi-dry curly hair can lead to lovely bouncy curls or 'helmet head' until the next wash. Unravelling the cloth revealed that my new shampoo makes my hair look very nice indeed and that my new hair cut is far too short for my liking. Sigh. It'll grow out, just very very slowly but at least with a healthy glow.
Mer

New adventures both planned and unplanned

2009-09-29T13:15:00.000-07:00

So when wondering allowed what I would do 'new' for today my husband suggested that I make buns or cupcakes as the fashionable call them. I recently made a birthday cake with very dodgy icing so thought I would capitalise on that venture for a new adventure. If I'm to ask him what 'new' thing I will do, he might keep referring me to various desserts he likes and that I haven't yet made him. These buns might well be the last of the culinary new adventures that will be blogged.

I have made buns in the past but always with my mother being around. Back then she was the tallest, most knowledgable woman in the world and I was still too small to reach to both sides of the arch in our sitting room door way. Getting to lick the bowel and/or the spoon was of far more interest to me than the actully remembering how to make buns from Stage 1 to finishing with icing. The final stage of eating was always the easiest thing to focus on after the thrill of siving floor was gone.

Today it was an eye opener just how much sugar goes into a decent bun, never mind the icing. My teeth feel like a thin layer of Sensodine toothpaste is all that keeps me from premature tooth decay. When I was a child, the sugar content seemed to be negligible. As an adult the sugar content seems to be criminal.

So making buns was my planned mediocre adventure. I also ended up doing some new things by accident. The Hammersmith tube line in London has been completely straight forward to me for the last three months. The Circle Line bit of it hadn't bothered me in the least. I had never encountered it. Going to teach a new class, I felt quite a heave of pride in my new knowledge of the London Underground when I went to all the right stations without double checking to get to my class with time to spare. But the Circle Line was about to introduce itself. Without checking the destination of the train pulling up at the platform, I confidently swooshed into the train just before the doors closed. I settled into my current book and then things started to get a little odd. Where was Royal Oak? Why was I in Paddington again? I was on the Circle line. The green line and not the baby pink line.

I was saddened to not see Paddington Bear as I made my way across his station to finally get back on track. He was part of one of my favourite book when I was little and still vying for the bowel or the spoon. When I get so off track, I often find that I end up meeting someone that I wouldn't normally meet. Today I was hoping to bump into Paddington Bear or at least his statue. But sure enough when I finally came out at Royal Oak a Dutch couple asked me how to get onto the Circle line just where I had mistakenly been. My (mis)adventure turned out to be something helpeful for a lost couple.

This unplanned new adventure lead to a new ability to give directions in a new city. It gives a pleasant sense of achievement to know where you're going and how to get back home again to get make some buns.

Mer

Getting Started

2009-09-28T12:03:00.000-07:00

Getting Started. That's always the first step isn't it? 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.' The first installment of Mediocre Daily Adventures is getting started, today the 28th of September 2009. Why today? Well the idea was formulated today and then expanded on a walk home after stopping off to enjoy a coffee. The coffee wasn't enjoyable, but the thought that followed on the walk home made for enjoyable thinking. Edmund Hillary is quoted as saying:
''I discovered that even the mediocre can have adventures and even the fearful can achieve.' Edmund Hillary was a bee keeper from New Zealand and amongst other things climbed Mount Everest.
Most of our days are mediocre and for the most part, unmemorable. However, the days that we try something new are the days that tend to stick in the memory for longer. We get that rush as we venture into the unknown and even the simplest experiment into the 'new' makes a venture into an adventure. So each day I will try something new. This will not necessarily mean that I will be off skydiving or going to the South Pole. It will mean that I will just try something different and new each day. The new thing might be excruciatingly mediocre but it will be an adventure into the rush of the New and I'll write about it.

So without further ado lets get started.

Today my new adventure was to go to a new hairdresser. Such a mediocre adventure but is it really? With naturally curly hair in need of looking after, going to a new hairdresser is entering into potentially perilous waters. With just a few snips my appearance would be shaped for months if not years to come. Curly hair does not grow out quickly and a bad haircut can mean quips of Side Show Bob from friends and family. Entering a blissfully quiet salan on a Monday afternoon after stepping off at a new (double points for the day) Tube station in London, first impressions were good. The hairdresser Mark, seemed friendly and not painfully overstyled. With freashly washed hair I sat down to a green tea without being given a selection of magazines to read. Mark took out a scissors that seemed to resemble the huge 1960s scissors that you see shop assistances cutting material with in fabric shops. I decided not to retreat into shy silence masked behind magazines, seeing as none were offered and started to chat to Mark. Anyone playing with my hair causes me to lapse into pleasant relaxation like when a dog has it's ears gentle stroked by a kind hand and they make that low humrmm sound of enjoyment.
Half an hour later and I had a new haircut and it's nice. Considerably shorter but it has already been approved of by my husband and myself and Side Show Bob would not be mistaken even for distant cousins.
A most satisfactory mediocre adventure.
Mer