Dali Universe

Found a cosy pub out of the wind and drizzle somewhere near embankment, called The Sherlock Holmes.
Nice pint of IPA after a few hours with Dali, crazy chap, but boy, can he sculpt !

It's not a huge exhibition, but gives you a feeling of the genius of Dali that no book could ever give. I'm not fanatical about his paintings and sketches, it's the sculptures I find so intruiging.

The exhibition takes you through some of the various phases and influences of Dali's work, "Sensuality and Femininity," "Religion and Mythology," and "Dreams and Fantasy.". The walls are all in black which I found a bit odd, to me, it didn't really match the work. I suppose it was to attempt to let the work stand out on it's own, but if felt more like a night club than a gallery. The passageway leading to the first gallery room wouldn't go amiss in the Doors nightclub, Marshall street, in the early 90's

My visuals of Dali's world would be sunny, bright and colourful, given the fact that he grew up in that environment.

Eggs, crutches, drawers, penises, vaginas, bums, boobs, ants, clocks, snails horses and of course, Gala.

"I do not understand, when I walk into a restaurant and order a grilled lobster, why I am not served a cooked telephone."

It would be too easy to label Dali as a madman, what scares me is the weight of his intellect, it's simply staggering.

I managed to spend two hours and went through the works on display twice, had a seat on a couch and took a sneaky photo or two, for keepsakes (naughty naughty)

The gallery has a shop, where, for a mere £8000 and upward, you can buy tiny replicas of sculptures and prints of sketches and paintings. I was tempted, but decided possibly next time would be better. I'll take a few plastic lobsters in with me to see if they'll take those instead of money.

All geared up, with somewhere to go.

So, I'm hired. I'm now officially a working man once again.
I start as web dev for a small design agency in a country village soon.
Due to some legal issues with the original contract I signed through an agent, there's some things for my employers to sort out before I start.

I have three more days to kill and what better place to do it than London ?

It's worked out perfectly, as the budget I set for this working week can now be transferred to exploring London for the next three days, as well as polishing off a few freelance web sites. It's also nicely timed as my next check for last years freelance will go into my account tommorrow. Sweet bliss !

But easy there cowboy, lets not go too far ahead of ourselves, that budget still needs to hold itself up on more than crutches and the urge to splurge needs to be tempered with some harsh realities. A little voice tells me to tighten that budget and save the cash I would have spent on transport. Another little voice says "Oh, c'mon, have a bit of fun, go mad !"
I'll take the middle road.

As much as I'd love to be noshing on some lovely pub grub right at this very moment, a cheap microwave pasta awaits at home, as the Dali Universe maybe tommorrows destination. I've been wanting to visit since I arrived, however the £8.50 entry charge has always steered me away.

A London Walk may possibly be Wednesdays activity, leaving Thursday for something like the Tower of London.

And how about a nice pot of tea and some toast with jam at the Natural cafe tommorrow morning ?

Sounds good.

It also affords me some time to try to figure out a few of the less pleasurable aspects of living in the UK - Tax, accommodation and getting a car.

The latter is something I'm dreading, as it's so easy to go wrong with a second hand car, especially when you don't have a great deal of knowledge about the subject. No doubt I'll go the tried and tested route, with a nippy low end of the market level Polo or Golf (low end of the market back in the mid 90's that is) - finding something decent under £700 will be a challenge, then there's insurance on top of that, which doesn't come cheap.

There's always a catch. Although second hand cars in the UK are vastly cheaper than South Africa, that difference is made up for with insurance and fuel costs, not to mention parking rates.

Accommodation is another sizzling cost. To afford myself the luxury of my own place, close to the area I'm working in, will mean a month of extremely low budget living.
The good side is that I'll be enjoying out a bit of a dream, living and working in the British countryside. As much as I enjoy London, relishing the idea of living and working in the city, I think it would drive me as mad as everyone else who has been here for a few years. I like the slower pace of Town life and London is a only a 90 minute train journey away.

This is what migrating is all about, the initial six month "settling in" time frame that either makes or breaks you. I must admit, I enjoy the challenge and don't intend to get "broken", unless someone else is buying the beers...

Pubs

The British pub ranges from the fabulous cosy wood lined historic building, through to the industrial pee stained pigsty and all the flavours inbetween.

From the downright unwelcoming, to the cheery welcome in.

I have walked into a pub where everyone in there stops what they are doing and turns around to stare. That was way back in the late 80's, during my long hair, tight jeans, leather jacket, very spotty phase. Me and 'partner in crime', David 'Goggs' Gogarty, a speccy short-shit with a big mouth, found ourselves in 'The White Lion' in Alcester.

Lord knows what possessed us to wonder in to the inn, but we must've looked terrible. Skinny, pasty faced, long haired misfits dressed in late 60's fashions.

I don't think I've made a beer disappear so fast in my life.

Another occassion was again with Goggs, down in Oxfordshire.
We decided to forgo the usual cheery pub and try 'The Red Lion' instead (the similar name should've warned us)

We found ourselves in what can only be described as a British version of 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre', or at least, that's how it felt.

The pub was staffed by a huge ugly woman and her two burly 'ooo-aaaar' sons and we were the only ones in the damn place. We were served stale beer and ended up sitting in their lounge in stoney silence. The lounge was furnished in 'late prehistoric' style, complete with clouds of dust as we sank into arm chairs that hadn't seen a clean since the days of Noah.

It was the most fearful and uncomfortable 20 minutes of my life. As we sat in silence, the two sons just glared at us blankly. I swear there was drool dripping out of the corners of their mouths. They sat in muddy boots and overalls, while the mother busied herself somewhere in the nether regions of the 'pub' cooking something that smelled foul, probably the last few patrons who wandered in.

Another time, once again with Goggs, we were sitting in a pub in Handsworth, Birmingham - a student and druggie local. I'd been living in a student squat for a month or so and both me and Goggs figured ourselves locals at the establishment.

It was trendy in the way that only students could consider it, run down and full of druggies and drunks. 'edgy and exciting' is the word that was used then. 'crap' is the word I'd use now.

We were having a noisy pint as usual when Goggs gets it into his mind to skin up a hash joint.
Next thing I know, there's this huge black guy dangling him by his neck. He'd hauled him right out of his chair and looked set to strangle him. The guy was one of the local drug dealers and Goggs had committed a grave sin. You don't light up a joint, on gear supplied by him, in his local pub.
Goggs was mortified and typical to him, swore blind at the guy behind his back and vowed never to go back to the pub. I found it fairly amusing that we were there the very next evening sitting with bunch of students. Never underestimate the danger of 'little man syndrome' - small stature, big gob.

Then we have the great pubs, legendary in fact.
Great Tew has a pub called 'The Falkland Arms' and it's setting couldn't be more picturesque.
It would not go amiss in The Shire. The pub is over 300 years old, in a tiny village complete with village green and giant oak tree.

You have to stoop to go through the door and the ceiling itself is only 7 foot high, crowded with tankards hanging on hooks. The proprieter looks the way I'd imagine 'Farmer Giles of Ham', short and stocky with a huge handle bar moustache.

Me and Micatyro found ourselves there for a few hours when visiting family in the UK. We were left to our own devices while Mom & Cy went off shopping. We got down to business right away, with two pints of 'Old Tanglefoot'
I got myself a clay pipe and tobacco and we settled into complete pub bliss. It really felt like we were back in time, in Olde England. We half expected a hobbit to wonder through selling pipe-weed.
The pipe I'd got was about a foot long, a working 1800's replica. Fantastic !

At this stage, we wondered why they called the beer 'old tanglefoot'
It took another pint to find out why. By that stage, it didn't matter that much anymore, so we had another one for good measure.

In our inebriated state, we wobbled out of the pub into a local shop where Micatyro had a great idea to buy some Dandelion wine - after all, we were back in time here, waaaay back in Olde England, so what better way to enjoy it ?

We popped the bottle in the car on the way back and ended up like a pair of school kids in the back of the bus, laughing and sneaking sips of wine all the way home.

Good times.

The Swan - Family lunch

Sitting in The Swan on a rainy Sunday afternoon, surrounded by the chatter of families and friends having lunch, feeling a bit lonely - sniff sniff, poor wickle me.

I seem to spend most of my time in pubs and coffee shops solo, ah well, no big deal.
At least I have people to chat with back at the house and when work starts, people at the office. Things will pick up once I get a few socials going, but what to choose ?

Joining a hiking club is a given, I need to try my hand (or at least my feet) at clambering over stiles and tramping through mud and bogs. Hiking folk are usually fairly eccentric, so I should be in good company. Instead of veldt skoene, khaki shorts and lager, it'll be stout boots, rain macs and bitter. Instead of snakes and spiders, er, sheep and rabbits ? Seems a bit tame. Then again, hiking in the moors in a gale force wind on a rainy day is anything but tame. The way I see it, you do this in order to more fully appreciate a nice pint of bitter in a cosy pub afterward.

Then there's the possibility of starting to play squash, do I really want to lunge around 4 white walls chasing a bouncy ball ? - possibly.

How about taking up the pottery lessons again ? - hmmm, nah. Too damn messy for my liking. I don't mind the creative bit, it's all the cleaning up after that gets me.

Amateur dramatics ? - I've had a lot of practice with a certain member of my family, so I may find myself reasonably good at it. But do I really want to lark about with a bunch of am-dram egos and get legless on red wine after ? - yeah, could be fun.

Guitar ? - I do need to get back into that again, as I really did enjoy being part of a band all those years ago. Guitar lessons may be a good break into the pub band scene. Perhaps I'll finally learn to play something, instead of noodling around with ideas of guitar grandeur while trying my best to ignore the fact that I actually need to learn the tough bits, like playing songs.

Travel ? - definately, but that'll be a solo pursuit. I fully intend to head into Europe in the summer time for a week or two, just me, my laptop and a camera. No ties, no discussing where to go next, just a free wheeling loner on well trodden paths.

In the interum, reality bites. A long cold winter stretches ahead with plenty to get sorted. Jan and Feb in the UK are foul months. Dark, wet and cold. The bright side is as usual, the pub.

I could wax lyrical about my love of pubs, the fact that they are an essential part of life in Blighty. To take the pubs away, would be to rip the very soul out of this country, just ask all the Saffas here. In fact, there's a table of them just across from me.

The other day, I had the "pleasure" of hearing a South African girl discussing her maid back in South Africa. In her mind, the maid had a great life - she was lucky - only working half day, getting loads of freebies from her Mom, but oh my, she was a terrible cleaner, doll !
"I mean, what would they do without us ?"
"We treat our maid very lekker, but she can't cook to save her lyf !"
"Ya, they jus don't appreciate things laaik we do, doll."

Some things just never change, however, on the whole, saffas are a good bunch and have a great time here. Heck, I'm one myself, sort of ...

The Globe, 2 months on

It's been two months since this blog :-
http://matthewtrow.blogspot.com/2005/11/from-wasteland-to-market-live-from.html

Hard to believe that time goes so quickly. I'm sitting in exactly the same spot as the last time, and took another photo of myself for the sake of comparsion.

So what has really changed ?

Aside from numerous blogs since then and keeping the promise to myself to write more often, no matter how dire or boring it sometimes may be, quite a lot.

I'm no longer in the B&B, but still in Wimbledon. I now am employed (almost), but have considerably less cash.

I can now consider myself comfortable with London, for the most part, but thankfully, it's still full of suprises.

I've written about the market here too often, so I'll just say I treated myself to a tasty falafel and got a small block of cheese. Oh yeah, and a pint which as per usual, I'm enjoying slowly.
Can't wait to visit here in Summer time.

It feels good to get out of the house for a bit. I was indoors for virtually the entire day on Friday, only venturing out to go to the supermarket (although, what's super about it is anyones guess). Bloody cold outside. Today is really miserable weather, perfect for spending an hour or two in the pub. Due to some clever spending yesterday, I can afford myself an extra pint, aint life sweet ?

Although having the luxury of spending time in a house where I can actually use the kitchen, after a few days pottering about, I get itchy feet and need to get out and about. No doubt I'll be inside the entire day tommorrow.

I still haven't aquired the London habit of lazing around in bed on weekend mornings and then going to bed in the small hours of the morning. I was up at 8am this morning and the next house mate to get up was around 11am. Usually crash around 1am.

It's an easy environment and one in a state of flux. I've arrived there at one of those "end of an era" times, when everyone is preparing to move on. The only person who is staying, if she can, is the Susan, the Spanish girl.

Everyone here is moving because of one person - Randal.
He's the catalyst in the house and the rest of the house mates, aside from me and Susan, are relatives and lifelong friends. He is in charge of the finances and is the type of person others follow. It's really odd that the couple who live here feel the need to move out even though they don't have to. They are not even going "up north" with Randal, so I have no idea why the hell they don't just stay ?

Too scared to accept the responsibility of taking over the finances of the house ? Not sure.
It's really rather silly, as it's an excellent place and it's not like they are moving job. Well, good luck for them putting themselves out for no reason. There's obviously a deeper reason.

Randals cousin, Rendon, is a youngster, so he's going up north too, following on Randals coat tails. He's only been in London two months and hasn't really got any direction yet. He's also at that age in life where he still has boundless energy, slams doors by accident, doesn't walk down stairs, but thunders down them and is so full of enthusiasm, it gets a bit tiresome after a while.

Randal is a really standup guy, he's going to assist Susan (who wants to stay) to get new people into the house, not only that, get in someone who is prepared to take over the house finances. He's none too pleased about it however. Can't say I blame him.
Susan has a bit of a language barrier, so I can understand her not wanting to take on the responsibility of dealing with the finances, but she is asking a lot.

I have a feeling that things are not going to go according to plan (they rarely do in these situations) - and that Susan will find herself looking for new digs, or returning to Spain.

Such is life in the "transient zone" - things change at a rapid clip. I'd hazard a guess that a million people are constantly moving accommodation from one moment to the next. Must be a lucrative market to be involved in. So lucrative in fact, that the law is about to change in favour of tenants. Landlords will no longer be able to hold onto deposits without very good reason.
Ask anyone who has lived here for some time and virtually all of them will have been ripped out of their deposits at least once, or will have waited months to get them back. It's a minefield out there with little in the favour of the tenant. To be fair, Landlords need to protect themselves too, however, there are far too many of them taking a chance.

London Moments

Walking back from the London Musuem late yesterday afternoon, I shielded myself from the cold and drizzle with my triple layer of clothes and Thinsulite headgear and just contemplated the city.

I chose to walk along Jubilee walk rather than the backstreets to Waterloo. The area around the station isn't all that savoury. A few too many high rise housing developments and a nasty looking social services building with drunks hanging around waiting for a handout. Not the best place to walk in the dark and damp.

It's hard to not be inspired by the London skyline. As I climbed the steps to Black Friars bridge and gazed across the Thames, it really tugged at my senses. Anyone who isn't reasonably awestruck by the river and lights has either lived in London too long, or is dead inside.

In the middle of the bridge, it was eerily quiet, until a siren burst through the dark in the distance, lights flashing.

It soon vanished and I was left alone gazing up the river.

On Jubliee walk, something made me turn around and I was transfixed by a view of St. Pauls and surroundings in the distance, the dirty river shifting along like something alive.

What a city.

Perhaps it was the visuals still in my mind from the museum, but you can feel a tangible sense of history in the air of a city that never stops changing. A city which has seen fire, famine, plague, war, wealth and poverty countless times over the centuries.

The trees near the London eye are strewn with blue and white lights, buildings in the distance are also lit up and the Oxo tower looks incredible. There's a story behind that. Apparently, London city buildings are not allowed to display huge logos in lights. The Oxo building cleverly got around that by constructing a series of windows which just happen to spell out Oxo in a vertical line. Then again, I did hear that on a tour boat some weeks back and the tour boat guides are notorious for their tall tales. (they probably moonlight as cabbies)

I arrived at Waterloo station nicely timed for rush hour, time to hook up the CD player and zone out.
The train back to Wimbledon was packed, but I found a seat and tried not to watch people trying not to watch people. As usual, there was some light relief when the train announced we were arriving at Waterloo as opposed to leaving.

That always amazes me about trains here. Everyone sits in stoic silence, either reading, listening to music or gazing into the middle distance. However, as soon as something vaguely different happens, people look up, laugh and smile at each other.
Just for that moment, everyone connects on the same level, then, just as quickly as it arrived, the moment passes.

I glanced up at the train adverts for the umpteenth time and had an urge to scribble a message over a smiling face of a person on a South West train advert. The advert said something along the lines of "we're doing our bit to keep your journey clean" and featured a "funny" photo of a doctor getting off a train, complete with white coat, rubber gloves and a stethoscope.

"We're doing our best to keep your pockets clean" - the various train companies just increased fares dramatically. Unfortunately, service remains as bad as ever.

I would've been nabbed, most certainly. My every move tracked by the CCTV cameras that infest the city, for our protection of course.

But that's another story and I best be careful, they could be tracking me right now as I type these subversive thoughts !

The London Museum

I took a good long walk to the London Museum today, as it seems I'll only start work tommorrow or Thursday.
May as well make use of the day to do something interesting.

It's worth a visit, currently free until February.

I always get a little confused by museums, never really sure what to take in or exactly what I may be getting out of my visit. It's like reading the history of the Roman empire as a short comic, albiet with better visuals.

The tour starts with a large video screen showing flyovers of "London before London", an impressive 3D rendering that spins you back to the ice age and then back to the present.

You then start on a well laid out path which takes you from 2000BC to the present.

It made me think of Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent in Islington, 2 million years ago. I half expected to see an exhibit of a chesterfield sofa and Dent with a bone in his beard, alas, this wasn't covered.

There's something lacking in most museums and the London Museum is no exception - the ability to touch things.

I had a yearning to reach out to touch and wield a stoneage axe and wondered if they couldn't include an interactive section where you get to chop down a tree. Naturally this could lead to some complications, however, I remain dissapointed that this wasn't possible.

They have little replica rooms of what Roman life in Londinium may have been like.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could take part in it and recline on a sofa, eating grapes and then don a toga and attend an orgy ?

I'd decline an interactive version of the Black Death, however, it would be fine to throw rotting vege at someone in the docks (or someone in docs) and later have a pint with Wren.

Ah well, I'll have to settle with a walk in the rain to Waterloo station, 2006.
Now that's interactive !

Two for the price of one

The consumer society here has been honed to an alarming degree and nowhere is this more apparent than the supermarkets.

Virtually every product on the shelves has some sort of offer, the most common being "buy two, get one free"

It works on human greed at its most base level and really only serves to both entice people to buy more than they really need and also to fool people that they are getting a bargain.
You have to ask yourself why they don't just reduce the price of a single article instead of offering you a free one if you buy two ?

Cans of drink have had "33% extra" pasted on their rims for as long as I can remember, so why do it ?
If it were a short term tactic of selling a product at the same price as one without that extra 33%, I'd understand.

The persistance of .99 remains embedded in the psyche of marketing hype, so I figure we must all be subliminally fooled by it. £9.99 is 1p short of £10. A single penny.
Somehow, our minds seem, against our best wishes, to get lured toward £9. It works, despite the fact that we all know it shouldn't.

Therefore all these other enfuriating tactics also work.

Another aspect of shopping here that I haven't been lured into (not yet anyway), are saver cards, where if you buy a certain amount, you get discounts. Again, this is an attempt to make us buy more than we need. The mouth of the consumer constantly being force fed with enticements.
At every checkout till, the words "Have you got a Nectar card" or some such malarky.
I don't even know what one is, or where to get one and I haven't bothered to find out yet.

Is all this really different from markets of old ?

Did people a 100 years ago get a free sack of spuds with every piglet they purchased ?
Buy two kegs of ale, get a free cabbage ?

Perhaps they did, in fact, I'm certain that these same tactics have been with us for as long as we've bartered and traded for goods.

I'm not so certain that a piglet would have a branding of "33% extra" on it's hind quarters, although it's an interesting visual.

I recently wanted to buy a CD marking pen and for the life of me, I could only find them in packs of two. I asked the shop attendent if I couldn't just buy one, which confused the poor lout no end. He was about to consult his manager. Turns out, when I got home, one of them didn't work anyway, so I ended up with one for the price of two.

Works both ways I guess.

Escape to the pub

Sling the "new/old" laptop in the day pack and walk a mile to the pub to escape from the confines of my room for an hour or two. I've long given up the idea of trying to keep the laptop pristine, as the inevitable scratches have appeared on the casing, with no apparent cause. The DVD/CD combo is now just a DVD player, refusing to read CD's and the screens diagonal smudge of dark in the middle never actually was dirt, it was likely a defect I didn't pick up until a few weeks after purchase.

The "silver" touchpad left click button has worn away it's "silver" coating in one small section and I realise that all the reviews in the world never prepare you for the reality of life with a laptop.

It's served me well so far and was most definately instrumental in landing me a job, so I can't complain too much. What's more, it's capable of playing Quake4 and Half-Life2 and thus a great multimedia development platform. In a few months, I'll send it in to be fixed as party of my warranty, so no harm done.

Today is just one of those extra days that wasn't really required, except to perhaps rest after festive excess. Of that I'm glad, for I certainly felt like I'd been stretched a bit thin this morning, quite literally in fact.

The weight loss is now noticable to myself and a 3 mile walk is a light stroll I don't even notice, although I've long stopped trying to figure out how far I walk on an average day.

The budget I've set is functioning to a reasonable degree, this pint isn't really essential and I realise it's the small purchases that you never account for which can have the most impact on spending. My desk lamp globe went last night, so I need to factor in another £2 to get a new one into tommorrows budget. All the usual humdrum boring purchases have new meaning when your counting pennys.
Yesterday I spent £2 under budget and today as well, even after a pint, but the budget is worked out rather tenuously, on the premise that I get 50% up front on the last 6 days contracting I did. It will be paid, but will it arrive on time ?
Will I be stranded with no way to get to work next week ?
Nothing else for it but to tighten that budget a bit more, so no more pints until that money is in my account.

I hope it arrives soon, because a Pub really is a relaxing place to spend time writing.
The very idea of a pub is that of a haven, either after a long journey, a long day or to get out of the house for a while. That feeling is still very much alive in this country, the public house.

I have mixed feelings about the UK, but it's fairly obvious how it can be a great place to live - it all boils down to the quality of your lifestyle and what you want out of it.
To escape from the "rat race" requires an above average salary. To set up home in the countryside requires significantly more. It can be so damn irritating when you spot a small bedsit in the country village where your working that you just know you could afford on a first months salary, only to know that it will soon be taken. It's still advertised for £600 a month, right on the high street in Odiham, a stones throw from the offices. What a tease life can be.

For now, London is still an exciting place and the fact that I can explore the city for a few hours, have a pint and return with some food, all for just £10 including transport is something really quite remarkable.

The other day I found myself hanging around Jubilee walk, between Black Friars and London Bridge and beyond taking in the sights. Skateboarders and cyclists, mime artists and dancers, street markets, book sales, museums and cafes. The Thames rolled on by, crammed full of boats as Saint Pauls looked on and the eye slowly turned.

These moments make it worthwhile.

From tommorrow, it's down to hard graft to forge ahead into my career and the unknown.
It's an odd feeling to not quite know where I'll be living in February, but I really do hope it's my own little space. I can handle a few more months in shared accommodation if needs be, but I'd rather get settled, at least for longer than a month.

But let me not get ahead of myself, I still need to negotiate a deal with the partners of this small design company. While it's 90% certain there's an offer, that 10% in the gamble can always be a turning point.

And the long term plans ?
They still stand, now seeming so far in the distance, a small house near the sea in a sunny country with good prospects. To get there will require a lot of effort. Best not to think about it.

A quiet day in London

I used my new Cycle guide map today, unfortunately, I didn't have the cycle to go with it (There wasn't a free inflatable bike included with the map, or a shed-boat-shed-bike)

So, as part of my new found budget constraints, named "I'm nearly broke", instead of an all day £5.20 travelcard, I opted for an all day return, National Rail, for £3.10, which affords me ?
Yes, you guessed it, a slow pint of bitter to sup on as I type.

Yet again, I find myself at the Borough Market - I just love it here. Perhaps it's my fondness for good food and the fact that I need a break from the food I've been eating.
My diet for the last few weeks has been maily pita bread, but I've branched out into adventurous meals, such as mash and beans, spag bol and even a steak and kidney pie, all compliments of Tescos, Sainsburys and Marks & Sparks. Cheap, but satisfying, if you can ignore 1/2 the ingredients written in point 1 type on the packaging.

The market is my chance to escape into a world of fine foods and happy shoppers, with no trolleys and miserable people. Food makes people happy and nothing is better than a good old market.

The walk from Waterloo station is only 15 minutes through the side streets, down "The Cut" onto Union Avenue and up one of the small alleyways to Southwark Street. My map reading skills have improved and the cycle guide is brilliant, with no tourist tat cluttering it up.

The story behind that guide started on my second day, I was sending texts to Micatyro and he was doing some research. He texted me back that there's free cycle guide maps to be had. I was unfortunately unable to find one. 77 days later, I finally did, in Earls Court station.

Didn't take too long bro !

So if your in London on a hectic budget, keep your eyes open for them, maybe I was just unlucky in not finding one sooner. However, I did notice, of all the various leaflets at Earls Court, there were only two of the guides left, so I presume they go pretty fast.

It's very quiet in London today. As far as I know, the tube is "offline", the workers kindly deciding to strike from 12 noon today until 12 noon tommorrow, thus ruining New Years for thousands of revellers. All the tube stations I've passed so far seem to be empty, will check the news later to see if they did strike after all. Needless to say, if they are on strike, they will be VERY unpopular with Londoners when they do go back to work.

From where I sit, I can see the dirty old river rolling along through the window, the tide is coming in, so the water is just below the edge of the banks.

In summer, this pub must be almost impossible to get a seat at, but what a great place if you can, as there's an outside terrace right on the edge of the Thames. I've actually no idea what the pubs name is, even though I've been here four times over the months - Thames side I think.

As for this evening, off to friends at 9pm. At this stage, I'm just not interested in the idea of a party. Sad ?
No, not really. From what I've seen, there are more people dis-interested in the whole fiasco than anything else. It really is a high pressure event for many people, the feeling that you have to get blotto to see in the New Year.

As I mentioned in a previous Blog, I would love nothing more than to have a nice meal with friends and family and see in the New Year in a civilised manner, rather than watching people consume a river of booze and feeling rotten the next day.

Next year, perhaps I'll be able to have that civilised meal, until then, I'll have to go with the flow up the dirty old river, who knows, I may even enjoy myself !

Have a good one folks !

Talking about the weather

Weather in the UK is a strange beast which nobody seems to be able to get an exact handle on.

Compared to many places in the world, the climate is tame, yet the amount of time spent discussing it in detail would lead you to believe it has the most intense weather on the planet.

You can't help but get caught up in all the talk (and the weather itself) and I find myself scanning the BBC weather broadcasts 3 or 4 times a day.

The interest in the weather may because the forecasts are so frequently wrong and change so often from hour to hour, you may as well look out the window to decide what to wear and when to travel.

When I arrived here, the media was full of gloom about a winter countrywide shutdown, due to "the big freeze", a return to the 3 day week, gas shortages and death and mayhem on a grand scale.
It was suggested it would be the coldest weather since the 1950's, when one year, the Thames froze over.

It didn't happen (or at least, not yet)
Instead, December was normal to mild, with a cold snap just after Xmas which is set to ease from tonight.

5 days ago, the 5 day London forecast predicted today would have light snow. Over the following days, it went to heavy snow, sleet, rain, back to light snow, back to heavy snow and finally this morning, light snow.

In reality, it rained all morning.

There's just no making sense of it, even with all the money being thrown at the latest technology to attempt to predict what the weather has in store.

BBC TV weather is now like an advanced Google earth and gives you an accurate picture of a frequently inaccurate forecast. They may as well go back to manually sticking cloud and sun symbols onto the map, at least giving us the opportunity for a laugh when they start sliding out of place or fall off the map entirely.

So proud were the BBC of their new TV weather reporting system, they made a documentary about it, which you can view on the BBC weather website. I'm sure your all just dying to view it.

Personally, I think they should install webcams all over the country to look out for red skies at night, in the morning, cows lying down, birds flying backwards and pine cones opening and closing.
They could then use the data gathered to get a forecast about as accurate as a billion quid computer forecasting system.

I think I'll write to the BBC to suggest my idea. Perhaps they could even create a computer generated model of the cows, birds, skies and pine cones instead of watching the real ones in action.

At least I know what the weather will be like for the next hour or so, I just looked out the window and saw a herd of cows thundering down the road backwards. That means it's going to rain frogs in 30 minutes.

The words wouldn't flow and nothing worked.

The words wouldn't flow and nothing worked.

You can't force it, letters drip from your fingers as they tickle the plastic keys.
Like magic they appear on an illuminated surface and then disperse, sending their message to screens across the globe.

The books in the cargo hold swell slightly, as if the letters within shifted and turned over to rest, or was it just a change in weather ?

On donkeys backs books make the slow winding route to the library, strapped safely into saddlebags to deliver the message of the age.

A soft click and the information appears. And appears again and again.
The message has gone, dispersed.

The words flowed too much, something stirred and the letters went to sleep.

The "inbetween days"

So here I sit, inbetween Xmas and New Years, dreading New Years eve because I just don't want to party like a looney, but I also can't face sitting in my room all night. If I had my way, New Years would be spent more like Xmas, with a nice big feast, chatting around the table and a civilised start to the New Year, mildly pickled.

Unfortunately, right now, I don't have much choice. Stay in on the "big night" and feel miserable, or go out and party and feel miserable for two days after. Yes, I could go to the party and not actually consume a great deal of alcohol, but then I'd have to watch everyone else get totally legless which really isn't fun.

The "inbetween days" have arrived due to a really tight budget and the fact that I only start work in early Jan. I would love to be working for the next three days. I do have a project I need to work on however - need to get stuck into that.

I'm longing to head into London and may do so tommorrow on a really low budget, which would involve a return ticket to Waterloo and walking everywhere. That would cost £2.40. The alternative is £5.20 for an all day travel card, which eats into my beer budget - hehe - mixed priorities !
Unfortunately, I lost my London A-Z in an accident with a bottle of olive oil, which somehow burst open in the draw of the B&B I was at, drenching the book. I'll have to load up maps of central london onto my mobile from the net.

To preserve my sanity, I've set aside £7 a day for a few pints and a pot of tea. I can't stay cooped up in my room for more than a few hours a day. The other £3 is for food, which I buy to last a few days. Sounds crazy really, but it's just the way I'm working it. I really enjoy coming up to the pub in the evening, saying hello to the bar staff and settling in to drink a slow pint or two, writing crap like this.

On the plus side, the people I'm staying with are chill. Had some great curry today which one of the house mates cooked - onions, mince, tin of baked beans and lots of curry powder. Damn tasty. Pity their taste in music and TV is so different to mine, but that's cool - makes life more interesting. By the end of Jan, I may actually know something about Football, but I doubt if I'll ever get a taste for R&B or Doof Doof music.

Feels good to have the use of a kitchen for the first time in over two months. The bathroom access isn't as bad as I feared and although they party hard sometimes, everyone cleans up after. The kitchen on Boxing day morning looked like a food bomb had hit it, but by that afternoon, it was clean.

I'm really glad I found the place I did, my initial fears over settling in have slowly faded as I get used to the place. Heck, I've got broadband, central heating, a good sized room and the place is in a good location - couldn't ask for more.

... but that dreaded new years eve. I can't describe how much I dislike the whole idea of it. It's building up in such a typical way :-

"What are you doing New Years Eve ?"
"Not sure, you ?"
"No idea"

So many people are just looking for the best option for them personally, rather than actually wanting to be in a specific place. It's so desperate and really brings out the worst in people.

I've even contemplated just getting a £25 hotel room for the night, locking myself in with some tasty food and leaving after it's all over. Sad, but true. Instead, I'll most likely be heading over to party with "the youngsters" and find myself staggering back home at 3am in the morning.

Agh, who knows, maybe there'll be some older people there who I can chat with. The last party I went to there was fun.

I'm just an old fart who hates New Years ! - grrrrrr.

Getting into the swing of Xmas with Quince cheese ?

I'm out buying starters for Xmas lunch with friends tommorrow and just couldn't bring myself to do the typical supermarket shop, something different was required.

Browsing around Marks and Spencers in Wimbledon yielded nothing but packaged overpriced preservative laden factory food.

I took a chance that the Borough market would be open and headed into the city and found it was !
Got here early enough to find it not as busy as my other visits, had a quick jolt of coffee - single espresso - and decided to get some cheese and something to go with it.

There's no shortage of cheese stalls and shops and I decided on Gorwydd caerphilly cheese after a quick tasting. Got a nice big £5 block which should be fine for 9 people.

The salvation army band were playing festive tunes which really set the mood, lots of smiling people, children running around, the market doing a brisk trade on the day before Xmas.

I needed something else to go with the cheese (aside from crackers, which I'll get later) and was thinking about some tasty pate. Instead I opted for Quince Cheese. It isn't actually a cheese, but a preserve and a quick sample taste made my mind up - absolutely delicious. It's usually eaten with cheese and used a lot in Turkish foods.

Quince cheese takes a while to make - the fruit itself is like a hairy pear and needs a lot of cooking before it's edible.

Of course I got myself an extra small block of cheese for supper tonight, along with some rye bread and tomatoes, but the quince cheese will wait till tommorrow, as much as I'd like to use it later on my bread !

And I most definately deserved a pint of bitter, to be enjoyed slowly, at Nicholsons on the banks of the Thames, which is where I sit now.

I'll take another quick nip through the market before heading back to wimbledon, to snag some free samples of food on offer.

Possibly a bit of a walk through the streets of London before I return ? - yeah, why not. It's a sunny mild winters day.
My legs are a bit wobbly today, I walked a good 5 miles yesterday, but it feels good. It's the type of ache that you know is a sign of fitness. I think I'll write a diet book on quick weight loss with a snappy title - "Matts quick weight loss diet - sell your car and walk around London for two months"

Later to The Swan for another pint of festive ale - yum !
This is all part of the diet, as it's clear from medical research that rapid weight loss can be bad for you unless you counter it by consuming large amounts of beer.

I think it has the makings of a best seller.

Xmas in London is great, even if your out and about alone. The most important thing is I'm sharing tommorrow with friends, which reminds me, I need to find a reasonable bottle of red wine today.

Drink and be merry !
Happy Xmas Bloggers !

Lone fox.

Throw plastic bags into the wind and let them float back to you like black ghosts.
Kick the litter of yesterdays meal into the gutter and walk fast.
The train approaches and the speaker blares out.
"This is a security announcement, please remain vigilant at all times. Please ensure you do not leave any of your belongings unattended"

"The next stop is Walton-on-Thames"

Concrete on concrete as the ferris wheel turns, lights shine on empty streets as cars break the darkness with twin beams.

Time takes on a pattern of stops and starts. The minutes turn into stations and the train ticks onward.

In my sealed off pod I turn the pages silently, a buzz of music in my ears as I glance to the seat opposite.
Who are you ? What do you do ? Where are you going ?
No matter, zone out and feel the beats, turn the pages and leave the train for a moment.

Metro coffee and free news, silent chatter behind headphones and breathe and breathe and stop.

"The train approaching platform 8 is the 6.52 to Chessington South, calling at ...."

Routine is so quick to take hold, the quick excitement of the unknown soon lost.

The tower lifts into the bleak sky, overlooking the squalor below. A lone fox graces the siding and pauses, reflecting for a moment before vanishing down the tracks.

23/12/05

Xmas time

What people fail to realise is that Xmas is all about indulgence, overspending, January debt, family arguments, silly hats, going crackers, battery farm fresh turkey fed on turks from turkey (and sarnies for six weeks after), setting fire to cakes, pushing fairys onto the top of pine trees grown in china from fake plastic watering cans and generally getting so drunk, you think everyone looks like Santa.

So enjoy the Winter lights with your Family Presents stuffing yourself with Festive Fodder and the rest of us will go off and don silly hats and sing stupid carols about how good little jesus was visited by three wise asses.

Sushi in Wimbo

Got myself a desk today. It was built by midgets for dwarfs. It's actually a camping table that cost the pauperly sum of $15 from those unfine betrayers of taste and waste, Argos. It was probably knocked out in a sweaty sweatshop by sweaty asians and then shipped across three of the seven seas by a norwegian captain with a crew of polish deckhands on a liner owned by a greek called Steve, only to be sold to a South African Pommie who will discard it for use by squirrels from Richmond in a back garden in Putney.

As I type, it wobbles alarmingly. (beep beep beep beep beep beep beep - thwack !)

That may just be the consumption of english cider and Japanese sushi from Sainsburys, packed by Irish potato farmers out-of-work-russian wives in an Icelandic fish factory. The cider apples are definately British, but the orchards are worked by Afro-weilding-Americans, overseen by a Mexican with a large belly and a sombrero to hide it.

A veritable global pillage of people.

"Stinking Bishop" or "Slightly lonely Friday, Cheerful Saturday"

It's been a fairly hectic last few months, thankfully seeing myself finally working and earning in the nick of time.
The downside is a fair bit of loneliness in the evenings, which will get me down a bit until I get my own pad and can start really socialising in terms of things like hiking clubs, or art classes and other after work activities.

Tonight is going to be the biggest party weekend of the office xmas party season by all accounts, so I'll be sure to be away from the madness on the streets before 10pm.

Xmas will see me at "unrelated family", that should be fun, but ...

I'm going to do my silent personal boycott of New Years again, I really can't stand it. Everything after 1998/99 in Edinburgh has been rotten.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all up for a good party, but not one borne out of the desperation of "We have to do something"
All good parties flow naturally and are not forced.

The idea of drinking yourself stupid and feeling crap for the first two days of a New Year is really rather stupid.

Enough of that, I'm moving and am really apprehensive about it, it will require another step out of my "shell" into a shared household living with more complete strangers.

It's a house in Wimbledon that is pretty much going it's seperate ways at the end of Jan, so it's a temporary shared situation. I'm taking over from a South African who is returning to Cape Town.

There are four other people there, three are all friends from the Cape, one a Spanish girl.
I met up with Randal last night - a really good fellow, in IT and studying web development. He's also a bouncer in his spare time. His friends staying there are a couple. I saw them briefly.

I will be moving into a completely new dynamic of a single shared bathroom and kitchen and will just have to find my space and socialise. I've never had a problem with that in the past, it's just the lead up to something like this always scares me a bit - but if truth be told, it scares everyone a little. Unchartered territory.

The real thing about this is the price - £70 a week and no deposit required.
The place is clean and is definately not a raving party house.

The same night I saw the place, I went to see another in the area and it was a typical youngsters commune scenario with all the baggage that goes along with it - fantastic if your in your twenties and doing it for the first time.
The place was crusty - cans and bottles all over, the housemates in the lounge eating totally crap food, as communes are like to do - chips and pizza washed down with lager. Every nook and cranny was filled with various items of clothing, furniture, rubbish and general brik brak - a house full of working party animals. Nice enough people, but I could see myself 10 to 15 years ago and knew I couldn't go back to this type of life.

So, on Wednesday I take a step sideways and that should coincide with my first earnings in the UK for 18 years - no idea what the hell the amount is going to be. That depends on the tax man.

I'm really tired and sore. I've had neck ache for two weeks due to stress and carrying stuff around all over the place. No idea how much weight I've lost, because I still have a beer belly, but from the front I'm noticably thinner and the double chin is fading - I should bloody well think so, 10 weeks of walking all over the show has to have some effect on the old weight.

I've had two colds, a runny tummy, but otherwise am "chipper" more than down - always a good thing.

That's the key to a balanced life - to remain upbeat and happy as much as possible, as there's nothing worse than continued whinging.

For instance, last night the bus decided not to pitch up in Odiham, which they often seem to do. My initial reaction was to curse, because the walk to Hook is 40 minutes, in the dark, around several incredibly busy highway intersections.

So, I made a game of it to see how fast I could get there, even taking into account the rather humourous fact that I'd decided to wear thin socks with new hiking boots. Great plan mat !

The first part is easy - pavements and street lights - but then you enter the danger zone. Being a bit of a prepared sort of bloke, I had a torch with me and disguised myself as a bicycle. Lucky I had that torch, as I was dressed in black from tip to toe - not a chevron encrusted jacket to be seen.

At some points I couldn't actually see the ground in front of my feet and managed to step into all but one muddy puddle, which I considered a good achievement. At least I didn't step in all of them.

It's exhilarating walking on a narrow road with huge 18 wheeler trucks thundering past.

... don't stare into the headlights ..

I made it to the station just as the 5.31pm train to Waterloo was pulling out, on the other side of the tracks.

Ah well, into the safety of suburbia and the incredible normality of Tescos until the next train.

Today is Saturday and I'm feeling good, off to meet another person at the house I'm moving into to discuss costs, then to pick up my post at friends and into the city - Yeah ! (been weeks since I've been there)
Going to snag myself some tasty cheese and bread from the market and wonder around for a bit. Take a few silly videos with my gadget phone, then back to do some work for a possible job position.

And the stinking Bishop ?
That's just some cheese I saw in the Deli in the "historic town of Odiham" where I'm working.

I thought it would make for a more interesting title.

Progress

My progress in London and further south is getting interesting, at least from a professional point of view.
As I sit on the Basingstoke to Waterloo train, at 20.20 I'm reflecting on opportunities and futures.

It's amazing to be at such an odd crossroads in my life, not really knowing what comes next.
A freedom so different from my younger years, a freedom dictated by the confines of society, so very different to our good blogger Dreaded Outsider.

His current journey is a different path, but one I can identify with to a degree, to seek a space away from the madness of city society and all it's trappings. In many ways, it's a path I'd love to explore as well.

Life is a series of paths that we choose, make or get thrust on us. Advertisers will say "life is a journey" to sell cars, stating the obvious. It's really a series of intertwining journeys often with the most incredible co-incidences thrown into the mix. It's no suprise that the idea of destiny is so deeply embedded in our minds.
Cars crash. Hows that for a journey.

Organised Chaos ?

Humanity, as I get older, gets predictable at the superficial level, but that's as far as it really goes.
The reality is so complex that surely nothing should function. The patterns so varied and infinite it's a wonder that our lives run some sort of ordered path, or is that just an illusion ?

The patterns in a leaf reflect the patterns in the branches it grows from.

Do our lives reflect similar patterns ?

When we think we have it all figured out, our logic is destroyed by the reality of the intersecting pathways of our many journeys.

Our comfort zones can be dismissed in an instant, either through choice or accident.

Enough of the twaddle, best to just get on with the business of living then, have a few drinks, smile, listen to some music.

My only real issue now is my loneliness, but that will change.
It's great to be working and it's interesting to be thrust into an office environment with dynamics I learn day by day.
My age has taught me caution and I proceed in that manner with my dealings in new social environments.

The group of people I'm working with are good people.
It's fun, I'm enjoying it.

The one key thing that I feel bonds all humans no matter where is humour, it's as deeply universal as music.
The moment you share a joke and a laugh with someone, you begin to bond even at the most basic of levels.

Anyway, my interview after work last night went well, I will be receiving a "test" via email which consists of a few photoshop files and instructions on how to proceed to knock together a website from them.

The company aims to be the biggest web dev company in the UK and operate from a series of converted barns on a working farm. Amazing place.

In addition, the company I'm contracting for have expressed an interest in hiring me full time.

I had a chat with the recruitment lady who picked me up at the station to drive me to the interview about driving to the area, she lives in Clapham Junction, close to Wimbledon. It takes her around 90minutes to drive to work in rush hour, which isn't too bad.

If I do land a job this year, I'll have to work out from my earnings on the contract job whether I can afford to get a second hand car. Friends just picked up an old but sound Renault 4 for £500.
With all the usual extra expenses incurred with the purchase of a second hand car, a budget of £650 sounds about right.
It doesn't really matter what type of car it is, so long as it's reliable.

Woking not Working

After a dismal night at the Woking B&B I foolishly decided to move into, I'm back in Wimbledon.
I managed to bail out of the deal this morning, with an excuse about finances. Thank God.

I'm not sure what possessed me to say "yes, I'll take it" in the first place, aside from the obvious shorter commute time which would've saved me two hours a day. Quite frankly, I'd rather commute 3 hours a day extra than stay another night in that dump.

My initial viewing on Sunday didn't reveal all the nasty details. I certainly noticed it was a huge step down from where I was staying, but at the time decided saving a few hours was worth it.

When I arrived on Monday night after work to book in and put my bags in the room, it dawned on me how poor my decision was.

There was a pervading smell of stale oil and old carpets, curtains, bedding and furniture.
The walls were paper thin, so everything in the house was audiable, which wouldn't have been so bad if one of the other guests didn't have a horrible hacking cough which went on all night.

The furniture was circa 1970 and was cheap and nasty when new. The bad sagged in the middle. The TV remote, for some obscure reason, was covered in clingwrap. All over the walls were horrible tatty posters and bits of paper with slogans like "win. win. win big"
There was even a Dandy poster and to top it all off, a CD stuck to the wall covered with a few tatty bits of xmas decoration.

The complimentary coffee sachets were in a bowl that hadn't seen a dishwashing in a few decades.
It reminded me of the Jarvis Cocker song, made famous by Trainspotting.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a snob. I've lived in really basic accommodation, camped in all sorts of rustic locations and have even slept in a car for a few days. Heck, I stayed in Kibbuzim, Moshavs and Hostels for eight months in my twenties. The difference was that although these places were basic, they were clean.
After an hour in that B&B room, my skin was already starting to itch. Ingrained dirt like that obviously has a huge amount of nasty mites.

After a hard days work, the last thing you want is to arrive back in a smelly dump to sleep on a bed that has seen more bodies on top of it than a Soho hooker.

I'm too old to have to deal with that and now I'm working and earning, I don't have to.

The area around is actually really stunning, however, this B&B is on the outskirts of that. When I was walking around trying to locate it on Sunday, I was really looking forward to seeing it, because the houses I was passing were all really well-to-do and the people around very friendly and well spoken.

Woking center is also great - there's parks and canals. I won't knock the area at all and would live there.

You may be wondering why I didn't just get another B&B in the area, the answer is simple - time and transport.

When your getting up at 6.30am in the morning to get to work for 8.30am, working till 5.30pm to get home for 7pm, there's no time. I can't do personal surfing/phoning while I'm contracting to look for accommodation. That leaves just the weekends.
Sure, I could be looking right now for B&B's in the area - fact is, I have already looked extensively for prices in the £20 to £30 a night range - I found a few, all booked out till next year, except the dirty place I spent a night in.

My choice this morning was clear - phone the B&B in Wimbledon to see if the room was still available and return for the forseeable future.

I'm happy now, back in The Swan having a nice curry.

I have an interview after work tommorrow in a nearby area to Odiham and have Friday off because the office I'm contracting at has their office party that day. That's good, it'll give me time to sort a few bits 'n pieces out and head into London for some more exploring.

Work wise, things couldn't be better. I'm doing some easy stuff and some challenging things - honing my web skills with advanced CSS2 layouts. I tell you one thing, it's a damn side better than working in a pub, or WHSmiths !

Best of all, it's in the great dress tradition I'm used to - casual !
And my interview tommorrow ? - heh, no worries about tie and shirt, so long as I'm smartish with black jeans and a jersey and well groomed, sorted. I'm fairly certain it will mean grabbing supper on the run after the interview, as I'll only be back at the B&B after 9pm. Hope I get this job and that it starts early Jan.

Any South Africans who have never been over to the UK or to London, you can't do wrong with Wimbledon if your willing to spend £150 to £175 a week in a B&B. Even if your only in London on holiday for a week or so, it's a far better idea than central London, which is only 15 to 30 minutes journey away by train anyway.

My future plans are mixed - there's some tough times ahead. If I land this job near Hook, I will need a car very quickly, but I also need to get more permanent accommodation. At this stage, I see at least another two months of temporary living and long commute times. Fair enough.

I'm reminded how tough it must be for families who decide to go abroad to relocate - when it comes down to it, I'm on easy street.

Video - requires Quicktime - download Quicktime Alternative if you don't have it for PC. (vids around 500k each, very small, not the best quality)

Video of the Woking B&B room - http://www.3r.co.za/bb_matt/london/vid/wok-bandb.3gp

Video of the Wimbledon B&B room - http://www.3r.co.za/bb_matt/london/vid/
wim-bandb.3gp

And the kitten at Wimbledon, Coca, who loves the desk in the room -

http://www.3r.co.za/bb_matt/london/vid/wim-cat.3gp