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.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
venezia
Just testing the blogging feature on flickr. Not terribly exciting. But hey! I'll soon get the hang of this new fandangled technology...
Monday, August 07, 2006
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...
Sunday, July 23, 2006
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!
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.
Friday, May 12, 2006
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.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
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???" ....?????!!
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
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....
Monday, November 21, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
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....]
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....]
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
"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...
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!
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!
Saturday, September 10, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
tunnel of terror.....
Look. What's going on currently in London is absolutely dreadful and horrifying. Make no bones about it. But honestly, it's a media frenzy. You can tell it was slow news day/ week/ month/ year. Or perhaps that's just London tabloids for you.... actually, correction, this kind of sensationalism is indemic in the media worldwide. Ahhh.... a sigh for the good old days of speculation on whether Michael Jackson is indeed a kiddie fiddler and whether Jordan (Katie Price) and Peter Andre are suitable parents....
Now I understand why Big Brother is such a success phenomenon. We can just switch off from the horrors of the real world. I think, if I was fully into conspiracy theories, I would almost believe that the media was in cahoots with the terrorists just to create a story, cos who honestly gives a rats about Micky J? And I'm coming across a lot of other garbage at the moment. This is a website an acquaintance sent to me just after the 7/7 bombings in London.
http://www.prisonplanet.com/Pages/Jul05/070705explosions_London.html
What is this!!!!
When I arrived back at work on the Friday after the bombings I was going into a city full of nervous and anxious people. No one knowing what was going to happen next.
I work at Network Rail right next to Euston Station. The public sector entity that owns all the tracks and rail land in the UK. I sit in an open plan office amongst the Safety and Environment staff, with the Safety Director situated right behind me.
My colleagues described how they heard (and felt a blast...via shaking of the building) and then saw smoke coming up from a location nearby. Woburn Place, Tavistock Square. It was the number 30 bus from Hackney Wick.
We discussed the bombing locations over lunch. Sure Kings Cross and Liverpool Street were obvious. Two major stations that included tube and overland trains as well as major bus terminals. But what about the bus and the Edgeware Road tube? On a simple inspection of the transport routes we realised that the bus would have passed through Euston Station bus terminal and the Edgeware Road train was only one stop away from Paddington. Euston and Paddington. Again major transport terminals, servicing tubes, overland trains and buses.
The point being.... the terrorists missed their targets!
.... Eye witness accounts on the no. 30 bus reported that the suspect looked quite agitated and fumbled in his bag moments before the explosion. This also would have been moments after leaving Euston.
So logically you'd think well that's too bad as they won't get the chance to bomb again being suicide bombers and all. So we're safe, yeah? No more bombings?
It appears not. And the events unfolding over the last two weeks have confirmed this. Station closures, security alerts.... searches....raids, arrests.... and two weeks from the first bombings a nail bomb exploded at Warren Street Station along with detonators, but not the bombs, as well as 3 other blasts at locations around London, including a bus. Do we see a pattern emerging here?
Yesterday a man was shot at Stockwell underground station. 3 plain clothes police accosted the man and pumped 5 bullets into him. It later turns out he was not connected with the bombings.
www.bbc.co.uk
I, like most other Londoners, also feel very nervous about travelling around on public transport at the moment. A good time to get myself a bicycle I guess.
There are comparisons being made to the times of the IRA bombings. The police, in a sad way, almost nostalgic for those days when they knew who the enemy was and a sinister kind of chivalry shown by the IRA with the warnings given before exploding a bomb.
So where do I stand? I was never in agreement to the Americans going into Iraq in the first place. They have managed to create another Vietnam. However, I think it would be totally irresponsible for this alliance to withdraw troops from there now and leave Iraq in this state. They fucked it. They should fix it.
Nor do I believe that the situation in Iraq is any excuse whatsoever for the atrocities committed by the terrorists. From a London perspective, this is a world city and the innocent people killed and injured came from backgrounds of varying ethnicities. It is senseless and wanton.
I really do think that the world has changed forever. And whatever lessons we didn't learn from the holocausts of WW2, Korea, Vietnam then I certainly hope this is the final wake-up call that we need. I just hope that we, and our leaders, can all find compassion within us and accept and embrace differences and all work towards a peaceful world.
Now I understand why Big Brother is such a success phenomenon. We can just switch off from the horrors of the real world. I think, if I was fully into conspiracy theories, I would almost believe that the media was in cahoots with the terrorists just to create a story, cos who honestly gives a rats about Micky J? And I'm coming across a lot of other garbage at the moment. This is a website an acquaintance sent to me just after the 7/7 bombings in London.
http://www.prisonplanet.com/Pages/Jul05/070705explosions_London.html
What is this!!!!
When I arrived back at work on the Friday after the bombings I was going into a city full of nervous and anxious people. No one knowing what was going to happen next.
I work at Network Rail right next to Euston Station. The public sector entity that owns all the tracks and rail land in the UK. I sit in an open plan office amongst the Safety and Environment staff, with the Safety Director situated right behind me.
My colleagues described how they heard (and felt a blast...via shaking of the building) and then saw smoke coming up from a location nearby. Woburn Place, Tavistock Square. It was the number 30 bus from Hackney Wick.
We discussed the bombing locations over lunch. Sure Kings Cross and Liverpool Street were obvious. Two major stations that included tube and overland trains as well as major bus terminals. But what about the bus and the Edgeware Road tube? On a simple inspection of the transport routes we realised that the bus would have passed through Euston Station bus terminal and the Edgeware Road train was only one stop away from Paddington. Euston and Paddington. Again major transport terminals, servicing tubes, overland trains and buses.
The point being.... the terrorists missed their targets!
.... Eye witness accounts on the no. 30 bus reported that the suspect looked quite agitated and fumbled in his bag moments before the explosion. This also would have been moments after leaving Euston.
So logically you'd think well that's too bad as they won't get the chance to bomb again being suicide bombers and all. So we're safe, yeah? No more bombings?
It appears not. And the events unfolding over the last two weeks have confirmed this. Station closures, security alerts.... searches....raids, arrests.... and two weeks from the first bombings a nail bomb exploded at Warren Street Station along with detonators, but not the bombs, as well as 3 other blasts at locations around London, including a bus. Do we see a pattern emerging here?
Yesterday a man was shot at Stockwell underground station. 3 plain clothes police accosted the man and pumped 5 bullets into him. It later turns out he was not connected with the bombings.
www.bbc.co.uk
I, like most other Londoners, also feel very nervous about travelling around on public transport at the moment. A good time to get myself a bicycle I guess.
There are comparisons being made to the times of the IRA bombings. The police, in a sad way, almost nostalgic for those days when they knew who the enemy was and a sinister kind of chivalry shown by the IRA with the warnings given before exploding a bomb.
So where do I stand? I was never in agreement to the Americans going into Iraq in the first place. They have managed to create another Vietnam. However, I think it would be totally irresponsible for this alliance to withdraw troops from there now and leave Iraq in this state. They fucked it. They should fix it.
Nor do I believe that the situation in Iraq is any excuse whatsoever for the atrocities committed by the terrorists. From a London perspective, this is a world city and the innocent people killed and injured came from backgrounds of varying ethnicities. It is senseless and wanton.
I really do think that the world has changed forever. And whatever lessons we didn't learn from the holocausts of WW2, Korea, Vietnam then I certainly hope this is the final wake-up call that we need. I just hope that we, and our leaders, can all find compassion within us and accept and embrace differences and all work towards a peaceful world.
just so you know, next time you see me...
I've shaved all my hair off, well, all of it on my head anyway. You can blame the hairdressers, everywhere I go to in London gives me some horrible haircut and really cheesy blonde dyejob so I look like some English dollybird slapper, and quite frankly I've had enough. This last one was so ghastly I just thought bugger it, let's get rid of the lot and I'm going to buy a nice wig. At least you know what you're getting when you pay for it. Besides, I'm starting to think bald looks pretty hot.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
ghost town...
What an eerie quiet transpired through the streets this morning as I walked up to catch the bus to the overland station. At 8am the streets are normally buzzing with the peak hour commuters busily making their way to work. Not even the High Street shops were open. Some guy with luggage, also at the bus stop, stubbed out his cigarette and jumped on the 52 bus headed for Victoria Station. He must have been on his way to catch the train to Gatwick airport....The Jubilee line train from Dollis Hill into Green Park and then 1 stop on to Victoria Station would have been much quicker....but then... there was no way I was game to be sitting on the tube today either.
The 98 came trundling by. I hopped on board, glancing at the stairwell to the top deck and then moving on to the back of the lower deck. I sat in a window seat by myself. My shoulder bag and plastic lunch bag clasped to me. I'd purposefully decided to leave my backpack at home today. Deep breaths. Nervousness present in every part of my being.
A few more passengers, women and children, boarded the bus. Unexpectedly I found myself surrounded by them and glanced around annoyed. Surely there were spare seats elsewhere. It was a near empty bus. Then I saw what...rather who... they were avoiding. A young man of what seemed Middle Eastern ethnicity sitting at the opposite window with a backpack. He caught my eye for just a moment and then turned away.... I understand... He fitted the eye-witness description of the suicide bomber on the number 30 bus yesterday. But then, so does every other Middle Eastern man....and who doesn't carry a small backpack around with them.... I felt sad and sorry for him. I hoped that people giving him a wide berth on the bus would be the only backlash he would experience of yesterday's bombings.
I walked past the Girls' Secondary Islamia College and Primary School to Queen's Park Station. Empty. A sign advertising the school fair on Sunday 9th July hanging over the school gates. 11am to 3pm. I thought I would like to go.
Arrive Queen's Park. 15 minutes to spare before the train to Euston was due. Far too early. No one about. The local schools were closed. No cars on the roads. Very few people. Walking fast and looking down. Fairly typical for Londoners, I guess, but just maybe today I felt a nervous atmosphere about the streets. I felt too agitated to sit and wait for the train so took the opportunity to grab a coffee up the road and pick up a copy of the Metro. Every page full of graphic pictorials of yesterday. A deep sadness welled up within me.
8.40 am. The Silverlink train to Euston arrived. I sat on the train reading my paper and sipping on my coffee. Anxious to get moving. An announcement came over the PA from the train driver. The train would be held at Queen's Park until further notice due to a security alert at Euston Station. .... A quiet murmur throughout the carriage. Everyone nervously looking glancing up at each other. United as commuters and a fearful empathy.
To be continued...
The 98 came trundling by. I hopped on board, glancing at the stairwell to the top deck and then moving on to the back of the lower deck. I sat in a window seat by myself. My shoulder bag and plastic lunch bag clasped to me. I'd purposefully decided to leave my backpack at home today. Deep breaths. Nervousness present in every part of my being.
A few more passengers, women and children, boarded the bus. Unexpectedly I found myself surrounded by them and glanced around annoyed. Surely there were spare seats elsewhere. It was a near empty bus. Then I saw what...rather who... they were avoiding. A young man of what seemed Middle Eastern ethnicity sitting at the opposite window with a backpack. He caught my eye for just a moment and then turned away.... I understand... He fitted the eye-witness description of the suicide bomber on the number 30 bus yesterday. But then, so does every other Middle Eastern man....and who doesn't carry a small backpack around with them.... I felt sad and sorry for him. I hoped that people giving him a wide berth on the bus would be the only backlash he would experience of yesterday's bombings.
I walked past the Girls' Secondary Islamia College and Primary School to Queen's Park Station. Empty. A sign advertising the school fair on Sunday 9th July hanging over the school gates. 11am to 3pm. I thought I would like to go.
Arrive Queen's Park. 15 minutes to spare before the train to Euston was due. Far too early. No one about. The local schools were closed. No cars on the roads. Very few people. Walking fast and looking down. Fairly typical for Londoners, I guess, but just maybe today I felt a nervous atmosphere about the streets. I felt too agitated to sit and wait for the train so took the opportunity to grab a coffee up the road and pick up a copy of the Metro. Every page full of graphic pictorials of yesterday. A deep sadness welled up within me.
8.40 am. The Silverlink train to Euston arrived. I sat on the train reading my paper and sipping on my coffee. Anxious to get moving. An announcement came over the PA from the train driver. The train would be held at Queen's Park until further notice due to a security alert at Euston Station. .... A quiet murmur throughout the carriage. Everyone nervously looking glancing up at each other. United as commuters and a fearful empathy.
To be continued...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
state of emergency
As I write this I’m literally shaking... feeling deeply affected by the horrific events of this morning here in Central London.
It must have been shortly after 10am when the phone rang... I was in bed asleep, taking a day off sick with, unbelievably, my third bout of ‘flu since I arrived over here. In a groggy stupor and somewhat irritated at having been disturbed I fumbled between my mobile and landline finally answering with a curt ‘hello!’. It was my mother... what on earth did she want? Something must have happened at home in Australia... She asked if I was all right. Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I was now awake and alert. She told me of the bomb blasts in London that were being reported back home in Melbourne. I took this in completely stunned. Fine, I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for calling and letting me know.....
...With dread I went to turn on the tv. At least four bomb blasts. Tube Stations: Edgeware Road, Aldgate East, Kings Cross and on the number 30 bus from Hackney to Marble Arch at Woburn Place (Tavistock Square). Images of the double decker bus broadcast across the tv. Ripped apart and reports of some of the victims having been decapitated. Some have lost limbs, burns to their bodies, head injuries, fractures from being thrown by the blast, fragments from glass and masonry lodged in them....
Tavistock Square is such a lovely part of London. On a sunny day my boyfriend and I meet up and have lunch there in the gardens, sitting on the grass and enjoying the surrounds. Situated between Russell Square and the University of London (Bloomsbury), it is a precinct often full of commuters, tourists, travellers and uni students.
My boyfriend and I both work at Euston. We travel to work on one of the lines that passes through Aldgate East and ofcourse, King’s Cross is only just a short walk up Euston Road.... Logically I knew and reasoned with myself that he should be ok. However, fear was niggling at me. He’d left for work somewhat late this morning given that I was taken ill. I’d tried to call him on themobile. Message bank. ...try again... blank.... try again... a fax machine.... try again.... dead air....panic starting to creep up within me. Telling myself that it’s ok. All lines are down. The Emergency Services must be overriding the communications systems. What was his work number? Silly, I’m usually so organised with that sort of thing... keeping contact numbers for emergencies etc.... We don’t even have a phone book here at home... I tried to get on the net to look up the Yellow Pages.... useless.... no phone communications whatsoever.... rummage through some personal papers.... finally find an official letter from his workplace.....
It was only last week my building had been evacuated in a fire/bomb drill. Casually making our way down stairs, glad to have ½ hour or so to get away from the desk. Chatting to my colleagues on the lawn. A bit of a nervous giggle and a quiet speculation about what it would be like if it was the real thing....
Weeks earlier I had been having lunch with my colleagues in the square outside Euston Station. I realised I had nowhere to put my rubbish and that cleaners were employed to walk around and pick up the litter left behind.... bizarre... I queried this practise. My colleagues informed me that it was a security measure. Terrorists could place a bomb in a bin. And indeed, this was a popular method used in previous years by the IRA. I swept my hand behind me, gesturing towards the station. Yes, but what is stopping someone from planting a bomb on the station or on one of the trains? What is stopping suicide bombers from getting on a packed tube train in peak hour? Despite all the warnings, no one could seriously notice. It would be far too easy. Everyone is squashed into those trains like sardines.... how easy would it be.... and stuck down all the way down there in the underground.... what kind of emergency evacuation plans do they have for a terror threat? And what if London gets the Olympics? How will the transport system cope then? What kind of security measures could they seriously put into place with the extra loads of travellers coming to the city? We’re all sitting ducks down there. We all know what happens when there is a signal failure or a train breakdown on the Underground. Everything grinds to a halt. With no ventilation the air becomes stifling. Not knowing exactly what is going on or how long we are going to be stuck down there. Suppressing the fear that begins to arise in the back of our minds. Imagine the carnage that someone could cause... if they wanted to...???
8.50am, Thursday 7th July, the first bomb blast occurs on an underground train between Liverpool St and Aldgate East Stations.
Yes, no doubt this abomination was designed to coincide with the G8 Summit held in Scotland, Gleneagle this week. For sure, I’d watched with interest from my floor at work the crowds gathering last week at Euston, ready to travel up to Scotland to protest against G8. The usual suspects. Dreadlocks, anti-war t-shirts etc. With amusement and raised eyebrows, we gazed over the crowd as a couple of these so-called anti-globalist activists lined up to buy their Starbucks coffee?? At the same time, feeling half guilty myself for wearing my pin-striped suit and half wishing I was down there with them. Supporting fundamentally what they were standing for. Fair Trade, Not Free Trade. End the War in Iraq.
Bob Geldof’s Live 8 concert was held on Saturday in Hyde Park. A stellar line-up of ‘global’ rock-stars. Some even who performed at the original Band Aid. Well, after watching the Nat West one-day cricket final (which, quite frankly, I was far more interested in... and sad to say drawing with England on the final ball... poor Glen McGragh) whilst working out on the treadmill at the gym I switched over to Madonna planting a big sloppy kiss on some poor bewildered African girl, apparently in the name of Making Poverty History.. However, made for a nice beat to complete my workout to.
A Saturday night at home on the couch in front of the teeves... feeling rather povo... don’t get paid for another couple of weeks. Happy to veg after almost two hours at the gym plus the walk home! Phew! I’m going to end up looking like Madonna myself at this rate. My cynical mind kicking into action as we watched Live 8 (the great masturbate...). Yeah, like what the f*%k do any of these rock-stars care about world poverty? All they are concerned with is putting on a good show, which they don’t have to pay for, and watching there record sales sky-rocket the following week. Especially the old rockers such as The Who and those whose careers seem to be ailing somewhat. ... I guess, to their credit, Pink Floyd has declared that any extra royalties received as a result of Live 8 will be donated to charity. As for Bono of U2.... disgraceful... suing for the Stetson hat he gave away backstage after the final Joshua Tree tour in 1987...What’s his problem? Ego, apparently, is still not a dirty word.
"Violence and arrests as G8 Protestors clash with Police in Scotland" – Tuesday 5th July.
A loud applause and a genuine feeling of euphoria as the London lunchtime crowd hears the news that they have won the bid to host the Olympics in 2012. Everyone is abuzz with excitement in the canteen at work. A definite jovial spirit is afoot. And I warn them that the Aussies are coming... Oi Oi Oi! ... Wednesday 6th July.
....Now I sit here feeling so desperately sad and desperately hope that this will not incite hate crimes against the Muslim community as retaliation for what has occurred today.
I checked in with work earlier. It will be business as usual tomorrow at Network Rail. At least in the Finance Department. But I sit amongst the Safety & Compliance Division. I can only imagine the immensity of the task they have ahead of them to work with other rail operators to get the trains up and running tomorrow.
I will wake up earlier than my normal time and walk to Queen’s Park (past the Islamic School, the Synagogue and Multi-Faith Centre) ... and, with trepidation, catch the Silverlink overland train into Euston...
The horror.... the horror....
It must have been shortly after 10am when the phone rang... I was in bed asleep, taking a day off sick with, unbelievably, my third bout of ‘flu since I arrived over here. In a groggy stupor and somewhat irritated at having been disturbed I fumbled between my mobile and landline finally answering with a curt ‘hello!’. It was my mother... what on earth did she want? Something must have happened at home in Australia... She asked if I was all right. Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I was now awake and alert. She told me of the bomb blasts in London that were being reported back home in Melbourne. I took this in completely stunned. Fine, I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for calling and letting me know.....
...With dread I went to turn on the tv. At least four bomb blasts. Tube Stations: Edgeware Road, Aldgate East, Kings Cross and on the number 30 bus from Hackney to Marble Arch at Woburn Place (Tavistock Square). Images of the double decker bus broadcast across the tv. Ripped apart and reports of some of the victims having been decapitated. Some have lost limbs, burns to their bodies, head injuries, fractures from being thrown by the blast, fragments from glass and masonry lodged in them....
Tavistock Square is such a lovely part of London. On a sunny day my boyfriend and I meet up and have lunch there in the gardens, sitting on the grass and enjoying the surrounds. Situated between Russell Square and the University of London (Bloomsbury), it is a precinct often full of commuters, tourists, travellers and uni students.
My boyfriend and I both work at Euston. We travel to work on one of the lines that passes through Aldgate East and ofcourse, King’s Cross is only just a short walk up Euston Road.... Logically I knew and reasoned with myself that he should be ok. However, fear was niggling at me. He’d left for work somewhat late this morning given that I was taken ill. I’d tried to call him on themobile. Message bank. ...try again... blank.... try again... a fax machine.... try again.... dead air....panic starting to creep up within me. Telling myself that it’s ok. All lines are down. The Emergency Services must be overriding the communications systems. What was his work number? Silly, I’m usually so organised with that sort of thing... keeping contact numbers for emergencies etc.... We don’t even have a phone book here at home... I tried to get on the net to look up the Yellow Pages.... useless.... no phone communications whatsoever.... rummage through some personal papers.... finally find an official letter from his workplace.....
ring the head office number.... what department does
he work for?.... umm.... glancing frantically at the letter.... that’s it....
they put me through..... oh yes, they know him... no he’s not
there....what!!!!!..... they’ll just check.....oh, sorry for the confusion, he
is actually at head office for a work induction today....I can ring head office
again and ask to speak to Human Resources to check that he made it in.... the
phone calls start again... more lines jammed.... fear in my throat... gulping...
back to Head Office.... I’m calling on behalf of my boyfriend.... just want to
speak to someone in HR and make sure he is ok...we’ll put you through...
hello?... yes, errr no, sorry he is not on our list. How do you spell his name
again?... ok, yes we have him listed here. yes, he’s here....
It was only last week my building had been evacuated in a fire/bomb drill. Casually making our way down stairs, glad to have ½ hour or so to get away from the desk. Chatting to my colleagues on the lawn. A bit of a nervous giggle and a quiet speculation about what it would be like if it was the real thing....
Weeks earlier I had been having lunch with my colleagues in the square outside Euston Station. I realised I had nowhere to put my rubbish and that cleaners were employed to walk around and pick up the litter left behind.... bizarre... I queried this practise. My colleagues informed me that it was a security measure. Terrorists could place a bomb in a bin. And indeed, this was a popular method used in previous years by the IRA. I swept my hand behind me, gesturing towards the station. Yes, but what is stopping someone from planting a bomb on the station or on one of the trains? What is stopping suicide bombers from getting on a packed tube train in peak hour? Despite all the warnings, no one could seriously notice. It would be far too easy. Everyone is squashed into those trains like sardines.... how easy would it be.... and stuck down all the way down there in the underground.... what kind of emergency evacuation plans do they have for a terror threat? And what if London gets the Olympics? How will the transport system cope then? What kind of security measures could they seriously put into place with the extra loads of travellers coming to the city? We’re all sitting ducks down there. We all know what happens when there is a signal failure or a train breakdown on the Underground. Everything grinds to a halt. With no ventilation the air becomes stifling. Not knowing exactly what is going on or how long we are going to be stuck down there. Suppressing the fear that begins to arise in the back of our minds. Imagine the carnage that someone could cause... if they wanted to...???
8.50am, Thursday 7th July, the first bomb blast occurs on an underground train between Liverpool St and Aldgate East Stations.
Yes, no doubt this abomination was designed to coincide with the G8 Summit held in Scotland, Gleneagle this week. For sure, I’d watched with interest from my floor at work the crowds gathering last week at Euston, ready to travel up to Scotland to protest against G8. The usual suspects. Dreadlocks, anti-war t-shirts etc. With amusement and raised eyebrows, we gazed over the crowd as a couple of these so-called anti-globalist activists lined up to buy their Starbucks coffee?? At the same time, feeling half guilty myself for wearing my pin-striped suit and half wishing I was down there with them. Supporting fundamentally what they were standing for. Fair Trade, Not Free Trade. End the War in Iraq.
Bob Geldof’s Live 8 concert was held on Saturday in Hyde Park. A stellar line-up of ‘global’ rock-stars. Some even who performed at the original Band Aid. Well, after watching the Nat West one-day cricket final (which, quite frankly, I was far more interested in... and sad to say drawing with England on the final ball... poor Glen McGragh) whilst working out on the treadmill at the gym I switched over to Madonna planting a big sloppy kiss on some poor bewildered African girl, apparently in the name of Making Poverty History.. However, made for a nice beat to complete my workout to.
A Saturday night at home on the couch in front of the teeves... feeling rather povo... don’t get paid for another couple of weeks. Happy to veg after almost two hours at the gym plus the walk home! Phew! I’m going to end up looking like Madonna myself at this rate. My cynical mind kicking into action as we watched Live 8 (the great masturbate...). Yeah, like what the f*%k do any of these rock-stars care about world poverty? All they are concerned with is putting on a good show, which they don’t have to pay for, and watching there record sales sky-rocket the following week. Especially the old rockers such as The Who and those whose careers seem to be ailing somewhat. ... I guess, to their credit, Pink Floyd has declared that any extra royalties received as a result of Live 8 will be donated to charity. As for Bono of U2.... disgraceful... suing for the Stetson hat he gave away backstage after the final Joshua Tree tour in 1987...What’s his problem? Ego, apparently, is still not a dirty word.
"Violence and arrests as G8 Protestors clash with Police in Scotland" – Tuesday 5th July.
A loud applause and a genuine feeling of euphoria as the London lunchtime crowd hears the news that they have won the bid to host the Olympics in 2012. Everyone is abuzz with excitement in the canteen at work. A definite jovial spirit is afoot. And I warn them that the Aussies are coming... Oi Oi Oi! ... Wednesday 6th July.
....Now I sit here feeling so desperately sad and desperately hope that this will not incite hate crimes against the Muslim community as retaliation for what has occurred today.
I checked in with work earlier. It will be business as usual tomorrow at Network Rail. At least in the Finance Department. But I sit amongst the Safety & Compliance Division. I can only imagine the immensity of the task they have ahead of them to work with other rail operators to get the trains up and running tomorrow.
I will wake up earlier than my normal time and walk to Queen’s Park (past the Islamic School, the Synagogue and Multi-Faith Centre) ... and, with trepidation, catch the Silverlink overland train into Euston...
The horror.... the horror....
Friday, July 01, 2005
live 8 masturbate
G8 Summit. More world leaders scratching their heads. Whatever happened to the good 'ole days of slavery? How can we convince these Africans that they'd at least be fed and watered if they agreed to be our slaves again, rather starved and slaughtered by their own corrupt governments...???
....July 1, 2005... A crowd gathers outside Euston station with placards declaring Bush and Blair terrorists... yawn.... baggage ready to go to Edinburgh to protest for the ensuing G8 summit. I watch them with interest from my 3rd floor open plan office at Network Rail. Half wishing I was out there with them...feeling somewhat guilty for my pin striped charcoal attire... that is, until someone calls out 'look! they are buying coffee from Starbucks....!!!!!!' Wha... the... ??????
So why is it so difficult for these so-called activists to resist a coffee from Starbucks and walk the extra 10 metres or so to the AMT (free trade) coffee stand? Beats me????
...what the fudge do rock-stars care about world poverty? I mean, was Bono thinking about a social conscience when he sued his former Joshua Tree stylist for the Stetson he 'gave' her on the final night of the tour? Is Robbie Williams giving any of his increased royalties resulting from the Live 8 concerts to World Aid? Are the activists still sipping on Starbucks or chilling with a Coke?
....July 1, 2005... A crowd gathers outside Euston station with placards declaring Bush and Blair terrorists... yawn.... baggage ready to go to Edinburgh to protest for the ensuing G8 summit. I watch them with interest from my 3rd floor open plan office at Network Rail. Half wishing I was out there with them...feeling somewhat guilty for my pin striped charcoal attire... that is, until someone calls out 'look! they are buying coffee from Starbucks....!!!!!!' Wha... the... ??????
So why is it so difficult for these so-called activists to resist a coffee from Starbucks and walk the extra 10 metres or so to the AMT (free trade) coffee stand? Beats me????
...what the fudge do rock-stars care about world poverty? I mean, was Bono thinking about a social conscience when he sued his former Joshua Tree stylist for the Stetson he 'gave' her on the final night of the tour? Is Robbie Williams giving any of his increased royalties resulting from the Live 8 concerts to World Aid? Are the activists still sipping on Starbucks or chilling with a Coke?
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