Birmingham Revisited

I'm on the train back to London, once again crammed into a seat with my trusty laptop and a fair bit more luggage than I arrived with. (An awesome knee length soft leather jacket, a Nike day pack, a set of great portable speakers for my laptop, a mini kettle, a cafeteria and a packed lunch.) - Nice to see ya, to see ya nice ! (Thanks Mom !)

It was a very relaxing weekend, with an evening out in Henley-in-Arden for a curry at Arden, arguably the best curry I've ever had. Apparently it's the best Curry place in the Midlands.

Mom and I headed into Birmingham on Sunday and passed through Tysley on the train, a place where I spent a few months on various training courses back in the late 90's
I remember the place always smelling like stale damp dishrags, however, there was just a whiff of diesel and smog so my memories remained in the background.

Birmingham is a completely revitalised place. From the late 60's to the late 90's it really was the brunt of so many jokes, some rather unpleasant. Once a powerhouse of industry, sporting more canals than Venice, Birmingham hit a slump in the 60's which wasn't helped by a spree of rebuilding. Wonderful buildings were torn down and replaced by tower blocks and concrete and a road system so unfriendly to pedestrians shopping became a chore. Prior to the 60's Birmingham was a bustling city and a pleasure to visit. I think something must've been put in the city councils drinking water at the time, because the things they built could only have been designed and approved by raving loonies.

The new millenium has seen Birmingham rise from a mire of concrete and roads into a fantastic city of culture and a brilliant place to shop. In the centre, all roads have been closed to traffic and paved over, leaving tree lined boulevards and a cafe society. The canals have been opened up and renovated and you can walk for miles along their banks, stopping for a bite to eat or a pint.

The change is so dramatic and so heart lifting it has made Birmingham one of Britains major shopping destinations and once again, a proud European city.
As a Brummie, it certainly makes me glad that my city is no longer the brunt of jokes, but rather a great place to visit.

At the centre of it all, is the famous Bullring next to St. Martins church. It has been a bustling market place since the 1200's, however, the 60's obsession with concrete turned it into an ugly place. Only the people made it worth visiting, as brummies are a cheerful lot for the most part. The Bull Ring is now a shining example of how modern architecture can blend with old. The bronze statue of the Bull at the centre of the Bullring is a powerful symbol of the cities new found direction. It was recently vandalised, but such is the love of this symbol, the people of Birmingham paid to have it repaired and nobody will damage it again, such was the public outcry. Of course, this being Birmingham, people are more than welcome to let their kids clamber all over it and have photos taken.

Birmingham sports art galleries, theatres, restaurants, an aquarium and the best shopping experience in the Midlands.

The fact that it has an Apple shop really puts the shopping experience into perspective - a spare £2000 would've come in very handy, those 30" flat screens really are something to drool over.

If your based in London for a reasonable amount of time, Birmingham is a must visit. Considering it is only two and a half hours from Marylebone London on Chiltern rail, it's possible to visit for the day. It will also give new visitors to England a different perspective on British life and culture beyond what London has to offer.
Head out on the first train from Marylebone (£25 return) and you should be in Birmingham by 11am. Enough time to take in the shopping, a stroll down the canal banks and a long lunch before a very relaxing train journey back - there are only a few stops along the route.

November 7 2005 11am

Met up with Mom at the Stratford station and went for a quick coffee in the centre of town. Moms gone off shopping for an hour while I amble around. Good call, I'm not the most patient of shoppers, having a typical blokes attitude toward browsing - love the electronics goods, don't mind the clothes, run screaming from the supermarket.

This is good source matter for another Blog, outlining the various pros and cons of shopping with women. As far as I can see, the best pro is when they say "We'll meet over there in an hour"

I ambled directly to the Dirty Duck, a pub off the main drag that usually sees more locals than tourists. Go down to the roundabout down by WHSmiths, take a right and then straight for 3 minutes past the theatre and you'll find it, fantastic pub.

As I sit here, the coal fire is burning and there's locals enjoying lunch over a drink and a chat.

It would be great to share a pint with my brother right now, but I'm getting used to these solo pub sessions. So long as I have a book, newspaper or laptop handy, I'm happy.

A pint of Flowers Bitter is the order of the day, it's been over a year since I last tasted this most excellent brew. They serve bitter here at the proper temperature. In other words, not chilled. In London they tend to chill the bitter too much which spoils the flavour in my opinion.

Stratford-upon-avon hasn't changed at all, it's a bit like coming home. When I was younger, I used to sneer at the American tourists taking photos of mcdonalds. I didn't see any today unfortunately. It would've been good to take a photo of an American taking a photo of mcdonalds in Stratford. A sneer or two in passing would of course be neccessary, or even a good English kick in the goolies. "Take a photo of that, uncultured clot."

"Gee look honey, they have a macdonalds right here in stratforde, I just have to gedda shot a this for the guys back home."

Damn heathens !

As anyone with taste and culture knows, it's the Dirty Duck you want to spend an hour at, not the bloody macdonalds.

Although there is a lot to see in Stratford, you really need a car to visit all the surrounding areas too. These areas are steeped in history and ... historical pubs !

Just think, as you sup on an ale in a thousand year old pub, you can let your mind wander back over the centuries thinking about all the other people who have sat at the same spot supping on an ale and, er, well I don't really know where I'm going with this, so I'll stop now.

I'm a local today and have a sense of "my people"
Sounds like total bollox, I know, but there you go.
Most likely I'll step out the door and some young local scalliwag will gob on my boot and say "fook you yer bloody saff fafrican."
This is unlikely in Stratford, but not impossible.

If you expected a potted history of Stratford from this Blog, my apologies. Of course, should I manage to consume 3 pints of flowers in an hour, I'll be potted.

As it is, I'm half way through my first one with 20 minutes to go before meeting Mom and heading off to Henly-in-Arden.

We're going out for Indian tonight, think I'll do the completely obvious British thing and have a Chicken Tikkia Masala - sorted !

Following these Blogs of mine, you will possibly have noticed a common theme here. In my defence, pub culture is about the most important aspect of life in Britain. Even if you don't drink, to really get a feel for the country you most definately need to spend a great deal of time in pubs, if only to get out of the rain !

5th November, 12.55pm

Trains and laptops

Modern British trains seem to have been designed to prevent easy laptop use.
I'm typing this with the laptop jutting into my stomach and the screen hard up against the seat in front, not the most comfortable. I should've got one of the "seats facing seats" spots instead.

The world outside the train windows is sucked along backwards to strains from X&Y. Grey skies, green land, distant cows and sheep dotted hills. Hedgerows and Pylons, Forests and highways, villages and towns. This is England.

I'm on the 8.54 from Marylebone to Stratford-upon-avon to meet Mom.
It's been a while since I saw her - a few weeks back briefly at Heathrow when she was on her way to Portugal. Before that it had been almost a year.

My journey plan outlined in the last blog worked flawlessley, although not without some luck.

I left the B&B at 7.30, grabbed a bus to Wimbledon Station and got the 7.45 to Waterloo. The journey only took 15 minutes. It took 3 minutes at a steady pace to get down to the Jubilee line via a series of escalators and this is where fortune smiled.

An announcement that the Jubilee line was experiencing severe delays just as a train was about to pull away from the platform. I hopped onboard with seconds to spare and got to Baker Street at 8:13, hopped off and walked literally 100m to a waiting Bakerloo train which got me to Marylebone at 8.20 with 34 minutes to spare.

I'm still amazed at the public transport in this country a month after arriving. I am certain that at some point I will curse it as I'm left stranded somewhere in the cold at an ungodly hour.

I'm looking forward to seeing Stratford-upon-avon again, it's been a while since I was last there. I'm very familiar with the place, having lived in the area for a year back in the late 80's

Hopefully the rain won't start pouring till later - we're in for a wet weekend and the temperature has normalised from it's previous record breaking temperatures. The sun is still shining through the clouds and the scenery from the train is soft and pleasant.

Time to relax for a few days and forget about the world of jobs and accommodation in London...

***********************
5th November, 10.07am somewhere between London and Stratford-upon-avon.
***********************

... The journey back 7th November ...

Uneventful until Waterloo, with train delays. About the only highlight were The Smiths lyrics :-

"I'd like to drop my trousers to the Queen, every sensible child will know what this means"
That made me laugh a bit loud on the tube, although I've heard it so many times before. Classic.

Beware the timetable/map junky !

Yep, that's me. Or at least, it could become me if I don't hold onto sanity.

I've caught myself carefully planning a journey again, which is normal enough, if it wasn't for the fact how I'm mulling over several different routes to shave a few minutes and a few stops of the journey.

I need to get to Stratford-on-Avon and as I have a 6 zone Oyster card, I can get a discount on Chiltern Railway Co. from Marlybone. That's not the part that needs to be planned.

From Wimbledon, on the district line, I can catch a tube to Edgware road and walk to Marylebone, or catch the Bakerloo line one stop. It's a no brainer and is the route that TLF (http://journeyplanner.tfl.gov.uk) recommends.

However, the journey on the District Line to Edgware can be 35 minutes and a stop-start pain in the neck and ass.

I can hop on National Rail (overland) to Waterloo, which takes 20 minutes and get on the Jubilee line to Baker Street and onto the Bakerloo line to Marylebone.

Lets work it out, the first option is 14 stations in total and around 45 minutes,
The second option is 10 stations in total and about the same time - 45 minutes.

I think the clincher here is obviously the fact that 10 stations is better than 14.

See what I mean ? - I'm a hopeless case, a complete anorak !

The worst thing is, I'm starting to get a tube maps view of London which is dangerous, as the map is largely irrelevant to the actual routes. If there's tube closures or delays on the tube, I'm in a right pickle.

4th November 2005

By bb_matt at 04/11/2005 - 23:07 | Online diary | bb_matt's blog | 219 reads

I do the same and it worries me ,,,,,,

Often when I have to travel somewhere I agonize over the different options, and I often wonder why. I can't justify it in any way. I'm not generally bothered about cost, and not usually in a hurry, but I always seem to want to find the most effective route. I guess a pyschologist would make something of this. (Scary?)

I often do the same when I have to go on a long car trip, working out the timings and getting very pissed off if I can't stick to my calculated average speed. I don't even have a fancy car with on board computers and so on, in fact I'm a total technophobe.

Apart from the fact that this probably means I'm an anally retentive twat ... any other ideas!

By Tafelberg at Sun, 06/11/2005 - 15:55 | login or register to post comments

Other stuff

Got a total of 3 good job leads today, 2 of which are incredibly promising.

I also spent 2 hours doing laundry, 3 hours on trains and 2 hours at Heathrow - don't know why, but I'm pretty knackered.

I was going to go to a bonfire thingy near Wimbledon Park station and was pacing outside Sainsburys near the Wimbledon station deciding whether to get back to the B&B and up to The Swan to do business (emailing/job followups/journey planning) or to go to the bonfire night.

Duty called. I had to get the emails from the job leads I got and follow up on them. Just getting from Wimbledon to the B&B to fetch the laptop and go up to the pub took 40 minutes.

Yep, it's where time goes in London, as I found out in a previous Blog - you can spend a huge portion of each day travelling. Easily 4 hours.

I had passed by Wimbledon Park stop earlier, the station just before Wimbledon. I could see the bonfire and fireworks going off as well as a bunch of typical small scale carnival type rides and phoned to see if the people I had planned to meet were there yet. If they had been, I certainly would've hopped of the train, but most the people weren't even back from work at that time (around 7.10pm) and were planning to go about 8.30pm.

Too tired, early start tommorrow, responsibility calls.

Lucky I did decide to go to the pub instead, as the email I was hoping for, confirming a strong possiblity of a job in Surrey, was in my inbox. I fired off a reply indicating I'm very keen. Another job confirmation was also waiting, not requiring a reply, but confirming my CV was with the client. That one requires relocating to West Sussex.

We'll see what transpires, for now, I'm relaxing for the weekend and going to see Mom.

As for the email newsletter for an SA client I was supposed to do - oops - will have to try and get it done Monday !

Daown the pub, innit, lookin' for work.

Daown the pub, innit, lookin' for work.

Got any jobs ?

Sitting in The Swan emailing / phoning after a job search session at the Job Centre.

Been an interesting day and will continue to be interesting from a job & accommodation seeking point of view.

Spent the morning at Natural in Wimbledon Village working on the quotation for the freelance job. Phoned a lady called Julie who is offering a room for £90 a week in Colliers Wood and then had a quick 11.30am interview at the Job Centre to tell them how my job seeking is going.

To be honest, the Job Centre and I both know that I don't really need to sign in, but I'm covering all my bases. If things do go pear shaped it's always good to know there may be some sort of financial cushion.

While I was at the Job Centre I did a detailed search for jobs on their terminals.

These things are nifty - touchscreen job search interface which also has a built in printer. If you find a job that suits you, hit print and an oversized ATM type printout zips out of a slot.

I found five potential leads in 20 minutes, which I'm following up now.

My meeting with Julie about the room in Colliers Wood is only at 6pm tonight, but I like to get familiar with places, so I decided to nip down there from the Job center to find out exactly where it was.

There's method in this seeming waste of time. Another person is viewing the room at 6.15pm so I've booked to see it at 6pm and will have cash in hand if it is a good deal. The last thing I want is to be narking about in the dark trying to find the place. I needed to firstly find out exactly where the place is and secondly, how long it takes to get there. You snooze, you lose.

I'd already drawn up a quick map to Colliers Wood this morning. From the Job Centre, I got the 93 bus to South Wimbledon Tube, then one stop north to Colliers Wood only to find that the number 200 from Wimbledon goes within 2 minutes of the place. It looked ok from the outside and now I know I have to leave my B&B at around 4.30pm to catch the 200 bus from Ridgway near The Swan. I don't mind getting there a bit early. Get there too late and the place will be taken.

I have a bit of a wild hope that it has a ensuite bathroom. The reason for that is that the photos Julie emailed of the bedroom and the bathroom shows two doors in the bedroom. One of the doors could easily be a cupboard, but you never know. It would be a serious luck if it did have an ensuite bathroom.

They have broadband which is a major plus.

So, it all depends what vibe I get from the people - they have cats, a young son and the outside of their house looked neat and tidy. Hmmm, perhaps they won't like the cut of my jib !

My "mental map" of SW18/19 is starting to fall into place now, but London still remains a vast unknown punctuated with a few spots here and there which I've been to.
Think I'll try to plot out exactly how long a walk would be from The Swan, Ridgway to Colliers Wood, after I know if I'm taking the room of course. I already know the 200 bus links this fine pub to Colliers Wood and I noticed there isn't many nice looking pubs in the Colliers Wood area. I personally think the walk, down side streets, would be quicker than the bus. Will have to see !

I like The Swan, it's the most comfortable friendly pub I've visited to date and has become my local. It's never too busy, never empty, has a big non-smoking area, good food and an established feel. It has everything a good pub should have.
Even if I end up living in North London, it's a pub I'll visit every few weeks regardless.

Anyway, back to work - have to revise my quotation for that freelance job after receiving a slightly different sitemap from the prospective client.

Oh yeah, I also have to go see a man about a bag at 7.30 this evening, all in a days work.

Noise pollution

I thought I may have got used to the noise volumes of general British town and city life, I guess I was wrong to a degree.

This morning, at the Natural cafe again (free wireless access is why I go) I had to seriously concentrate on fixing an internet script for a client newsletter bulk email shot.

This is where an ipod would've come in very handy, to drown out the noise with music.

Coffee shops are generally noisy places, however, the Natural is incredibly noisy at the best of times.

Coffee grinders that sound like Jet planes, staff that really whack things around, young babies howling and the other day, a barking dog which was rather amusing.

It was one of those moments when you wonder what the dog sees that you don't. An old couple pop into the coffee shop each day with their two irish terriers. They are usually friendly well behaved dogs. The other day some old bloke set the one dog barking like crazy, the noise was unbelievably loud. The couple were reasonably embarrassed, but the bloke rushed out double time without saying anything, looking a bit worried. Makes you wonder what the dogs could detect. Maybe they didn't like his coat. Perhaps the guy just hates dogs.

Back to noise. I've always had a bit of a problem with sudden sharp loud noises and other random sounds. Someones laugh can grate on me - a specific type of laugh. Usually, hearing laughter makes me want to laugh too.

Even the tone of someones voice at certain times can grate against my ear.

I think most of us suffer from the "nails scraping on blackboard" effect. There's a range of sounds which give me a similar feeling. Take the sound of pouring tea. I hate that sound unless it's me actually pouring the tea. Wierd.

Perhaps there is some bizarre incident from early childhood I've associated with it.
I also cannot stand the sound of a plate or saucer spinning to a stop on a hard surface. Its like a potential energy sound, the potential that any moment the plate will shatter. Drives me crazy.

As far as babies and young children go, I can easily handle a good 80% of wailing and crying, but there's that 20% of children who are premium grade howlers. The type of howl that makes polite parents pick them up and take them outside. (to the relief of everyone around)

I can sit through most noise if I don't have to concentrate to hard, but today really was trying my patience and I eventually gave myself a headache from trying to ignore the constant barrage of bangs, grinds and howls.

I eventually got part the way to solving my script problem and got the hell out of there to the peace and quiet of my B&B room, where I've been for a few hours working on a freelance pitch. I've got some peaceful tunes playing and have managed to do a reasonable website mockup. I would never have got it done with all that noise surrounding me.

A need portable music player, but I'll have to go the retro Dreaded Outsider route in the interum, I think, or maybe a generation ahead - a portable CD player.

Progress ? - Tea in Finchley

I had to get something done today, anything constructive. All this hanging around and looking for a good design job is wearing me down after 3 weeks.

I'd fired off an email from a lead on the gumtree.com website - it was a company looking for a small website for £100. I replied in a direct way saying that for a mere £100 they were not going to get anything creative. I sent a link to a small site I'd done for around £450 (direct conversion from rands)

That was a week back, I got a reply yesterday and jumped all over it, arranging a meeting today at 2pm.

This is where the time goes in London - travelling. I hopped on National rail to Earlsfield at 11.50am and hopped off at Finchley Central at 1.30pm, the journey back would take as long. Over 3 hours travelling in total. I'm getting used to it. A magazine or a discarded paper on the seat in front, or even like today, a quick preperation on the laptop for the meeting.

I've perfected the sneaky coffee table hijack "on the fly", which involves choosing a table that hasn't been cleared yet so it looks like you've just had a coffee, hauling out the laptop and doing some business without ordering anything. Don't get me wrong, I'm no skinflint beggar. I have a coffee every morning, but how much coffee can a person drink at £1.80 a cup ?

I'd rather save that toward the evening pint or three.

The meeting was great. It's a Tea company specialising in 100% organic brands, trying to make an impact on the market dominated by the tea giants, such as PG Tips, with the organic angle.
It was just like freelancing back at home and the job was something I can so easily do, I sold myself well.

Now it's the quote and a quick mockup. The price has to be low, there's more work to come from this client, so I have to be careful with the bait. I'll go in at £240 for a 4 section small site with about 15 pages, most of them similar to each other.

£240 - hmm, it's low. If I exclude travel and meetings the job will take 20 hours. Still, bar staff make under £200 for 40 hours work.
Unfortunately, it also sets a precedent for future costings. Swings and Roundabouts. Go too high, don't get the job. It's not like I have rich pickings to choose from right now.

Still need permanent employment soon however, I came here to further my career and the best way to do that is through an employer. Had another long chat with an agent today, very positive, very proactive. My afternoon phoning sessions are gathering pace. You have to let these agents know your there and sell yourself, otherwise your CV vanishes, no matter how well written.

I was direct with this call too, indicating that I know I'm an easy sale for the agency so long as I'm given interviews.

Yes, boring blog entry, but I need to record these types of things too for a potential short story at some point in the future.

Common City - 27 October 2005

Time turns too quickly sometimes in this city. Had to head over to Wandsworth area to pick up my bank card from the Sorting Office near Kimber Avenue - long tedious story.

I decided to forgo the usual journey to that area - National rail from Wimbledon station to Earlsfield, bus down Garrat Lane. instead, I picked up the 156 from Alexandra street near the railway station. The 156 crisscrosses through the various Merton areas and into Wandsworth. Along the way, it was fairly easy to pick up where the train went and spot a few roads I knew the name of, but from the other side of them.

Ended up in Southfields and soon found Garrat Lane. I decided not to bother getting buses down it, after viewing a map and walked for a mile or so down to Kimber Avenue where the sorting office was, stupidly walking an extra mile because I didn't keep my eyes open.

By the time I'd collected my bank card and got back to Wimbledon, it was already 2.20, so I spent some time at the B&B preparing for prospective interviews, collating the work I've done into easily accessible categories on my laptop, then it was time for a walk - a walk on the Common.

It's a 15 minute walk to the outskirts and from there it sprawls across the landscape.

I found myself standing alone in a forest and wondering.

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

So this is London ?
In the middle of nowhere along a leafy path in a forest ?
Not a person to be seen for hundreds of yards and no sign of civilisation, except for the distant hum of traffic.

From the crowded tubes and buses, to the houses in their endless rows with their endless floors and the endless hustle bustle of people and the manic city center activity, where to escape ?

To the Common we go, to the green belt.

In South West London, from the burrough of Merton and beyond, one Common where a person can escape is amongst the most famous, Wimbledon Common. Most people of my generation and older will always associate it with The Wombles, but of course there's a much richer history behind it, which I won't go into right now.

A 20 minute brisk walk from Wimbledon station will get you to the outer edges and from here, the pathways go every which way. From large open areas surrounded by terraced housing right into the thick of things, fields and woods where a person can be alone with their thoughts, walking the dogs, taking a jog, riding horses or just ambling.

This is what balances great river cities and sets them apart from those that eventually fail. Expanses of open ground, green belt areas in the midst of suburbia. In a modern world and a modern city, the presence of these areas is like a gift, a healing force.

Even if a city dweller does not visit green belt areas, they are always aware that they can do so should they have the desire.

I'm a firm believer in the power of walking through nature to settle the mind. I think that any therapy in the world should include getting out into nature as a prerequisite to healing, no matter what the ailment. Whether it be depression, addiction, grief or just city burnout, a long walk in always worthwhile.

I now know I can escape from the crowds at any time and pretty much in any weather, save a blizzard or heavy snowdrift. I may require a stout pair of wellington boots and a warm coat.

A wonderful aspect about Wimbledon Common, which I'm sure is reflected in green belt areas elsewhere in Greater London, is the placement of benches. You can find a bench right along a broad path, or tucked away just inside the undergrowth by a small pond, always positioned so they blend into the environment around.

You find people sitting in the middle of nowhere, as if in their own lounge, reading a book and sipping on a drink. How completely liberating in such a civilised way.

This is the Common Life and damn fine it is too !

Now all I need to do is rent a few dogs for the day to take for a walk and I'll fit right in or take up jogging ? - Hmmm, think I'll stick to ambling for a while. Horse Riding ? - Tally No

Being British

Do I feel British again yet ?
Hmmm, can't say. I haven't really figured out what it means these days.

Last week I was sitting in a coffee shop in central London listening to three old biddies going on about foreigners, as they do (it's either that or the war)
They seemed oblivious to the fact that they were probably outnumbered 3 to 1 by the same foreigners they were dissing.

"oooh, they're so rude"
"and they don't know our way of life, dear"
"ooooh no, he looks a bit polish or sumfink, there's lot of them comin' ere lately"
"yeah, they just don't know how to beeave themselfs"
"Anyway luv, I'm on a bit of a diet dontcha know" (while eating a bacon sandwitch)
"oh yeah dear, me too, I cut daown on the chips innit"

... and so on.

Then we have the gaffers - a likeable lot, hanging out in coffee shops, reading papers, swapping jokes, wheeling and dealing - lots of plumbers, electricians, builders. The ones in the coffee shops, the gaffers, are basically your foremen. Nice life, but you can see they've done their time doing hard graft. Salt of the earth for the most part. Usually highly philisophical about life.

The bus drivers are a wonder, almost all of them are irritable bastards. Can't say I blame them considering the traffic, but they really can be truly dickheadish.
Take the one today, when my Oyster card wouldn't swipe.

"No good swiping it more than once mate, that won't do nuffink"

I felt like saying "so what the fuck am I supposed to do, smart arse - it didn't bloody work !"

Instead I smiled inanely and carried on swiping until it did actually "do sumfink", innit !

Then there was the plonker who said "stop pressing the bloody buzzer, or I'll stop the bus now"

Fair enough - the "next stop" buzzer had been pressed more than once.
In fact, it had been pressed a total of two times.

Go figure - must be a shit job.
I pressed the buzzer about 20 times just before jumping off the bus, in a kind of morse code for "fuck you, tosser"

That's another thing, British anger is dealt out in different ways - it's not an immediate emotional outburst, but rather heavy sarcasm or a bit of "cutting off" - god forbid you accidentally catch the back of someones foot with yours on the tube, you'll get that terrible shirty body language that transmits to everyone around "who does this pratt think he is, treading on the back of my foot - bloody tourists !"
Then if they can, they'll cut off your path if your in a hurry, purposefully walking in front of you.

You live and learn - I've learnt to temper my natural stride to different situations and no longer accidentally tread on the back of peoples feet, not that it happened much, but it did happen. You go from shuffling, to bounding, to strolling, to power walking all in the space of 5 minutes - duck, dive, dodge, brollies up, brollies down, of the edge of the pavement, weave and wind.

When you get good at it, you can do all that while reading a newspaper, eating a sandwich and checking your mobile messages.

Then you get the backpack wielding newbie that seems to manage to get their pack in the way of everything and everyone, standing on the right of the escalator diligently, but not quite figuring out what to do to get the backpack from away from the left. Lift it up in front of you mate, or get it to a resting place real soon. Yes, they can often be British.

And the bankers, or rather, the stripey shirt brigade ?
They're ok, just keep out of their way because they are ALWAYS in a hurry. The younger ones bound up the escalators, the older ones seem to melt out of sight after getting of the tube (very odd that), they are all incredibly adept at the public transport game, often jumping onto trains at the last minute, but never looking ruffled or annoyed. Cold and calculated. I've learnt a lot from them, but can't keep up - they move too fast. I tend to follow in their wake for a while when it's really crowded - they seem to know how to weave really well.

Being British is a futile passtime in London, it just doesn't work.
On any given day, your sharing the bus with someone from Poland, the tube with French students, the coffee shop with Americans and get served by Aussies, Saffas and Canadians in the pub. Then there's the language barrier that presents itself when your talking to a newly arrived Pakistani in a newspaper shop - always fun, always fascinating, usually frustrating.

"How much ?"
"bin blun splingi fwibble"
"Excuse me ?"
"Sorry very much how I help you ?"
"Do you have a dictionary ?"
"aaah, spingle foobwad nigglit pickle"
"I'll take 5 please"
"Thanking you and have a good day !"

A good day indeed, yes, well, today really wasn't that good.

Frustrating day again

I'm getting so tired of this now, how the fuck do you even get a bloody interview in this city ?

Spent the entire morning applying for jobs online, then decided to come into the city to walk around, nipped into The Stone near London Bridge for a quick pint and get a call, more than likely about a potential job - but it breaks up and dies as I'm going outside to get a better signal.

Then the persn just doesn't phone back and worse still, under call register it's listed as (no number), of which there are a LOT here in London (I suspect it's via VOIP or something)

So that pretty much sums up the agencies - obviously there's a bloke sitting with a pile of CV's, he calls, gives you one chance, then - next - and your forgotten about immediately.

Not even the chance to call the number back, because there wasn't one in call register. DAMN IT.

FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT, I'M NOT HAVING A GOOD MONDAY.

A potential job lead lost because T-Mobile IS A TOTALLY SHIT NETWORK.

erm, ok, I think you get the picture - not good, not good at all.

Didn't help much that Canary Wharf was totally uninspiring, I suppose that's what you get when you visit a bunch of bankers. Perhaps it was the muggy day, but I had no inspiration to explore Docklands much more than a cursory walk around Canary Wharf. Perhaps on a sunny day.

Ended up walking around the London Bridge area, down Cannon Street which has a fantastic view down into the St. Pauls area of the city. If you blank out the traffic a bit, you could imagine the street and view looking very similar one or even two hundred years ago. Now this was more my style, after the ultra modern and souless Canary Wharf.

I also just had the best Cornish I've ever eaten, from a barrow just outside London Bridge station - "West Cornwall Pasty" - got a small one for £1.50 - should've got a large, it was so good.

Still, not enough to cheer me up much - that phone call would have been though !
Ahh well, down the pint, get onto the street and see if I can pick up my email somewhere - hopefully that broken phone call has been followed up with an email. .... 10 minutes later - no it hasn't ...

FUCK !

(Posted outside Starbucks Cannon Street station Monday 31st October 15:03pm , without buying coffee - fuck um, if they want to boot me out, they can)

Duke of York and a WC

All roads lead to Victoria Station, or at least, a fair whack of them do.

What the heck I'm doing in The Duke of York pub across the road from the station is beyond me. I just found myself here.

The clocks went back an hour at midnight and I think that muddled my head and made me get on the train here just for the hell of it. What else am I'm going to do on a Sunday ?

Actually, I lie. I am here for a reason of sorts, killing time before going to see a wildlife artist with a website mockup - it's a freebie, but he has lots of artist connections who require websites. Could be some beer money in it, plus get my name out there.

Victoria as a temporary destination is a little odd, considering I could just hop on the train and go one stop from Wimbledon to Earlsfield, but I just had to get out of the B&B after spending the morning working on web design.

The coffee shops in Wimbledon were also all completely packed at 10am this morning, not a seat to be had in any of them, so I figured I'd go to Victoria and get online here.

I spent the last two hours inside the pub and coffee shop in the station itself, as I know it has a reliable BT Openzone connection, however, I was in need of a nice cold cider and the thought of drinking it in a crappy modern venue didn't appeal to me.

So, I decided to visit the Duke of York, the closest decent pub. Very poor wireless signal from here, so I can't get online. No big deal, I'll write all this crap instead.

From here, I'll go meet up with the artist. A quick jump to Vauxhall down the Victoria line and onto the national rail to Earlsfield is all it will take.

Two weeks back, I would've got the district line to Embankment and then the Northern Line to Waterloo and then hopped on national rail to Earlsfield which would've taken 15 minutes longer.

At least I think so, I haven't tried this route yet ...

Applied for two jobs this morning, one as a Senior Web Designer, £35k per annum and one as IT support in a net cafe, £16k per annum - it's a sign of my growing desperation.

Sitting in The Swan last night, I noticed Bar Staff are required, I hope it doesn't come down to that, but such is life.

The choice between IT support and cleaning toilets is not a difficult decision to make, but then, neither is having a roof over your head, or not, or failing to make it in London and returning to Joburg with your tail between your legs.

... Some time later ...

Got a call saying pop around at 5pm from the artist and it was only 2pm, so I took an amble from the pub in a random direction and found myself at Westminster Cathedral. That's the odd thing about London after a few weeks, you tend to just stumble on things, like Westminster Cathedral, or at least I do.
Sure, you can plan your day trip and head in a specified direction. That's fun too, but often, just wondering randomly is more rewarding, unexpected things happen.

Westminster Cathedral (WC for short - er, or maybe not) is rather a suprise from the outside. It's very subtle but not what you would possibly expect.
Inside is more - hmmm - traditional.

I managed to break the rules of visiting, taking random photographs and texting, not that I expected the boys in blue to storm in and haul me off. (Blair hasn't quite got that far yet)

It reminded me how ignorant I am about religion, never having been a part of it in my formative years, so I missed out on all the dogma, thank God.

I soon tired of taking sneaky photos and decided to head back to Wimbo (I'm not sure if anyone else calls Wimbledon this, but I do - not publically yet, I'll introduce it slowly)

I was rather chuffed at my level of train experience (punny matt, really punny) and managed to get from Victoria to Wimbledon in 25 minutes - my method indicated earlier worked perfectly. To go down the District line all the way takes 40 minutes, or longer, because often you need to get to Earls Court for better train frequency (you then pick up the district from Edgware too)

Hmmm, I think I should steer clear of rainware shops for a while and curb my fascination with rail time tables and maps ...

So, back in The Swan again. It's feeling like home here, but always good to try new pubs - tried two new ones today on my travels. The artist was well chuffed with the website mockup, so it's been an good day. A quick pint at The Puzzle in Earlsfield before hopping on the train and to here.

What tommorrow will bring is anyones guess (a job please God, a job, I promise to visit WC, give my confession and light a candle)
(Hey wait, no, not job - I didn't mean it that way !)

Back in Black - the Tate Modern

Back in Black - the Tate Modern

Unsure of exactly where to take myself today, I decided to go to the Tate Modern, which happened to be across the Blackfriars bridge, the area I was at during the week.

I'm back at The Blackfriar pub with another pint of Hobgoblin Ale (I shall only have one this time) - you really have to visit a good friendly pub more than once to get its true feeling, I'm sitting in the other side of the pub, the more ornate side.

The Tate was interesting, if a little dissapointing due to several areas being closed. I made the most of it and visited the 5th floor which had some of the more obvious modern artists on display, such as Picasso, Mondrian & Warhol, as well as a host of others whom only those who have an interest in or have studied modern art would be aware of.

My favourite work was by the artist Giuseppe Penone (Tree of 12 Metres). He had taken huge wooden beams and "discovered" the tree within by carefully carving away around the knots in the wood, revealing branches and the trunk from a tree ring inside the beam. Absolutely incredible and had far more impact on me than the majority of the art works, with the exception of the Russian Propaganda posters, which were just incredible. I can see so much of todays graphic style being influenced by these powerful works of graphic art, indeed, even graphic novels seem to have taken notes from these works.

Unfortunately, taking photographs was not allowed, although I'm sure I could've sneaked a shot or two of those trees.

After spending 2 hours wondering around the gallery, I needed to get outside, so I took a walk across the millenium bridge. Not very inspiring, as far as bridges go. I prefer the older more solid looking structures to this young upstart.

St Paul's Cathedral is still being renovated, due for completion on it's 300th anniversary in 2008, so parts of the outside facade as seen from the millenium bridge are covered with scaffolding which in turn is covered with a rendering of the building underneath. This is far better than having to see ugly scaffolding, a unique idea that is found in most modern cities.

I decided I'd walked enough to deserve a pint, so I took a slow stroll back to Blackfriars busy intersection and subways and popped up at the pub again - nice one !

I'll do St. Pauls another day - you need to take these things in slowly to appreciate them.

You just have to try to bite back ...

Got any Jobs ?

Right now, I wish I had a job to whinge about, I really do.

It's only when your unemployed looking for work that you realise it can be the sole provider of potential happiness in this modern world we live in.

The gloom clouds are gathering as the weekend draws in. Right now, I don't need a weekend, I need two more work days to keep the battle for a job going strong.

I'm not sure where I've been going wrong, aside from the initially badly written CV (which I thought was great)

My new CV is out there now with at least 20 agencies, 5 of which I'm in daily contact with. I've applied directly to companies and every evening, apply online to new agencies I find and jobs I haven't yet applied for. I'm now seeking further afield. I've started phoning directly to Web Dev / Advertising companies, but it costs a small fortune in pay-as-you go bills - we're talking £1 for a minute or so. No prizes for guessing how often I get put on hold ...

Yes, it's going to be a long gloomy weekend - I need to put these thoughts behind me for two days and get positive, spruce up the portfolio, write another CV aimed at something mundane like helpdesk support, datacapture or IT dogsbody.

I have two weeks to land either a web design job or a dogs body IT job, after which I will be forced to try to get work at a pub or hotel, which means pretty much one thing - dish washing.

I cannot fail myself at this difficult time, December is approaching at a unstoppable pace, the type of work I do dries up, the type of work I may end up having to do doesn't (in more ways than one)

Reality bites and bites hard.

You just have to try to bite back ...

The Black.Friar, Hobgoblin & Wicked Witch

What a wonderful pub. The floor is unvarnished worn oak, with water dripping in places from the ceiling. The wooden wall panels are circa 1930's, the bar looks even older and parts of the interior of the establishment date back to 1905. Art Deco abounds.

This is The Black Friar pub, across the road from Blackfriars underground station.

http://www.pubs.com/blacec4.htm

It is wedge shaped, jutting out on an angled corner. The ceiling is a good 15ft high and the fittings are well worn, spanning many decades. It has the air of a place that could slowly erode away for centuries and still remain a pub. Much creaking wood, some marble, wrought iron light fittings, lead lined cottage pane windows, english bar staff. Outside the traffic rushes by non-stop.
Inside there is much business talk as lunch time is upon us. Mostly patrons in suits, which I would imagine is usually the case. No tourists, lots of London accents.

I've just nipped to a last minute interview with an agency about a New Media job working with a team designing video content for the Play Station Portable. I've been informed to rewrite my CV, which I'm duly doing. It's taken this long for an agent to have the guts to let me know that my CV is crap and to give me insider information to what agencies are looking for - over two weeks pretty much wasted !

Talking about wasted, this ale I'm drinking is absolutely wonderful, but also rather strong. The first pint of Wychwood Hobgoblin Ale went down in 15 minutes, this second pint of Marstons Wicked Witch I will take my time over while updating my CV and Portfolio website. (Both these ales are specific to the time of year, for obvious reasons)

And so the mood swings up and down, round and round as I struggle to get a job interview and the money starts to dwindle.

So why am I spending my money on beer, I hear you ask ?
Well, a man has priorities and this refreshment has aided me in crafting a far more punchy CV (God, I hate that word "punchy", but it's what all the agencies say)
I draw the line at "buzzwords" - I will NOT fill my CV full of crap meaningless words, instead, I will use words like Brilliant, Genius, Talented, Fabulous, Magnificent, Magical, Hobgoblin and Wicked.

"Matthew is a Mystical Hobgoblin who specialises in the supping of Ale in old London Pubs, please hire this smashing individual right now in the position of head reviewer for the Good London Pub Guide."

"Matthew is a wicked professional with many years of experience doing very little and talking a great deal about nothing of import. He would suit a position as a part time writer for a small dismal local newspaper, as long as he can write to his usual poor standard and can live in a pub. No agencies please."

Got the trains, now the buses ?

I don't know why, but I seem to have an uncanny knack of just missing the bus. Today, for instance, I missed no fewer than 4 buses on my local travels.

When I say missed, I don't mean that I got to the bus stop and saw on the time table that they had already gone, but that I was within sight of a bus that had either just gone past a stop or was about to leave one.

Another aspect is not really knowing the various bus stops along a route, which can be a problem for short journeys. I often end up back tracking from a bus stop to my destination on a longer walk than the one I would've faced had I simply walked in the first place.

The problem is the sheer variety and amount of buses during the day. At any given stop, there are 3 or 4 different buses going to slightly different destinations, so sometimes you chance it. It wouldn't be a problem if the maps they have at the bus stops actually showed the destinations, as opposed to the immediate surroundings. I still haven't understood why this is the case. Why on earth would there be a map of the area around the bus stop your getting a bus from ?

One nifty thing they do have at various bus stops is an electronic display of the next three or four buses, their estimated arrival time, number and destination.
These are not entirely accurate but are usually within a minute or five.

Arriving from a city with no safe and efficient public transport, I can still marvel at the amazing service they have here and so far have never got angry or irritated. Truth is, most people are incredibly patient and polite, willing to queue, stand, give up their seat to old or disabled people and generally exhibit that wonderfully naff and comfy British sensibility - I suppose it's done out of neccessity.

To get angry and show it really isn't done. Just mind your nose and get on with it. If you wait for more than 10 minutes for a bus during the day, that's a long time, which can't be bad.

Still, I wish missing the bus for me wasn't quite so dramatically demonstrated by buses just leaving before I can get onto them - four times in one day is certainly bad luck.

I often just walk - if a bus is along in 7 minutes, I'll walk the 10 minutes to the B&B - it's good exercise.

Mash & Vege on a washed out day.

Awoke feeling mildly shit, after about 3 hours of restless sleep, the second day of a party-over had started.

How did I get here ?

After visiting a friend I'd met online up at Gants Hill on Saturday morning and visiting Tower Bridge on the way, taking a long walk through a few Wharfs, yuppie housing developments and up the road to Bermondey station on the Jubilee line, it amazes me how easy it is to get around this city, even when things are not working exactly as they should.

For the life of me, I have no idea how far it is by road from Wimbledon to Gants Hill. For all I know, it's the equivalent distance from Sandton to Randburg, except by a hugely roundabout route (excuse the intended pun)

As it was, total travel time without my tourist stop-offs was most likely around one hour. National rail from Wimbo to Waterloo, Jubile line from Waterloo to Sutton, Central line to Gants End.

Wonderful.

Wonderful until I was left high and dry (excuse the intended pun) at 3am Sunday morning, wobbling around the streets of Earlsfield in search of a train or bus. I had a choice of a 3 hour wait in cold rainy streets, returning to the party completely smashed or hailing a taxi.

I chose the latter and somehow informed the cabbie that I wanted to get to Wimbledon.
He took me to my destination and fleeced me of £10 thank you very much. If I knew the way, I would've walked, or rather staggered.

I walked the mile back from Wimbledon central to my B&B and awoke at 6.30pm to someone hammering into my head through a layer of cotton wool.

I was still fully clothed, having failed to climb entirely onto the bed. I was sort of leaning on it. I think that I must've got part way on and slid off.

My head was reeling with party flashbacks, some were pleasant, others along the lines of "ooooh noooo, what did I say to that person ?" "Did I really tell her that ?" "Oh God no, I told someone they looked and sounded like Paul Weller - arghghghg"

I somehow managed to crawl into bed just as it was getting light and suddenly found something blissfully wonderful about this house I'm residing in, not a squeak of sound all morning. Talk about respect for the living dead.

After a crashed out 4 hours, I painfully hauled my boogied-down-body out of bed, showered, walked to the bus stop, got down to Wimbledon and sat in a coffee shop feeling miserable.

No amount of strong coffee was going to do anything to improve my fragile eggshell mind and body, so I retired to the B&B for a few hours and daydreamed with the TV on.

Later that day, I found life at the pub was no solace. I'd neglected to charge my laptop battery, so I had a miserable hour and 10 minutes of use. I drank a dull cider which didn't want to go down and endured a desperate dejected frame of mind.

Time to go back and sleep.

Today started badly, a second day of hangover, grey skies and drizzle. I had to get up and out to continue my search for a job. God, how depressing things were before noon. The residual greyout party-over was still with me.

This time, the coffee must've kicked in, because it kicked my arse into gear and I went hunting for a local laundromat where I can get my washing done then up the hill to Wimbledon village to the cheery Natural coffee shop, with free internet access AND a wall socket for my laptop - BLISS !

I did some job searching and emailing and fully made use of the services, sitting for a good 3 hours with one cup of coffee (which lasted 10 minutes)

As I was leaving, I got a job lead - another agent phoning me - great stuff, except for one thing, my battery died out half way though the conversation.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK IT !

I virtually ran from Wimbledon Village down to the B&B in about 15 minutes, popped in a spare battery and frantically tried to find the person who called, using my phones call register - no luck.

Then suddenly, they phone back - thank God !
Had a quick chat with agent, will call tommorrow, good chance of interview with prospective employer - great stuff.

So here I sit in the pub, replete after two cheap but filling side dishes - Mash and Vege, working mans nosh for an unemployed web dev.

Pint of Plastered Publican Stuck to the Roof of my Mouth Ale please !

My London Photo Tour

As London is such a rare destination to visit, most people choose the more beaten tracks to travel to. Many have asked me to share some of my photos of this lonely and obscure part of the world. As I didn't find any beaten tracks, I've made do with some battered ones instead.

I have selected these few choice shots of places visitors may wish to see, complete with captions. Please enjoy.

London is smelly.

The drains all over the show are smelly today it seems.
Then there was a silently violent wind breaker on a crowded bus near Waterloo. Everyone looks around with either amusement, disgust or guilt. Nobody comments, who dunnit ?

Yes, it's smelly here on occassion, an affront to the senses. Then again, I'm just this spoilt white boy from the Northern Suburbs of Joburg, so what would I know about the smells of a crowded city ?

So, here I sit in another corner of The Swan I don't usually sit in, with the scent of a drain wafting through from somewhere - not sure from where, but it stinks. Think I need to move.

It's putting me off my curdled-yaks-pee bitter.

Ah well, as with the crowds, you have to get accustomed to these simple facts of a busy city.

I view it as just a bit more culture in a hectically cultural city - the type of culture that grows on mouldy cheese.

Is that poo on my shoe ? no ? what the hell is that stench then ?

Possibly it's a good thing that it rains so often here ...

The British Library, quick thoughts

Just zipped here from Waterloo, where I did nothing but look. £12 for the London eye, £8.50 for Dali, £9 for the Aquarium (fish 'n chips not included) - walking is thankfully still free, as is the classic view of the HP sauce building which I caught in a classic rare photo that only about 123 million people have.

So, I'm inside the British Library and I haven't opened a single book yet. It's a bit overwhelming and I shall have to return early in the morning to spend a day here.

I'm upset that there's no free wireless access, so I'm using up my expensive (but cheapest that can be found), 4000 minutes for £40 BT Openzone.

I'm also starving, but £6 for a small wedge of bread with limp lettuce and a gulp of water is too much to bear. I'll hunt down a Tescos. Not quite as cultural as the Library, but a damn side cheaper.

I think it's international limping day here at BL, I've seen three people limp past in the last 10 minutes.

So what now ?

Hmm, pack up the laptop and stroll around. Possibly I'll open a book, but which one ?
There appears to be a slightly larger collection here than can be found at the central Randburg library. The building is a bit bigger too.

bb_matt limps off in search of rare reads and Tescos £1 salad sarnies ...

They think I'm a writer !

They think I'm a writer !

Well, wobble me backwards down the off-ramp, I've been called a writer !

What does a writer look like ?
From my limited experience about such things, a writer doesn't actually have a "look"
Certainly an image of sensible clothing with pipe accessories for men and bicycles for women comes to mind, along with heavy jackets, boots and scruffy plaid shirts, specs and wanton sex in green fields or barns seems to be the order of the day, but these ideas can be challenged in the same way that the longest sentence in the history of the world could do with a fullstop.

I suppose a plaid shirt with a black denim jacket containing a hash J as worn by a wildly drunk overweight oddball will have to suffice, I never was very good at naff.

Hold on, there's a problem here, I'm not a writer at all. I have no degree, have never been published ...

I'll just pretend, after all, I have to keep my fans happy ! (all 1 of them)