Open House London

Another adventure soon befell us, though much smaller in scope.

Open House London is a festival of the built environment. It offers Londoners the opportunity to see 'behind-the-scenes' at some of the most significant buildings and places. Unfortunately, this year's festival did not include my favourite feature of the London skyline - but did offer other chances to see cool things.

A lovely, sunny Saturday began with brunch in Spitalfields Market before heading into the uber-cool arty ethos of EC1.

Lots of new media companies have their groovy headquarters and galleries here, and I have visited a few times to discuss work projects with designers etc. Even though it is much quieter at the weekend, I still think it feels about to burst into a new-New York sort of status as an art destination.

Our first stop definitely maintains that vibe. Village Underground is a modest project placing out-of-action Underground carriages on top of old railway viaducts to form new office space for designers.

I say modest because it doesn't look much from the street:


But it is pretty cool once you get up there:


The small space is well-maximised, and the view out of the carriages were quite good. I liked that one could sit in the drivers' cabin in the sunshine - cos buttons and switches are cool:


However, the workplaces themselves were quite dull, and I was actually underwhelmed by it all.

Luckily, the second part of the complex blew me away. The old brick viaduct underneath the offices had been turned into a massive gallery and this weekend was hosting the winning glass works in a competition to design a new martini glass for Bombay Sapphire.

The new media and marketing people were clearly let loose all over this campaign - it was awesome. The atmosphere in the gallery was ethereal - candles, blue hydrangeas and glass everywhere. Quotes about martinis were 'written' on the wall with white lights:


Plus, a bar at one end sold especially designed martinis. (Sadly, we couldn't quite bring ourselves to drink that early in the day!)

The designs that had made the finals were fantastic.

My favourite was a glass with blue cooling liquid in the bottom to ensure the martini remained at the correct temperature without being heated by the hand holding it. I liked it most for its shape:


My second favourite was this one because it is creepy yet elegant:


And the winner was this one, which did not blow me away at all:


Amorn Thongsaard from Thailand designed the glass. He called it 'Ramify', and was influenced by the way bubbles rise when a martini is poured. Strangely the judges gave him the award because they liked the way the bottom of the glass has facets that reflect the shape of the Bombay Sapphire bottle. Can they have it both ways?

Whatever the case, this glass offically 'expresses the elegance of the evening martini cocktail moment'. So there.

Once we emerged from the show it was far too sunny to stay indoors. So that was the end of Open House London for us.

and we can visit the Eden Project too!

Our third day in Cornwall was wet and cold, so instead of our planned surfing lessons, we chose to travel south and see the Eden Project.

My parents had raved about the Project, so it was an easy decision to pass up a cold day in the surf for a drive through gorgeous country lanes to get there. The villages were very sweet, and every cottage had its own name - Haven, Little Overton, Sunny Down etc.

Once we got to St Austell, I was immediately impressed with the scale of the complex and the insane modernity of it all. It's hard to express in a photograph, but trust me that the biomes are enormous:


A lot of effort has gone into making the complex accessible to all. Not only does it have excellent facilities for mobility impaired visitors, but it is one of the first non-publicly funded places I have visited that deploys Easy Read principles on their displays.

The first thing I really liked was the vegetable garden. I spent ages exploring the varieties of food grown outdoors at the Project - and was delighted to learn that ginger, lemongrass and chillies all survive outside in England. I was even more interested to see Amaranth - my favourite breakfast cereal - for the first time. Lucy lost me in the garden for quite some time but I emerged eventually...

Apparently, the Project has the biggest glasshouse in the world. Once inside the rainforest project, I can believe it:


Not many glasshouses have five-story waterfalls inside them:


It got very very warm walking all the way to the top of the forest, and by the time we came down we needed a rest before visiting the next biome. Naturally, the Project gives you every opportunity to spend your money, and the cafe had the added bonus of selling food from within 5 miles of the Project. It made for a good break.

Fortified, we ventured into the second biome - based on mediterranean climates. It was much drier and more pleasant than the first biome, but also less interesting. There were ony two things I really liked. The first was a series of sculptures amongst the grape vines celebrating all things Bacchanalian. They were very cool:


And secondly, I enjoyed the low-key display of commercial flowers that demonstrated the links between changes in fashion and ups and downs in species protection. It was educational AND pretty:


We spent five hours or so at the Project, which was enough to tire us out and ensure an early night after dinner. Unfortunately, the weather had got quite bad by the time we reached our campsite, and I am such an amateur at camping I was convinced our tent would be squashed by the tipping over motorhomes of aforementioned empty nesters. Thus, I spent my night more or less awake in the car.

The eight hour drive home the next day compounded my weariness. But, actually, it was so good to get out of London and do some great things with Lucy that I don't mind at all. Yay for a holiday!

and into Cornwall!

Even a tent is a better place to sleep than our dingy London flat! So, with another decent rest behind us, Lucy and I woke up ready to conquer our surroundings. It helped that the weather was glorious:


Padstow was as picturesque as expected. It is a small tourist town pretending to be a fishing village, so has plenty of quaint shops selling Cornish deicacies and seaside souvenirs. There was many an intriguing lane to wander, and even the pubs were pretty:


As it was getting on to lunch time, we thought we should try another Rick Stein outlet (Lucy is quite the fan). My steak pasty was excellent. Unlike yesterday's fish and chips, it needed not Watties.

Having furnished ourselves with a picnic, Lucy and I strolled up from the town and towards the lookout. Much like Padstow, it was full of affluent empty nesters walking their dogs (two spaniel minimum!).

The view was nice, but Lucy will testify that the water is freezing!:


So, rather than swim, a better way to make the most of the weather was to hire some bikes for the Camel Trail. It's been two years since I did any sort of decent riding, so was great to be back in the saddle:


Lucy and I loved the muddy, filthy trail so much we couldn't help but go quickly. Fortunately, we had most of the fast bits to ourselves:


Having ridden to Wadebridge and back in just over an hour, we'd built up quite an appetite. We were totally out of mood for anything English - and were lucky to find the one Italian place in town. Being a gourmand's holiday destination, it wasn't much of a surprise to find that even the little foodie places in Padstow are fabulous.

It really is quite a delicious place, especially in the cool summer evening when the crowds have mostly gone home:

Get me out of London!

It's a good thing we like a challenge, as Lucy and my holiday in Cornwall coincided with the worst weather in months. We drove out of London through torrential rain that had already flooded villages, caused landslides and flipped caravans in Wales.

But, Lucy is a calm and magnificent driver, so we made it to our overnight stop in Salisbury only an hour later than expected.

The best thing about going on holiday is that the rooms are always nicer than our one at home. And, a really good night's sleep led us to a cool and clear morning just perfect for exploring the small farmer's market in the centre of town. Our nibbles made good company as we strolled along the river Avon towards the cathedral.

Being as it's 750 years old, one can forgive the massive restoration that makes a decent photograph impossible. Luckily, a picture from elsewhere is a pretty good substitution:


Lots of things about the cathedral are the tallest, largest, firstest or bestest. It makes the whole thing enjoyable and impressive.

One of those impressive things is that the cathedral was built very quickly - the nave and transcepts took only 38 years to finish. Being something of a devourer of cathedral-based fiction, I know that a cathedral within one generation is phenomenal. And I love that the cathedral had a really excellent model showing how it was done:


The finished product is phenomenal. The nave is beautiful:


And even the plainer of all the stained glass windows were pretty:


It would take quite an item to trump these highlights, but the cathedral manages it by hosting one of only four surviving copies of the Magna Carta. Wow. Yes, I think I'll write that again. Wow.


Annoyingly, this isn't actually my picture of the MC. A pain-in-the-bottom guide hovered in the way of the majority of the display, keen for every opportunity to launch fact after fact at us.

A few things were cool - such as how much skill it showed to write the document from start to finish with no mistakes, and no extra spaces between clauses where naughty Lords could later amend erroneous details. But, I would have preferred the guide's zealotry be replaced by opportunity for quiet contemplation of the glorious implications the document wrought for law and democracy.

So, instead, I made like a monk and used the cloisters for pondering:


Having 'done' the cathedral as much as we could, it was time to leave Salisbury and get back on the road to Cornwall. It took four hours to get to Padstow and, even though it had started to rain, the trip was far better than the previous day's experience.

Especially since we arrived in time to dine with Rick Stein. Okay, so it was fish and chips, and they were only as good as your average Friday night treat in NZ, but they were the best I've had in England. (This was probably helped by my Aotearoa accompaniment, snuck into the restaurant in Lucy's backpack - thank you Mummy!):


It was a very warm way to end a long day, and a tummy full of food explains why neither of us had any trouble falling asleep in our tent.

Me and my mates at the Mela

On a typically wet August day, the flatties and I headed off to West London and the the Mela festival. The Mela is more or less an Indian Festival, and is on a similar scale as the Rise event I went to last year. London's Mela is not the largest, these are in Birmingham and other northern towns with higher Bangladeshi/Hindi popuations.

However, it was still kinda fun on a small scale. Especially since Lucy and Kelly were game enough to take on this massive ride - and be flung about in the air for five horrid minutes:


They said it stopped long enough at the top for a decent view:


This being a London 'summer', they were only up for a minute or two before the clouds rushed in and a thunder and lightening storm began. It was hard taking their picture whilst heavy rain banged my face - Kelly said they were being thrown into the rain upside down - which meant the drops were pelting them feet first!

Once back on terra firma, Kelly, Monique and I headed off for food whilst Lucy looked for some colleagues who were running a stall. After the latest downpour, they had decided to pack up, so Lucy was released from her duties and able to join me checking out the stages. Nothing much took our fancy, as most of the performers were just wannabe DJs channelling Hollywood gangsta or Essex boy youff culture. It didn't feel very authentic.

However, there is always an exception at these events, and we were delighted to find the heritage tent. Inside, the fifteen-strong South Asian Youth Orchestra was about to begin:


I recognised sitars, but the rest were mostly new. It was interesting to learn that such old instruments, played acoustically, have to be retuned in between songs. This took about ten minutes, and it was inidicative of the audience's pleasure that they did not get restless:


We stayed for almost three songs before deciding to leave the Mela altogether. It was getting late, and the trip back home was going to take two hours. Overall, a low-key outing. But I enjoyed myself.

Southend-on-Sea

Having passed my probation period at work, I am now able to work out of the office ('Smart Working') one day a week. In a fit of perfect timing, my second Wednesday of doing so co-oincided with Lucy having a day's training in Southend-on-Sea, a small town at the very Eastern end of the Thames and only one hour from London by train.

The weather in Southend was absolutely lovely, and it was very hard to drag myself into the first McDonalds I saw so I could take advantage of wireless internet and begin my projects. However, I shouted myself a silly breakfast and actually got lots of work done.

Southend has an unfortunate reputation as being full of unemployed people and pensioners. I think whomever first formed this rumour might have been visiting McDonalds on dole day, just like I was. From lunchtime onwards, the locals cram the town centre, mostly having flaming rows and ignoring their misbehaving children.

It made concentrating difficult, so I thought it a good time to see my first Southend sights. Reputation aside, the beach looks nice enough:


Naturally, there's also a funfair and pier to enjoy:


I thought it best to wait until Lucy's class finished before exploring those, so instead ate a pleasant sandwich in the little park overlooking the beaches. The sun was hot and it was fantastic.

After a nice hour of sunbathing, I got all responsible and decided to find somewhere new to set up shop. I took a gamble that Southend's libraries were probably quietly roomy, and it didn't take long to find one. Fortunately, I had guessed they wouldn't have wireless access, so had put all my work from McDonalds on a disk.

Another couple of very productive hours were spent in a corner with a warm breeze blowing through the open window. One strange lady told me off for asking for her help to watch my stuff whilst I visited the ladies' room, but apart from that, it was excellent.

In no time at all, 5:30 rolled around and I could meet Lucy for a swim. She had found her training interesting, and told me good stories about the locals as we wandered to the beach. Unfortunately, all the water had left!!!!:


Not having known Southend was on a tidal lagoon, we were both very disappointed. It was hot and we would have liked to get wet. Instead, we had to content ourselves with walking the longest pier on the mainland UK. I can't say it was on my 'Must Do' list for England, but was perversely satisfying in it's own way - especially since the 45 minute walk to the end led to a cafe with excellent icecreams.

Too hungry to walk the 2km back to the beach, we took the pier's electric tram (the pier has a tram!) for the ten minute drive. Once back in the town centre, it took a long time walking amongst every kind of takeaway-cum-amuseument arcade, to find somewhere serving non-chips-based meals. But, eventually, we found the Pipe of Port, a basement wine bar serving excellent French food.

The waiter was patient and knowledgeable, the menu was perfect and the food was divine. My dinner date was pretty happy:


Having made the excellent decision to linger over our meal, we didn't actually make it home until 11pm. Smart Working is very tiring!

Going down to Downing Street

Way back in July, we got to do something that not too many people are lucky enough to do. A friend (John) of friends of ours (Laurie and Cam) works at Number 10 Downing Street, and offered Cam and Laurie a tour. They super-kindly thought we like to go as well, and the four of us met up with John on a yummy summer's day.

Before we even entered the house, we spent quite some time posing on the front step. It's an important place to get a photograph!:


Members of the public are not actually allowed to open the doors themselves. So, once the security people let us in, we were given a lecture on the rules for visiting. The main one was no photographs taken from inside looking out. I suppose this is because a photo through a window could show the trajectory for a sniper's bullet?

The first few rooms were rather ordinary, but very tastefully decorated. Blues and beige everywhere. We learnt that Downing Street was actually a backwards house; in that the front door was originally the servants' entrance, and the garden was the front entrance overlooking St James' Park.

The bestest bit of the foyer was a leather seat on which the Prime Minister would sit at cabinet meetings whilst making important decisions. It has a high back curving around to increase the amplitude of the PM's voice, and has a drawer underneath designed to hold warm coals. Yes, it's the original 'Hot Seat'.

From the Hot Seat, one can look down a hallway linking 10, 11 and 12 together - the bottom floors of the houses act as a sort of open plan business suite, with the Chancellor of the Exchequer and Treasury officals able to interact with the Prime Minsiter's staff very easily.

All through the building, we passed quite excellent examples of British Art. More artefact than art, however, was Churchill's favourite armchair. The left hand side is worn from where he would brush against it as he flicked his cigar ash away:


After wending through a few more passageways, we came to the stairs up to the more important rooms. A highlight for me, because I am kinda weird, was the yellow stripey wallpaper. It looked really cool with the black and white pictures/photographs of previous PMs:


And, yes, this is the stairway Hugh Grant dances down in Love Actually. The room he ends up in was part of the tour as well:



Once upstairs, the rooms became very grand. Although quite small, they are filled with exquisite furniture and paintings. We sat on the lounge chairs in which visiting PMs are photographed discussing things with Gordon Brown - each chair is worth £250,000!

Amusingly, because 10 Downing Street is not an office building, there aren't any meeting rooms (besides the Cabinet Room), so staff have all their meetings in these rooms - even just a quick chat about next weeks' quiz night will have to take place in these opulent settings.

Off course, it's not all meetings, so John was able to show us the behind-the-scenes working environment as well. Their press office was tiny, crammed in and decorated with very dark wood panelling - it seemed a depressing place to work, irrespective of whether the media were currently for or against the government.

From there, we were back into the public rooms - sitting rooms, the small dining room, the large dining room, and the PM's office:


We were also shown the Cabinet Room - but this was quite strictly monitored, and we had to stay behind a rope at all times. Some of the gifts from overseas ministers were on display - including an enormous ivory sword from Kuwait.

Our final stop was some time spent in the garden. It was surprisingly tranquill, with bright fowers and an English-y sort of landscaping:


After two hours or so, Lucy and I said our goodbyes to the awesomely lovely John and took Cam and Laurie out for dinner to say thank you for thinking of us. Shortly after our adventure, Cam and Laurie moved back to NZ for good, so we were lucky to spend time with them doing something special and so completely cool.

Go Mysterious Haka!

My workmates are a friendly and social bunch, and although we all work very hard it is often balanced by some playing hard as well.

The impending closure of the Walthamstow Greyhound Stadium gave the East Enders in my team a chance to take us for a night out in the 'hood. Entry, a meal and two tote bets for £10 - yippee!

The Stadium is something of an institution. In it's heyday, over 5,000 people would pass under the awesome neon sign each evening:


However, changes to gambling laws mean on-track attendance is declining, plus nostalgia cannot hide the fact that dog racing is a rather rough sort of entertainment, appealing mainly to chavs and not particularly lucrative. For me, 'chav-ness' implies no disrespect, it just means I got to enjoy something I wouldn't normally do. The rest of team got into the East End spirit as well - as testifed by the empty chicken'n chip boxes, sauce packets, beers and betting slips:


Sadly, the closure of the track means many of the old-skool bookies are out of work. This guy was my favourite of the five or so still working the crowd down by the finish line. I loved watching them all chalk and re-chalk their odds whilst doing the maths superquickly in their heads. But, he does look rather miserable:


The tracksiders only take £5 stakes upwards, and I was keeping it real with 50p bets. So, instead I stayed indoors to place my bet on the first race - #3 Analyse to win. My bookie got a sour look in her eyes when I fessed up to my limp stake. But, no matter, because here's my doggie crossing the finish line in First (hurrah!):


My triumphant 28p win was somewhat overshadowed by my colleague Ivan who made £52 on a £2.50 trifecta.

Determined to be more successful, I followed Ivan's example and paid more attention to the 'form' of each dog in the programme. Of course, when it came down to it, I still pretty much chose my dog based on their name. I mean, who could refuse 'Tommy Bahama'?:


No matter the method, I didn't get the hang of it at all, and was on a four race losing streak (a whole £2) by the time my brother and his friends turned up to have their own East End Experience.

Matt et. al. are far braver than I, and delighted in placing £5 bets with the old guys down front. They bonded well with Ivan over shared abilities to understand form and make confident predictions in an alien language, and all did very well in their races. Bastards!

I was getting a tad somewhat despondent at my paltry efforts, so thought I might give it one last go before having to leave for the last Tube. Luckily, the many Kiwis and all the natural gamblers agreed that 'Mystical Haka' was the dog to beat in the next race.

I put a whole £1 in. And he won! So I made £2.20. I still think that's good, even if another colleague made £150 on a £5 trifecta punt.

All the winners crowded in for a shot that is smiles all round:


Our chav-tastic night ended on a complete high. Go Walthamstow!

Wow at Wimbledon

Sometime late last year I thought I should try my luck with the public ballot for Wimbledon tickets. It was in the back of my mind that I could take one of my parents with me whilst they were here.

It's quite a drawn out process, as one writes away for an application form, receives it in the post, fills out and sends it back, then waits months to hear what tickets have been allocated. Again, once that letter is received, you must tear a portion off and send back with your cheque before waiting more weeks before any tickets arrive.

However, it is certainly worth doing if, on one's first try, one gets tickets to the men's finals!!!! And, my beginner's luck continued as the championship progressed and the final looked set to be Rafael Nadal (my favourite) versus Roger Federer (World Number 1).

There were a strange few days when all of England thought Andy Murray might make it through to the final round - whereby I would happily have scalped my tickets away to a patriotic punter for thousands rather than waste my own time with a match that would be over before you could say 'strawberries'. But anyway...

Mum and Dad had left the country by the 6th of July, so it was my tennis-mad girlfriend and myself who made the pilgrimage. Lucy had been to the All England Law Tennis Club before, so knew what was required to make the day easy. So, on finals day we got up really early and packed a picnic, before take the two and a half hour journey into the grounds.

I thought the atmosphere of the Club was wonderful, and loved the abundant purple and green trim - especially the flower baskets as we wandered around. It was something of an effort to resist the souvenier programme, cushions and umbrellas, but I couldn't resist buying a men's championshp towel and a few postcards to commemorate the main event:

Lucy and I had planned to sit on Henman Hill and drink champagne in the sunshine, but the weather was living up to tradition and the Club was clearly making a packet on sales of umbrellas and ponchos:


(Perhaps they schedule the Championships in springtime especially for the profit margins in plastic?)

So, our posh picnic turned into Cava from plastic cups huddled into the concrete walkway around the food court. But, it was a good chance to people watch before heading Courtside.

I had initially moaned when realising our seat allocation, but it was actually really lucky since the seats were far enough back from the Court that we could sit under the roof and wait for the rain to finish.

This being tennis rather than football, the pre-match entertainment was a royal marching band. It was cool but dull at the same time:


Eventually the rain stopped, and the covers could come off one hour late. It was a very efficient process, and it only took thirty seconds for the big green tent to turn into a rather large piece of laundry. There were 25 men and women ready to spring into action:


Another anxious wait, and the finalists came out - Federer in his trademark K-Swiss classic wear, and Nadal all young-looking:


A gentlemanly coin toss, and they began their warm up. I decided I might use my video camera to prove I was there. Unfortunately, it only recorded ten seconds or so before the batteries ran out... but you get an idea of the good view we actually had from our seats:

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After that it was all on.... except for the half an hour rain break in the middle of the third set. Oh, and the hour long rain break in the middle of a fifth set with each players having won two of the previous sets and the game tied at deuce.

All this just added to the tension of 26 break points, 4 match points, rally after rally of impossible shots being returned at angles that amazed, and the overall battle between precision and passion.

Finally, almost at the 9:30pm limit for matchtime and with darkness definitely making a difference, the game was settled 6-4, 6-4, 6-7, 6-7, 9-7. If you don't know the result already, you can see match point in all its glory on this video:



As for me, I still feel the excitement of when Nadal got that final shot, how relieved I was for him to win and how hard I was screaming and yelling and jumping when he toured the court. I don't need a video to remember any of it. Absolutely wonderful.

My MasterCard advert

Glastonbury ticket: £150

Tent: £60

A weekend of unending organic food, ten amazing artists, quality time with my lovely girlfriend, dancing with new work friends, seeing controversial acts for myself, tasting elderflower lemonade and learning to pee standing up: Priceless.