Off to Brighton for a birthday party

Except for my flatmates and cousin, my London life really is filled with English people. Most of my friends are English and (surprisingly) all but one of my colleagues is English. My neighbourhood is mostly English people too. It would be nice if this paid off with a sexy British accent, but it just hasn't happened.

Anyway, from time to time, it is nice to be a Kiwi again. And it's even better if I can be a Kiwi Kid - which is exactly what I got to do when Lucy and I visited Brighton for a birthday party afternoon tea for our friend Corinne.

Each guest was greeted at the door with a nametag based on kiwi icons. I ended up with boot polish (?!?!) and Lucy got the Four Square Man. It made for a good conversation starter, and once we'd all been christened it made for a sociable group:


Having stayed still long enough for a group photo, it was all action once pass-the-parcel broke out. As a cool Kiwi twist, Amanda used Salmonella Dub as the soundrack.

Our children's birthday party theme was undermined somewhat by the prizes (lollies shaped like boobs, 'grow your own mistress' toys, edible nipple tassles - and an inflatabled sheep as the first prize). But, it was all brought home by the yummy feast:


It's been ages since I had pavlova, and even longer since I've enjoyed lolly cake. The English girls seemed a bit astonished at the food we consider iconic, but once the sugar kicked in, it was smiles all round.

Everyone played nicely together for a few hours, and I left on a very pleasant food colouring and champagne-based high.

Return to the dreaming spires

I have made some excellent friends in England. One in particular is Pam, who gave me my first job in London and saved me from a future filled with beans on toast. Pam has an equally lovely partner called Daryl, and Lucy and I love hanging out with them.

Recently, Daryl offered to show us around her 'hood' - Bicester in Oxfordshire. Bicester is a tiny town of 28,000 and most well known for its outlet shopping mall. Fortunately, it has a lot more going for it - such as a bit of decent peace and quiet and a nice selection of pubs. It also has very close proxomity to Oxford, where we headed on a restful Saturday morning.

I'd been lucky enough to visit Oxford last year with my cool Aunt, but Lucy was having her first trip. I'm sure she was stoked that our visit coincided with some sort of Morris dancing festival in the town square. There was quite lot to watch, and I liked the relish with which these old ladies whacked each other with sticks:


This bunch were a bit more traditional, but seemed to enjoy the show as well:


After a few jingle jangles we wandered into the covered market. I had foolishly skipped this on my earlier visit. I particularly loved the deli. Not only was it fabulous in a 'remember when we were in Siciily?' kind of way, but it also had lots of Asian ingredients we just hadn't been able to find anywhere in London. We did a bit of damage there:


My other favourites were the milkshake bar (Snickers and Kahlua shake anyone? How about marshmallow and jam?), the crockery shop and the florist. These dried plants were incredibly colourful:


But, apparently, there's more to Oxford than the market.... so we wandered off to look at old things. Like the Radcliffe Camera - built in 1743 and now an addition to the nearby Bodleian Library:


Four smart women like ourselves weren't going to miss checking out England's second largest library (and the oldest, 1602!). We wandered the courtyard a bit, and Lucy took pictures of old things:


It would have been nice to do a larger tour, but we had things to do (like lunch). So, we wandered into north Oxford to find a sandwich and a grassy spot to sit. We found the sandwich alright (roasted peppers and salad - yum!), but had no luck with a park.

The Oxford planners decree that people must pay £3 to enter the botanical gardens. We didn't feel like shelling out, so sat on a nearby picnic bench. The foolishness of the policy showed in the piles of people we watched stroll up to visit the gardens and then turn right back round again. If even half of them had bought an icecream or cup of tea, the gardens would be raking in the fees.

Hopefully, by the time we visit again the policy will have changed and we can enjoy what seems to be a lovely space. This is a photo I took on jumping tippytoes from behind a perimeter fence:


After a bit more of a stroll and a case of mistaken guidebook reading on my part, we ended up back on the park and ride to Bicester. Saturday drew to a close with homemade curry and champagne. Like the four of us, it's an unexpected but wonderful combination.

A boaty blog

A weekend or two ago, I joined my friend Lavinia to explore HMS Belfast, a former gunship that is now a floating navy museum on the Thames. It was a grey day, so this is a better photo than mine:


The ship is essentialy six floors of action:


We started on the dining level, where some old admirals where having a buffet lunch. The smell of their sandwiches mingled with the musty rustiness of the rest of the ship. The combination of steel, old water and mayonnaise kept us company as we checked out the galley, dentist's room (ick), hospital, radio room and map halls.

From there we went downstairs into the bowels of the ship. It was lots of fun walking on gangways above pipes and dials and those sort of techy things that make 12,000 tons of steel move:




The ship is enormous - 187m long, with steel walls 12cms thick, so no wonder it could carry two aircraft and 750 men, scrambling all over the place to fire things at Germans in the North Sea.

I think we walked a few kilometres in all the up-ing and down-ing we did seeing how it all worked together:


I'm usually a bit of a pacifist. However, I couldn't help but admire the sheer killing power of the ammunition and torpedo rooms:


The best bit was when I'd realise just how far below the surface we were. It freaked me out quite a bit, but was also kind of a thrill. I'm not really into boats, but I'm glad I did this one.

Cantabrian for the day

What better time for a holiday than the coldest Easter in 84 years…

I was snowing quite prettily when Lucy and I arrived in Canterbury on Saturday afternoon, so we could explore the town in relative ease.

My first impression was very pleasant – there were a surprising number of people around. It also had a Tudor-ey kind of feel that reminded me of Stratford. The high streets are closed to traffic, and the relaxed air made for good random wandering.

The first thing I really liked was the library on Canterbury High Street:


Most of the surrounding shops are all called Canterbury this and Canterbury that, so I felt like I was back in Christchurch a little. Especially since the main tourist attraction is a cathedral.

It wasn’t hard to spot the main event, but the actual entry gate was well hidden. It’s tucked between shops like some random retailer:


If we’d come at it straight on instead of sideways, we couldn’t have missed Jesus perched above the pedestrians, looking miserable:


On first glance, I was really disappointed with the complex. This is supposed to be one of the most important Anglican churches in the world, but it is surrounded by outbuildings and car parks. Ugly stuff! I couldn’t get a photo that wasn't blocked by walls or rubbish skips etc, so here is someone else’s effort (taken in the 1970s I think):


Up close it is much more impressive:


I found a side path to explore. This was a great idea; we found the cloisters and lovely rooms away from the majority of visitors. It also gave a good view of how the building was put together – some of the nooks felt like all the dimensions were colliding:


Inside, it is a bit calmer. The ceiling is quite spectacular, and my research meant I knew it was a very early English Gothic example of high pointed arches, flying buttresses, and rib vaulting. But I didn’t need a book to tell me that the stained glass is unbelievable:


Actually, the architecture pretty much speaks for itself. Initially, I was disappointed with the lack of spectacle and awe conveyed by the building (compared to other churches like Sacre Coeur) because there was very little colour. However, the glory is saved for small bits – like this font (that is rather more gilt and blue in reality):


We joined the service that was taking place but it was a bit dull, so we just checked out some souvenirs and found the nearest pub before heading back to the hostel for the evening.

The morning found us navigating our way through thick, thick snow towards the train station. It was freezing, but the daffodils were pretty, and nothing puts me off a cheesy spring photo:


We had a good three hours to warm up again, however, as our Ashford to Eastbourne train limped south at about walking speed.

The snow stopped and the wind picked up as we got into town. Eastbourne gets a lot of stick for being an old people’s resort, but I thought the beachside hotels and tearooms were quaint.

It may have been cold and lonely outside, but there was lots of company available at the Carlton Hotel – holding its weekly pair dancing and sing along session. Lucy thought I was joking when I suggested we hang out in the day lounge, but I wasn’t bothered that the average age was probably 75. I ended up knowing most of the songs anyway – because I am a dork with a taste for nostalgia.

There was something comforting about sitting in the warmth, drinking a £1.50 brandy, deciding that today’s youth don’t know they’re born, and my goodness isn’t there a complete lack of discipline in homes and schools these days etc etc. (My participation in this conversation required just an initial nod of agreement.)

An hour was long enough, so we headed to our hotel. Unfortunately, there was a mistake with the booking, and we actually ended up coming home that night instead.

So, a shortened holiday, but no less interesting in the end. It was excellent to finally see Canterbury Cathedral (my tourist To Do List has one more tick!), and it is always good to get out of London.