Christmas in pictures....

Hi all. I hope you have recovered from the festivities...

The weather has been suprisingly mild, and may even have been better in London than in Christchurch, Wellington and Vinegar Hill. So, perhaps it wasn't so bad to be in the northern hemisphere? Especially since I had a great time with our houseguests.

This is Denise, Alicia, Nichola, Me, Gerry 1, Gerry 2 and Kelly on Christmas night:


Shortly thereafter the champagne was popped, and Trinidadian rythyms filled the air. We got merrier and merrier and merrier and then the kitchen became a dance floor...


(You can thank me for the photos I am not showing.... I am one of those people for whom Soca is a mysterious and tragic dance invention. T'was not intended for this white girl!)

On the other hand, I am an amazing housewife:



God bless the Edmonds Cookbook.

Escape to Dublin – part 2

On Sunday morning I found myself in my coldest northern hemisphere day yet – not only was it about 5’ but the wind was devastating. Trying my best to toughen up and make the most of my time I wandered towards the old part of town. First stop was Trinity College, which had a mixture of Georgian and Victorian buildings as well as some picturesque lawns with statues. I was amazed how spacious it felt once inside the front gates, although the city’s noise and smell were doing its best to encroach on the tranquillity of it all.

Passing through Temple Bar for a second time, I discovered that Dublin Castle is only open from 2pm on the weekends. The Castle is surrounded with ‘newer’ buildings (still Georgian!) so it cannot be seen from the main road. However, the diagrams and maps at the compound gates gave me fair idea of the massive structure I was missing out on, so I am resolved to return and see it another day.

Strolling onwards I decided to walk the rest of the main road up to Christ Church Cathedral, mainly because it would be warm inside. On the way I passed the Irish People’s Movement (or somesuch) headquarters, which had rather cool representations of historical workers' rights figures in all forty windows:


(This says "The Irish Republic guarantees religious and civil liberties, equal rights, equal opportunities to all citizens.")

I found the Cathedral and actually decided against going in. I could see from the outside it was very much like the other Christchurch Cathedral with which I am so familiar. Instead, I chose a different route back to the main centre and on the way I couldn’t help but notice these ornamental curiosities on one of the bridges:



Yep, those are horses with flippers and tails.

By then it was nearing 9:30 and Dublin was finally starting to wake up. I strolled the shopping district and marvelled at the contrast between posh shopping centres lining an alley which is filled with tacky market stalls. I was feeling a bit sad that the extent of my Christmas shopping was already on its way to Aotearoa, and there was no-one over here for whom I could buy something gorgeous. Sigh…

However, I had a visit to look forward to. My friend April had suggested I get in touch with her friend Keay who is a medieval archaeologist in south County Dublin. Wonderful Keay had offered to show me around her village and help me sample some of the atmosphere. Dalkey (pronounced Dorky) was a really important trading and invading area during the Viking period, and there are plenty of ruins and pathways and that sort of thing.

Once I met Keay off the train we wandered into Dalkey and through to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leary) to visit a castle. It was a much smaller building than I expected, but there were some pretty cool features – like a ‘murder hole’ above the doorway that allowed residents to drop boiling oil or fire arrows on any invaders. I get the feeling Keay has been to this place a hundred times, but she was very indulgent of me, and even took my photo up on the battlements:


We then took a stroll through the posh part of Dun Laoghaire before we found a market in the People’s Square. It was too cold for most sellers to be out, but there was an enormous organic vegetable stall staffed by an army of local hippies, (and selling feijoas!). Keay and I sat down to enjoy the best falafel kebabs ever before venturing more into the civic part of town to a café called Henry’s that is as New Zealand a place as I will probably ever find, even if it is run by a Polish guy. The hot chocolates came with marshmallows(!), but they didn’t do soy :-(, so I consoled myself with a deliciously warm raspberry scone whilst Keay shared her photos from April’s wedding.

From there it was getting late, and somehow even colder, so I bid farewell to lovely Keay. Then it was a case of train, bus, plane, train, tube, overland train, bed. Zzzzzzzzzz.

Overall, I didn’t actually think much of Dublin. The trips to Belfast and Dalkey were good, but the rest was a bit boring. Dublin feels like London, and isn’t particularly attractive. The weather didn’t help, but even so there just wasn’t much ‘zing’ in the city. Nevermind, I am glad to have seen the place, and am still meaning to go back once again for the Castle.

But, I think my favourite Irish thing of all (or at least half-Irish) is this:



This is my cousin’s son Ronan. He is yummy and fun and one of my favourite things about London.

So, for the next while I will be staying in the City and just chilling out and hopefully spending some time with my family. I have a few Christmas things planned but am mostly looking to relax and recover from an amazing year.

I probably won’t blog again until after Christmas, so Happy Holidays !!!!!!

Escape to Dublin - Part I

People who have never flown to Wellington might have thought the flight to Dublin was bad, but I was fine! Arriving was pretty cool, as the main street was bustling with activity and all the Christmas lights were up in very tasteful blues and white. Having worked a really mad day I was keen to find my hostel bed and fall into it, and that only took another 40 minutes.

The next day I enjoyed an early Irish breakfast (don’t tell the locals, but it’s just like an English one!) before climbing on my tour coach to Belfast. Sadly, the PaddyWagon had no heating, so it was a cold collection of nine girlies who headed North. The first stop was a place called Drogheda, which is best known for holding the hung, drawn and quartered remains of St Oliver Plunkett – a martyred Catholic archbishop. After the rather unique bonding experience of seeing his head, most of the group started chatting to each other and it wasn’t long before the trip got more bearable.

We then stopped at Monasterboice – which is a monastic ruin from the 10th century. It was quite a solemn place, although the sun was coming up so it was breathtaking as well – beautiful paddocks and autumn trees amongst old, old, old rocks and moss:


There is a local legend that if a couple can touch fingers around one of the three scriptural crosses they will live happily ever after. I gave it a go, but something was missing…


(Never mind, she’ll be here in January…)

From there it was an uneventful drive across the border into Belfast. The van hadn’t got any warmer, but I found a quick stroll outside was enough to make the van thermal in comparison. Ireland is COLD!!!!

From the van we swapped to a Black Taxi tour around the divided Belfast neighbourhoods. I had been looking forward to this very much, and it was as interesting and sobering as I expected. The first stop was a Protestant estate, and the murals that come up so often in the news:


We spent some time reading the messages, and our guides gave some really good insights into the history of the conflict. I knew a bit from my reading, but saw for the first time that religion has really become an excuse for what is actually a fight about nationhood and class.

After 1690 William of Orange punished the disloyal Irish by confiscating their land and giving it to British loyalists, who immigrated especially to take up the cause. Of course, this put many Irish families into poverty and started the whole horrid cycle. It is plainly apparent to me that by making this about religion, the British government can avoid any connection to the conflict (i.e. how can a secular government be responsible for a religious squabble?). Not good enough.

Of course, the bad has been on both sides. Our tour stopped at a fifteen foot high wall built to protect the Catholic sector of Belfast:


People are invited to write their own peace messages on the wall (a la Berlin I suppose). Amongst the serious stuff, I liked this one (sorry Mum):


We then crossed into the other part of the city, past gates that are closed from 7pm to 7am every day, and all day during the religious marching season. Once inside we visited Sinn Fein headquarters and tried to keep warm walking around in the really pale sunshine.

We then had a three hour lunch break, so myself and my two tour buddies Lavinia (London) and Elza (Cape Town) decided to have a beer in the oldest pub in Belfast – the Crown. The National Trust runs this place – which keeps the prices down and the interior authentic. It was nice and warm inside, and we had a fantastic Irish stew that tasted like it had been simmering all day, and washed it down with the obligatory Guinness. Yum.

Somehow the outside air seemed less horrid after that, and exploring the European Food Market that had spring up around City Hall was a very pleasant experience. We drank German mulled wine and shared French waffle thingees before deciding we had better do a bit more ‘Irish’ stuff. So, the three of us visited the interior of the Hall and took photos of the staircase just because it was the model for the one in the Titanic (yawn!).

There was just enough time left to pose for a photo. Lavinia (on the left) and Elza in front of the market:


After that it was a cold three hour drive back to Dublin. I had a half hour shower to warm up, and then met up with Elza and her roommate Syliva (Hungary) for a stroll around Temple Bar. This is where all the tourists go, so was fairly boring. But we found another lovely pub and enjoyed a warm fire and good food before saying goodbye at 11pm.

To be continued….

Te turangawaewae o Wiremu

Did I mention that a full English breakfast comes with bread fried in lard? It's interesting... and not particularly fortifying. It is the one new food I haven't liked this weekend. On the other hand, I got curry and mushy peas with my fish'n'chips at lunch, and thought both were fantastic. I wonder what my mother thinks of my cuisine choices?

Anyway, after another solid breakfast, Barbara and Ollie took me for an amble around their area to show me some cool old things, like a pub from the 1700s. I got more views of Pendle Hill as well - although I couldn't spot the witch outline in its forests that makes the place so famous. Maybe I have to live here for forty years first?

We met up with the rest of the whanau shortly after and headed off on a tiki tour of places of Historical Family Importance in Nelson. This is me outside the house in which my father grew up:



The back yard gave me a fair idea of why New Zealand might have appealed...:



Barbara, Ollie, Bailey, Sydney and I also visited the garage my grandfather ran before emmigrating. It is a shabby and dilapidated place, but is still run as a garage. We then wove in and out of narrow streets looking at houses of distant relatives with familiar names, some old primary schools and parks where marriages were proposed (aw!)

After that we joined Sion, John and Fiona at the practice ski area at the top of Pendle Hill. About an acre of hill is covered with green wire and brushes which are kept wet enough for people to slide down. It was surreal, but looked fun enough to make me miss every single ski field I have ever been on:




Because it was FREEZING and windy and winter and lots of other totally excellent reasons, we decamped to a nearby pub, where I got thoroughly beaten at pool and enjoyed a kind of weird British take on Cambodian pork and rice. I avoided all the Real Ale as best as could and discovered a yummy pomegranate and passionfruit drink that I am hoping is sold in London.

Much too soon it was time for goodbye kisses, and I was back at Preston Station. The trip home was long enough for me to finish my excellent book and lose the really cool northern accent I had acquired immediately upon arrival.

So, here I am back in Capital City - completely exhausted and utterly grateful for everyone in Colne for making me feel right at home. Life is good.

Eee by goom, lassie! - Part I

It was with some excitement I headed northwards last weekend, for a family reunion 15 years in the making. I was off to stay with my father’s cousin Barbara and her husband Ollie, and to see their daughter Fiona and her husband John.

The last time I saw these guys Fiona and John were getting married at a big family do in Christchurch, and yours truly was the bridesmaid:


Clearly, a few things have changed since then.

Excited to find out just how much, I left work on Friday with a mad rush to Euston. Amazingly, the transport gods were favouring me and I was rather early. Having no other option, I lingered in the terminal with a massive crowd all standing in small groups around worshipful piles of jackets and suitcases eyeballing anyone coming close to their personal area.

No less tribal was the all out war that was declared upon the concourse once the train north was announced… I have never seen so many people combine aggression with such urgency, and I didn’t hear anyone being English and apologising either. It was all especially mad given the seats are ticketed?! Is this the reality of Friday night train travel?

After the intensity of the crowds, the trip itself was short and sweet. I arrived in Colne to the biggest hugs and kisses I have ever had, and struggled hard not to cry as Barbara, Ollie and Fiona tag-teamed me. Then I was introduced to John and Fiona's three daughters, who are a pretty big difference since 1992!

Sion, Bayley and Sydney had spent the afternoon watching the wedding video, and quickly agreed I did not look as they expected me to. I have a fair idea where I’d gone wrong - where is my pretty pink dress when I need it? And I think I was last seen wearing silver tights with white shoes…

What was most comforting about my arrival, and strange as well, was that Barb and Ollie’s house was decorated in exactly the same style as my paternal grandmother’s was. The accent, the ‘settee’, the sitting room knickknacks and the food were all like being back in time when I was ten and Grandma Greenwood lived around the corner. It was really nice, and it’s either that or the brandies that gave me an excellent night’s sleep.

I woke up to a full English breakfast and a day of sight-seeing all planned out for me. First stop, seeing Fiona and John’s place. The Wellses live in a 1700s cottage called Spengarth with their dog, Kaikoura:


Spengarth is at the edge of Colne in a ‘green area’ in which new houses cannot be built, meaning there are acres and acres of gorgeous paddocks with rustic stone walls and lots of up and down dales. We went for a very outdoorsy ramble across fields and rivers, magically crossed into Yorkshire, and explored the ruins in Wycoller.

Wycoller has seven or so houses in it, and one crumbling Hall. This part of Yorkshire/Lancashire is Bronte territory, and parts of Jane Eyre were written with Wycoller Hall in mind for Ferndean Manor. Unlike other historic-type places, the ruins are left as they are for people to climb all over, and the girls and dog and I loved it:


Actually, Kai loved it so much he wee-d in the museum.

After leaving some of our party back in Colne, Fiona, John, Bayley and I then took a scenic tour up into West Yorkshire. I saw a long list of tranquil sights and some truly English countryside. My ‘greatest hits’ include:

Greenwood Lea and Heptonstall
The Greenwoods originated from the Lea, merged with the Stansfield family of Todmorden and a lineage was borne (no pun intended…). Heptonstall is the closest remaining settlement and the graveyard was full of my relatives, including (cross my heart) a woman called Lettice Greenwood. Hopefully, it is pronounced as a French name?

Hebden Bridge
This village is in the bottom of a valley and has two rivers and a canal, on which I saw this reminder of home:


Hebden Bridge seemed a cool combination of trendy and rural with some very designer shops and an impressive green-energy movement headquarters. There are also lots of trees and excellent mountain bike tracks, evidenced by the piles of muddy bikers who traipsed into town for lattes. I think I could live there and be utterly content.

Haworth
This is the parsonage of the Brontes’ father, and is a gorgeous village. It has steep streets and Christmas lights simultaneously welcoming and repelling tourists. I was unexpectedly reminded of home (yet again) by a restaurant called Wharenui, but managed to resist the warm fire therein for the sake of fossicking in antique Christmas shops. Lovely fun.

After a quick stop for a ‘Real Ale’ in a country pub (it was horrid) we headed back to Colne for an enjoyable night playing board games and eating potato pie. Sion, Bayley and Sydney are formidable opponents, and are wonderfully loud in the way almost-teenagers can be. Thank goodness I was nothing but an angel when I was growing up…

It was a long and wonderful day, and enough for a blog post, methinks. I shall write about my Sunday later in the week.

A slight digression from holiday stuff...

I haven't done any touristy stuff for a bit, so this post is really just a quick catch up on a few things...

My new job is going well, and I am relishing the challenges it is posing in terms of deadlines and competing demands from colleagues. The next issue of the magazine is nearly ready, and I am enjoying helping with the flow and clarity of the articles - I think a non-academic perspective might prove quite handy for this publication!

At the same time as I am rushing around trying to get all that done, the publicity campaign for CARR's March conference is gearing up, and I am conscious that if I don't pour effort into planning it well at this stage it is going to be much harder later. These international events only happen every five years, so it is quite a significant project.

However, I have introduced novel concepts such as 'project plans' and 'strategy meetings' to ensure everyone knows what is going on. I thank Nola (my last Manager) for her influence here, as her emphasis on agreed goals and set timeframes has taught me some really effective ways to get my colleagues on board early.

So, after a few weeks' panic where I wondered if my MSSNZ job was the last I would have that actually suited me, and that I might be an idiot for having left it, I now know I have made the right decision.

I've also joined a gym, and am thankful for the balance and endorphins it provides... although 6am mornings are REALLY cold. Fortunately, the smiley feelings last all day and compensate for the fact it is dark by 4pm.

I imagine it is even worse up North, and shall find out this weekend when I visit Lancashire. Travel is very cool, and I look forward to sharing my discoveries with y'all.

Until then...

Two posts in one day!?!??!?!?

I have no idea how I have found myself back at the blog once again, especially since it is 2am... However, having spent most of the morning on the thing, I find myself needing to share the rest of my day in a whole new post, because it was just so damn fabulous.

So... after posting this morning I made a quick dash across London to East Ham to meet up with Payal and Lackshma (who I met in Scotland last weekend) for the promised authentic South Indian meal.

The East Ham main road is bustling in a way I will always think of as uniquely London, with a range of bizarre shop frontages in all sorts of languages, interspersed with peeling roller doors and a geometry of railings and meshing seeming to prop up the ancient brick buildings above.

Through this bustle we trudged to "Saravanaa Bhavan". Lackshma is Veda/Brahmin, and her food preference is called 'pure vegetarian' - no meat, no eggs, but she does eat milk and honey etc. Apparently, this restaurant is a fantastic exponent of this type of food.

Happy to be the new kid, I sat back and let everyone else order for me and I ended up with a kind of South Indian buffet. A pile of rice, poppadoms and bread puffs accompanied by nine or so tiny tin cups of dhals, soup, pickle, chilli, raita, curd, halva and fruit salad. The correct way to eat is to dump some rice down, plop something savoury down on it and eat it with scooped fingers. My way is to put too much wet with the dry and spend five minutes pushing each fingerful round in a circle whilst getting really hungry and trying not to draw attention to one's honky self.

My favourite dish was a tamarind and bean dhal, and I can proudly say I managed to finish three servings of mango and mustard chilli pickle before the heat got too much. I had to pass on the curd for the sake of my weird tummy, but everything else was delicious. For the sake of tradition I even accepted a coffee - not something I normally touch. I won't bore you with more food details, but it is a very frothy way to ingest caffeine.

After all that, I waddled back up the high street clutching bags of burfi (cocount ice) that had magically appeared in my hands and took the 'Pink Line' back home. From there I had a short time to drink some precious 'V' before heading out again to meet up with Caroline, her boss Brodie and his partner Dierdre for the Dave Dobbyn thing.

Navigating multiple transport dramas, I arrived in Shepherd's Bush (a strongly expat area of London) to find it wasn't an army function at all, but a proper Dave Dobbyn concert combining a new concept in intimate entertaining with a plug for an expat association. Penelope Barr (remember her?) did the intros, Chucky Shearer (remember him!?) MC'd and Dave did the singing thing.

Amazingly, Brodie, Diedre and Caroline were offered front row seats, and this tagger-on got to join them. Sitting five metres away as he sang some of the most beautiful love songs.... here is a photo from my camphone:

So, Dave would play a few songs, sit down for a chat (gritty stuff - his battle with drugs, Queen St riots, being born again...) and then get back on the guitar or piano. He is a much sweeter musician than I realised - a completely unexpected gem.

I would liked to have heard a piano arrangment of 'Bliss', but it was not to be. His boozy pub song days are clearly behind him, and the focus now is on his faith and spreading the love, which he didn't hesitate to mention.

After a resounding encore it ended all too soon... On the other hand, I got my last train with five minutes to spare, so am lucky to be home.

And now, to bed :-)

NZ Memorial Dedication (and an ode to Caroline!)

Yesterday I had the wonderful pleasure of attending the dedication of the NZ Memorial in Hyde Park. My friend Caroline is the NZ liaison person for the project, and has been hard at work (3am finishes, people!!) making sure this event is a success.

She is amazing, and fabulous and I am totally in awe of her.

Kindly, Caroline made it possible for six of her friends to attend the ceremony as invited guests. This meant we had seats and a view of the Queen. I have posted highlights on this blog, which means just a few photos out of many great moments.

It was a very special experience, and this is going to be a long blog entry.

I arrived at Hyde Park at 12:30. The roads were closed to the public, and there was already a huge queue forming at the public entrance. I went through various security searches before being escorted through an underpass by army personnel. I was quite early by VIP standards, so wandered around taking photos.

My other old school friends turned up as well, and we had quite a catch up. It was great to see them, and I had been hoping we would get to sit near each other. Thankfully, this proved to be the case (Caroline rocks!).

The symbolism of the sculpture is a very tidy integration of ideas – the Southern Cross, soldiers standing at attention, gravestones in Flanders etc. No doubt those of you who watched the ceremony on television have had a good look. As always, scaffolding interferes with my view:


Anyway, whilst I was getting up close and personal with modern art, the general public was stuck behind barriers and crowded together very closely and had been standing up for three hours before anything started:


Shortly, the dignitaries started arriving. Unfortunately, the best view for us was to look sideways and back a little to the big screen erected for the crowds – but I persevered with photos of all the important people arriving. This is one after most had arrived – and if you click on the image to enlarge it you can hopefully spot William, Camilla and Edward:


This is the Queen inspecting the troops. I wish I had got out of my chair sooner and got her facing my way instead of after she turned around. Anyway, this is the closest I have been to her yet (I sound like a stalker):


After that it all passed in a bit of a blur…. The soldiers gave the Royal Salute, there were speeches, Dave Dobbyn sang (did anyway else notice his ‘Please, Lord Jesus!’ exclamation in the middle of this?), people made more speeches…

The next particular highlight was Hayley Westenra singing a beautiful rendition of the National Anthem, particularly the Maori part. I actually don’t think any other pakeha can do it better:


And the haka was AMAZING. It made the hairs on my neck stand up, and a few tears form. It was an extended version of Ka Mate, and the depth of feeling was palpable across the courtyard:


Having reached the end, Royals were invited to inspect the sculpture, and some little girl gave everyone flowers. After that, the invited guests were able to look. Some kind guest took photos of us all together in front of the sculpture, which was especially generous given she had to handle seven different cameras with a variety of combinations of people striking a pose. Anyway, this is me with (L-R) Nicole, Michael and Sarah:


And then, of course, we had to go celebrity spotting. Having no shame and total confidence in people’s willingness to be nice I convinced these guys to pose with Nicole and I:


(I know the light is terrible, but it was a one-off thing, and I feel compelled to provide evidence of the strangest photo combination ever. If you don't recognise them - Daniel Bedingfield, Craig Dowd and Sean Fitzpatrick.)

We wanted to find Andrew Merhtens too, but I was totally put off by his wife’s appearance – she was all dressed up like a Footballer’s Wife (they call them WAGs here) and didn’t take her sunglasses off the entire time.

We also had group photos with Miss Westenra and Mr Dobbyn, but not on my camera…

Winter being well upon us, the daylight had by then totally disappeared, and we all escaped to a nearby pub. Well, actually, we had to walk all the way to Piccadilly, but it was worth it to get out of the freezing cold air.

Unfortunately, Caroline was not able to join us, as she had plenty of official duties to complete before the evening finished. Having wowed London with her total fabulousness (of course!), she was also attending the official Remembrance service in Westminster Abbey the next day.

And on Sunday evening, the Armed Forces are holding a party of their own, and Caroline has kindly invited me to go with her. I am really looking forward to it - Dave Dobbyn will be playing.

Caroline is lovely, and I wish she was staying here!!! Clearly deserving a break, Cazza is jetting around Europe before going home, and I think she'll have plenty be proud and amazed about. For example, she has now shared photographic space with Aunty Helen and Mrs Windsor (Caroline is in the background between the Queen and the soldier):


(Thanks to Clare for spotting this one.)

So, what a day! I hope you all got to see it on television, and I'd love to hear your opinions.

Drum roll please

Hi everyone,

I am delighted to announce I am no longer a temporary employment animal. In between outings to old and crumbly places I have actually got a permanent job.

I will be working at the London School of Economics and Political Science as an editorial assistant and marketing officer for the Centre of Risk and Regulation.

Risk management and government regulation isn’t entirely fascinating, but I enjoy learning about new topics so I am pleased

The best part of this role is the Centre’s insistence on professional development and their desire to provide me with training from both within and outside the LSE. I have been hired especially because they want someone who is willing to develop qualifications in marketing.

So, not only am I getting to use my technical skills and do things I enjoy, but I’m getting professional education and mentoring at the same time.

I think I am very lucky.

Thank you for all your kind words and support whilst I’ve been doing the hard yards. I am very grateful.

Love from halfway round the world,
Amy xx

More Scotty Stuff....

Remember my cute story about the well of the seven heads.... it is in this pretty spot:


Every place I go has some mountains called 'Three Sisters' and Scotland is no exception. Although, since this is the country where MacBeth is set, perhaps that is more poignant than elsewhere (what, with those witches 'n all). This is me between two of the 'Sisters' at Glencoe - rather lovely, and the air at this spot was fantastic - I am all smiley:


The light over Loch Ness was purpley and dramatic... very cool:


Sadly, the only monster I saw was in the cafe:



London is getting almost as cold as Edinburgh was. Good thing I have plenty of thermals....

Edinburgh photos - Part I

A general idea of what Central Edinburgh looks like - pretty colours:


As explained, scaffolding interupted my front view of the Castle, thus, a side view:


I braved the chill to wander the Royal Mile at night - and this was the view at the end. The Castle lit up for Guy Fawke's night:


And, rather randomly, one of the escapees of Cow Parade in an Edinburgh schoolyard. (Cow Parade is a travelling art installation of 100 cows painted by artists to raise money for charity. I wondered where they went when it all ended....):



Next time... places with low temperatures and high dramas.... The Highlands.

Nessie, can you hear me?

After a fortifying lunch and a spin around the souvenir shop (hurrah, one postcard!) I piled back onto the bus for the drive to Loch Ness.

We drove to Fort William amongst still more stunning scenery and on the way stopped at a rather historic place beside Loch Oich called the ‘Well of the Seven Heads’. The Well is so named because a band of men killed seven members of Clan MacDonnel in retaliation for the murder of the two rightful heirs to the clan title. Finding themselves on the way to visit the Chief of MacDonnel, and not wanting to present him with dirty heads, the men stopped to wash the heads in the well here. Lovely.

There being no more sweet stories like this to be shared on the way, we shortly got to the Caledonian Canal, which marks the southern end of Loch Ness. We drove up the western side of the Loch and learnt all sorts of things about it (740 miles deep, 23 miles long etc) before reaching Inverness, turning a corner and starting back down the eastern side. We passed Urquhart Castle (I declined a visit to the ruins) and travelled onwards to Drumnadrochit where a ferry trip awaited.

The ferry trip across Loch Ness was a great experience. Because the Loch is filled by peaty runoff from the boggy hills, the water is incredibly inky. I didn’t see any monsters, but then I couldn’t see anything!

Taking as many photos as my icy fingers could manage, I then bought a whisky and settled down inside the ferry café to experience Loch Ness from somewhere warm. Most of my fellow tourists had the same idea and I made some very nice acquaintances.

Back on the bus I quickly fell asleep (nothing to do with the whisky!) and woke up when we reached our dinner stop at Pitlochry. The place with which the company has an ‘arrangement’ was closed so with two of my new friends (a woman called Payel and her mother Lackshma) I braved the strange streets to find somewhere to eat. I ended up with a decidedly average steak sandwich and had to wolf it down in time to met back up with the bus. Frustratingly, we had the world’s worst trainee waitress and the bill took a long time to get sorted. Thus, the three of us were 15 minutes late for the bus… fortunately it was still waiting.

From there it was a tranquil drive through a darkening sky to get back to Edinburgh by 8pm. Having made plans to meet up with Payel when she is in London next weekend, I said goodbye to everyone I had met and wandered back along the Royal Mile to my hostel. I was too tired even to shower, falling into bed with my clothes on.

The next day was spent travelling home, and was unremarkable. I travelled through Newcastle, Sheffield and Milton Keyes and could tell when we got to London because the air quality changed very quickly. London is very dirty!

But, I am so glad to be here.

Ach aye the noo!

I am not sure a mixed dorm is a good idea. Coming back from my shower to find seven frat boys sitting on the bunks, drinking beer and spitting (tobacco?) into a bin between them, I decided to put my headphones on, read and write and pretend they weren't there. In fact I am very lucky (from an anthropological point of view), because the music was not loud enough to drown out their conversation and I am now able to report some unique insights into what men (boys?) talk about when they think no women can hear. Sadly, they talk about women with exactly the sort of language one fears. Has feminism hit Wisconsin yet? These boys need some enlightening...

Anyway, they eventually went out to do some damage to the streets of Edinburgh and I slept peacefully until the morn.

I took a stroll to the Castle, but was too early for both farmers' markets so wandered with hunger in my belly up to the tour company. We left almost immediately and my hunger pangs were totally neutralised by the scenery. Edinburgh is wonderful. My guide (in obligatory kilt!) explained all the various Scottish sights and it was very interesting. Weirdly, he had a thing for speed and red light cameras, and pointed them out whenever we would pass by (why? are they Scottish?).

We departed Edinburgh to go north into a beautiful autumn day. I took heaps of photos, but I think this is one of those times one just has to be there. We stopped at a place called Glencoe ('valley of weeping') and learnt all about the massacre of the MacDonalds by the Campbells (or Wallaces, or Duncans or whomever...) whilst taking touristy photos in front of mountains and waterfalls. This is an extremely dramatic piece of countryside - the mist lies very close to the ground, the mountains look especially ancient, and the utter isolation of it all creates a terrific atmosphere. It was FREEZING, but being outside in the air, the massive empty space and the mists made me feel wonderful.

Once back on the bus, the guide played us a few folk songs about more murder and mayhem between the clans. It was all quite good, and a fitting soundtrack for the drive. Eventually we stopped for lunch at Loche Linnhe beside Ben Nevis, which is the highest point in all the Britsh Isles. (It looked to me like a large and lumpy upside down mudpie.) Naturally, the tourist shops nearby make a HUGE deal out of it, and I found myself eating Ben Nevis Broth for lunch whilst sitting betwixt mountain and loch... lovely.

I will leave my account of Loch Ness etc until later, as I must get going for my bus to London. I am looking forward to seeing more countryside - I have really enjoyed the fresh air and the different type of light that exists up north.... the change in temperature is a wonderful experience as well. Seriously.

There's nothing quite like travelling... onwards.......

The curse of the restoration pixies continues...

Hi from Edinburgh.... I just decided to come north for the weekend, and see Scotland. I am so glad I did. Of course, all the main attractions are being renovated (just like everywhere else I go!) - so I need to rely on postcards for the best vistas.

(I am thinking of contracting out my services - are you having trouble getting the council to fix something in your community? Need work done quickly? Why, just ask me to plan a tour there, and some workmen will magically appear with cranes and scaffolding.)

Anyway, the overnight train ride was a cold introduction to this part of the world - it was simply freezing all night. The only parts of me that weren't affected were my merino-clad footsies (Thanks Mrs C!).

Arriving at 7:30am I was worried how I would fill in the time before the Edinburgh Castle opened at half nine. Fear not... a shambolic hostel with highly unsecure storage, plenty of 'long-term' tourists (i.e. dodgy boarders) in a nasty part of the city did not my confidence build - so I spent the morning trying to find somewhere to stay, and just said yes to the first place that looked well cared for.

After that I started exploring. I think Edinburgh is lovely. It is a gently interesting city, and the history is evident everywhere. I thought the Castle was quite fun, but I much more enjoyed walking in the autumnal gardens along Princes Street. The comparison with Dunedin is really easy to make, as the architecture and even the colours of the buildings were sending me back in time to 1997 (when I lived in Dunners, for those readers who don't know that I did).

I took the oft-plodded tourist walk from the Castle down Royal Mile to Holyrood House, which is the Queen's office in Scotland (Balmoral is her country house). I think I have a thing for palaces, as this wasn't so different from Buckingham Palace, but I loved every minute of it.

After that I explored an entire block of charity shops (I call it Heaven Street!) and found a few things I liked.... and lo and behold, someone was able to direct me to an even better spot near the old GrassMarket. By the end I had several sewing projects for the long winter nights ahead....

I then walked a bit more, and decided at the last minute against the National Gallery of Scotland, the Academy and associated arty things. I have a feeling I will be back in Edinburgh again one day, and it is a small enough city I don't want to do everything in one stay.

For that reason, I am getting into the countryside tomorrow with a trip to.... Loch Ness!!!!!! I didn't realise it was close enough, and am very excited. So, hope to share some Highlands adventures soon.

(Oh, will post photos when I get back to London.)

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...

My lovely friend Caroline is here for work, and we decided to go to Brighton for the day. Of course, I forgot it was daylight savings, so my Sunday morning started at 7am... ick...

Anyway, we arrived to a rather sunny day and quite a few people around:


I was expecting it to be a grey, gravely shore. Actually, the pebbles are a lovely combination of colours, and quite pretty.
Yep, I actually took pictures of some stones...:


Anyway, here I am posing in front of Brighton's famous pier - before I got my wake-up beer:


After said beer and vinegary fish n' chips we made our way to the fair on top of the pier. Here is Caroline graciously admitting defeat in the bumper cars championship:



I love Brighton - it was just what I needed after so many endless nights of job applications. Caroline and I found some amazing shops and cute streets; I am definitely going there again.

On the job hunting front, watch this space, as things have been going very well, and I may have news soon.

Love lots.

Back on tour

Today my flatmates and I went on an outing to Greenwich. It was lovely to get away from endless job applications, and remind myself I am in an amazing city.

First stop was the Naval University next to Cutty Sark. Some local Historical Society types were re-enacting a naval somethingorother - including canon firing. I though they were trying a bit hard to look like Russell Crowe in that horrid movie, so wandered on to enjoy the other sights.

This is the University's main building (the Thames is on the left):


The best thing about this city is that one turns a corner and sees still more stunning things. This is the gorgous interior of the Naval Hospital chapel:


After a bit of walking and looking it was time for eating and drinking. We found a spot to share Heineken and some Estonian pastries. Lovely:


We then strolled to the Royal Observatory and got very lost (my fault entirely) before finally finding the Prime Meridian. At this stage it was getting VERY cold, so I was glad to be wearing plenty of layers... but it was still hard to look relaxed:


Anyway, today has been very successful. Since you are well aware that I am a geek, you won't be suprised to know that crossing Greenwich off my 'must do' list is a big deal. It will certainly make the next week at work more bearable.

Until later....

Someone give me a job....

So, here I am in London. Still.

I started looking for work a month ago… so it is amazing that I am only now making it to the second round of interviews. And I am trying to balance getting offered the job I really want without saying no to the only job I may be offered…

I promise to start doing fun things when the job gets sorted, and writing about it.

Anyway, must get on… Just wanted to let you know I am still alive.

My little corner of the world

I am starting to feel really settled, which is great. To celebrate, I have bought some coathangers and a new shirt for work - huzzah!

I quite like my flat - it's great to be flatting with a friend, and the transport is really close. This morning, a fox turned up to the back door. They are a lot like dogs, but when this one ran up with its tail in the air showing it was ready to play I screamed like a big, big, big girl, closed the ranchslider and ran upstairs. It then sniffed around the lawn a bit before doing a very doggie thing in a patch of weeds and clearing off to eat squirrels.

Anyway, here are some shots of my little corner of the world, sans fox:

Cue Coronation Street theme:


Stuck on the end of the street - perfect access for cats and cat burglars:


The view from my tastefully appointed room:


And our little 'lawn'. Note the days-old washing kept on the line to retain the student flat feeling:



I think one of the reasons I enjoy this spot so much is the London weather. It hardly ever rains, and was 28' yesterday! I keep being able to sit outside in the sunshine.

Of course the itchy nose, murky sky and smelly work clothes remind this is all probably the result of pollution and global warming...