brrr....

Things I like about London:

• pub grub
• the weather
• sleeping
• shopping
• catching the Eurostar to Paris
• multi cultural
• I'm about to start a really ace job in Soho...one of the best addresses in the world
• the purchasing power of the English £
• friends visiting
• fashion
• high brow arts culture
• cockney accents
• street markets
• Eastenders
• easy access to Europe
• Victorian period terrace houses
• parks and gardens

Things I dislike about London:

• lack of daylight
• crowds
• Christmas time
• fake tans
• hair straighteners
• public transport
• public phone boxes
• teenage slappers...errrr....girls....
• it smells like a sewer
• cost of living
• cost of car insurance
• Aussie and Kiwi tourists
• it's too far away from my close friends in Australia
• chavs

karaoke - is bad at all levels

Why is it that people feel the need to make complete dicks of themselves and attempt to sing at Karaoke? It usually involves copious amounts of alcohol being consumed first and then some dodo thinking they just have to do 'American Pie' or 'Twist n Shout'....sheesh!

Anyway, maybe it's just me feeling very bitter and twisted about the world. This was all in conjunction with work promotion drinks....and guess what...I didn't get promoted...no point going into reasons why...just not happy about it...that's all.... But I was there for my friend who did get promoted, so I'm glad for her sake. And for the sweet boy who sits next to me at work. I'm now his official groupie...after his absolutely dreadful attempt at karaoke...The Japanese have a lot to answer for.

But actually, I'm thinking along the lines of taking the route another friend of mine has just started on...quitting my job and going travelling...quit being a desk jockey....spend all my savings and go and see the world...Well, in a few weeks I'll be back in Australia and then New Zealand. Looking forward to seeing Nelson Bay in particular, where my sister now lives with her husband. I hope the weather is good.

Hmm....might not return to work....

Phew!!!

Wow! A long time since I've posted anything here. However, if you've not been in touch with my recent activities then check out the posts on Life in the Slough Lane.

So anyway, back to business of describing the undulating adventures of Fi Fi Abroad.

Yeah umm...tired now, have been sucked into Facebook, the new order for obsessive compulsives...ahem!

But no more promises from me. If I get around to publishing regular posts, then so be it. If I post any photos and even update my Flickr account...then I guess it's whooppeee! all 'round.

I suggest you don't hold your breath, but you can if you like. I generally last about 60 seconds before I need to pass out.

Nighty night!

oooohhh....pretty

A slightly backdated post..but this is how the first snow experience of the year was...

At last. Snow! It was so exciting to peep out the window this morning and see a decent layer of snow on the ground, the rooftops, the cars, the trees etc... It kinda makes putting up with winter over here worthwhile. Sorry, I don't have any of my own pics, as I was running late and had to race out the door to catch the train to work for my 9.00am meeting that I was meant to be hosting.

So I put the trainers on and scooted out the door..hit the ice...and...almost went for a spill..great.. the vision of being splattered on the pavement went through my mind. Not more damage to my already badly sprained wrist...yikes!

Of course, any sign of deviation in weather patterns in this country means the transport system goes haywire. A business man arriving at Luton airport from Slovenia pointed out that other European countries have several feet of snow and their transport system manages to run ok...why is that everything crumbles to a halt in the UK? It's not like it's the first time they've experienced these weather conditions...Go figure.

twas the mayhem before christmas...

Happy New Year... and all that business. Like most of you I'm back at work now and feels like an eternity since I had a Christmas/ New Year break.

To back track a little bit prior to Christmas, I was sooooo looking forward to my break. Work was unbelievably hectic and I think it's about 10 times worse since I came back in 2007. I was coming down with every 'flu under the sun...errrr...grey gloomy skies of London....Dirty, filthy travellers...should be banned...Plus my sprained wrist which was adding to my misery...awwww....poor me....

Anyway! I had to take an enforced holiday prior to Christmas or I'd lose my hols. They don't roll them over. Boo....!!!! So I dragged my friend from Oz out the door (her first English Christmas, just after she'd been travelling in Spain), prepared for battle and we braved the marauding crowds on Oxford Street....

A couple of times we were forced to retreat (at the nearest pub with mulled wine and mince pies) before we reconsidered our plan of attack and ventured out boldly once more.

Victory was ours! Hommage to the Dodi and Di shrine at Harrods paid off. The gods of consumerism were on our side and 6 hours later, battle weary but triumphant, we marched in the front door laden down with our spoils of battle (shopping bags full of Christmas pressies).

But that was not the end of it....oh no!...as we settled in for the evening, intoxicated by our success (and a couple more bottles of wine) we knew another day and a greater battle loomed ahead of us...Getting up early, with a hangover, going to the physio, picking up the hire car and then...Yes. The greatest battle field of them all.... the supermarket carpark and the armies of trolleys. Rolling around like tanks, crushing anyone in their paths. Mothers. Fearsome and crazed warriors..and more terrifying..their offspring...the embodiment of hell...Orks!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhh!

Gnashing of teeth, clashing of trollies
It's Christmas time...they're getting their jollies..
Scratching, biting
clawing, fighting
More greenhouse emissions with Christmas lighting.

(I made that up myself!)

And then...trapped in aisle 9 amongst the tinned food as the hordes stock up for the seige...when no shops are open on Christmas Day and the five tins of Heinz tomato soup will obviously be required for survival....a blood curdling scream rips through the supermarket...

'Jason Bluebell Petal Schnuckylumps! Don't you bleedin' give me no more o your lip or you get it. Init? I've 'ad it up to 'ere I 'ave...an' I'm sick o' yer moanin'...init...'

A final check of our trolley. Roasting potatoes. check. Vegies. check. More than enough food to feed all the armies in this supermarket. Check. And more food in case we run out! Check.

Right-y-o! Troops! Reform your battle lines...we're making a break for it. To the checkout! Charge!...ramble down aisle ten, hard turn at the end, avoid the 'spilt liquids' sign, minor collision with the store packer, and hurtle down towards the checkout.Crash! Thud! Ow! ..We've come to an abrupt stop...smashed straight into another tank..err..trolley..Loaded up and up and up into the sky...A shake of the head...an inspection of my body for broken bones and admiration of the bruise on my shin for battle scars incurred.

I look up and ahead to see, to my despair, a long line of trolleys, miles and miles, queuing for the checkout. Lines backed right down to the frozen goods section. The bakery, the deli...sigh...

A half hour later we finally reach the checkout...now licking our wounds and feeling rather sorry for ourselves. But we know the end is in sight... Shit, they don't accept AMEX. Ummm... can I remember the PIN for my Mastercard? A few attempts. Heart thumping. We're almost there. Don't surrender now....and...We've won! We pack the shopping bags and rush to the car...but just one more hurdle.

The carpark...beep beep...'get outta the way you f'in so and so. Where'd you learn to drive...blah blah blah...go back to your own country...Merry F'in Christmas'

At long last we got back home. Trudged upstairs to the safety of our barracks. And popped open the champas....Shit! I think we forgot something....

...Hope you all had a Merry F'in Christmas too...

act your age.....

Ok. This blog is being typed 1 handed. No. This is not a new hobby I've taken up. Just the result of weekend revelries in Bristol. Aaaah to feel young....and very stupid again.....

So for the second time I have visited friends living outside London and come back injured. There seems to be some strange pattern emerging. On both occasions travelling to Germany I was also sick with a 'flu virus and my extended travels have involved getting sick with a tummy bug. So... perhaps I should just lock myself in my flat and not venture out....not a chance...

Well what have I done to myself this time? Yes, a visit to Bristol to hang out with a fellow Aussie noise friend who I used to collaborate with in an improv band in Brisbane. For desperate want of a better name we called ouselves Project Project. Anyway, check out his website for some of the latest and greatest on Aussie new music. Halftheory .

Bristol is a 2.5 hr bus trip from London. The train takes only 1.5 hrs, but costs twice as much. So needless to say, my hip pocket called the shots on taking the bus. And the journey wasn't so unpleasant. Loaded with uni students and their packed lunches. (A very good and sophisticated idea. Mental note to self to buy a flask to take travelling).

Like most English cities, or for that matter Aussie cities, the visitor is welcomed by a rather glib array of shopping malls. Mainstream chain stores and a distinct lack of charm. Of course my friend was nowhere to be seen. A call to his mobile revealed the seedy circumstanes... I'd just woken him, hungover after the third night of hard partying... he he he.... looks like he was about to add a 4th hangover in a row....

My only complaint was the burglar masquerading as a cabbie when we arrived. I swear he must ordinarily wear a full balaclava and carry a sawn off shot gun. The meter was set at 2.70GBP, considerably higher than the standard London minimum of 2.20GBP. Then I just watched horrified as it whizzed around out of control. 7.50GBP to go not very far....

But the weekend was really just about 'chilling' out. Which is exactly what we did in a lovely graveyard for a while... sipping on chilled Aussie white and partaking in camembert and crackers... yeah... so the outdoor picnic cooled off my anger about the taxi fare and had me looking forward to a nice warm corner in a pub.

Bristol reminded me a lot of Newcastle near Sydney. Relatively untouched by WW II, with row upon row of Victorian terrace housing. It has a fantastic cafe scene full of students, alternative arty types, musos and live gigs galore. And just like Newy it doesn't have the pretentiousness of the big city. Industrial and edgy. Definitely my kind of place. ....Actually my second complaint is the prices we paid in general. 3.00GBP for a pint of Stella! That's damned expensive! Especially for outside London. I don't even pay that in London.... what's with that!!!!! That was a real let down. Paying worse than London prices...

But that obviously didn't stop me from getting stuck into a few pints. A truly awesome night was had. Lots of great local bands. Improv. Goth/ industrial. New-punk-jazz. Chewed the fat with some way cool and interesting folks. And progressively got very drunk.

So after closing we naturally ventured to yet another pub. Another drunken mumbled conversation to whoever was unlucky enough to be standing close by. And a double gin and tonic... wha the fu@%!!!!... a call from yonder to round us up to head on to a house party.....and, going with the flow... I FELL OUT OF THE PUB!!!!!....

In front of EVERYONE!...How embarassment!....There was some kind of intense pain searing through my left hand and wrist, but I was too overcome with humiliation and the need to save face. Some lovely young man helped me to my feet. I saluted the crowd and we headed off to this house party....by this stage i had lost my Aussie friend, but obviously made other booze buddies, so figured it would be all good and I'd just go with the flow... these things sort themselves out and it's not like the first time I would have ended up on the floor or couch of a stranger's house. I am now thinking of a couple of such occasions in Newie, Australia....

......Aged 27. Where i've had some fab weed and sipped on Stone's ginger wine until the wee hours, waking up to a beautiful sunny day and realising moments later that I'd just missed the bus to Canberra....hey... we have to miss the bus every now and then.... otherwise I wouldn't have been asked to stay for breakfast and I would never have tasted the best porridge ever...not kidding you. This was a life changing experience. Nuts and citrus peel with cinammon in the porridge... breakfast bliss...topped with a nice cuppa... Now with winter coming on in Europe and life getting just that bit hectic and manic it's the quiet, comforting and unexpected simple pleasures I look forward to...

And back to the Bristol story.... Now aged 33....The party was pumping when we arrived. Naturally I found my way to the basement where the jamming was well underway. Drums, bass and guitar. Oh! a tin whistle and some guy with a dictaphone (who I found out later goes by the name Cedric and is French).... So I simply had to join in. Screaming into the dictaphone and wowing the party goers with my prowess on the tin whistle, plus my complete lack of ability with a bass.... whatever.... it did occur to me that I was doing damage to my voice and could be a little husky at choir on Tuesday. (For those interested, Sat 2nd Dec we're performing Handel's Messiah at the Union Chapel in Islington 5 quid. Islington Choral Society).

Eventually it was time to go. My Aussie friend had found me and dragged me out to find a taxi. A couple of quick goodbyes and a big hug to the nice young man who picked me up off the pavement and helped me to the party. Last seen playing drums, I never got his name, but if he does happen to read this then 'thanks!'.

So we did ask the cabbie to stop so we could go to the chippy....4am...and we got a lecture from the owner... hey.... it looked open when we walked inside the shop....alas....we staggered into the house and to bed...nothing much to say about that....

Morning...I awake... head feels fine... well, ok enough after a few several too many beers....but OH MY LORD! Such a pain throbbing in my left arm...and twice the size of my right wrist and hand. This needed medical attention. A makeshift gauze bandage to provide some support and within the space of just a few hours I had popped 4 heavy duty pain killers. Left overs from my visit to Devon just a couple of weeks earlier, where I'd fallen down some stairs and injured the same wrist and landed heavily on my ass. Only that time I was sober and I could barely sit down for a week.

The drive back to London was somewhat subdued. The old red volvo laden down with band gear for the driver's gig in London and all of us considerably hung over.

I was in considerable pain, but feeling quite content overall with my Bristol experience. That is, until we pulled in for petrol along the M4. I guess it was just too many painkillers, combined with a hangover and still fighting off the remnants of a virus from the previous weekend in Bonn, Germany. It all caught up with me and I was left feeling like dying after orally depositing my insides in the service station toilet. Was I going to make it back to London in one piece?

As it turns out, I did make it home ok. We had left over Chinese for tea last night. But I soon felt ill again and went to bed early.

I took today off work. I did try calling my GP early, but they were booked out. So I rested a bit more and ventured down to the Accident and Emergency at Homerton Hospital. No luck there either. The queue to see a doctor was at least 5 hours long....Monday is a busy time for A&E. Full of deadbeats who injured themselves on drunken nights out over the weekend.... how inconsiderate...So feeling rather desperate I sat on a park bench and pondered my options....now I won't get started on slagging off how bad the NHS is in the UK. It absolutely sucks arse! The doctors are former concentration camp guards and the reception staff are escaped prisoners who have the world's biggest chip on their shoulders. Personality plus! Not!

My only option was to forlornly mope into the pharmacist and plead for some first aid advice. The guy was actually very helpful and now I'm sitting here in considerably less pain. My wrist now has a proper compression bandage and supported by a sling. So I'll go to work tomorrow and attempt the A&E again early wednesday. Promise to keep you posted.

I'm having an inward chuckle to myself. This is all self inflicted, but I absolutely don't regret my weekend. it's good to know that the high pressured corporate job and banal work functions haven't killed off the inner wild child..... Look out Europe! I've been hidden away for a while, but it's time to come out of hiding.... I so can't wait for my next adventure.

venezia

Italy 1_033
Originally uploaded by Fi Fi A Broad.

Just testing the blogging feature on flickr. Not terribly exciting. But hey! I'll soon get the hang of this new fandangled technology...

a bird's eye view

It's a massacre out there. The crows are annhilating the pigeons. A whole army of them have moved in to the rooftop across the road. I watched them swoop in before and launch their attack on the pigeon haven. Now, a pigeon carcass is being devoured by these butchers.... the neighbourhood is going down hill.

Alas, no more coo cooing, just caw cawing.....

Honour amongst thieves? I think not, the crow army is fighting amongst itself over the remains of the carcass. It's clearly an illegal invasion... mind you, Blair will probably assist the passage of the crows into occupying the territories of the pigeons.

And forget the Americans supporting the pigeons..... they don't want none of those homo supporting feathery types. But it might incur the wrath of Burt. That's when you'll see a mad pigeon dance when the muppets get wind of this.

Mind you, the pigeons are not terribly bright. They are still waddling about wondering what to do now. Maybe they'll get some kind of revolt happening.... That's when we'll really see the feathers fly...

we're melting!

Yes folks, there is a heatwave in London. We're bracing ourselves for another week in the low to mid 30's (or 90's Farenheit). Unbelievable. All the Poms keep saying to me that it must feel like home. hmmm..... I'd like to remind them that Australian summers are always much hotter and more humid than this and last for a lot longer. It's like they are in competition with everyone on the weather now. Their inferiority complex is continuing on to greater degrees (excuse the pun) since the World Cup. I heard on the tv the other day that London was even surpassing Rome in the temperatures being reached here. Who cares? The Italians won the World Cup and it's now time for the English to move on.

Mamma mia! Soho truly became little Italy on the night of the World Cup, according to trusted sources. Honking horns, impromptu street parties, revellers in the streets.... only with a Perroni in one hand and a green, white and red flag in the other. It's just not cricket..... (and we won't talk about that coz the Poms suck at that too.... recent debacle against Sri Lanka at home)

I only wish I could have seen Lygon St, Melbourne, on the night of the World Cup Final. Che pazzo!

We had an incredible time in Italy over the Easter period earlier this year. 10 days travelling through the countryside on the inter regional trains. Starting in Treviso, (Padua)/ Venice, Florence, Rome, Naples, Pompeii and Sorrento. The Italian lessons I've been taking over the past 12 months paid off and by the time we reached Rome I was holding my own in arguments with bar staff over the price of top shelf cognac.

Every city was amazing. Roma was definitely my favourite. Such a fun town. But anyway, have a look at some of the pics I've posted and I'll get around to the tales of travels in another blog post.

Meanwhile, back to the sweltering conditions. Ciao!

back by popular demand

ok ok.... quit the nagging. I'm back online. And I'll write more. Yeah yeah... said this before...but my life is kinda boring right now. All work, no play.... well, I suppose I kinda get round to some playtime here and there, but it's certainly not enough. The next task after this is to upload some photos. Mind you, nothing I write or the pics I post from now on until some time in the future will be in any particular order. It will only be my small snippets of memory coming to life at certain times. So just bear with me. Please.

too early for bedtime

i wish the frickin spammers would get lost. I get all excited that someone has posted a comment and then once I read it am so disappointed. Technology is not everything.

review

I tottered along to Southbank the other night to see Icebraker in performance at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. For an excellent review of this shabby performance I'm going to refer you to A Rare Musical Event. http://cookylamoo.com/boringlikeadrill/2006/03/rare-musical-event-bad-philip-glass.html

storytelling

ok...just checking last time I posted a blog... been quite a while...what can I say....all work and no play make this little squid unhappy....

But that's not quite true. I have been managing to get out to some crazy gigs and seeing some pretty amazing sights on the weekends. So! I'm making an undertaking to do some more updates more regularly. Even if it's to tell you we made kick ass home made pizza last night.

What to expect? well, I'm really going to have to catch up on some story telling. Travel memoirs from Spain (Barcelona, Montserrat and the Pyrenees), travels around England (inlcuding North Devon, Vale of the White Horse and Oxford) and a long weekend in Riga (Latvia). Plus not forgetting the experimental improv music gigs in the back bar of a small pub, the more swish contemporary London Philharmonic gigs etc at the Barbican and South Bank and the art galleries (Timothy Taylor on Bond Street featuring works spanning the lifetime of Philip Guston).

Hmmm....now it's just a question of knowing where to start...Chronologically would make sense I guess, but that's not necessarily how my memory works...

So a bit of this. A bit of that. Critques/ Reviews. And some good ole chit chat.

you don't say...

High culture at the Tate Britain this afternoon. An enjoyable meander amongst the paintings of Degas, Sickert & Toulouse - Lautrec (London & Paris 1870 - 1910)... robing up and preparing for the chill evening London air... I overhear a guy saying to a bunch of girls "so did you manage to get the Take That tickets?" ... hmmm.... much like the afternoon I was at Tate Modern towards the end of the Frida Kahlo exhibition... one girl says to the boy (trying to impress).."oh! so that's what Frida Kahlo looks like!".. This is just after seeing the exhibition...like, did she totally ignore it or something..???? So what am I to expect when I eventually get to the Tate at St Ives..."Arrr...so thems whats pirates looks likes???" ....?????!!

pea souper

.. boy is there a thick one out there tonight... went for work drinks... French wine totally sucks... vinegar...but still managed almost a whole bottle to myself.... West Cornwall pasties taste awesome when you've had a few drinks... or at any time for that manner... and especially when you're too far gone to cook the promised asian-style stir fry....missed my bus stop...oops... a little bit of longer walk home... almost couldn't find my way in the fog....and my poor boy sick with 'flu, giving me that forlorn forsaken look. Talk about a guilt trip!London is at least -1C. Time to curl up and get some zzzzzzzz time....

brrr....!!!!

It's absolutely freezing over here in London right now. The five day forecast is showing max temps of 6C and minimum overnight for 1C. ... and boy am I cursing the housekeeping staff at the hotel I was in for work last week, claiming I didn't leave my warm black jumper behind. Yeah sure, I had it on while I was at the hotel and then it wasn't in my bag on the night I got home and was unpacking...

It's one of those things. I'm sure everyone has their fave jumper/ sweater. It was only £16 at BHS, but it had quickly become my fave jumper. Now with Christmas coming closer, the last thing I feel like doing is battling the shopping crowds on Oxford Street to go back and get myself another one..

And as much as I'd love something warm for lunch, I'm refusing to go for the tinned soup at work. Poison. Worse than instant coffee... and I already do far too much of that, so don't want to attack my immune system any more than is necessary.

But I cooked a great risotto last night. Trust the good ole Aussie Womens' Weekly recipe books. Can't go wrong there. Only thing is trying to get half of the ingredients over here in the UK. London is not exactly reknowned for its variety of fresh food.

bok bok bok....bagerk!!!

50,000...750,000.....10,000,000....1,000,000,000!!!!! hmmm....as the press reports are released it seems like there's a bit of an exponential increase as to how many people this bird flu thing is going to affect. 10million, billion whatever... from a strain that hasn't actually mutated just yet where there are still only 62 deaths out of the entire population of Asia, where the people concerned were actually exposed to/handling large concentrations of birds... H51N..or whatever it is...

Just one reminder...SARS.... what happened to that pandemic wiping out the population of half the world?

I seriously feel more of a threat being presented by psychopathic London bus drivers...or taking my chances getting some incurable disease from the dirty, filthy,disgusting Silverlink trains and its passengers....eeeeww!!!! GERMIES!!!

But I can't help kinda getting this image of all the battery hens out there storming the cities on mass...joining forces with the pigeons of Trafalgar Square, the seagulls of the Thames and squwarking and spluttering and pooping over all the humans.... or some poltergeist type chicken to come leaping out of the KFC fryers....The McChicken nuggets to start glowing in their containers....Hitchcock meets Stephen King..."The Birds" meets "Maximum Overdrive".....[The Twighlight Zone theme now playing in my head...do do do do....]

"normal" service

So anyway, Monday morning I'm sitting at Homerton (Silverlink Trains) station waiting for the 8.19am train to get me into Stratford where I will change for the Central line tube into St Paul's and walk down to work for my 9am meeting. 20 mins later there's some garbled announcement on the West bound platform that all trains in that direction have been cancelled. Something going on at Dalston. Whatever... I'll just sit and wait.

Then I see droves of people start to leave the Eastbound platform moments later. Apparently someone up the other end of the platform hears that the trains in our direction are also cancelled... F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....
F*@#....F*@#....F*@#.... F*@#....F*@#...#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....
F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#....F*@#.... F*@#....F*@#....
F*@#....F*@#.... F*@#....F*@#....!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[I'll just give you a few moments to guage what my reaction to that was....ahem!!]

So going out in sympathy with my other fellow commuters, back past the ticket office where the station dude has conveniently placed himself back behind the safety of the glass....I trudge down (in the rain) to the bus stop.... a water main has burst...splashed and drenched by passing traffic... I ring the office. "Sorry, god only knows what time I'll be in today."

Not the first time I've been left stranded by Silverlink. That train company is the most poor excuse for public transport that I've ever come across. Stranded at Stratford when the last train home is cancelled, platform hopping in heeled shoes on wet tiles, severe delays here, cancellations there, dirty disgusting trains, overcrowding, infrequent...worse than trying to get around in a billy cart in some third world country..,

So I check the website today to see if the trains are running...man...they also need to pay for a webmaster to keep that thing up to date. Appalling. Ring customer service...first time ever..."I want to make a complaint". So I get the email address instead. custrel@silverlink-trains.com and get told to put my complaint in writing...sheesh! Plus a ribbing from my workmates who hear the whole fiasco.

...but apparently the trains are back to a "normal" service. F!! more cancellations, delays, etc etc

I decide not to risk it and walk in my killer (killing my feet) heeled boots to the bus stop. 15 min later and an angry crowd, I ask this guy what's going on. They've been waiting for the bus for an hour and are told the delay is due to some fire that happened in East London on the weekend. Wha tha...!!! It's now Tuesday!!!...I guess that's good ole British maintenance/service for you.

So the bus gets going. Eventually. Charming creature driving the bus as always. Moments later, the bus lurches to a stop and we all go hurtling off our seats across the bus. So now I'm sporting a rather sore shoulder after being slammed into the emergency exit and the guy who was opposite me will be seeing his doctor tomorrow, from the groin injury sustained when I sort of accidentally kneed him in the nether regions....ouch!!!!

Despite the optimistic timetables promising a bus trip of only 38 mins back home, it took over some hour and 20min....feet killing me...at least the alarms in our flats have finally ceased (a week later...)... no little brats harrassing me for money in the name of trick or treating on Halloween...I can't stand the children (devils) here...but that's another story...

what a load of rubbish...

Hi..long time..no communicate...exams, travel etc etc...

And man... there's like this totally crazy garbage woman (Crazy Bin-Lady) who lives in my flats...now I thought I had some compulsive obsessive tendencies.. being a bit of virgo neat freak an' all..but this chick really takes the cake... On both occasions I've come across her she's been going totally mental... at nobody in particular about people leaving their garbage lying around.. Mind you, to her credit, she got to the rubbish before I did. I mean, I was totally considering grabbing some full on rubber gloves and emptying out the hard rubbish space and putting the gar bags into the designated bins. ... she kinda got to it before I did.

Brits have a total dislike of rubbish bins. NOT EVERYONE USES THEM FOR BOMB DISPOSAL!!!!!

So now, with all the paranoia surrounding rubbish bins, they've totally removed them. And London is like this totally stinking, filthy tip. Londoners are oinkers.

It just seems like the most pointless waste of money to me to have people employed to pick up rubbish...

I mean, every other city has rubbish bins! They also have huge fines for dropping rubbish and the police it too.

Point in case: We are just recently arrived back home from Barcelona. Whilst there we noticed how clean the streets are. Everyone knows how to use a rubbish bin! Plus the streets are washed down every morning. PLUS!!!! We saw this guy drop his paper on the ground and then promptly accosted by about 4 cops making him pick it up. Now I don't know if that kind of policing is a throw back from the days of Franco, but I reckon it's not such a bad thing. ...Now you never hear tourists commenting on how clean a city London is....

I kid you not. Our block of flats has recently had major disputes over the dumping over rubbish, amongst other things like the basement car park being used as a beat, the lift not getting fixed, the stairs not being cleaned...Mind you, we sure do have some pigs living here too. Ashes and cigarette butts left in the internal stairwells, nappies left lying in front of the bin cage, wrappers etc etc...If I knew who it was, then rest assured it would be shoved back in their mailbox.

Crazy Bin-Ladie was in fine form this time around. Ready to declare war on every other resident in the flats. Inconspicuously going down the stairs to have a sticky beak about what the row was about, I inadvertently found myself the nominated UN delegate. And true to this status I calmed the immediate situation, but have done nothing since. Work, exams, partying...other mitigating circumstances...yada yada... well, the intention is there to get this resolved....Me and the landlord are going to have words...Word!

hola amigos

Ok ok... it's a long time between posts. So I kinda haven't had a computer for like ages... So I'm going to make up for it now...

Have moved house. Now an Eastender.... I might meet Den out there on my travels.. or some other geezer.

We've discovered the E9 cafe and Merve's. Ahhh.... the trad English breakfast served up by Turks and the best ever kebab shop next door. Rooly and trooly.

It's such a diverse area. We live right on the edge of the housing estates.. You know...like The Bill. And boy do I stick out like a sore toe... blonde haired and blue eyed in an oh-so black population. All the hairdressers offer hair extensions, braidings, straightenings, curly perms and corn rows. And the karaoke is strictly reggae.

Hmmm.... and no shortage of flash cars... BMW's, Mercs... I could swear they don't pay that much to run a car like that on Social Security. Plus you soon get over the fact real quick that you often walk past a bunch of youths smoking some pretty darn strong weed.

But that's just life around here.

Occasionally I go for a morning run and within a couple of minutes I'm out of this built up stinking metropolis and onto the Well St Common. ...lush surroundings fringed by old Victorian period homes. A little further along into Victoria Park and I find myself disturbing the squirrels in their morning fossick amongst the park bins and gardens.

I'd really love to get some pics of my new hangabouts, but my stupid camera died. Never mind, I'm going to Spain in a week and a half and hope to pick up a new camera duty free. I don't know a word of Spanish. Could be interesting....

Anyway, will pop up some more posts this week with further tales of Home Life in Hackney.